[Requests] Miguel x Reader

You've had quite a month, haven't you? Four unfortunate mishaps that made life a tad chaotic. First, there was that unfortunate Friday evening when you misplaced your apartment keys, leaving you stranded outside until your landlord came to the rescue the next day.

The second mishap was quite the fashion faux pas. Wearing an all-white blouse during the morning rush hour and then deciding to grab a coffee on the way to work – not the best combination. Thanks to a sharp turn on the train and a stranger's elbow, you ended up with an unsightly dark brown stain on your chest. The judgmental stares during the meeting were a bit much, but hey, at least your boss didn't seem too bothered by it.

Number three, well, it was a case of multitasking gone wrong. Chatting with colleagues while shredding papers led to an accidental mix-up, and the wrong paperwork got handed in. Thankfully, printing the correct ones saved you from your boss's wrath

And the fourth, oh-so-brilliant (insert sarcasm here) choice you made was having a bit too much to drink during a mandatory happy hour, as a reward for your team's hard work over the last three months. But hey, the drinking itself wasn’t the worst part, well… not exactly. That day, you ended up in bed with none other than your boss! Talk about throwing professionalism out the window. In the moment, you just shrugged it off, face down in his bed, clutching onto the sheets and all. But really, looking back, you couldn't believe it!

It was a mistake, no doubt about it. You both knew it, and you both decided to chalk it up to a drunken night's folly. No biggie, right? But then, to your surprise, it happened again, and this time, you weren't even tipsy. You were bent over his desk at work while he... well, you know the rest. Yeah, it was just another mistake, a huge slip-up; you never saw it coming

The sixth time, however, had been a moment of bad decision-making, with both of you being drunk on a misguided impulse. You ended up pressed against a wall in a random broom closet at work, where you both awkwardly walked back to your work stations – him straightening his tie, and you flattening your hair back down. Was it a mistake? Possibly. Reckless and stupid? Absolutely. The last time you two did it? Absolutely not.

Sex with Miguel was intense; the man had a certain charm and charisma. Despite being a stubborn workaholic during the day, he had a way of making your eyes roll to the back of your skull. The noises he would make when you dropped down on your knees for him weren’t bad either, that and the look he’d give you when you rode him made all the paperwork and late nights worth it, and then some.

Miguel still argued that it was a mistake, and you fully agreed as his mouth practically devoured yours. It was a mistake for sure, but damn did it feel good. Miguel always spoke about it as a stress relief, and so far, you agreed with him. Sure, you did end up speaking more. Sometimes, you ended up having lunch together, and a few times he’d given you a lift home, but it was usually because he stayed over for a few hours to, well… de-stress.

He did however have an unspoken rule of not staying the night, it went both ways and sometimes when you were too polite to agree to him driving you home you regretted it, sitting on a train at 3 am next to party girlies and drunks, your panties in your handbag weren’t your proudest moments.

It was a Friday evening, and you had just arrived home from work, slipping your shoes off as you walked over to your answering machine. Pressing play, you listened to the messages while absentmindedly putting away some groceries you had picked up on your way home.

You then walked over to your desk, dropping your work bag on the office chair, and started unloading the paperwork you had brought home. Not that you were thrilled about working over the weekend, but you were a bit behind and needed to catch up. As you placed some folders on your desk, you suddenly stopped. One file in your hand caught your attention – there was a sticky note attached to it. As you read the contents of the sticky note, a chill ran down your spine.

[I know what you’ve been up to, slut!]

What the hell?

You read the note over and over silently to yourself, even saying the words out loud a few times before putting it back down on your desk, frowning. Did someone know? And if they did, did they think you were sleeping with Miguel to get a promotion or something? A knot started forming in your stomach as your anxiety got the best of you.

"Hi y/n, it’s Michelle, one of the managers. I apologize for leaving a message after hours, but if you could come in for a meeting on Monday, that would be great. Don’t bother stopping at your office; just head straight up to my office as you come in to work."

