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âĄâ summary: miguel comes to his daughterâs school to pick her up but seeing you was an unexpected and nice meeting.
âĄâ pairing: single dad! miguel o'hara x teacher! reader
âĄâ themes/tropes: father/teacher relationship, friends to lovers, family fluff, smut / romance
the students buzz with a familiar friday restlessness, a soft hum of pent-up excitement that builds with every passing minute. you feel it before you even hear it. you always do. itâs the last class of the dayâyour fifth-grade biology groupâand although they try to stay focused, their eyes drift toward the clock every few seconds. their feet tap, their fingers fidget, their whispers slip out in tiny bursts you gently rein in. you guide them through the final points of the lesson, doing your best to keep their concentration from scattering like marbles on a floor.
the hallway bell ringsâlong, shrill, and mercifulâand the room erupts. chairs screech, backpacks zip open and shut, notebooks are shoved inside with questionable accuracy. you raise your voice above the chaos and call, âhave a great weekend!â and most of them toss back eager goodbyes while waving enthusiastically, already halfway out the door before their hands even drop.
the classroom empties quickly, the lively chatter dissolving into faint echoes down the hallway. silence settlesâsoft, familiar, a comforting afterglow of a full dayâs work. but youâre not entirely alone. gabriella lingers behind.
she bounces toward your desk in small, cheerful skips, her ponytail swaying. âshould we tidy the classroom?â she asks, already knowing the answer.
âit is that time of day,â you say, smiling warmly. youâre grateful for the helpâafter a full day of classes, the papers, wrappers, and stray pens always reappear no matter how many times you clean. gabiâs company makes the end-of-day ritual feel less like a chore and more like a quiet moment shared.
the two of you fall into an easy rhythm. you sort worksheets and file them neatly into the cupboard while gabi replaces the bin bag with practiced efficiency. sheâs grown so responsible this year, and you canât help but feel proud watching her move around the classroom with purpose. twenty minutes pass, and the place looks spotlessâready to face another week of eager young minds.
âready to go to my place, gabs?â you ask as you sling your own bag over your shoulder.
âready!â she beams, looping the strap of her backpack confidently across her chest.
you turn off the lights, lock the classroom door, and walk together out into the open afternoon air. the car park is calm, a few lingering staff cars and the faint hum of distant traffic. you both buckle in, and you start the engine, listening to it rumble softly to life before pulling out onto the road.
as you drive, you say, âgabi, your dad texted me earlier. heâll be coming a bit late to pick you up tonight. he said we should have dinner without him.â
gabi nods like she expected it. âdo you think i can get away with saving my homework for the weekend?â she asks with a hopeful tilt of her head.
âi think you could,â you reply with a half-grin. âis it a tough assignment?â
âkinda. we have to write about which arachnid we relate to and list some facts about it.â she sighs. âmy dad knows a lot of them, so i want to wait for him and ask for his help.â
âyour dadâs an arachnid enthusiast?â you ask, honestly surprisedâand maybe a little intrigued. thereâs always something new to learn about miguel oâhara.
âyeah,â she says, leaning back. âhe has a giant tattoo of a spider on his back.â
you try to picture it. miguelâtall, broad-shouldered, impossibly strongâcarrying a massive dark spider tattoo etched across his back. maybe a black widow, maybe something more stylized, its legs spanning across those sculpted muscles. you imagine how the lines of the tattoo shift when he rolls his shoulders or stretches after a long day, how the muscles under his skin tense and release. youâve seen him in fitted shirts before; you can easily imagine how that tattoo might move with him, howâ
âmiss teacher?â gabi calls, snapping you out of your runaway imagination.
âmm?â you glance at her quickly and smile, a little flustered. âsorry, gabs, i was in my head for a second.â
you pull into your driveway shortly after. once inside, gabi kicks off her shoes and washes her hands like she always does before she wanders to the living room. âiâm gonna relax a bit and do my homework later,â she calls.
âthatâs cool,â you say. with her settling down, you head to the kitchen and gather some snacks. youâre in a generous moodâitâs friday, after allâso you bring out something youâve been saving.
âi have something special for us,â you announce as you walk into the living room. when you set the dish on the coffee table, gabiâs gasp is immediate and dramatic.
âice cream baklava!â
her eyes light up like small stars. you laugh softly. âdig in.â
she wastes no time, rolling up a piece and biting into it with pure, unfiltered delight. her little groans of satisfaction tell you everything. she reaches for a second piece almost immediately.
âgood, right?â you say.
âas good as dipping french fries in ice cream.â she nods seriously, like sheâs offering the highest culinary compliment possible.
you try one yourself. even frozen, the filo pastry retains its honeyed sweetness, the crunchy layers blending perfectly with the cold ice cream nestled inside. itâs decadent, nostalgic, and everything a friday afternoon should taste like.
the room quiets for a bit. then gabi speaks, her voice small, uncertain in a way youâre not used to hearing from her. âi wish i were pretty like you.â
your heart sinks. you turn to look at her, really look at herâher dark brown eyes downcast, thumbs fidgeting in her lap, her smile fading into a little frown. it hurts more than you expect.
âgabi,â you say softly, sliding down to sit cross-legged beside her so youâre eye-level. âdo you not feel beautiful about yourself?â
she hesitates before nodding. âi look different compared to everyone else,â she whispers. âsometimes i wish i looked more like my mum. sheâs pretty. and⊠i donât look like her. i look more like my dad.â
âgabriella.â your voice stays gentle, full of warmth. âyou are beautiful. so, so beautiful. everyone is meant to look different from everyone else.â
âi know, butâŠâ she sighs, looking away. âi just want to be different sometimes.â
itâs painful, hearing such self-doubt from such a bright, kind young girl. youâve known gabi since the moment you became her homeroom teacher. sheâs confident, perceptive, brave. seeing this new vulnerability weighs on you. but you understand itâkids her age start to notice differences. insecurities bloom quietly.
âyouâre still growing, gabs,â you say. âin a few years, you might look completely different from how you look now. your face will change, your body will mature. you might end up looking more like your mum⊠or more like your dad⊠or like both. everything shifts as you grow.â
she stays quiet, finally meeting your eyes. the sadness eases, replaced by a softness, a thoughtful understanding.
âbut you,â you continue, brushing her hair gently behind her ear, âare beautiful right now. inside and out. whether you look more like your mum or your dad or neither. your presence is special. it always brightens my day.â
she thinks quietly, little brows furrowing. then she smilesâsmall at first, then growing. âthank you for reminding me that iâm beautiful.â
âyouâre welcome,â you say. âand you can talk to me about anything that bothers you. always.â
she scoots closer and wraps her arms tightly around you. âgirl hug!â
you laugh softly and hug her back. âgirl hug. and girl talk.â
she giggles and pulls away. âmiss, do you actually think my dad is handsome?â
heat rushes to your ears. âbetween you and me,â you murmur, trying not to look flustered, âyour dad is a good-looking man.â
she giggles triumphantly. âbut donât tell him i said that,â you add quickly. âiâm not prepared for that conversation.â
âi think youâre really pretty too,â she says. âand my dad seems to think so.â
your breath catchesânot visibly, you hope. you manage a steady smile. âthen tell your dad i appreciate the compliment.â
she nods eagerly. âcan we keep what we said a secret? just us?â
âour girlsâ secret.â you hold out a pinky. she hooks hers around yours with serious intensity. âi wonât say a word.â
time passes softly. gabi finishes her homework, you make dinner, and the evening grows warm and calm. at 6:30, miguel arrives.
you open the door and gabi barrels into him with a running hug. âtackling me, huh?â he laughs, lifting her slightly.
you step aside to let him inâand he surprises you with a bouquet. again. the sixth one heâs brought you.
âpicked it up on the way,â he explains, sounding almost shy. âsorry for running late.â
gabi returns with her backpack on, ready to go. the three of you walk out together. she climbs into the car, leaving you and miguel standing by the curb for a lingering moment.
âthank you for looking after her,â he says. âshe behaved, i hope?â
âalways,â you reply. but you study his expressionâthereâs weariness there, and something heavier.
âmiguel, whatâs wrong?â you ask quietly.
he exhales, shoulders slumping slightly. âi feel like iâm not spending enough time with her. mornings from six to eight, then evenings from six to ten⊠i try to make up for it on weekends, but i still feel guilty.â
you soften. âgabi knows how much effort you make. sheâs happiest when sheâs with you.â
he chuckles weakly. âyou always know how to cheer me up.â
âi try,â you say.
âno,â he says gently, meeting your eyes. âyou do.â
the world quiets around you. something unspoken hangs between you, warm and almost fragile. then a tapping comes from the car windowâgabi, impatient, mouthing, âare you going home or not?â
miguel laughs and turns back to you. âhave a good night. iâll text when we get home.â
âdrive safe,â you say.
he climbs into the car, waves once more, then pulls away into the dimming street.
the drive home is peaceful. gabi swings her feet and hums softly. then she says, âdaddy, i love you.â
he smiles. âi love you too, mija.â
after a moment, she adds, âyouâre handsome.â
miguel glances at her in the mirror, eyebrow raised. âthank you, princesa. what brought that on?â
ânothing,â she says. then, far too casually, âmiss teacher thinks youâre handsome. but itâs a secret.â
miguel almost laughs. your secret opinion warms him more than he expects. âthatâs supposed to stay a secret, isnât it?â he asks.
âyeah, but i wanted you to know,â she says with a mischievous grin. âdonât tell her i told you.â
âshh.â he presses a finger to his lips. âsecretâs safe with me.â
she beams and kicks her feet in the air. miguelâs chest tightens as he smiles at her. then his thoughts driftâunbidden, softâto you. earlier, you looked beautiful. you always do. and sitting at your table todayâwatching you and gabi laugh, talk, glow with contentmentâhe felt something dangerously close to longing. like maybe the three of you belonged in that space together. like maybe he wasnât just imagining a future⊠but wanting one.
âĄâ summary: miguel comes to his daughterâs school to pick her up but seeing you was an unexpected and nice meeting.
âĄâ pairing: single dad! miguel o'hara x teacher! reader
âĄâ themes/tropes: father/teacher relationship, friends to lovers, family fluff, smut / romance
the students buzz with a familiar friday restlessness, a soft hum of pent-up excitement that builds with every passing minute. you feel it before you even hear it. you always do. itâs the last class of the dayâyour fifth-grade biology groupâand although they try to stay focused, their eyes drift toward the clock every few seconds. their feet tap, their fingers fidget, their whispers slip out in tiny bursts you gently rein in. you guide them through the final points of the lesson, doing your best to keep their concentration from scattering like marbles on a floor.
the hallway bell ringsâlong, shrill, and mercifulâand the room erupts. chairs screech, backpacks zip open and shut, notebooks are shoved inside with questionable accuracy. you raise your voice above the chaos and call, âhave a great weekend!â and most of them toss back eager goodbyes while waving enthusiastically, already halfway out the door before their hands even drop.
the classroom empties quickly, the lively chatter dissolving into faint echoes down the hallway. silence settlesâsoft, familiar, a comforting afterglow of a full dayâs work. but youâre not entirely alone. gabriella lingers behind.
she bounces toward your desk in small, cheerful skips, her ponytail swaying. âshould we tidy the classroom?â she asks, already knowing the answer.
âit is that time of day,â you say, smiling warmly. youâre grateful for the helpâafter a full day of classes, the papers, wrappers, and stray pens always reappear no matter how many times you clean. gabiâs company makes the end-of-day ritual feel less like a chore and more like a quiet moment shared.
the two of you fall into an easy rhythm. you sort worksheets and file them neatly into the cupboard while gabi replaces the bin bag with practiced efficiency. sheâs grown so responsible this year, and you canât help but feel proud watching her move around the classroom with purpose. twenty minutes pass, and the place looks spotlessâready to face another week of eager young minds.
âready to go to my place, gabs?â you ask as you sling your own bag over your shoulder.
âready!â she beams, looping the strap of her backpack confidently across her chest.
you turn off the lights, lock the classroom door, and walk together out into the open afternoon air. the car park is calm, a few lingering staff cars and the faint hum of distant traffic. you both buckle in, and you start the engine, listening to it rumble softly to life before pulling out onto the road.
as you drive, you say, âgabi, your dad texted me earlier. heâll be coming a bit late to pick you up tonight. he said we should have dinner without him.â
gabi nods like she expected it. âdo you think i can get away with saving my homework for the weekend?â she asks with a hopeful tilt of her head.
âi think you could,â you reply with a half-grin. âis it a tough assignment?â
âkinda. we have to write about which arachnid we relate to and list some facts about it.â she sighs. âmy dad knows a lot of them, so i want to wait for him and ask for his help.â
âyour dadâs an arachnid enthusiast?â you ask, honestly surprisedâand maybe a little intrigued. thereâs always something new to learn about miguel oâhara.
âyeah,â she says, leaning back. âhe has a giant tattoo of a spider on his back.â
you try to picture it. miguelâtall, broad-shouldered, impossibly strongâcarrying a massive dark spider tattoo etched across his back. maybe a black widow, maybe something more stylized, its legs spanning across those sculpted muscles. you imagine how the lines of the tattoo shift when he rolls his shoulders or stretches after a long day, how the muscles under his skin tense and release. youâve seen him in fitted shirts before; you can easily imagine how that tattoo might move with him, howâ
âmiss teacher?â gabi calls, snapping you out of your runaway imagination.
âmm?â you glance at her quickly and smile, a little flustered. âsorry, gabs, i was in my head for a second.â
you pull into your driveway shortly after. once inside, gabi kicks off her shoes and washes her hands like she always does before she wanders to the living room. âiâm gonna relax a bit and do my homework later,â she calls.
âthatâs cool,â you say. with her settling down, you head to the kitchen and gather some snacks. youâre in a generous moodâitâs friday, after allâso you bring out something youâve been saving.
âi have something special for us,â you announce as you walk into the living room. when you set the dish on the coffee table, gabiâs gasp is immediate and dramatic.
âice cream baklava!â
her eyes light up like small stars. you laugh softly. âdig in.â
she wastes no time, rolling up a piece and biting into it with pure, unfiltered delight. her little groans of satisfaction tell you everything. she reaches for a second piece almost immediately.
âgood, right?â you say.
âas good as dipping french fries in ice cream.â she nods seriously, like sheâs offering the highest culinary compliment possible.
you try one yourself. even frozen, the filo pastry retains its honeyed sweetness, the crunchy layers blending perfectly with the cold ice cream nestled inside. itâs decadent, nostalgic, and everything a friday afternoon should taste like.
the room quiets for a bit. then gabi speaks, her voice small, uncertain in a way youâre not used to hearing from her. âi wish i were pretty like you.â
your heart sinks. you turn to look at her, really look at herâher dark brown eyes downcast, thumbs fidgeting in her lap, her smile fading into a little frown. it hurts more than you expect.
âgabi,â you say softly, sliding down to sit cross-legged beside her so youâre eye-level. âdo you not feel beautiful about yourself?â
she hesitates before nodding. âi look different compared to everyone else,â she whispers. âsometimes i wish i looked more like my mum. sheâs pretty. and⊠i donât look like her. i look more like my dad.â
âgabriella.â your voice stays gentle, full of warmth. âyou are beautiful. so, so beautiful. everyone is meant to look different from everyone else.â
âi know, butâŠâ she sighs, looking away. âi just want to be different sometimes.â
itâs painful, hearing such self-doubt from such a bright, kind young girl. youâve known gabi since the moment you became her homeroom teacher. sheâs confident, perceptive, brave. seeing this new vulnerability weighs on you. but you understand itâkids her age start to notice differences. insecurities bloom quietly.
âyouâre still growing, gabs,â you say. âin a few years, you might look completely different from how you look now. your face will change, your body will mature. you might end up looking more like your mum⊠or more like your dad⊠or like both. everything shifts as you grow.â
she stays quiet, finally meeting your eyes. the sadness eases, replaced by a softness, a thoughtful understanding.