You froze, gripping the folder in your hands tightly. The knot in your stomach grew, and suddenly, it felt harder to breathe, as if a lump was forming in your throat. You dropped the file and stumbled backward onto your bed, your eyes wide as you stared ahead, heaving. You couldn’t lose your job, not now, not when you had worked so hard to get it. With just barely enough to afford rent and necessities, you hadn't been able to save much. This job was stable, but you weren’t being paid enough to afford losing it. The thought of being fired because someone found out about your relationship with your boss terrified you. The company you worked for was your only reference since school, and you couldn’t risk that rumor getting out

Leaning forward, your head against your knees, you remembered what your mom had taught you to do when you were panicking, or more accurately, when you were having panic attacks. You had experienced them since school – nothing to be ashamed of, as it wasn’t uncommon, but they were still awful. Your chest felt tight and painful, and chills ran down your back. Falling backward against the bed, you closed your eyes and focused on your breathing – just breathe, count to five, slowly. Just... just breathe.

Suddenly, you heard a noise coming from your hallway and your front door. Your eyes shot open, and you stood up, still heaving and feeling a bit dizzy. You stared out towards the dark hallway, panic rising up your throat. You lived in an okay neighborhood, but that didn't mean that crime never happened here. Had you remembered to lock the door? No... you were so focused on bringing in the groceries and putting away your Ben and Jerry's that now someone might be in your apartment, and you're about to- you-

You can’t breath properly! Oh god… You can’t-

"Hey, sorry about letting myself in, but I knocked, and the door was open. You should really make sure you lock it," Miguel said as he walked through the darkness of your hallway and joined you in your one-room apartment.

He let out a groan, stretching his arms above his head, his eyes screwed shut as he strolled past you and headed straight to your fridge. Pulling out your orange juice, he poured himself a glass. "I swear to God, half the people on our team don't do anything all day. I've had to deal with meetings after meeting after meeting today, while also having to check everyone's paperwork and make corrections," Miguel sighed, finishing the glass. Turning around with a tired smile, he continued, "I hope, for your sake, that you're prepared to stay in bed this weekend. I haven't been able to think about anything else but your-"

As he turned around, he stilled, his eyes going wide as he looked at you, eyebrows knitted together in confusion. In the blink of an eye, his suggestive tone and the smirk on his face were gone, replaced by a look of concern. He walked over to you, placing a hand on your shoulder as he gently guided you to sit back down.

"What's wrong? You look so pale - are... are you crying?" he asked, crouching in front of you, his gaze fixed on your face.

"Someone knows. And they threatened me, and then I got a message, and they told management, and I'm gonna lose my job, and my apartment, and I don't have family, and I'm gonna end up on the street, and then you came in, and I thought it was a stranger in my apartment, and then- and then-" You were gasping, rambling so quickly that Miguel flinched, his eyes wide as he tried to make sense of what you were saying.

"Oye! Cálmate, cálmate," he said as he reached up and held your cheek, a worried look on his face. "Just breathe, breathhh. Look at me; breathe with me - in and out. Slowly." You leaned into the hand on your cheek; it was so warm, and his voice was so comforting that you could feel yourself slowly beginning to relax.

"There you go, cálmate. Breathe slowly, I got you," Miguel assured, offering you a small, comforting smile. He stood up and sat down next to you on the bed, pulling you close and laying down with you. For a moment, you were worried he was going to try something, but you practically melted in his arms as he began running gentle circles on your back, whispering softly for you to focus on your breathing, to relax into his touch, assuring you that he was there and that everything was going to be okay. You were safe there in his arms.

You watched as he had gone from: ready to bend you over the nearest surface, to holding you so gently yet so lovingly you almost fell apart right there on the spot. He left featherlight kisses on top of your head, reassuring you how well you were doing as you started to regain control of your breathing.