âbut you,â you continue, brushing her hair gently behind her ear, âare beautiful right now. inside and out. whether you look more like your mum or your dad or neither. your presence is special. it always brightens my day.â
she thinks quietly, little brows furrowing. then she smilesâsmall at first, then growing. âthank you for reminding me that iâm beautiful.â
âyouâre welcome,â you say. âand you can talk to me about anything that bothers you. always.â
she scoots closer and wraps her arms tightly around you. âgirl hug!â
you laugh softly and hug her back. âgirl hug. and girl talk.â
she giggles and pulls away. âmiss, do you actually think my dad is handsome?â
heat rushes to your ears. âbetween you and me,â you murmur, trying not to look flustered, âyour dad is a good-looking man.â
she giggles triumphantly. âbut donât tell him i said that,â you add quickly. âiâm not prepared for that conversation.â
âi think youâre really pretty too,â she says. âand my dad seems to think so.â
your breath catchesânot visibly, you hope. you manage a steady smile. âthen tell your dad i appreciate the compliment.â
she nods eagerly. âcan we keep what we said a secret? just us?â
âour girlsâ secret.â you hold out a pinky. she hooks hers around yours with serious intensity. âi wonât say a word.â
time passes softly. gabi finishes her homework, you make dinner, and the evening grows warm and calm. at 6:30, miguel arrives.
you open the door and gabi barrels into him with a running hug. âtackling me, huh?â he laughs, lifting her slightly.
you step aside to let him inâand he surprises you with a bouquet. again. the sixth one heâs brought you.
âpicked it up on the way,â he explains, sounding almost shy. âsorry for running late.â
gabi returns with her backpack on, ready to go. the three of you walk out together. she climbs into the car, leaving you and miguel standing by the curb for a lingering moment.
âthank you for looking after her,â he says. âshe behaved, i hope?â
âalways,â you reply. but you study his expressionâthereâs weariness there, and something heavier.
âmiguel, whatâs wrong?â you ask quietly.
he exhales, shoulders slumping slightly. âi feel like iâm not spending enough time with her. mornings from six to eight, then evenings from six to ten⊠i try to make up for it on weekends, but i still feel guilty.â
you soften. âgabi knows how much effort you make. sheâs happiest when sheâs with you.â
he chuckles weakly. âyou always know how to cheer me up.â
âi try,â you say.
âno,â he says gently, meeting your eyes. âyou do.â
the world quiets around you. something unspoken hangs between you, warm and almost fragile. then a tapping comes from the car windowâgabi, impatient, mouthing, âare you going home or not?â
miguel laughs and turns back to you. âhave a good night. iâll text when we get home.â
âdrive safe,â you say.
he climbs into the car, waves once more, then pulls away into the dimming street.
the drive home is peaceful. gabi swings her feet and hums softly. then she says, âdaddy, i love you.â
he smiles. âi love you too, mija.â
after a moment, she adds, âyouâre handsome.â
miguel glances at her in the mirror, eyebrow raised. âthank you, princesa. what brought that on?â
ânothing,â she says. then, far too casually, âmiss teacher thinks youâre handsome. but itâs a secret.â
miguel almost laughs. your secret opinion warms him more than he expects. âthatâs supposed to stay a secret, isnât it?â he asks.
âyeah, but i wanted you to know,â she says with a mischievous grin. âdonât tell her i told you.â
âshh.â he presses a finger to his lips. âsecretâs safe with me.â
she beams and kicks her feet in the air. miguelâs chest tightens as he smiles at her. then his thoughts driftâunbidden, softâto you. earlier, you looked beautiful. you always do. and sitting at your table todayâwatching you and gabi laugh, talk, glow with contentmentâhe felt something dangerously close to longing. like maybe the three of you belonged in that space together. like maybe he wasnât just imagining a future⊠but wanting one.
âĄâ summary: you and miguel are getting used to the arrangements of letting gabriella stay over for a few hours and having dinner together after school.
âĄâ pairing: single dad! miguel o'hara x teacher! reader
âĄâ themes/tropes: father/teacher relationship, friends to lovers, family fluff, smut / romance
âĄâ content warning: mention of estranged family past
since the evening you offered miguel the opportunity to look after his daughter after school, it has been three weeks since then.
itâs quite a change to your after-school routine, but you adapt to it within the first week of trialling. itâs a good thing to say that gabriella feels the same way. she enjoys spending time with you after school and makes it known by how excitedly she waits for you by your desk after half-past three in the afternoon. gabriella helps with tidying up the classroom, telling you about the conversations she has with her friends during lunch and in between lessons. youâve always had a good relationship with the young girl, but when you take upon the responsibility of looking after her, your relationship with gabriella turns out better.
gabriella is truly the epitome of a gracious child. when you invite her into your room, she goes to the kitchen to wash her hands. then sets herself in your living room to sit close by the coffee table, laying out her homework and snacks. she does her work without supervision and occasionally asks you for help if she needs it. gabriella falls into the routine easily too and when she is done with her homework, the two of you bond over arts and crafts or something on the telly playing in the background.
at exactly 6pm sharp, the doorbell rings and miguel stands at the front pouch. he would come in, thank you again for looking after his daughter, embrace gabriella, and the three of you would make it to the dining table and share a meal. you and miguel would take turns bringing food for dinnersâyou would cook on mondays and tuesdays, and miguel would bring something over on thursdays and fridays. this new routine brings out a feeling of home and togetherness, so itâs a pleasant change of routine to your usual time living on your own.
âwhat is england like, miss?â gabriella asks. you have informed your students when you began your teaching career about your childhood in another country. it was rather a little obvious with the slight out-of-place accent and the difference in spelling that your students pointed out. and it doesnât seem like miguel is surprised by the revelation as he takes a spoonful of food as gabriella talks.
âwellâŠâ you think for a moment as you try to recall your life. âif we are referring to the weather, itâs very unpredictable over there in england. sometimes itâs a burst of beautiful sunshine outside and other times, the skies are grey. from time to time, you feel little droplets of hail raining down on you out of nowhere. and sometimes, the weather is chilly too.â
âhail?â gabriella repeats.
âhailstones,â you smile. âlike tiny crystals of ice.â
âwe havenât been to england, havenât we, gabs?â miguel says. âmaybe we should consider it one summer.â
âi want to go to where they plant so many flowers,â gabriella suggested.
you flash gabriella a smile when you realise the location sheâs talking about. âthatâs the eden project down south in cornwall, at the edge of england.â you explain. âthey have nice beaches there, too.â
âcorn-wall,â gabriella repeats slowly, with a tone of awe. âi want to go there.â
âmaybe we should consider,â miguel says to his daughter.
you look at him who sits across from you, relaxed after coming back from work. âi havenât been to mexico before,â you say. âor any parts of south america. where do you guys suggest i go visit?â
miguel and gabriella hum as the two of them think together. their mouths press in a thin line, the bottom of their lip sticking out a small pout. as you study their expressions, you canât help but find them endearing the same similarities in their mannerisms. like father, like daughter.
âif you enjoy the beaches, tulum is a good place to start,â miguel says. âalthough itâs further down the country. or, thereâs the seaside town of tecolutla or acapulco beach. theyâre both about a four-hour drive from mexico city.â
âacapulco!â gabriella beamed in excitement. âi want to go there again this summer.â
miguel chuckles and playfully ruffles her hair. a smile blooms on your face, and the three of you eat in peace. gabriellaâs question catches your attention and you look right in front of her. âdo you talk to your mama and papa every day since they are so far away?â gabriella asks.
âwell,â you exhale softly. âi still talk to my siblings and my good friends from england.â
âwhat about your mama?â
even though it has been a while, the dread of telling the story makes your stomach churn uncomfortably, no matter how you simplify or summarise the story. âmy mama passed away when i was nineteen. she had been sick for a while and her body couldnât handle it anymore.â
miguel looks up, and his eyes meet yours. gabriella turns to look at him with a puzzled look and the room falls into silence thatâs all too familiar. âweâre sorry to hear that.â
âit was a while ago,â you reply with a hesitant smile. âbut thank you.â
gabriella looks at you and although the surprise on her face lingers, thereâs also curiosity like every young child has. âwhat about your papa?â
âmy papa,â you sigh. âi have two papas who are not nice people, so i have not spoken to them or seen them in a very long time.â
you didnât dare to look at miguel when you revealed your backstory because you knew the look on his face from the corner of your eyes. sympathy, disbelief, unsure and silent. because how could someone like youâlively and braveâgrow up with a fate so horrendous and unthinkable?
âbut,â gabriella says, her lips downcast in a frown. she turns to look at her father, her tone quiet and glum. âarenât papas supposed to be good people?â
miguel presses his lips into a thin line. âfathers are supposed to be good people, mija. to protect their family.â he says solemnly. âbut sadly, not all fathers are like that. not all fathers are protectors.â
miguel flickers his eyes at you. he must have pieced together your history and the story of how to move to the states that you mentioned. âmy condolences. iâm really sorry to hear that,â he says. âyou deserve better things, and i hope you will experience them all.â
gabriella turns to look at you with a similar expression to miguelâs. âiâm sorry you donât have a mama and papa anymore.â
âthank you, and itâs okay.â you give them a kind smile. no one knows this about you since youâve kept it to yourself ever since you migrated to the states on your own. your life wasnât the greatest in the beginning, but you made it through the dark and stormy years to make it this far. âmy family and i have our differences that are sometimes different to overcome without having fights.â you explain. âbut we still care for one another.â
the dining room falls quiet. despite it closes the end of the conversation, it feels a sense of uncertainty on how to dwell on a different topic. although what you had to endure was a while ago, the tragedy carries within you unfathomably.
suddenly, gabriella pushes back her seat and walks around the table, coming to you. her small arms crisscross around you. âyouâre my family too, miss.â
you wrap your arms around her and embrace gabriella with an equal force of appreciation for her kindness. you hold her and squeeze her gently, resting your cheek on top of her head. âthank you, gabi. that means a lot to me.â
âyouâre my favourite,â gabi says, then turns her head to look at miguel and grins. âafter papa, of course.â
you look at miguel, and he chuckles, smirking at the two of you. âglad to know that iâm still your number one favourite, mija.â
âthen after that is aunty jess,â gabi adds. she holds out three of her fingers and counts them down at every list of names she announces. âdaddy, miss teacher and then aunty jess. in that order.â
laughter from you and miguel fills the dining room. your chest warms at the thought of comfort you find yourself inâthinking of jess, gabriella and miguel. the people you didnât think you would ever meet and change your life for the better. you flicker your eyes and meet miguelâs gaze.
a smile appears on his face, reminding you of warmth and comfort that you truly didnât have. a flutter in your stomach makes you snuggle gabriella even more with another new physical symptom you feel in the moment as your heart races.
the skies turn a colour of blue and grey when you walk miguel and gabriella to the front porch of the house. miguel thinks that heâs overstayed for dinner and tells his daughter that itâs time to start the journey and drive home.
gabriella runs to the car, opens the door and slides herself inside. it only leaves you and miguel together outside in the quiet evening.
âhey,â miguel turns to face you. âi just want to say that you are a very strong person after hearing your story. i cannot imagine going through what you had to do.â
âah, itâs nothing. as they say, when life gives you lemons, you make a lemonade, right?â you say sheepishly. âand perhaps not just lemonade. i gotta make the best of what i have.â
this causes miguel to chuckle, and the corner of his mouth curves up to a grin. âyouâre right,â he nods. âand you have done that. youâre just an amazing person like that, you know? just like how i believed you were when we first met.â
âthank you, miguel.â you smile. youâre used to hearing people praise you for your courage and bravery. but hearing it from miguel feels differentâit is different. is it because of the way he smiles at you? his eyes are a welcoming warm brown that makes your body relax just by looking at him. or is it because of his emotional and intellectual when the two of you talk that draws you in?
âand i canât thank you enough for being so good to my daughter.â miguel adds. âyouâre a good person. donât forget that.â
âthat means a lot.â your voice softens. ânow, i can see how gabriella gets that charm from.â
miguel lets out a laugh. âdo i sound cheesy?â
âno,â you shake your head. âitâs kind.â
you catch his hands in his pockets and miguel moves a little closer to you. his gaze holds you in place. âhonestly, i think gabi learns that from you.â
before neither of you could say more, you heard a soft knock from the car and gabriella was leaning forward in the window. she looks between the two of you and although her voice is muffled, you can still make out what sheâs saying to miguel. âdaddy, are we ready to go?â
âsorry, mija. iâll be with you.â miguel replies, then turns to look at you. âthank you for tonight. iâll bring food over on thursday. same time again?â
you nod, âyes, definitely.â
miguel greets you a good evening and gets in the driverâs seat, the engine roaring to life. you wave gabriella and miguel goodbye before the car drives off, leaving you on the pathway and hoping that they have a safe journey back home.
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âĄâ summary:  on the third day, you and miguel have a private dinner together in your very own shared house. but as usual, it's not your typical dinner plans as one might expect.
âĄâ pairing: fwb!!miguel o'hara x fem!reader
âĄâ themes/tropes: explicit smut, housemates / friends with benefits
âĄâcontent warning: 18+ mdni! sensual / temperature play, praise kink and doggy style.
another day has passed, and by wednesday, youâre getting the hang of this week. Â
when you come home, youâre greeted by the smell of spices lingering throughout the hallway of the house. itâs a little unusual because itâs only 5:30pm and you return to the house early after work. no one is home around this time. so today catches you by surprise.Â
âmiguel?â you call out, taking a step in. you go to the kitchen and hear something sizzling on the stove. he stands in the kitchen with his back facing you, and you realise that heâs cooking. you didnât expect him to return home this early.  Â
when miguel turns around, he has his sleeves rolled up to his forearms, an apron protecting his front. your heart skips a beat as a thought of miguel being domestic and homely makes your stomach flutter in awe. âhey, youâre back.âÂ
âi am,â you say, keeping your gaze on him. the kitchen is warm just as when you entered and the igniter on the stove is turned on. something is bubbling in one pot and the other fizzles. the aroma of spices fills up your nostrils and it smells delicious and homemade. âsomeoneâs cooking something nice.â Â
âmy speciality for our dinner today,â miguel says. he reaches his hand out towards your face and with the back of his fingers, he brushes away the strands of hair out front of the corner of your eye and tucks them behind your ear. âwhy donât you go rest and wait for me until i call you? it should be done in half an hour or so.âÂ
his touch makes you soft, and you nod your head, complying with his words. âdonât take too long. iâm getting hungry.â Â
âit wonât,â miguel grins and focuses back on the stove. âtonight, i will please your expectations.â Â
true to his words, the dinner miguel surprised you to meet your expectationsâpossibly beyond what you expect too. itâs rather romantic and intimate for a dinner between two friends with an indoor picnic setting, but you donât mind. what you have with miguel oâhara is surely beyond thatâmore than friends and housemates. itâs beneficial, but itâs also⊠more. Â
you should just stop reading too much into it. even when heâs putting churros on your lips and telling you to open your mouth for him (to take a bite of the food, of course). looking into your eyes with such an intense hold, like youâre the only one in his vision. Â
âthat was superb.â you say as you walk into the kitchen. âit feels like an indoor picnic.â Â
âiâm glad you enjoy it,â miguel says. you clean off the food remaining on the plates and cutlery as he loads them in the dishwasher. there isnât much leftover to clean up, and when you look at the counter expecting more cutlery to wash off for the dishwasher, thereâs a single cup of unused ice left.  Â
âhey, do you need any ice for your drink?â you ask miguel and look into the cup, the ice clinks when you give it a quick shake. âthereâs still some left in here.â Â
âno,â miguel replies. moments later, he turns to look at you, and his hand reaches for the cup. âmaybe for one thing.â Â
his fingers dip into the contents, and miguel pulls out one ice cube that has slightly melted but still retains its original shape. a drip of water trickles down his finger, and he brushes it off with his thumb. âhave you heard of sensual play?â Â
a flash of curiosity appears on your face. youâre no stranger to the concept of it, and some of the adult-rated books you read explore the concept of erotic pleasure. it can be as simple as from a touch of a finger trailing down oneâs body to extreme measures of testing the limits of the five senses until they quiver and beg for release. âi have, yes.â Â
miguel nods and looks at the ice, then back at you. âcurious to explore that?â Â
you gulped and flicked your eyes to him, your throat tightening at the thought of it and your heart racing. this has to be part of the challenge, right? and in all honesty, you are rather curious about the idea of sensual play. miguel is skilled with his hands, as you recall the way his large, warm, and rough texture of his fingers explores your skin as he touches you. a shiver of desire runs down to your clit and aches as you recall the way miguel rubs your little pearl and plays with your aroused folds. Â
âyes.â you say. âi want to give it a go.â Â
miguel chuckles and smirks. âwhere do you want the ice to be?â Â
you think about the question and glance over your shoulder, feeling his gaze on you. âmaybe behind my ear and slowly make its way down?â Â
âof course.â miguel nods his head. âthis will get a little cold, but it wonât be long, i promise.â Â
you feel his fingers hover behind your ear right before the ice chills your skin as soon as cold shivers down your body, nearly making you flinch. taking in a soft and sharp breath, you force yourself to stay still and take in the coldness. and then, your sense of touch accepts it, letting you feel every tingle and shudder as the ice cools against your skin.  Â
âhow does it feel?â miguelâs voice is low as he whispers close to your ear.Â
âitâs okay,â you reply. the ice cube slides up and down the side of your neck in a slow and steady motion, and water droplets that have seemingly melted the ice trickle down the column of your neck. ânice even. itâs not as cold as i was expecting.â Â
âgood,â his voice murmurs close to your ear, his voice like a velvet caress. âthatâs good to hear.â Â
miguel repeats the motion of gliding the ice up and down the nape of your neck. a soft sigh escapes from your mouth as you tilt your head back, relaxing the muscles of your neck. your skin adjusts to the coldness, and what remains is the sensual tingling that makes you close your eyes and breathe quietly and a little ragged. Â
more little droplets of water trickled down your neck. âcan i try something else on a different part of you?âÂ
you can feel miguel hover next to you, and you open your eyes to meet his red-coloured eyes gazing at you. âyeah, sure.â Â
miguel nods and pulls the ice cube away from the back of your neck. he reaches for the mug and pulls out a new ice cube about the same size as the one he had used. circling one arm around your waist and the other arm over your chest, he moves the ice down your cleavage and slowly glides down the valley of your breasts, moving it up and down. âhow does this feel?â Â
your lips parted slightly from the coldness, and you rolled your shoulders as it sent shivers down your back. when you looked down, there was a trail of wetness between your breasts and your skin glistened. âit feels good.â Â
miguel smirked at your response, and he dragged the ice cube up your chest, then circled it around your right breast. âiâve been thinking about us for the past two days,â he whispered. âhow are you feeling so far with the challenge?âÂ
âiâve been enjoying it. truly.â you spoke. âbut i still think youâre crazy for suggesting something like this with me.â Â
he chuckled, âthatâs the thrill, isnât it?â Â
miguelâs fingers brushed against your nipple and circled the ice cube around your areola, making you gasp out loud. âlook at that perky nipple,â he murmured. âall wet and sensitive. must be quite cold, huh?â Â
âmiguel,â you gasped softly, arching your back a little. the coldness tingled your nipple as he continued to rub the ice on your nipple. his other hand pinched and rolled another of your taut nipples between his fingers. Â
âguapa (pretty).â he whispered and pressed a kiss on your cheek. âyouâre so beautiful to me.â Â
blood rushed down to your clit at his praise, and miguel didnât stop his ministration. his lips trailed down from your cheek, moving lower to the jugular of your neck and shoulder. your nipples were both warm and both from his touch and the ice. it made your skin hot with the need for miguelâs touchâor just the thought of him in general. Â
âshould i rub it on your pussy?â miguel whispered into your ear. âi bet itâll feel really good.â Â
you blushed at his words, and there was a faint smell of your arousal between your legs. when you flickered your eyes to look at miguel, there was a grin on his smirk, and his eyes twinkled in amusement. his hand travelled down, and the coldness from the ice chilled your skin despite it not touching you.Â
âah!â you softly gasped and squirmed a little. the coldness hit you as miguel rubbed the ice on your folds, lubricating them. he rubbed it against your clit and it sent shivers down your body, causing you to tremble in his arms and squirm even more. âmiguel, itâsâŠâ
âdamn, hermosa, youâre trying to suck my fingers in or something?â miguel asks teasingly, and you tell that heâs smirking at the question. his other hand remains on your left breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers, as he leans down to suck the pulse on your neck gently.Â
he chuckles and rubs the ice on your folds; itâs slippery, and you feel little droplets of water trickling down his fingers. with your legs slightly shaken as you feel yourself more aroused by the second, you canât help yourself to push your hips back and rub your ass against his strained and bulging loins. you sound breathy when you softly moan and groan, responding to him. âitâs cold.âÂ
you hear a growl rumbling from miguelâs chest and your back shivers when you feel his clothed cock twitch between your butt. his grip squeezes on your hip. âbend over the counter.â he commands with a hoarse voice.Â
when you do as youâre toldâbending over the counter for himâit earns you a chuckle. miguel then chucks the ice into the sink without moving an inch from his spot. the ice clanks against the stainless steel sink.Â
you hear the rustling of clothes and belt unbuckle, knowing that miguel has his pants taken off. thereâs a soft, squelching noise when you turn to look over your shoulder and he grunts softly whilst stroking his cock. âyou ready, beautiful?â miguel asks and then he lightly smacks the side of your ass.Â
as soon as you nod your head, his length stretches your walls open as he enters. you moan and miguel groans when he bottoms out that sends shivers down your back. less than a moment, he pulls his hips back and thrusts back into you that turns into a rhythm pace of thrusting.Â
your back arches and arms stretch on the counter top, the kitchen filled with groans and moans from you and miguel. âyouâve been a good girl the past two days in this challenge,â miguel whispers. his lips brush the shell of your earlobe and grazes his teeth on the tiny, soft skin. âitâs making you feel good, huh? trusting me to take good care of you and your needs. toda una princesa (what a princess).âÂ
when miguel presses himself deep into you, your body trembles as he stays still, his member twitching in your warm walls. the kitchen is almost eerily quiet except the soft panting coming from both of you. you feel his fingers gripping your hips and the outline of his v-line on his lower abdomen against your ass. then, nothing happens. a standstill but his cock is deeply embedded in your pussy.Â
suddenly, miguel pulls backâyouâre confusedâand then he thrusts his member back into you so that you moan loudly. the pace picks up faster and harder, squelching noises from him constantly thrusting and burying his pack into your pussy repeatedly is drowned by the sounds of your cries and his grunts.Â
miguelâs hand goes under your chin and pulls you back against his chest, making you arch your back. he doesnât stop thrusting into you even then. youâre dizzy, high, and euphoric, being pounded from behind like an animal in heat. then it hits you; your orgasm comes in like crashing, tidal waves. thighs quivering, lips parted open as you moan and cry, your cunt gripping around miguelâs cock like a vice, fluttering and clenching. he still goes on, but itâs now sloppy and urgent, feeling his length quivering. and then, miguel follows and cums loads and ropes of white as he orgasms with a grunt.Â
the aftermath of both climaxes leaves you and miguel breathless. panting softly together. he weighs on your back as you try to catch your breath. heâs resting his forehead on the back of your head. âyou okay?â miguel whispers. he combs strands of your hair to the back in a ponytail and kisses just below the area that connects your jawline and neck. âdid i go too far?âÂ
âno,â you shake your head. despite your weariness from the intense pleasure, you turn to your side to look at miguel, your eyes roaming his face. âthat was perfect.âÂ
âyeah?â miguel smiles, his eyes raking over your face. âyou can tell me to stop at any time. you know that, right? at any point if itâs too much.â
your eyes gaze at his face; the way his dark brown eyes captivate you with just one stare, and his lips parted just so, ever slightly open. oh goodness, heâs a lot more handsome than you recall. âi donât think i want to stop.âÂ
miguel smiles and gently pinches the tip of your nose by surprise. âthen we have four days left to go.â
when you return home, you feel your body ache and a glooming weight hovering above your head. something just irks you today and all you want to do is retreat to your room until the whole day is over. at least, there are only a few hours left until tuesday ends. another seven hours left, to be precise. even the thought of it still dampens your mood and you wish that time would speed up so you can get over the tuesday blues.
the moment you arrive home, youâre greeted with brief quietness, before hearing someone going through the cupboards in the kitchen. although you acknowledge miguel's home first, you donât walk past to greet him. instead, you go straight to the second floor and into your room. shutting the door behind you, you strip off your work clothes and hop into the shower. the warm water calms your skin and loosens your muscles. yet, you feel dissatisfied even when you come out clean, smelling fresh and changed into comfortable baggy loungewear.
you dive into the comfort of your bed, tangling yourself under the duvet that makes your muscles curl comfortably. something vibrates under your pillow and when your hand moves under to reach for your phone â pulling it out to your sight â it lights up a received message from miguel. he tells you that heâs planning to run some errands and asks if you would like anything.Â
your reply is polite but a little unenthusiastic. it wasnât long after texting miguel back that you heard a knock on your door. the barrier opens and your roommate peaks his head in by the doorway. your eyes immediately meet miguelâs crimson eyes. âlong day?â he asks.
you sigh and nod, pressing your lips together. âextremely. today is just⊠i donât know, not my day.â
âlo siento, bonita (iâm sorry, beautiful),â miguel says. he steps into the room and closes the door behind him. âi had a feeling you werenât yourself when you got back.â
âsâokay.â you shrug. âJust a few more hours until tuesday is over.â
the room falls into a comfortable silence between the two of you. you twiddle your thumbs, unsure of what to do when you feel the bed shifted under its weight when miguel takes it forward to sit on the bed in front of you. his thumb and index fingers reach out for your chin and gently angle your face up to meet his gaze. âis there anything i could do to help?â
âiâll be okay,â you shoot him a soft smile. âmaybe iâll sleep early tonight to let the time pass.â
miguel goes quiet when you say this. he gazes away to his right â seemingly in thought â before his eyes meet yours again. âthere could be something we can do to pass the time. but only if you want to.âÂ
this has caught your attention. âwhat are you thinking of?âÂ
âtoday may have not been a nice day for you, but we could change that.â miguel begins. âthe continuation of our challenge from yesterday.âÂ
your chest tightens a little as you hitch a breath, recalling the deal made and yesterdayâs events. it heats your cheeks and goosebumps run down your back when your mind replays the way your body aches in pleasure when he thrusts deep into you. a sudden jolt of pulse travels down to your cunt as you think about the way he rubbed your clit yesterday with fervent abandon from the challenge.Â
youâre now reminded that today is the second day of the weekâs challenge.Â
âit might help you forget about whatâs upsetting you today.â miguel continues, his tone lowers and sounds a little husky. he pauses for a moment as he gently circles on your inner wrist in a mindless pattern. âi want you to take the reins this time to make you feel empowered. have you done whatever you want to me.âÂ
in that moment, your chest tightens even more with the way your heart races. this is the first time youâve been offered something like this, and throughout your situationship with him, miguel has always been the one to lead in the sexual activities. so his proposal has taken you by surprise and yet you couldnât help but feel a surge of excitement at the new prospect specially made for you. Â
âreally?â your voice holds an innocence to it. âyouâll let me do whatever i want?â
âwhatever you want, nena,â miguel smirks. âiâm yours to use as your playground.âÂ
you gaze away as you think, still feeling the rush of excitement and arousal. âthereâs always something that iâve been wanting to try.â you begin, pause for a dramatic effect, and then look at him with feign innocence and curiosity. âthigh fucking?âÂ
miguel raises a brow at you and a wide grin appears on his face. âyou plan on torturing me with those sweet, soft thighs of yours, bonita?âÂ
you giggle softly, ânot torture you, per se. more like⊠want to know what it feels like.âÂ
âmm,â miguel hums. his hand reaches out to brush away some unkempt strands of hair out of your view. âif thatâs what you want to do, then letâs do it.âÂ
nodding, the two of you began to undress each otherâs pants, the clothes all tossed aside in the corner of your bedroom. you quickly settled on the and laid your back on the headboard, with miguel joining to be in front of you. he kneels on the bed and spreads your legs open, moving closer between them. he takes hold of his large cock in his hand and places his throbbing member on your bikini area, giving it playful taps that have you squirming a little and giggling.Â
you slowly bring your legs together, the inner of your thighs brushing against his member softly between the thigh gaps. then with your legs clasped together, you raise your legs and then down slowly. soon, the motion repeats as your inner thighs drag his cock up and down in strokes. you swear you could feel his member throb between your muscles.Â
âoh, mierda, thatâs it,â miguel murmurs with his eyes closed. âyour thighs are so soft and warm.âÂ
âyou think so?â you ask as you proceed to move your thighs up and down, looking at him under his gaze innocently.Â
miguel smirks and lets out a breathy chortle once youâre confident stroking him with your thighs. bring your upper legs up and down like youâre doing a seated knee crunch exercise on his cock with your upper leg muscles. with every stroke, miguelâs member quivers and he groans. his chest is rising up and down slowly, eyes closed as his lips parted slightly whenever he breathes heavily.Â
âfuck, your thighs.â a low growl emits out of miguel. his brows creased as he pants. âso soft and beautiful and mierda (fuck)ââ he let out a breathy, almost strangled gasp as his eyes gazed down at his cock and your thighs stroked him. âtan perfecta, hermosa.âÂ
the praises coming out of his mouth feeds your confidence and it certainly shows it on the smile of your face. you continue to tease him and perhaps like miguel said earlier â torture him a little. seeing the way the foreskin of his cock would roll up and down to the movements of your thighs in between them â hiding between the muscles and revealing itself like it was a peek-a-boo game. the head of his cock is already glistened with precum. âsomething else.â he rasps. âplease.âÂ
âoh? youâre telling me what to do, now?â you ask with a raised brow, your tone teasing. âthough you told me that youâre my playground to use.âÂ
âyouâre right,â miguel rasps with a sheepish smirk. still using his thighs to stroke his cock, you can see the way his brows furrowed together as miguel breathes rhythmically in an attempt for some sort of control and restraint. âare you going to keep playing with me like this?âÂ
you glance up at him. the movement of your thighs going up and down slows down until it comes to a stop. his cock throbs, being buried in between the soft muscles of your upper legs. âyouâre right, i should do something about it.â you declare.Â
carefully, you open up your legs, seeing the way it glistened with arousal â a mixture of his and yours painting your skin. you already miss the way his member feels between your thighs but you have a different idea. leaning yourself forward close to miguel, your right hand reaches for his cock and soon, your hand replaces your thighs to stroke him. a gentle grip on his dick as you move up and down on him.Â
you hear miguel groaning your name, sounding even more hoarse than before. âyou know thatâs not what i meant.â he says brusquely, though it sounds gentle. âtĂș, pequeña zorra (you little vixen).âÂ
âwhatever do you mean?â you giggle softly.Â
âwant to have your pussy around my cock.â miguel murmurs. his head is tilted back with eyes closed, deeply groaning and his dick pulsates even more in your hand.Â
the growing smile on your face doesnât falter as you take full control of miguelâs pleasure, watching the way heâs beginning to lose composure. you feel more confident and empowered in this situation because youâve always been a bit of a princess and letting miguel have his way with you. but this time, the role is reversed.Â
âhow do you want to have my pussy?â you ask, still stroking his cock with your hand. âshould i ride you?â
âyes, yes por favour (please),â miguel says, his voice sounding breathy. he groans again and the muscles of his biceps tighten as his body shudders in pleasure. his member twitches in your palm. âhermosa, nena, por favor (beautiful, baby, please).âÂ
you chuckle softly, seeing how miguel has succumbed to a whimpering mess. a different sight but a beautiful one. youâve always known miguel to be confident, intimidating, and somewhat snarky. but in the moment and right in front of you, he is neither of those. he is yours to toy with and as he said beforeâheâs your playground to be used for the night.Â
âwhat did i tell you about telling me what to do?â you lightly scold miguel. and yet, your hand slowly comes to a stop and lets him go. getting up onto your knees, you gently nudge miguel to lean back a little. when he does so, you carefully crawl onto him, settling yourself on his lap. his hands instantly go to hold onto your waist. the two of you stare at each other, eyes gazing over each otherâs expressions and facial features.Â
âyou ready?â your voice is soft when you ask, hand reaching down to hold his cock and aligning it upwards between your legs.Â
âyes,â miguel whispers. his eyes darken in lust, and the grip on your hips is strong as if heâs trying to imprint his fingers into your skin. almost holding back your breath, you mentally prepare to embrace yourself, remembering to take it nice and slow.Â
steady, you lower yourself down onto miguel, the head of his cock breaches in slowly until the two of you are groaning and moaning. your walls warmly welcome the intrusion, wrapping around his cock in a vice grip till you could feel the tip of its head brushing inside your womb. âfuck, fuck. youâre so tight.âÂ
you rest your forehead on miguelâs when the shudder of pleasure overwhelms you. breathing softly as you hold onto him, mind clouded in lust and sheepishness. when a thought inadvertently enters your mind, the notion is forgotten when you feel his hands guiding you close to him by the waist.Â
âyouâre doing so well,â miguel says softly, his lips almost brushing yours.Â
his words made your heart leap and you exhaled a soft sigh that you didn't realise was holding back. âi want you to get comfortable.âÂ
âi already am.â the corner of miguelâs mouth curves up in a grin. his hands cup your rear cheeks and he lifts you easily off the bed to switch positions. miguel sits at the edge of the bed and his gaze focuses on you, his hands going onto your hips as you proudly sit on his lap.Â
you begin to roll your hips as you sit on his lap, with his cock settled buried inside you; its girth hits your vaginal walls, his pelvis rubbing your clit and you swear you could feel his cockhead hitting your cervix. the muscles of miguelâs thighs flex a little underneath your weight and he heaves heavily when your cunt grips onto his dick whenever you roll yourself onto him. âthatâs it,â he groans. âgrinding on my cock so well.âÂ
with your hands placed behind his muscular thighs as you steady yourself in this whole new position, you angle your hips and begin to bounce on him. it starts gently at first for you to adjust to the feeling and idea of taking charge. but then, the pace picks up moments later as you begin to feel comfortable. the wanton swiftness of miguelâs cock hitting your g-spot relentlessly. youâre unsure whoâs controlling the movements â whether it's your rhythm or his hand on your hips guiding you to lift up and then down onto his length. but it doesnât matter who did what because being on top of miguel oâhara feels like the sweetest and most well-deserved victory for yourself.Â
the bedroom is filled with the sounds of wet skin slapping with mixed arousal, your breathy gasp and his throaty groans. it doesnât take long until you feel the knot in your stomach tighten, making you drive your hips up and down on miguel faster. you hear him shudder a breath, his hands grab your buttcheeks. âoh fuck, hermosaââÂ
a throaty groan from miguel and a strangled cry from you fill in the bedroom. your cunt tightens around his cock and it throbs just in time for miguel to spill his cum inside of you. your clit pulsates from the pleasure, the two of you gasping and groaning from the euphoric sensation of cumming at the same time.Â
âdĂos,â miguel murmurs breathlessly. his lips brush on the valley of your chest as he catches his breath. your eyes are closed, regaining your breath as well. âthat was⊠wow,â miguel adds. he chuckles softly. âdidnât know you have a wild side of you.âÂ
âiâŠâ your voice trails. a sheepish smile curves up the corners of your lips. âwas that too much?âÂ
miguel laughs and then shakes his hand. his hands squeeze your hips. âif anything, it was the best.âÂ
your arms circle his neck as you press yourself chest to chest on him. the climax settles down, leaving the room quiet. neither of you pull away despite how overly warm and a little sweaty the two of you are, and you prefer the way youâre both not separating from each other yet.Â
"hey," miguel's soft tone catches your attention. "i have been meaning to ask. why is tuesday your least favourite day? is it a personal thing?"