After about an hour of him holding you and providing comfort, his touch so gentle and warm that you craved it, he moved away slightly to help you sit back up. You finally let out a breath, small tears dried on your cheeks. He sat there quietly, watching you, with one hand on your back and the other wiping away a final escaping tear from your cheek.

"You feel better?" he asked, and you nodded slowly, feeling a bit self-conscious.

"Good." The smile on his face made you blush lightly, and you brushed some hair behind your ear as you spoke, "You're really good at that, calming someone down, I mean. Sorry if I made things weird."

Miguel chuckled and shook his head, "No, I might be an asshole sometimes, but I don't hold it against people for having common human emotions," he joked as he stroked your back.

"My little brother, Gabriel, he used to have them when we were kids," he said, shaking his head as if reminiscing on something fondly. "Smartest little shit around town, but he had a knack of letting his anxieties get the best of him. Sometimes it just... becomes too much. So don't worry your head about it, okay?"

This new side of Miguel you were seeing made your chest feel warm, and you couldn't help the small smile that formed on your face as he looked at you fondly. You had expected him to just leave or tell you to calm down or stop being stupid, but instead, he had held you and made you feel safe. There was no hidden agenda, no "okay, u wanna fuck now?" like with some of your exes. He was just there, caring not because he had to or wanted something from you, but because he genuinely cared about you.

You shared everything with him, showing him the sticky note as he took a picture of it with his phone, mumbling that he would look into it, so you didn't need to worry. You also confided in him about your fear of losing your job and, even though it felt embarrassing, you disclosed your financial situation. Throughout the conversation, he attentively listened, offering comfort when needed and simply being there when you needed to express yourself.

By the end of it all, he managed to convince you that there was nothing to worry about. As the manager of your group, he assured you that if anyone had a reason to fire you, he would have been informed. Besides, if anyone had an issue with your relationship, they would have approached him first.

‘’And before you even worry your pretty little head about it, I’m too valuable of an employee to those jackasses to ever be fired over something so small. I don’t intend to lose my job OR let you lose yours, no matter how good you look on my dick, Okay?’’ You smiled and rolled your eyes at his joke, your cheeks still warming a bit at the compliment.

You felt so much better; all the worry and stress just slipped off your shoulders. Instead, you now felt something completely different. Glancing over at Miguel, he tilted his head with a small smile on his face, asking if you wanted to get some takeout, and he’d offer to help you finish some paperwork. Instead, you leaned forward and kissed him, catching him off guard. He kissed you back, placing a hand on your shoulder and slowly pulling back to look at you.

‘’We don’t have to… We can just get something to eat, or if you want some time alone, I could leave and call you tomorrow? You don’t have to-‘’

You playfully jumped on him, and as he fell back, he let out a hearty laugh while you peppered kisses all over his face. Amidst a string of praises and exclamations like, ‘my god, you are so perfect, I'm gonna lose my damn mind!’. You finally stopped and looked down at him, enjoying the sight of his slightly red cheeks and the loving gaze he returned.

‘’Do you…’’ you began, biting your bottom lip, ‘’wanna stay the night?’’ you asked as you looked down at him lustfully.

He gently placed both his hands on each side of your face, cupping your cheeks as he pulled you down for a lavish kiss. His thumbs stroked your cheeks, and you fully melted against him, kissing him back with equal intensity. That night you ended up doing it in bed, not just doing it but doing it missionary. He had stopped you as you went to bend over the bed, in your underwear, and you looked up at him confused.

‘’I can fuck you any day you want, tonight I’m gonna make love to you, cariño~’’ He purred as he pulled you towards him.

‘’That’s so corny!’’ You laughed, and he held you close, mouth agape as he feigned being heartbroken, with a playful look of betrayal on his face.

‘’Get that fine ass over here then!’’ He said, and you squealed as he pulled you on top of him, playfully swatting at your behind. Both of you laughed, and he pulled you close, kissing you passionately, and you eagerly returned the kiss.