his question surprises you because you didnât think he or anyone in your life would notice that the second day of the week is your least favourite day. you stay silent, figuring out how to put your explanation in words. âin all my life, tuesday seems to be the day where iâm out of luck and rough days seem to happen that would hinder my mood. a bad grade at school when i was younger. or i found out that one of the co-workers i hate at work made a complaint about me for something insignificant. even when⊠my mum passed away a few years ago, it was on a tuesday too.â
things fall peacefully quiet in your bedroom as the two of you sit together on the sheets. âiâm sorry to hear that,â miguel says apologetically. the pad of his thumb brushes on your inner wrist and you don't pull your hand away. instead, let his warmth comfort you.Â
âwell, i hope that iâve made your tuesday a little better for you,â miguel adds softly. he still caresses where your pulse and arteries are pumping under your skin.
your eyes gaze at him and a smile appears on your face. you couldnât help but agree because he did make your day a little brighter than the other tuesdays you experienced in the past.
âĄâ summary: miguel gets a phone call from his friend last minute about a change of plan. when gess tells him that gabriella will be spending a few hours with you at your place, he gets to see another side of you in your own home.
âĄâ pairing:s ingle dad! miguel o'hara x teacher! reader
âĄâ themes/tropes: father/teacher relationship, friends to lovers, family fluff, smut / romance
itâs three in the afternoon when miguel walks out of his meeting. his assistant, lyla, tells him that jessica drew left a message for him and asks if he can call her back. heâs puzzled by the request but complies anyway. settling into his seat at the mahogany desk, miguel searches for jessâs contact details and hits the call button, lifting the phone to his ear. it rings as it tries to connect.
by the fifth ring, she finally answers. âhey, jess. sorry, i was in a meeting,â miguel says. âwhatâs up?â
âhey miguel, listen. unexpected news, but iâve just gone into labour,â jess says. âiâm at the hospital with the labour nurses. my husband is on the way.â
âoh wow.â his eyes widen slightly. âare you okay? congrats, by the way.â
âthank you. iâm being taken care of until he gets here.â he hears distant voices on her end, but jess sounds calm. âlisten, iâm sorry to do this, but i canât pick gabi up after school. i told her iâm in the hospital.â
miguel shakes his head. âdonât apologise,â he says. âiâll pick her up and let her know to stay in school until i arrive.â
he waits through the muffled voices in the background, assuming a nurse is talking to jess about her birthing plan. when he hears jess thank her, she returns her attention to him. âi called in a favour and asked gabriellaâs teacher if she could look after gabi for a few hours until youâre done with work.â
miguel stills, blinking as the words sink in. he knows exactly who she means, and his heart thrums quietly as he leans back in his chair. âwhat did she say? is she okay with it?â
âoh yeah, she is. she loves gabriella, so itâs not an issue,â jess says casually, making miguelâs chest tighten. âi know you wonât finish until six, and the teachers usually leave by four or four-thirty. so⊠gabi would be locked in school if she waited for you.â
miguel frowns slightly, realising he hadnât even considered that. most days, jess picks up his daughter after school, and he picks her up after work. thatâs been the arrangement for as long as he can remember.
but he knows that eventually heâll have to take over that responsibility. today seems to be that day.
âi asked miss [last name] if she can look after gabriella until you finish work. you can pick her up from her place,â jess says. âi know i should have asked you first, but gabi is on board with the idea. you can text her teacher about the plan if you like.â
âi donât think i have her number,â miguel admits, disappointment flickering through him at the thought of you.
âi passed your number to her. you should have gotten a text. did you get it?â
he pulls the phone away to check his notifications, scrolling down the screen. he almost misses itâan unsaved number. the message reads:
unknown: hi, miguel. itâs gabriellaâs homeroom teacher. jess gave me your numberâhope thatâs okay. she told me about going into early labour and asked if i could watch gabi for a few hours. i can have your daughter at my place until you finish work. i really donât mind. i heard you finish at 6pm. i hope the arrangement is okay with you.
miguel sits up abruptly and leans closer to the screen, arms braced on the desk. his eyes widen as he reads the message again and again. he finally has your number. he swallows lightly as he rereads it, ignoring the tightness building in his chest.
âmiguel, did you get her message?â jess asks.
âyup, just read it,â he says quickly. âiâll work it out with her. thanks, jess. congrats againâcanât wait to see if baby gerry is a carbon copy of you or his father. and thank you for picking up gabriella all this time. let me know if you need anything.â
jess laughs. âyouâre welcome, miguel. iâll update you and gabi after the delivery.â
the call ends, leaving miguel alone with his thoughts, staring at your message again. he rereads it for the nth time, fingers hovering over his keyboard as he debates whether his draft sounds casual or desperate. after a moment of back-and-forth, he finally sends:
miguel: hi, thanks for the message. please forgive the unexpected burden iâve placed on you. iâm grateful for you watching gabriella. iâll request an early leave so i can pick her up.
while he waits for your reply, he saves your number. it doesnât take long before another notification pops up.
gabiâs teacher (you): hey, no worries. gabi is staying over at my house for now and weâre planning to make dinner together. sheâs doing her homework, so no rush. iâll send you my address so you can come by.
miguel smiles, relieved. his daughter is safe and happy. his muscles relax as he leans back in his chair. he knows heâll need to rearrange his schedule soonâpicking gabriella up himself, adjusting hours, finding a new routine. but for now, he sets it aside and focuses on work for a few more hours.
when he closes his car door in the alchemax parking structure, miguel lets out a long, relieved sigh as he finally clocks out.
itâs half-past five when he starts the engine and buckles his seatbelt. heâs ready to drive when he remembers heâs not heading to jessâs place. the thought of you makes his chest lighten. he opens the overhead compartment, checks the mirror briefly, then grabs his phone.
he brings it to his ear as it rings. tapping a finger on the steering wheel, he waits.
the line connects. âhey, itâs miguel. iâm finally done with work. iâm about to drive to your place.â
âhi, miguel,â you say, warmth in your voice, and he imagines you smiling. âgabi just finished her homework and weâre about to start dinner. you might make it in time.â
he hears his daughterâs excited voice in the background, telling him sheâs having a great time. he also hears her asking you questions about the kitchen.
âdid you get my address? i hope itâs not too far from alchemax.â
âthe drive isnât long. i should be there in less than half an hourâdepends on traffic,â miguel says. he glances at the digital clock, mentally mapping alternate routes.
âas long as youâre driving safely, miguel,â you tell him. âgabriella and i are just having fun.â
âwithout me?â he teases, chuckling when you laugh softly in return. âsounds like a girlsâ night.â
âgirlsâ night!â gabriella squeals in the background, making miguel laugh.
âenjoy your girlsâ night while you can, mija,â he says. âbecause iâm coming to get you.â
she squeals again and runs off. he smiles, listening. âiâll start driving now. see you both soon.â
âsee you soon, miguel.â
the call disconnects, leaving him in quiet. itâs been two weeks since he ran into you at the grocery store. ever since, heâs asked gabriella about you during dinner, listening intently whenever your name comes up in her stories.
once the engine hums back to life, he drives. traffic isnât as bad as expected, and in under half an hour he pulls onto a peaceful urban street heâs never visited. the gps reads out the address as he parks in front of what he assumes is your house.
miguel steps out, locks the car, and walks up to the porch. he rings the doorbell and hears footsteps inside. his chest thumps. when the door opens, he finds you smiling at him.
âmiguel, hi!â
âhi,â he says. âi hope iâm not too late.â
âyouâre just in time. come in.â you open the door wider, and he steps in for the first time. he notices the stairs leading up, then the open living room to the left. he follows you into the dining room, where gabriella is setting the table. she turns, sees him, and beams.
âdaddy!â
âhello, mija.â miguel smiles as she runs into his arms. âiâm sorry i couldnât pick you up sooner.â
she shrugs and tells him sheâs been great with youâactually, sheâs had a lot of fun. the warm smell of homemade food reaches him, and he notices the two of you have been preparing dinner together.
âwe were about to eat,â you say. âand youâre just in time.â
he blinks, almost stumbling over his words at your hospitality. gabriella pulls out her chair and sits, already scooping food onto her plate. the aroma makes his stomach growl.
âletâs eat, daddy,â she says. âmiss [reader] and i made this together.â
âyou donât say,â miguel smiles.
you catch his gaze. âyou havenât eaten yet, have you?â
âno,â he admits, eyeing the extra plate youâve set out.
you sit beside gabriella and look up at him. âcome eat with us, miguel. i made enough for three, just in case.â
he blinks, then sits down beside his daughter. the three of you share dinner, with gabriella excitedly recounting her day. miguel treasures every moment with herâbut when he glances at you sitting across from him, listening and laughing softly, he feels something warm settle in his chest. something like⊠togetherness.
after dinner, miguel clears the table and carries dishes to the kitchen. he insists on helping to thank you for the hospitality. while gabriella heads to the restroom before the drive home, he rinses dishes for you to load into the dishwasher.
âi canât thank you enough for looking after gabriella today,â miguel says. âi really appreciate it.â
âitâs nothing, miguel. i love spending time with her. sheâs great company,â you say, smiling.
his shoulders loosen at your reassurance. he hands you another rinsed plate. as he works, he thinks about the challenge aheadârequesting flexible hours, rearranging his schedule, figuring out a new routine for pick-ups.
âiâve been thinking,â you say, drawing his attention. âjess told me about gabriellaâs routine and how you usually get her after work.â
âyes,â miguel nods. âduring summer, gabi spends a few hours with jess and her kids. the only exceptions are school holidays when i can shift my hours.â
he sighs, arms crossing as he leans against the counter. âbut iâll need to adjust my schedule. maybe mornings at the office, afternoons working from home.â
heâs lost in thought when your voice cuts in gently. âi donât mind looking after gabriella after school.â
âiâm sure you have enough dealing with kids past three,â he jokes.
you laugh and shake your head. âi actually finish at four. if gabriella is okay staying with me after that, i can take her home until you finish work.â
home. the word sends a flutter up his chest before he reminds himself you mean your home. âare you sure youâre okay babysitting my daughter?â
âiâm perfectly fine,â you assure him. âthough i need wednesdays off for my extracurricular program.â
a smile grows on his face. âyouâre keen on having gabriella all to yourself.â
you laugh againâwarm and genuine. âsheâs my favourite kid.â
the kitchen grows quiet for a moment until gabriella calls out that sheâs ready to go. miguel tells her heâll be right there, then turns back to you.
âi think we should try this arrangement for a month,â you suggest. âwhat do you think?â
miguel nods, worries easing from his shoulders. âi think we should try it too.â
âĄâ summary: miguel and gabriella are grocery shopping on one weekend, and he didnât think he would run into you in the grocery store.
âĄâ pairing: single dad! miguel o'hara x teacher! reader
âĄâ themes/tropes: father/teacher relationship, friends to lovers, family fluff, smut / romance
miguel knows itâs that time of the month for grocery shopping. it isnât his favorite thing to do, but he understands itâs necessary. he finds himself in the supermarket with gabriella on a weekend, buying essentials for himself and his daughter: food, a few things he needs, and anything gabriella might want. while the world around him buzzes with people, he focuses intently on his shopping list, eager to check off each item.
he isnât alone; his good friend jess drew is with him. she has her own list, shopping for her growing family. they always help each other out, supporting their households. without jess, miguel doesnât think he can manage as a single father, and heâs grateful for her presence. there are things he feels inadequate discussing or understanding when it comes to gabriellaâs needs. sometimes he makes mistakes, but he tries his best to be a good father.
âthis brand is good for chicken broth,â jess says, holding up a package. he glances at the label, taking note. âhave you thought about what type of chicken youâre cooking with?â
miguel thinks for a moment. âa mix of thighs and drumsticks. maybe some wings too.â
âwings cook faster, so donât be surprised if they fall apart,â she advises.
âdaddy!â gabriella calls. he turns to see her holding up a cereal box covered with labels like âdelicious,â ânutritious,â and âcravingly good.â he hasnât seen this brand before, but he already knows whatâs coming. âcan we try this?â
âof course, mija. put it in the trolley,â he says, placing it in the cart. gabriella skips ahead happily.
alongside jess, miguel continues gathering items from his list while keeping an eye on his daughter. he ignores the lingering glances from mothers who pass by, clearly noticing him.
âhey,â jess says suddenly. âgabi, isnât that one of your teachers?â
miguel doesnât process her words before gabriella yells louder, catching the attention of people near the fridge section. he looks up to see her sprinting toward someone he doesnât recognize at first. when they turn, his eyes widen.
âmiss [last name]!â gabriella exclaims, waving at you. confusion crosses your face before you brighten, recognizing her. you hug her tightly, almost stumbling back from her excitement. âgabi, hi! iâm glad to see you.â
miguel watches as she pulls away and asks, âdo you come to this target often?â
âi do,â you nod. âi just needed a couple things before heading home.â
when you lift your head, your eyes meet miguelâs. he barely hears jess speaking. gabriella calls him again, pulling him from the moment. âdaddy, look who i found!â
âhi,â miguel greets, leaving his cart and walking toward you both. his mind stutters as he takes you inâleggings, workout sneakers, a fitted fitness jacket, your hair neatly pushed back.
if he hadnât met you before, he wouldnât believe youâre a middle school teacher; you look so different from your usual work outfits. he tries not to stare. âitâs been a while.â
âhi,â you say, finally meeting his eyes. âit has been a while. almost three weeks, right?â
âyes,â he nods. heâs been counting the days; three weeks feels like forever.
âiâm so glad we ran into you,â gabriella chimes, her brown eyes sparkling.
you smile at her and gently ruffle her hair. when you look back at miguel, his throat tightens. âhow have you two been?â
âweâve been good,â miguel answers, unable to look away. you look almost unrecognizableâand more than that, you look great. he wonders what your life outside of school is like, imagining something warm and content. maybe thatâs why he thinks your face glows when he looks at you.
âhey, girl!â jess suddenly calls, hugging you tightly. âyou look real good, lovely.â
you give a sheepish smile. âthank you. i just got back from the gym.â you glance between them. âare you two grocery shopping together?â
âdaddyâs making the food auntie jess makes for me after school,â gabriella explains proudly.
miguel nods. he considers himself a decent cook, but now that you know heâs making something, he canât help wanting to impress you a little. he notices the way your lips curve into a smile. âiâve always wanted to try your recipes, jess.â
âonly if you trade me some of your baked treats,â jess counters.
âiâm altering my marble cookie recipe next week,â you say. âiâll give you a free sample.â
jess grins and glances at miguel before turning back to you. âhave you tried mexican food before? i canât remember.â
âoh,â you say, smiling at miguel. âunfortunately, not yet.â
âmexican food is the best!â gabriella announces.
âif youâre interested, miguel is your guy,â jess says, clearly up to something. âhe makes amazing dishes.â
âoh, really?â you ask, looking at him.
miguel nods, nearly stumbling over his words, which never happens. âi can. tell me your preferences, and iâll make something.â
âwe can trade,â you say, eyes lighting up. âyou cook something, and iâll bake something for you.â
âsounds like a good trade,â he says with a grin.
your gaze meets his, creating a moment of stillness in the busy store. you look at him in a way that makes his chest tightenânot uncomfortably, but in a way that startles him. he canât get over how different you look today. how good you look. his eyes drift down your figure before he forces himself to pull back.
âi should get going,â you say softly. âbut it was nice seeing all of youâespecially you, gabi.â
gabriella beams. âsee you at school, miss [last name]!â
âbye, gabi,â you wave. âand goodbye, jess, miguel. hope we run into each other again.â
âsee ya later, girl,â jess says. miguel is so lost in thought that he only notices her leaving when she nudges his arm.
he blinks, recomposes himself, and nods your way. âhope to see you again soon.â
âi hope so too,â you say with one last smile.
miguel watches you walk away. gabriella starts talking about your baking and the recipes she hopes youâll make. he turns to jess. âshe loves baking?â
âher baking is to die for,â jess sighs dramatically. âthose marble cookies are my favorite. i hope i get some before i have this baby next month.â
miguel lingers where you stood, the memory of your presence still vivid. even when gabriella calls him down another aisle, you linger in his thoughts. he hopes to see you againâbecause the third timeâs the charm, right?
itâs monday afternoon, and youâre in your classroom when jess stops by to wait for gabriella to finish soccer practice. youâre exhausted after a long day of teaching and caring for your students. school hours are over, but your work isnât; you still have papers to grade, your classroom to tidy, and lesson plans to prepare.
âoh thank goodness for these,â jess says as you set a tupperware of cookies on your desk. seeing someone enjoy your baking always lifts your spirits. âthank you so much.â
you hear her open the container, followed by a pleased groan. âyou always know the way to a personâs heart.â
you smile sheepishly. âiâll take that as a compliment.â
while she eats, you reorganize the paperwork on your desk. you plan to finish grading before heading home, avoiding the habit of bringing work with you.
âso⊠tell me. what did you think of miguel oâhara the other day?â
âmiguel?â you look up. âheâs a good father. i can see why gabi admires him so much.â
âanything else?â jess asks, humming.
ânothing else,â you answer, though you suspect where sheâs going. her growing smile makes you laugh nervously. âheâs just a good man who loves his daughter.â
âmiguel isnât seeing anyone,â she adds quickly. âiâm just saying.â
âjessica,â you sigh with a nervous smile. âiâm not going to take it as a sign just because heâs available.â you wonder briefly if miguel was once married, but shake the thought away. âi care about gabi too much to risk making her uncomfortable.â
âi get it,â she says kindly. âbut i donât think you could upset her. she looks up to you a lot. youâre one of her role models. i think she loves you like a guardian.â
you canât help smiling. you know teachers shouldnât have favorites, but gabi is special. sheâs the sweetest child, bright and kind, and sheâll grow into an incredible young woman. miguel is lucky to have her. âi try to set a good example.â
you return to grading, though your mind keeps drifting back to the oâharas. you think about the unexpected encounter yesterdayâand about miguel. itâs been three weeks since your first meeting, and part of you wonders if fate is pushing you toward him. you were a bit self-conscious about smelling like sweat after working out, but the way he looked at you⊠you swear he was checking you out behind those sunglasses.
âhe is handsome, isnât he?â you admit with a soft smile. âthose shades⊠though iâve seen his eyes before. theyâre brown, right? but they looked lighterâalmost redâthe first time we met.â
âheâs your type,â jess laughs.
âi mean⊠yeah,â you admit, amused. âbut that doesnât mean iâm going to pursue him.â
âgirl, he is exactly your type,â she insists.
you groan and hide your face in your arms, burning with embarrassment as she teases you. but no matter how much the conversation shifts afterward, miguel oâhara stays in your mind for the rest of the afternoon.
âĄâ summary: on the first day of the week, it started with a crazy idea from miguel proposing to start the day of the week with a bang.
âĄâ pairing: fwb!!miguel o'hara x fem!reader
âĄâ themes/tropes: explicit smut, housemates / friends with benefits
âĄâcontent warning: 18+ mdni! mutual masturbation, missionary and mating press
miguel: could you meet me in the living room when you return for a few minutes? thereâs something i want to talk to you about.
thatâs the text message you receive from miguel in the car park while you load groceries into your car.
he doesnât elaborate, and the lack of detail follows you the entire drive home. curiosity gnaws at you as you wonder what he could possibly want to talk about. you and miguel are housemates, sharing the same house for nearly two and a half years. when you agree to take the empty room he advertises for rent and sign the lease, you have a vague idea of what youâre getting yourself into.
miguel oâhara is an attractive man, and at times the attraction grows into something dangerously close to lust. lingering glances across the room, the brief brush of skin against skinâeach moment leaves behind a heated message. it becomes impossible to ignore the elephant in the room: the pull between you, the urge to let your hands trace the contours of his body.
and then it happens. hands move in a rush, clothes are stripped and tugged aside, skin meeting warmth beneath fabric. you and miguel fumble your way into his bedroom, surrendering to a long, pleasurable night. it doesnât take long to figure out that youâre addicted to the way miguel fucks you. but gods, no one does it like he does. you would feel empty unless he fills you up again to the brim. your body has adjusted to him and only him, addicted to the way he knows how to make you scream and shake, leaving you breathless and alive. in the end, you and miguel come to a mutual agreement together; stay housemates with benefits. friends with benefits. itâs both your dirty little secret.Â
when you pull into the residential car park, you unload your groceries from the car and carry them into the shared house. just as you expect, miguel isnât home yet. the place greets you with quietâthe open-plan living room and kitchen sitting still and empty.
you organize the groceries in the kitchen, putting everything where it belongs. with time to spare before miguel returns, you retreat to your en-suite bathroom and take a quick shower to freshen up.
thirty minutes later, you walk downstairs, thinking about settling into the living room and turning on the tv, when you hear the front door unlock.
âwelcome home.â
miguel looks up toward the staircase and sees you. relief flickers across his face, weariness from work settling into his shoulders as they slump slightly. âhey, hermosa.â
âhow was work?â you ask, following him into the kitchen. he unpacks his lunch box, rinses it, and places it neatly on the drying rack. youâve seen him do this countless times, yet it never fails to make you feel strangely domesticated by the routine. a man who cleans up after himself is undeniably sexy.
âit was a pretty good day, surprisingly,â miguel replies.
âi got your message,â you say. âyou mentioned there was something you wanted to talk to me about?â
he turns to look at you, his lips curving into a faint smirk. âsĂ, hermosa,â he says. âitâs about our arrangement. comeâletâs talk in the living room.â
the seriousness in his tone makes worry stir in your chest. part of you fears he wants to end the housemates-with-benefits arrangement. another part imagines him having found someone elseâsomeone better. maybe heâs ready to settle into something committed, and this is his way of letting you go.
your heart drums uncomfortably as dread settles in, the thought of spending less time with him tightening your chest. âwhat about our arrangement?â
âitâs nothing bad, i promise,â miguel says. when his eyes meet yours, he lets out a soft chuckle. âitâs a good discussionâdepending on how you see it.â
your shoulders relax as relief washes over you, but his words leave you puzzled. the feeling doesnât last long, fading the moment you hear what he says next. "what do you think of us having sex together for a whole week?"
it takes you a full minute of silence to process his words. when it finally sinks in, disbelief spreads across your face. âyou want us to do it for seven days straight?â you repeat, incredulous. âare you out of your mind, miguel?â
âno,â miguel says, smirking. he repeats it slowly, deliberately. âfor seven days straight.â
a sharp, disbelieving laugh slips from you as you shake your head. âin what world is that a good idea?â you ask. âdo we even have time for something like that?â
the coy smirk on miguelâs face only widens, and you know exactly what heâs thinking. somehow, the two of you would find a way. you always do. âweâll make time, chica,â he says. âcome onâitâll be a lot of fun.â
you shake your head again, still unconvinced. ânot so sure about that.â
miguel steps closer, bracing one hand against the cushion behind you. his tone turns cocky, sly. âyou donât think i can pull it off?â
you scoff. âi think youâre insane.âÂ
his chest rumbles when he laughs. âit would only be just for a week,â miguel says, then raises a brow. âyou think that you wouldnât enjoy having sex with me for a week?âÂ
you looked straight into his eyes, and a glint of challenge flashed as you both stared at each other. the words came out of your mouth faster than you could process. âbet.âÂ
miguel smirks, and he doesnât hesitate, pulling you by the waist with one hand and another on the back of your head. his lips crash onto yours in a passionate kiss, a little rushed and rough. miguelâs mouth moves in a slow yet deep and captivating tug whilst his hands roam your body, pulling and grabbing. it takes one kissâa taste of his lipsâand your head is spinning in a whirlwind.Â
you lean back and lie down on the couch with miguel on top of you. he deepens the kiss for a brief moment, his tongue tracing your parted lips when he pulls away, and you find yourself chasing after him as miguel hovers right in front of you. âiâll go easy on you, hermosa,â he whispers.Â
âeasy on me?â you chuckle. âi doubt that.âÂ
he only smirks in response and looks at you. âitâs monday today,â he begins. âso letâs start with something easy first.âÂ
when he purses his lips in a pretence of pondering, you know that itâs a lot to get a lot more interesting. âmasturbation rhymes with monday, hm?â miguel brushes his nose on yours. âthen, missionary and matingâŠâÂ
âyouâre unbelievable,â you shake your head, but it doesnât stop you from smiling.Â
âis that a yes?â miguel asks. he drags his hands from your sides down to your hips, moving his hand across your lower belly down between your legs. it makes your breath hitch when his hand touches over your shorts. his fingers tracing your clothed cunt. âto our first challenge?âÂ
you couldnât help but chuckle, pulling him into a needy kiss. miguel takes this as a yes, and his fingers curl onto the band of your shorts, while your hand does the same to his pants. you return the favour by groping him gently, rubbing your palm on his semi-hard bulge, and you hear miguel groan against your lips. both your shorts and his pants are taken off and left discarded somewhere in the room, followed by the rest of your attire: shirts, undies, and briefs.Â
âdios mĂo, would you look at that?â miguel says with a smirk on his face.Â
âshut up.â you mumble. you donât need to look at yourself to know what heâs talking aboutâyou know that youâre already wet. when miguel glides his fingers between your foldsâall aroused and slipperyâyou groan softly at the feeling. one of your hands goes to his cock, thumbing with the tip of its head as you begin to jerk him off. the other begins to start stroking his girth.Â
âfuck.â miguel nips on your neck at the area below your ear. with his fingers rubbing your cunt and you stroking his cock, youâre both in a mess. pleasuring each other in sync. the more miguel rubs down your clit, the more you moan and the faster you move your hand up and down his length. the neediness grows in the room, and every touch feels so good. your body responds to his touch, making your toes curl and thighs tremble.Â
âmierda, thatâs it, baby. shit.â miguel groans. he rubs your cunt faster as you get wetter that it squelches. you try to keep up with the pace and give as much pleasure with every stroke as he touches your clit and labia. the build-up pleasure creeps him out when you clutch one of your hands on his forearms.Â
it becomes too much, both of you moaning and gasping against each otherâs lips. the neediness shows when you feel close to orgasm and miguelâs cock throbbing in your hand. you feel your lips brush against his lips in a heated kiss, his hand, which was playing with your cunt, is pulled away and now holding your hips. he pulls away and stares at you before grabbing his cock and rubbing it against your slit, letting you feel the tip that sends the urge of needing him inside of you.Â
âdonât move,â miguel tells you. he holds onto your legs by your calves, opening yourself up to him a bit more. miguel almost loses his composure when he feels you engulf him with your warm heat because of how wet youâre already from the masturbation. all wet and perfect for him, making him groan when he bottoms out, and gasp from you.Â
the two of you are still for a moment before miguel starts thrusting. his cock fills you up so nicely and it hits your g-spot and rubs your clit with every stroke. you always clench around him with each thrust and miguel loves it, seeing you writhing and moaning because of him. youâre clutching your nails on his back as his hips move continuously. moaning and whining his name at how deep he thrusts into you. the way miguel raises your hips and settles your lower body on his thighs angles him to fuck deeper into you. making your back arch in pleasure and your body writhe.Â
âfuck, fuck, nena,â miguel moans above you. gripping onto the sofa cushion, he feels himself over to the edge of orgasm. âdoing this with you for a whole week is going to be the best thing in my life.âÂ
âmiguel,â you whine. his stamina is greater than yours, so youâre not surprised that he can keep up thrusting into you. you tighten with each movement, the room grows hotter as both you and miguel move in a pleasant, constant wave.Â
both your legs are propped up in the air and placed on his shoulders. miguel angles you a little higher as he holds onto your legs by your thighs. feeling your ass cheeks on his hips. your body tenses and back arches when miguel doesnât slow down his thrusts. grunting as he speeds up and repeatedly hits your sweet spot. âyouâre going to come so much like this,â miguel pants.Â
and heâs right. because your body twitches the moment you feel a strong wave of orgasm coursing through you. miguel doesnât slow down when you release, and his thrusts feel urgent. slapping himself onto you and ramming in your cunt until his cock twitches, soon spilling his come inside you with a loud moan.Â
the two of you are out of breath. miguel gently puts down your legs onto the sofa, though his cock is still nestled inside you. youâre both looking at each other, still feeling the effects of the climax. âsame time again for tomorrow?â he asks.Â
you sigh and lean back against the armrest, feeling out of breath. even then, you still manage to make a joke about the situation. âsame position tomorrow?âÂ
âa different one every day.â miguel chuckles. âyouâll find out soon enough.âÂ
he smiles and leans forward to plant a kiss on your forehead, and it sends a rush of warmth to your core. itâs not meant to be a tender display of affection, but it doesnât help that it still makes your heart skip a beat. ânow, are you hungry for dinner tonight?â
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âĄâ summary: miguel comes to his daughter's school to pick her up but seeing you was an unexpected and nice meeting.
âĄâ pairing: single dad! miguel o'hara x teacher! reader
âĄâ themes/tropes: father/teacher relationship, friends to lovers, family fluff, smut / romance
miguel remembers why he avoids driving around the city in the late afternoon.
he stares out the front window with a frown, boredom settling over his features. one hand rests on the steering wheel while the other props his elbow against the door, supporting his face. itâs typical nueva york trafficâhorns blaring, drivers weaving and ignoring every regulation imaginable, pedestrians wandering into the street without a care.
miguel sighs in frustration. he still canât believe his friend jess deals with this every weekday just to pick up the kids. he resists the urge to smack his palm against the wheel and yell at the cars ahead to move. instead, he endures. minutes crawl by like hours as the line inches forward. when he checks the time, itâs ten minutes to four. the only thing keeping him sane is reminding himself why heâs doing this in the first place.
gabriellaâs school is just a few blocks aheadâbeyond the mess of cars.
a smile crosses his face at the thought of her. his daughter. his light. his joy. as much as he loves her, he rarely picks her up after three in the afternoon. being a geneticist sounds flexible, but itâs really a strict nine-to-six job, monday through friday. even so, he squeezes in every moment he can with herâbefore work, after work, on weekends.
but today, he breaks routine. today, heâs picking her up. and gabriella has no idea heâs coming.
traffic finally loosens. cars begin to move, and miguel presses forward, weaving carefully through queens until he reaches the familiar streets surrounding her school. he parks, gets out, and locks the car behind him. itâs already four-thirtyâdefinitely late. he glances at his reflection in the window: blue jeans, a white shirt under a black leather jacket, black sunglasses. he looks like any other dad picking his kid up, not a man who just left work.
itâs been a while since miguel last stepped foot on campusâprobably the parent-teacher conference. inside, the building feels quiet and strangely vast, the halls empty of students and staff. he doesnât remember the layout well and isnât sure where to go, so he wanders, hoping to stumble across someone who can point him in the right direction.
the hallways grow eerily silent as he continues. everything looks unfamiliar. he considers calling gabriella, but he decides against it. he wants to surprise her after soccer practice.
maybe a teacher is still around.
he looks down the hallway and chooses the farthest door on the right, unsure why but following a hunch. he knocks twice, then turns the knob and peeks inside. empty. he frowns and starts to close the doorâ
âhi, can i help you with anything?â
he steps further in and finally sees herâyouâbehind a desk he hadnât noticed. the locker behind you sits open, full of papers and boxes. he mustâve interrupted your organizing.
âhi,â he says.
âhello,â you reply with a small smile, setting a box on the desk. miguel removes his sunglasses out of courtesy, taking you in. youâre dressed casuallyâa polo shirt and white jeans. definitely a staff member. âis there something i can help you with?â
âiâŠâ his voice trails off. you seem young, probably in your twentiesâseveral years younger than him. likely a teacher. he clears his throat. âsorry, i think i got myself lost. iâm looking for the sports field. iâm picking up my daughter. she has soccer practice today.â
âoh, right,â you say, smiling apologetically. âyouâre pretty far from it. the fieldâs on the other side of the building.â
he nods. of course. schools are always mazes. âthank you. i hope you enjoy the rest of your afternoon, señorita.â
he turns to leave, but you stop him. âi can show you, if you want. so you donât get lost again.â
he hesitates, studying you. you donât know him, yet youâre willing to help without hesitation. you shut the cupboard, lock it, and turn to him with another warm smile. he nods. âiâd appreciate it.â
âsure thing,â you reply, grabbing your keys. you circle around the desk, and miguel immediately notices the height differenceâyou stand around his chest. âshall we?â
he opens the door for you, and you lead the way. he follows, observing your strideâconfident, elegant, unhurried. he wonders if you might be one of gabriellaâs teachers. something about you draws his attention, a quiet pull he doesnât try to explain.
âso, whatâs your daughterâs name?â you ask as you walk.
âgabriella oâhara,â he answers. âseventh grade, brown hair, purple backpackâabout this tall?â he gestures.
your face lights up. âoh! gabi oâhara. sheâs one of my students,â you say. âiâm her homeroom teacher. she talks about you a lot.â
miguel blinks, surprised. âshe has?â
âshe sometimes stays to help me tidy up when she doesnât have practice,â you say. âusually while waiting for jessica to pick her up.â
before he can say more, you speak again, a bit hesitant. âsorry if this sounds assumptive, but⊠is jess gabriellaâs mother?â
âno,â miguel says with a small laugh. âjessicaâs a close friend. i usually work late, so she picks gabi up. but todayâs different.â he smiles faintly. âitâs a surprise.â
âi think sheâll be thrilled,â you say gently. âshe told me you havenât seen her new kicks yet. sheâs a star on the girlsâ team.â
âiâm looking forward to it,â miguel replies.
you reach a large door at the end of the hall. âthe girlsâ soccer team is just outside.â
you push the door open, revealing the breeze, the field, the track, and clusters of students and teachers. miguel scans the field until he sees a familiar girlâbrown hair, purple shirt, white shortsâdarting across the grass. she kicks the ball straight into the goal. her teammates cheer. he canât help but smile.
âoh, look, thereâs gabi,â you say. âgabi!â
gabriella turns, spots you both, and her entire face lights up. âpapa!â
âmija!â miguel calls back. she sprints toward him.
she greets you too, shouting across the field about her game. you laugh and tell her you saw everything. miguel smiles at the scene before she jogs back to finish practice. he gestures to a bench. âwant to sit while we wait?â
âi donât mind,â you say.
you sit together. miguelâs gaze stays on gabriella, pride softening his features. âsheâs a great kid, isnât she?â
âdefinitely.â
after a quiet moment, he turns to you. âso, how long have you been teaching?â
âtwo and a half years,â you say. âi started as a substitute after moving to the states.â
your accent and mannerisms suddenly make more sense to him. âand what do you teach?â
âmostly biology and chemistry,â you explain. âsometimes english and reading enrichment. english isnât my first language, but i like helping kids feel confident in it.â
âyou speak it very well,â miguel says. âgabi and i switch between spanish and english a lot. sometimes spanglish.â
you laugh softly. âsome things just feel more natural in your mother tongue. although my family says i get a bit⊠expressive.â
miguel chuckles. âi always encourage gabriella to speak more spanish at home. itâs important not to lose your roots.â
âi agree,â you say. âyour roots never leave you.â
âwhat made you move here?â miguel asks.
âi wanted adventure,â you say simply, smiling. âi moved on my own.â
âthat takes courage,â he replies. âhow old were you?â
ânineteen when i left home. i stayed in canada two years, then came to the states at twenty-one. iâve been here three years now.â
he notes the age differenceâjust seven years. young, brave, independent. intriguing.
silence settles comfortably between you. the sky is bright, the sun warm. miguel feels oddly relaxed beside you, a rare sensation with someone heâs just met. you sense his gaze and glance over with a smile. heâs grateful for his sunglasses hiding the warmth creeping up his cheeks.
gabriella runs over, and you stand first. miguel follows.
âpapa! i canât believe youâre here!â she beams.
âi wanted to surprise you,â he says, lifting her into his arms. âyou did great today. iâm proud of you.â
âgracias, papa.â she kisses his cheek, then turns to you. âdid you see my moves?â
âthey were impressive, gabs,â you say warmly. âyouâll be a star on sports day.â
miguel notices the sun dipping lower. âwe should head home.â
âcan we stop at wendyâs?â gabriella asks.
miguel considers. he forgot to prepare dinner. âwe can do that, sweet girl.â
he turns to you. âthank you for your help.â
âno problem, mr. oâhara,â you reply. âi hope we meet again. it was nice getting to know you.â
he nods, ignoring the faint sting in his chest. gabriella gathers her things, then waves wildly. âbye, miss! see you tomorrow!â
âsee you tomorrow, gabi! enjoy your dinner!â you call back. âsee you again sometime, miguel!â
he waves and walks away with gabriella. but the farther he gets, the more he thinks about you. he glances back. youâre laughing with another teacher, sunlight catching your face. when you notice him looking, you offer the sweetest smileâone that lingers even after he turns away.
âpapa, letâs go to wendyâs now!â gabriella urges.
he smiles down at her. âalright, princesa. letâs go.â
when he looks back, youâre gone. but your smile stays with him.
later, at wendyâs, gabriella happily digs into her kidâs meal, and miguel watches her with quiet joy. no matter how busy he gets, these moments matter most.
âyour teacher is nice,â he says casually, though youâve been on his mind since he met youâyour kindness, your patience, the way you interacted with gabriella. refreshing. sincere. unlike the people who try to approach him at school just because heâs a single father with a reputation.
âmiss [last name]?â gabriella says through a mouthful of ice cream. miguel rolls your name around in his mindâyour first name with your surname. it fits. âsheâs nice. and pretty too.â
miguel pretends not to react, though he agrees. âhow come you never mentioned her when i asked about your day?â
gabriella gives him a look. âpapa, i have. like, a lot.â she crosses her arms. âi told you she brought mr. oscar for show-and-tell, and that she likes to bake and brings treats every month. and sheâs from englandâremember?â
miguel presses his lips together. he vaguely remembers⊠something. gabriella talks about so many things that itâs hard to keep track. but stillâheâs sure heâd remember someone like you.
gabriella giggles. âpapa, are you getting old?â
he sighs dramatically. âit seems so, princesa. iâm sorry.â
âitâs okay! i forget things too.â then, just as quickly, she changes the subject. âi really like miss [last name]. sheâs the best teacher ever.â
âtell her that tomorrow,â miguel says. âiâm sure sheâd love to hear it.â
âi will!â
meeting you was unexpected. if he hadnât picked gabriella up today, he wouldnât have crossed paths with you at all.
a small part of him hopes heâll see you againâmaybe sooner than chance alone would allow.
âĄâ summary: you're struggling to keep your focus with the stress and miguel offers to ease that worry off you.
âĄâ pairing: college playboy! miguel o'hara  đ„ đ! studious reader
âĄâ themes/tropes: modern + college au. explicit content (18+), finger f*cking, dirty talk. reader and miguel are between 22-23 years old in this alternate universe.
sometimes you contemplate why you put yourself in this kind of situation.Â
you were aware that you have exams coming up in the next few weeks. but you were focused on making sure that you got your assignments done before the deadline. so it was natural for you to priorities those. you wish you had paid more attention to the dates because just when you thought that you would have more time to revise, you didnât. leaving you with only three weeks until your exam. and now youâre struggling to get information into your head.Â
âfuck,â you mumble. the machine makes a soft drilling noise as it pours coffee into your mug. you rub your forehead with your hand as you wait for your drink to finish. thinking about what topics you need to revise for the exam. mentally planning how you would organize and plan yourself for another long session of studying. itâs going to be another long night.
when your drink is ready, you stride your way to the dining table where all your notes and books are set. with not enough desk space you have in your room, the dining table has turned into your second desk to accommodate all the reading materials and your laptop to work on. you strap yourself in your seat, ready for another torturous session of studying for the finals.Â
all the caffeine from the coffee, tea and sugary energy drinks didnât last long in your system. at first, you feel the buzz of the caffeine that helps you go through two hours of reading and answering mock questions without a proper break. you feel yourself pushing through, feeling motivated that you can do this. but then, the effects wear off, and now youâre struggling through short video clips on your laptop after two hours into your study session.Â
your mind battles. reminding you about the consequences of you losing more time. but you canât be bothered at the moment. you are convincing yourself that you deserve a break from studying for fifteen minutes which turned into a two-hour rest and procrastination.Â
at this rate, you know that you won't get any studying done. youâre going to have to face the consequences of that but you canât be bothered about it for now. staring mindlessly at your laptop with headphones on as you watch a reality television adaption to pass the time.Â
âdios, youâre still here this late?âÂ
your eyes look up from your laptop to find your roommate in the dining area. miguel stands at the entrance in his black leather jacket, red shirt underneath and dark-coloured jeans. his black helmet rests on his left lip and it looks like heâs returned from wherever he went or did. you didnât realise that he wasnât in the house you both shared all this time. âwhen was the last time you looked at yourself in the mirror? you look shit.âÂ
âthanks, captain obvious.â you say.
your relationship with miguel oâhara is rather tricky, to say the least. sometimes, the two of you get along and have a decent conversation with each other about careers, and personal experiences and share similar interests. though other times, itâs not necessary. itâs mostly when he would bring people over to the house and then take one girl up to his room. having to hear moans from the girls he fucked and miguelâs growls and dirty talks.Â
it annoys you to no end, especially the one incident when you walked into the bathroom with him getting a blow job in the shower. itâs still his fault for not locking the bathroom or even putting a sign on the door to say that heâs busy getting pleased. Â
even after that, your subtle attraction for miguel still resonates with you.Â
you realize your mug is empty, another drink that is supposed to keep you going has gone to waste in your system. you canât be bothered but you know that youâve wasted time not studying when youâre supposed to. so, you get up from your seat, walk into the kitchen and do the same routine that youâve done the past few weeks when youâre cramming for finals. either make your coffee, or tea or grab an energy drink. the caffeine from the coffee is too much for you to handle at the moment and tea isnât strong enough for you. so you settle for an energy drink where itâs in between enough caffeine to maybe help you go through for another three hours for now.Â
âare you thinking of studying again?â miguel sounds a bit disbelieving, but not surprised. heâs now in the kitchen with you as you take your energy drink of choice for the nightâor early morning. you donât want to look at the time âthereâs no point. youâre not going to remember anything at this rate.â
âcan we just⊠not do this?â you warn, holding your hand up as a sign for him to stop talking. stop creating conversations that would lead to an argument because you know it would happen. especially with your emotions all over the place. Â
miguel stares at you, his eyes roaming up and down. Not long after, his lips curl into a smirk. leaning his side against the frame of the long, rectangular entrance arch. âyouâre stressed out. miss Perfect finally breaks down for finals.â Â
a tired sigh escapes out of your mouth. you focus to proceed on opening up the can, hearing its fizziness before pouring it into your mug. âyou could say that.âÂ
the kitchen falls into silence. what he says is certainly true and you feel that you brought this on yourself. you were off-tracked with your assignments and didnât check the right exam dates. itâs an error on your part but you are trying to do your best to make it through another year of college without failing. at this point, youâre willing to accept a passing grade just to make it to another year. Â
âiâll study and keep you company,â miguel declares. âonly to make sure you stay focused and get on track. No more messing around. got that?âÂ
you blink, unprepared for his words. youâre not sure why heâs doing this to you but what he said made a rush of warmth fill your chest. despite his words, you guess that he thinks itâs better to have someone to study with rather than doing it alone. but you donât ask miguel if thatâs his intention, in case he decides to rethink his offer.
you blink and look down at the mug in your hand, guessing that miguel is talking about how energy drinks are meant to drink from their can, and not from a mug.Â
you did manage to push yourself for another two hours before you came crashing again.Â
âi canât focus on anything else right now. my mind has gone blank.â you sigh, slumping on your seat. thatâs another study session that failed.
âhm,â miguel responds. focusing on his study materials. âi think youâve studied too much. thatâs why youâre burned out.âÂ
there is some truth to his words. you have been pushing yourself to the bone for this exam and now your mind is haywire. Everything feels numbing in your head. the feelings of exhaustion, guilt and unbothered-ness are jumbled in you.Â
âiâm just really stressed out. i want to do well on this exam but my brain just⊠canât grasp anything that iâve studied.â you say, sounding a little disheartened. âi canât focus, i canât concentrate.âÂ
miguel couldnât help but glance at you. taking in the way youâre slumped in your seat and how hollow your eyes are, filled with fatigue and emptiness. you look stressed out. he wonders when was the last time you had rest â a proper break. not the stupid pomodoro breaks where you take five to ten minutes of break time before getting back to studying.Â
he wonders when was the last time you had taken care of yourself?Â
miguel turns his attention to you when he hears you close one of your heavy books. you let out a sigh, âi canât even relax without being so much on edge. fuck.âÂ
he thinks youâre right as he sees the way your body tenses in stress and anxiety. miguelâs expression stays unfazed though he does feel sympathy seeing you in such a state. âhey, you should get some rest. go to bed early or something.âÂ
âi will after i attempt to get this lesson done. then, iâll go to bed.âÂ
miguel gives you a solemn look. your determination is one of the things he admires about you. your willingness to do whatever it takes to get your points across. it made you endearing in his eyes. but at the moment, itâs making you look stubborn and somewhat prideful. the last thing you need is a bad experience of burnout before your exam, and he knows that you know this as well deep down.
âlet me help you to relax,âÂ
âhuh?â you shoot him a confused look. as if heâs said something unusual to you. âhelp me⊠relax? how do you plan on doing that?âÂ
miguel nods, âyou are tensed up and youâre not getting anything remembered in your head. your mind canât focus.â Â
you raise a brow at him, unsure where your roommate is coming from. miguel is right, you do need to take a proper break since your productivity is rather counterproductive. but his words still puzzle you about how he can help you relax. âand how do you plan on doing that, exactly?â you ask curiously. âwhat do you do to relax when youâre stressed out?âÂ
âyou know, go to the gym. take a walk, drive around.â miguel says it casually. âsometimes masturbating helps to wire your brain to relax.â
you stare at your roommate before burying your face in your hands with a groan. not only is the suggestion embarrassing but you have to imagine miguel playing with himself. how his hands would stroke his cock, hot and pulsing in the palm of his hands. envisioning the grunted breaths and deep groans he makes. it isnât as if you havenât done that to yourself either, pleasuring yourself. youâve done that on the nights where you could hear the headboard of his bed from his room moving as the girl miguel brought for the night kept moaning.Â
you shake your head, dismissing the thoughts immediately. or try to. âiâm not in the right mindset to do that.âÂ
miguel raises an eyebrow. âiâm not saying you should do it. iâm offering to do it. itâs on the table for you.âÂ
âwhat?â you stare at him in shock and confusion. you think you heard him wrong but from the unfazed look on his face, you know that he is serious about this. serious about giving you an orgasm, or maybe multiple orgasms. because you know from the women and girls he brings over to fuck, miguel has them moaning more than three times.Â
when you open up your mouth, you can hear yourself stammering your words. the thought of it is disgusting but at the same time, arouses you. âmiguel, iââÂ
âdo you trust me?â he asks, his red eyes piercing into yours. captivating you to stop talking. to stop denying the offer of pleasure. you give miguel a look of uncertainty, unsure how to respond to his offer.
âwhatâs it gonna be?â miguel asks. the corner of his mouth curves up to a tiny smirk. âno pressure, chica. i want you to think about it and let me know if youâre up for it or not.âÂ
miguel goes back to reading his study notes with a neutral expression as if the conversation didnât happen. he doesnât look at you and the silence in the room speaks volumes. Leaving you to think about the offer. youâre not sure why he is even offering himself to give you pleasure. miguel is your friend, for goodness sake. the guy is out of your league and he has been with other people, you know this. is he doing this out of pity or could there be more to it?Â
the two of you have lived together for three years of schooling, and have known each other for that long. he doesnât give you attention in a lustful way or lustful like he does with other girls; the kind of interest in starting a sexual relationship with you. itâs a blessing in disguise yet at the same time, you want a connection more than just being his friend.Â
you have a crush on miguel but he doesnât seem the type of guy who isnât ready to commit to one person just yet. especially when youâre both still young and exploring life ahead. Â
âokay,â you closed your book with a thud. you catch his eyes when you fully turn to talk to him. this idea is already as insane as it is, but youâre desperate to stop feeling like a lost cause about your exam. you just want to forget about your test for a few minutes. maybe a couple of hours at most. âiâll take up on your offer. what iâve been doing is not working, and i need some sort of break before i go insane.âÂ
miguel grins and then puts his reading materials away. you always think that he looks so handsome when he smiles. âwell then. move your books and laptop aside and sit on the table for me.â miguel looks at you when you stare at him. âit will be a lot nicer like that, trust me.â he adds.Â
âokay, iâll get my stuff out of the way.â you say and begin picking up your books and laptop. miguel does the same, putting his things away, then turns his attention to look at you.Â
youâre sitting on the edge of the table, waiting for his next words. the beating of your heart thumping is the only thing you can hear as you watch miguel. he stands in front of you in between your thighs. tall, built and handsome. his red eyes look down on you as they shine under the lights in the dining area.Â
you feel his hands on the sides of your waistband shorts, his fingers brushing against your clothed skin and hips. âmay i?â miguel asks as he looks at you.Â
âsure,â you say. youâre not one to be nervous around easily but your roommate seems to have that effect on you. when you lift your hips slightly, miguel curls his fingers on the waistband and pulls down your shorts. discarding your clothed item you notice that heâs taken off your panties too. âmiguelââÂ
his stare made you pause, his red piercing eyes keep you quiet. youâve always known what miguelâs eyes are like but in this moment of what youâre letting him do to you, it stirs feelings in you. the gaze in his eyes is fiery in desire; so focused and enraptured. he looks at you in silence â keeping his eyes on you â as he slowly pulls down everything and discards it somewhere in the room.Â
âopen your legs a little for me, pretty,â miguel tells you. âyes, thatâs it.âÂ
the heat on your cheeks burns you as your heart thumps in your chest at how intimate and vulnerable the situation looks. never in your dreams you would be in this situation, much less doing it with miguel oâhara.
 âitâs not too late to change your mind and tell me no.â he says. standing between your legs, his calloused fingers on your inner right thigh. âi wonât hate you for it.âÂ
your breathing is soft and steady. âshouldnât you have asked me that before you took my panties off?â you chuckled with a small smile. you feel a little more relaxed about what you and he are starting.Â
miguel grins, âi probably should have.â his expression becomes serious. âiâll start slow.âÂ
you watch as he puts two fingers in his mouth with a gentle suck. when he pulls them out, his digits are glistened wet under the lights. lubricated and wet against his tan skin. miguel catches you dazing at him, his intense expression stays on you, as he brings his fingers between your thighs. they find themselves between your flaps, tracing your inner folds with his fingertips.Â
âyouâre already wet before i touch you.â miguel hums in approval. âthatâs good.âÂ
his fingers move slowly like he promised. you feel him gather your sleek arousal with a gentle swipe of his thumb and move up to the hood of your cunt. you moan softly when you feel miguel play with your clit, circling and putting just the right pressure that has you tingling in sensation. your hands grip on the edge of the table as you brace yourself.Â
âgosh, that feels nice.â you sigh. your eyes are closed, indulging in the pleasure, finding your body relaxed and mind in tranquillity. focusing on feeling his fingers touch and tease your folds and clit. maybe this is what you truly need for a break from intense studying.Â
âi like the look on your face,â miguel tells you. you can picture the smirk from the tone of his voice. âthis is just the beginning of your stress relief.âÂ
you didnât get to open your eyes and ask him what he meant when you felt something push inside your cunt. your walls are wet and warm, feeling one of miguelâs digits sliding into your pussy with ease. it has you gasping and moaning softly, your back arches and hands gripping tightly onto the table edge. miguel has his index finger in you and he slips in his middle finger, stretching your pussy open. his thumb is still circling your clit as his fingers thrust in and out of you.Â
âstay still, bonita.â his voice deeps, almost growling. âand donât think. just focus on the feeling of my fingers. relax for me.âÂ
you canât help but tighten around his fingers from the command. hoping that he didnât feel the way your clit throbs from his command. you never heard him speak like that before â maybe not to you â but it sounds hot. all you could focus on is the way his fingers rub and massage your pussy.Â
you can tell that miguel is certainly experienced with the way he can tease your vulva and play with your clit, letting your breathless sighs and moans guide him. itâs completely easy to forget about anything else but being finger fuck by the guy you liked.Â
âoh, oh.â you softly moan, putting the heels of your feet on the edge of the table. your hands clutch onto his forearms as miguel fingers you. it has your head spinning with the way he alternates between fingering and rubbing your slick folds. the pace is not fast or slow-- just perfect, as it eases you off and you forget about what you're stressed about in the first place.Â
and when he pushes his fingers into your pussy, it has you tilting your head back in ecstasy, moaning his name, as you feel him going deeper.
"so tight around my fingers. you definitely need this." miguel smirks, his breath warms your neck. âneed a good stretch, donât you, bonita?âÂ
you groan as you feel him continuously plunge his digits in and out of you. miguel doesnât stick to one way to pleasure you; he would rub your wet folds, flicker your clit up and down and sideways with his thumb, and circle your little pearl. at the corner of your eye, you see the corner of his mouth curve up in a smirk when clutching onto his forearms for dear life.Â
âmiguel,â you mewl. the knot in your lower belly tightens when he plunges his whole fingers into your slick pussy, thrusting them in and out. your body moves in a sudden, forward thrust when miguel continues to come hither inside your pussy, having his fingers rubbing your g-spot. he doesnât stop to flicker and circle your throbbing clit and a sultry gasp catches in your throat as your thighs begin to quiver. âoh, fuck!âÂ
âthatâs it, beautiful. oh, you really do need this, donât you?â miguel asks almost mockingly. you arch your back in his embrace and let out another moan, feeling his two fingers flicking inside your pussy walls. he knows exactly what heâs doing, drawing out more noises from you as your lower body still trembles, and your cum spilling out of your folds and onto his fingers.Â
it feels as if miguel is toying with you and pussy for a long time, even after being overstimulated and sensitive. he slows down his ministrant but still has his fingers gently rubbing circles on your clit and wet folds. you relax in his arm, head on his shoulder as you regain your senses from orgasm. all thoughts cleared up in your head and you couldnât even remember what you were thinking or doing earlier before being finger-fucked.Â
miguelâs voice sounds a little raspy and distinct, still toying with your cunt, as he whispers: âwanna continue this elsewhere?âÂ
( adela's message )ămy book collection has that small town, cowboy / rancher trope falling in love with a city girl so that's where i get the inspo from. and also it's sooo clark kent if he hadn't move to metropolis. plan to write more rancher clark in the future but feel free to drop your thoughts or ideas in my inbox.
â âĄÂ corenswet! clark kent x wife! reader
â âĄÂ headcanons ïŒromance, family au featuring baby boy jon kent.
( adela's message )ăi don't usually do headcanons but thought it would be a good exercise for myself whenever i write for a new character. and... i cannot passed the idea of dad! clark kent.
ê° ê°á à»ê± ê± when you found out that you were pregnant with clarkâs child, you wondered if clark should wear glasses around the baby or not.Â
ê° ê°á à»ê± ê± it was a discussion that you and clark had in the early trimester and decided to take the risk and let the baby see clark without glasses. after all, you want clark to be himself and comfortable at home. and itâs not like the baby would have photographic memory at such a young age, right?Â
ê° ê°á à»ê± ê± when you gave birth to your baby boy, heâs the cutest youâve ever seen. your son looks so much like clark â blue eyes, a small tuft of black hair, and the babyish and gummy smile he makes creates a dimple on his left cheek â your heart flutters because your boy is really like clark kent and you love it.
ê° ê°á à»ê± ê± speaking of clark kent in his fatherhood era⊠heâs the best father youâve witness, hands down. attentive, patient and protective that makes your chest bloom in admiration. you see a whole new side of clark, another reason added to the things you love about him.Â
ê° ê°á à»ê± ê± in the early stage of parenthood, you and clark are still learning to differentiate your sonâs cries. with clarkâs superhearing, he can come flying home in a speed of light to check on you and the baby. if something might be wrong, clark can either listen to the rhythm of your heartbeat and the babyâs or the way either of you breathe to check.
ê° ê°á à»ê± ê± his superabilities has been an advantage throughout your recovering and looking after the baby. but sometimes it does make clark a little too hyperaware of everything your son makes. even if your son makes the softest and quietest coo, clarkâs right next to you and your son in an instant.Â
ê° ê°á à»ê± ê± âi heard him all the way on the other side of the world.â clark says the moment he reaches next to you in the living room. he looks at your baby who snuggles on your chest and he touches the back of his head. âis he hungry? need a diaper change or someone to play with? come here, my boyââ clark gently takes your son from your arms and cradles him, your son snuggling against his chest. âlet mama have a few hours of rest to herself.âÂ
ê° ê°á à»ê± ê± when your son is old enough to go out, you enjoy taking him on walks as one of the ways to spend time with him. on the dot between ten and half eleven in the morning, you find your usual spot in the park, unstrapping your son out of the stroller and just carrying him around. pointing out at the birds and different trees he can see.Â
ê° ê°á à»ê± ê± youâre feeding your son one morning when clark decides to pay you a visit, but as superman. he lands down on the park in front of you unexpectedly. the red cape sways with the light breeze and clark is bathed in sunlight shining down on him. âsuperman,â you say as you stand up and hold your baby in your arms. âhi.âÂ
ê° ê°á à»ê± ê± âi hope you are well, maâam.â clark says with a smile. he knows that you are not much of a fan with that endearment but in the moment, it was necessarily so that people wouldnât suspect thereâs something between the two of you. âi was in the area and want to check on the civilians if they are alright. there was a bit of situationship a few miles away down the park. i hope the impact didnât cause a fright for you,â clark then looks at your son. his dark blue eyes softens, âand your baby.âÂ
ê° ê°á à»ê± ê± your son turns his attention to look at clark. but you know that he doesnât recognise the man in front of him as his father, the unfamiliar man in blue and white spandex looking back at him too. nevertheless, your baby lets out a gummy smile and stretches his arms towards superman, making a soft noise of protest that heâs not close enough to touch clark. âsorry, i think you remind him of his father.â you say with a sheepish smile as your heart races in awe.
ê° ê°á à»ê± ê± âquite the handsome fella.â clark says with a hint of teasing. you can see the tenderness in his eyes when he looks at his son, snuggling nicely. âmay i hold him?âÂ
ê° ê°á à»ê± ê± you hand your baby to him and in an instant, you son clings onto clark, tiny hands gripping on the superman symbol. he coos and smacks his lips, forming a small amount of saliva around his mouth. âweâve got a little drooler here.âÂ
ê° ê°á à»ê± ê± âoh, baby,â you smile and use his little bib to wipe off excess saliva around his mouth, earning a soft coo when your son looks at you. he just smiles when you clean him up and clenches his tiny fists. âif he drools, it means he likes you.â
ê° ê°á à»ê± ê± clark laughs and has to resist the urge to cuddle his son and kiss him. he really wants to but itâs such an intimate moment to do out in the public. and having superman caught kissing someone elseâs baby might be a controversial headline in the news that he wouldnât want to stir. so clark settles to only say; âi feel truly honoured.âÂ
ê° ê°á à»ê± ê± clark, in his superman suit, holds the baby as he talks to you. itâs private enough that he can be closer to you, asking about your day and your wellbeing. intertwining his fingers with your, this thumb brushes on the knuckles of your hand. youâre always his priority when the world of his circle of friends and family focuses and dotes on his son.Â
ê° ê°á à»ê± ê± the baby falls asleep on clarkâs chest and youâre grateful that he doesnât cry when clark carefully hands him over to you. âi gotta get back to work and be clark kent the journalist.â your husband says. he manages to sneak in a kiss on the back of your head when no one is looking. âbut iâll see you back home in time for dinner. i love you both.â
Â ê° ê°á à»ê± ê± at home, youâre keeping an eye of your son strapped on his baby seat whilst you finish up the last meal for dinner. when the front door unlocks and you can hear familiar footsteps, your face is attacked with kisses from clark as he holds you behind in the warmest embrace. âmiss you, beautiful mama.â
Â ê° ê°á à»ê± ê± superman charges himself with the power of the sun, but clark kent feels recharge when he comes home to you and his baby boy. the moment he hears his sonâs squeal of excitement, arms flailing in his baby swing, clarkâs right next to the baby to pick up, showering his face with kisses and whispers of âi miss you buddy,â and âhave you been a good boy for momma?â the evening feels right to clark because he is home; himself, with you and his son together in the same space.Â
( adela's message part two )ăthank you for reading until the end! wow, that was a long headcanon that i wrote. feel free to comment anything in the comments or my inbox.
alright guys, it's been a long and very hot minute since i last work on seven days a week. it's part four now. i'm reading my draft and what i last wrote. i did start something and thank god my past self actually wrote plot points (if i can decrypted what... they actually mean). but i've got something. yeah, i'm ready to start writing this masterpiece.
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âĄâ summary:  you find yourself back in an unexpected place. Â
âĄâ pairing:  red kyrptonite!clark kent x fem!reader
âĄâ themes/tropes:  dark content, lovers to exes, estranged relationship, angst, smut / mature themes.
âĄâcontent warning: possible hints of kidnapping.
you donât remember falling asleep.
at first everything is a blurâlight and shadow bleeding together, your eyelids heavy and reluctant, as if theyâre waking after centuries rather than hours. a faint pulse of pain throbs at your temples, a dull pressure that lingers for a few seconds while you force your eyes fully open. the world settles only gradually. shapes sharpen. colors resolve. and then you realize youâre staring at a ceiling you have never seen before.
white. perfectly clean. unnervingly smooth. no faint discoloration in the corners, no water-stain blooming like a shape you used to joke looked like a lopsided bear. no geometric or floral motifs swirled across plaster like the ceiling of your flat back in edinburgh. none of the imperfections youâd grown so familiar with that you could trace them in your sleep.
this ceiling is blank. silent. sterile.
you blink and push your gaze around the room, your sluggish mind trying to keep up with what your eyes are taking in. the space is too open, too orderly, too empty. thereâs a wardrobe you donât recognizeâsleek, modern, cold. a standing mirror. tall bookshelves sparsely filled with items you donât remember ever touching. the air feels wrong too: colder, thinner, unfamiliar in your lungs. the room is larger than the one you fell asleep in. quieter, in a way that feels deliberate.
and then the awareness hits you like a jolt.
this isnât your bedroom.
you sit up slowly, warily, as though the air around you might break. the duvet beneath your fingertips is light blue, soft and cool, nothing like the textured cotton you keep on your own bed. you smooth it unconsciously, as if convincing yourself the fabric is real. after a moment you pull it aside and step out of the bed, your bare feet meeting a floor thatâs too smooth and too polished to belong to your life anymore.
your heart begins to hammer. alert. unsettled. on edge. adrenaline trickles through your limbs in a thin, uneasy rush.
you move toward the door, each step small and cautious. the silence around you feels staged, as if the apartment is holding its breath. you crack the door open and peer through the gap. another room waits beyond itâlarger, lonelier, stretching outward in a modern open layout that merges kitchen and living room into one expansive, echoing space.
when you step into the area, youâre met with nothing but stillness.
the kitchen lights glow softly, casting pale illumination over a minimalist living area: a couch, a coffee table, a tv that looks barely used. two dumbbells sit by the side of the couch, as though forgotten mid-routine. the cabinets in the kitchen are painted in blues and accented by shades of yellow and redâcolors that instantly tug at a memory you donât want to acknowledge but cannot avoid.
him.
a strange, aching familiarity washes through you. the room feels like an echo of something long lost. you can almost hear the ghost of laughterâyours and clarkâsâmingling in the air, as if your past selves are still here somewhere, bumping elbows while trying to cook dinner, kissing absentmindedly while arguing over whether to add more garlic.
you know this place. you know it intimately.
this is clarkâs apartment. the high-rise in midtown metropolis. a place that once held your toothbrush beside his, your sweaters draped across the couch, your books in the shelves that now stand mostly empty. a place you once thought of as home.
and yet now⊠itâs hollow. stripped of warmth. a museum of something that used to be alive.
you stand perfectly still, trying to piece together how you got here. the last thing you remember is coming home after work, a rain-soaked evening in edinburgh, fumbling for your keys and thinking about reheating leftovers. and thenânothing. sleep. or something like it. and now you're in a place where you least expect to be in.
how did you get from scotland back to metropolis?
how did clark even find you?
why didnât he show his face the moment you woke up?
your skin prickles with cold. maybe itâs the draft. maybe itâs fear.
you wrap your arms around yourself and drift toward the living room windows, drawn to the natural light pouring in. metropolis skies are different from edinburgh onesâbrighter, bluer, expansive like a promise whispered to the entire horizon. clouds float so white they look unreal.
you slide open the balcony door, needing air, needing something that isnât suffocating and silent. metropolis air rushes into your lungs on your first breathâsharp, familiar, heartbreakingly nostalgic. you step out onto the balcony and the city unfolds beneath you like a map of every memory you tried so hard to leave behind.
the sight tightens your throat. you hadnât expected to miss it. but god, you do.
you grip the balcony railing to steady yourself. and then, just as youâre looking down over the dizzying height, a sudden shadow sweeps across your peripheral vision.
your breath catches. every muscle locks.
you lift your gaze.
he hovers there, suspended in the open air like gravity has never applied to him. his red cape ripples and coils in the wind, sunlight blazing behind him to create a soft halo around the shape of his body. heâs silhouetted for a heartbeatâtall, impossibly steady, unmistakable.
âclark,â you whisper, the name tasting unfamiliar and familiar all at once. your heartbeat pounds loudly, as though it wants to leap out of your chest and into his hands.
your voice trembles as you find a steadier question. âhow did you find me?â
he looks at you with darkened blue eyes, deeper than you remember, holding an intensity that chills you. âlike i said in the text,â he replies with eerily calm certainty, âdistance doesnât stop me from looking for you.â
then, as if the next part shouldâve been obvious, he adds, âand i listen to your heartbeat. it led me straight to you.â
you swallow hard. of courseâhis senses. his hearing. youâd hoped once that heâd forget your heartbeat after enough time apart, but apparently he never did.
âright,â you murmur. you donât ask why he didnât come sooner, when you left months ago. maybe you donât want the answer.
clark crosses his arms over his chestâan imposing, silent shape against the sky. his brows pull together, expression firm, unsettled.
âyou left without saying a word,â he says. âone night you were here, and the next morning you were gone.â
âcan you blame me?â you answer quietly. âmetropolis isnât what it used to be.â
his expression sharpens. âyou mean iâm not what i used to be.â
you look away. because yesâyes, thatâs exactly what you mean.
âwhy did you bring me back here?â you ask, voice growing smaller and sharper all at once. âwe broke up.â
he says your name, low and warning. âthis is your home,â he tells you. âyou didnât have to go to such extremes.â a beat passes. âand i refuse.â
ârefuse?â the word tastes heavy on your tongue.
âthat weâre over,â he says. he doesnât blink. âi refuse to accept that.â
you inhale shakily. âyou canât force me to live in metropolis. i have a life in scotland now.â
he begins to descend toward you, still hovering but coming closerâtoo close. instinctively you step back until your heels brush the sliding door, your pulse racing with each inch he closes between you.
âa life you created to escape me,â clark says, eyes fixed on yours. âmetropolis is your home.â
you turn away, fists clenching at your sides as emotion surgesâfear, frustration, heartbreak tangled tight together. when you face him again, your voice is steadier.
âtake me back.â
his reaction is instant. sharp. visceral. âno,â he snaps. âiâm not taking you back.â
âi barely recognize you,â you say, the words slipping out before you can temper them. but theyâre true. painfully true. you remember the man who used to bring you flowers just because, who used to walk you home with his glasses fogged from the cold. you remember the softness. the gentleness.
that softness is gone nowâor buried under something darker.
he frowns again, stubborn and unyielding. âiâm still the same.â
âare you?â you ask, breath trembling.
his silence stretches. the wind moves past you both, filling the balcony with a fragile hush. then he finally speaks, voice final and unbending:
âyouâre staying here. thatâs final.â
before you can reactâbefore you can even breatheâclark turns. his cape whips behind him as he rises, higher and higher, and then he shoots forward with a burst of speed that leaves only a faint rush of air in his wake.
heâs gone.
you stand frozen on the balcony, staring at the empty sky he left behind, your name still echoing faintly in the space where he had hovered.
âclark!â you call after him, desperate, furious, frightened. the sound spirals upward into the open air.
but there is no answer.
only silence. and the knowledge that you are alone in his home with the dread that you might not ever be free.
âĄâ summary: clark changed metropolis and you were nowhere in his life. he decides enough is enough.
âĄâ pairing: red kyrptonite!clark kent x fem!reader
âĄâ themes/tropes: dark content, lovers to exes, estranged relationship, angst, smut / mature themes.
âĄâcontent warning: possible hints of stalking.
clark carries the weight of the world on him.
his eyes are hollow from lack of sleep as he stares mindlessly into the air. his cheek rests against his fist, his arm propped on the control panel. the screen in front of him plays in the background. a hologram of his kryptonian parents speaking to him. and the other a live feed sweeping over metropolis, cameras tilting and panning, white dots of activity popping like anxious thoughts. the images flicker and blur together when he lets his glance drift; the words from a thousand intercepted conversations run like static behind his eyes.
he closes his eyes and takes a quiet, deep breath. he focuses on the way his chest fills with air, his ribcage lifting with it. when he does, the chorus of voices â reporters, sirens, politicians, the innumerable tongues of a city that expects miracles and hates the price of them â fades into the background until one particular sound emerges, a single steady drum beneath everything else. his shoulders sink in relief. your heartbeat.
clark knows it is yours by its pattern, by the tiny irregularities he has learned to map like constellations. it goes thump, thump, thump. he has listened to it for years; the spaces between beats tell him how you sleep, when you are frightened, when you feel overwhelmed. ever since clark embraces his true callingâto show earth what he is capable ofâyour heartbeat has been different. a faster tempo, an urgent rhythm. he knows it only happens when you feel anxious or sense danger. there are moments where it calms and on other times it thumps so fast that it concerns him. your heartbeat has been like this since you left metropolis.
clarkâs eyes snap open, pupils pinpricks. determination hardens the set of his jaw; curiosity flares at the edges. he leaves a rush of wind as he exits the fortress, flying out of his hideout. the skies and wind propel him higher as he flies, the cold searing his cheeks as he goes higher and farther. the arctic shrinks into a white, wide land and all the while, one single sound threads through his focus, a map, a magnet: your heartbeat.
blend in. camouflage. stay calm.
you repeat it like a prayer when the city hums too loudly and your own name feels like an accusation. the mantra was practical at first â rules to keep you anonymous in a place that remembers everything â and then, slowly, it became an identity. itâs been ten months since you left metropolis. you moved to edinburgh convinced distance would make a better version of you possible: quieter, smaller, invisible. nine months of walking different streets, of swapping out the cadence of your days for the polite indifference of this older city. you work. you go home. you order food. you sleep in a bed that no longer holds someone elseâs scent.
âsay, where did you say youâre from again?â
a colleague stares at you, eyes searching your face. you must have drifted too far into your thoughts. âatlantic city,â you say quickly. itâs a string of syllables youâve practiced. itâs safe. it sits like a costume.
they glance at another staff member. âsee? told you itâs not metropolis.â
your chest tightens. you can feel your pulse climbing, as if even the thought of the city sends a message to whatever part of you belongs to clark. the conversation around you becomes background wallpaper; you keep one ear tuned to the present, the other listening for the sound that used to be a comfortable metronome beside you.
âbut itâs close enough. right next to it,â the other says. âany plans to travel back for a holiday?â another one asked.
you force a smile. âah, well, itâs a little early to be going back.â a lie. youâre never going back. âmaybe sometime next year.â
they nod, distracted by something else, leaving you a moment to breathe but the relief is shallow. ever since you left metropolis, youâve braced yourself for questions because yes, people are curious about where you come from. still, the curiosity churns your stomach, guilt echoing in the back of your mind.
i needed to leave, you remind yourself. it was the only way.
you exhale, eyes on your computer. your colleagues chatter on, but the small earplugs you invested in help. you slide one in and let their voices dull, turning into white noise. the last words you catch before the noise fades are about metropolis. about the flying man gone rogue. and your chest is heavy with emotions.
when your shift ends, you change outfits and walk on the streets that are a path to your apartment.
edinburgh at night is all angles and warm stone; itâs a different kind of anonymity from metropolis â less neon, more shadow. you walk down the cobbled lane, adapted to this new lifestyle of leaving work and going straight home. you avoid overtime because it invites curiosity; you avoid invitations to after-work drinks with your work colleagues because the pressure to socialise and open up is a risk. today you let yourself make one small exception: a quick stop at a convenience store for some household supplies.
inside the shop, fluorescent lights buzz. thereâs an elderly couple on the vegetable aisle, a security guard by the entrance, one staff stocking up goods and the other waiting by the cashier. you pick up what you need and queue at the check-out. one thing about living in scotland is that strangers arenât openly friendly unless itâs out of necessity. and the interaction is brief. youâre grateful for that.
âdo you need a bag?â the cashier asks. heâs young, bored, barely paying attention.
âno,â you say, âthank you.â youâre certain that the cashier doesnât respond back when you leave the store. your pace quickens, walking down the familiar street that heads towards your apartment. it gets dark quickly after five â too quickly despite being evening.
you walk home a little faster than most people on the street. thereâs a feeling that you canât shake from being watched closely. you look left and right, eyeing around, but itâs only people walking just like you. nothing suspicious and everything seems normal. except you know that it is not entirely true.
you used to never walk alone in the evening in metropolis. because clark always made sure you got home safely. he walked beside you all the way to your doorstep, making sure you locked the door behind you. even once youâd settled in your old place, clark would always text you for extra reassurance and wish you a goodnight. you were sociable and happy, and he was part of it. heâs always been a part of your life so deeply youâre not sure where you both begin and end. clark had integrated into your world.
he wonât do that anymore, not when you left that life behind.
you continue walking until you can see your apartment up ahead. five minutes later, you unlock the door and step inside, slamming it shut behind you. the hallway lights up when you flick the switch, and silence greets you. youâre used to this by now â meeting quietly, alone in your own place that feels hollow. thereâs only a living room, kitchen, bathroom and bedroom. the kitchen doesnât smell of baked dinners or have sizzling noises of cooking, taking you back to the very first anniversary dinner you had with him.
shaking your head, you drop your things on the ground. you decide for a quick shower before dinner. once youâre freshened up and dressed in pajamas, you pad barefoot into the kitchen. the fridge reveals you half a dozen eggs, a day-old leftover rice, and some side dishes of spinach and potatoes. it seems doable â except youâve already had this for two days straight. thinking between making the effort to cook or ordering takeaway, you feel a cool draft brush your ankle and turn to look at the living room.
you frown and go to the next room to check, pulling at curtains slightly open. the window is ajar by a noticeable margin â seven inches, enough for the night air to sift inside and make the room feel larger and colder. you are certain you closed it. you push it shut and seal it with a practiced press of the latch, then rub your hands together to warm the skin you can feel has gone cold. âthere goes the heating bill this month,â you sigh.
your phone lights up on the counter; the screen glows with a text from a number you donât recognise. a text. an unknown number, not local. a moment of irrational uncertainty makes your stomach flip as your thumb hovers. your heart races as you read:
did you really think nine thousand miles apart could stop me from getting to you?
your eyes widen. your hand trembles and pulse jumps, flinching in dread. you know itâs from him â clark. you never blocked his number when you moved to edinburgh. a part of you couldnât do it, couldnât erase him that easily. but some foolish part of you hoped he wouldnât try to reach you. he hasnât done that since you left until now.
and when you turn â your blood runs cold.
a towering figure hovers outside the window, suspended in the night air. like an eclipse in the night. looking right at you. the man who used to brighten your day, make you laugh and dance around and listen to your rambles for hours. for a second you are entirely simple, like the space between breaths, and you understand how quickly everything can condense into one unbearable fact.