Can You Do Like Hobie X Reader But Miguel Is Readers Father And He Finds Out That Reader Is Dating Hobie

can you do like hobie x reader but miguel is readers father and he finds out that reader is dating hobie

yes. for this though we will have to kind of work around gabriella. we’ll just say she exists and is your older sister || i’m not really sure what ages i should use so i’ll leave that ambiguous.

——

mahogany fluff —- oneshot

(hobie x spanish speaking!reader) —— fem prns

avoidance. a skill you need to learn if you are going to sneak around and evade your parent. especially if that parent is 6’9 and 110% muscle.

————

your origin story with hobie is one that’s messy at best. especially considering the obvious blockade that was your father. him being overprotective and also hobie’s boss are two things that one never wants paired together. yet, love is one thing that can overcome. — i’m just kidding, there wasn’t a powerful we love each other moment, mostly just a lot of laughing.

it was mid july and your father was just as engrossed with work as always. you wanted to spend time together, have fun. he said he would love to but honestly you didnt think it would happen. you began to go to headquarters yourself and drag him from work. like, literally drag him.

this obviously garnered lots of attention, for one, who is this girl yelling at boss? a certain spider also happened to catch wind of the girl. he would join the crowd, laughing, cheering mildly aswell.

“dijiste que vendrías a cenar conmigo y con gabi . ¿y dónde te encuentro? ¡no en la cena! ¡hicimos empanadas, imbécil!”

“¡lo siento, mi princesa! i promise i didn’t mean to miss dinner.”

“yeah well you did, no empanadas for you. we’ll feed them to chester instead.” you say, turning around and walking away. leaving miguel to bask in the shame. you giggled at the thought of your dog getting more empanadas than your own father.

while miguel was busy being questioned about the strange girl who just walked up in here, hobie walks off to go talk to her.

“man you are an ace! that was barmy. who are you?” hobie leads with a compliment, genuinely impressed and a little refreshed at your presence, how not scared you were to yell at miguel. “a new spider recruit?”

you stop, rolling your eyes a little, still fuming at your dad. turning to greet the voice your mood immediately switches. his smooth accent and his sharp features should’ve made you a puddle right there. “n-no i’m not a spider recruit. i’m that pendejo’s daughter.”

“na shot,”

“don’t get your knickers in a twist,” you say mildly mocking his thick cockney.

“how d’you know?”

“i watch a lot television.” a laugh coming from both of you meld together.

“i’m just amazed at how you stood to the boss like tha’,”

“it’s a lot easier when the boss comes home and watches the soaps with you. what’s your name mysterious spider who’s following me home?”

“hobie, hobie brown. you’re a cheeky one, can’t believe you come from ‘im.”

“no, i’m y/n.” he laughs at your stupid joke, making your face heat up.

“i’d be chuffed to hang out with you sometime y/n. maybe visit my earth?”

“papá no me deja ir a diferentes tierras,” you shrug. “says it’s too dangerous.”

hobie nods, pretending he knows what’s you said. “atleast let me get to know you. ya like ackee?”

“mhm,” you say, a little suspicious but also mildly intrigued.

“‘ow bout tomorrow you come ‘ere n i’ll take you to some real jamaican food.”

“alright hobie, i’ll play.” you giggle and continue to your car.

he smiles waving. knowing what he’s getting himself into.

————

sorry no part 2! i’m really sorry to those who are disappointed by this :(

is there a way i can give it more likes?

Sure! I don't mind requesting something new! So you write somewhere in your works how Miles 42 and reader met through location, "whether it be going to the same school or living in the same building or whatever"

I wanna' see a fanfic in Miles pov how he and reader met and how their relationship developed throughout the process! I wanna' know if he's going to make a move in interacting with reader or such. :))

Mr. Tambourine Man ~ Earth 42! Miles Morales

A/N: Many people will tell you this song is about a drug dealer. I, however, have always taken Mr. Tambourine Man as an analogy for youth. Take this as you will.

Tagging: @juneberrie @sluggmuffin @hiyaitssans @nagi3seastorm @luvjunie @milesmolasses @n1cole-ghost @kombuuuu

This is x fem! Reader

Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me.

I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to

Growing up, Miles had always been the dull kid in the corner of the classroom. It was his nature.

He didn’t really remember his dad’s death, but there was always a sort of emptiness in the Morales apartment that never got filled. The emptiness has always been there, in his home and in his mother.

Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me

In the jingle jangle morning I'll come following you

On the late nights, he hears his mother sitting in the living room all by herself lonesome. She sits on the couch, in the same spot she has been all these years; next to the spot his father would have taken up.

He can imagine it: his mother curled up under a blanket, her husband’s arm resting over her shoulders. He’d kiss her head and the spot behind her ear. She’d pretend to pay no mind and act as if he doesn’t still make her giddy like he did back when they were young.

Though I know that evening's empire has returned into sand, vanished from my hand.

Left me blindly here to stand, but still not sleeping.

But his father was not there. The late Jeff Morales did not get to stay up with his wife, watching the television as their child sleeps. He was dead, but it sometimes felt like his ghost was haunting the city. He’s gone, but it’s like he’s still there.

As he grew up, Miles did not get the joy his classmates did. He watched his mother work like a dog to support the two of them. He spent many nights alone, waiting for her to come home.

It was sad. Miles was sad.

My weariness amazes me, I'm branded on my feet.

I have no one to meet, and the ancient empty street's too dead for dreaming.

So here he sits, in the corner of his studio art class, his last period of the day. Miles is behind an easel, dried paint covering his hands and table. There was music playing in his headphones, but he wasn’t really listening. It was to block out the other noises.

The door opens, and in walks a girl he’s never seen. It was an odd feeling, at first, a shred of nervousness he didn’t quite understand.

He looked around the room, at all the other students and seats, only to realize the one next to him was the only one open. Perfect.

She talks to the teacher, nothing he can hear, snd watches as she slowly makes her way over to the spot next to him. Miles turns away, picking up his paint brush to avoid and other contact.

Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me.

I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to.

Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me.

In the jingle jangle morning I'll come following you.

Unfortunately for him, Miles looks unapproachable. He looks like he should be friendly and open. He’s got those big, brown, shiny doe eyes and dimples. His face is dusted with freckles. His lips are big and plush. His nose sits perfectly in the center of his face, blending together nicely with every other feature.

However, people avoid him. He’s quiet and keeps to himself. Miles is sort of a mystery, someone people don’t know much about. He’s got eye bags and an RBF, so people leave him alone. Sometimes it seems as if he’s invisible.

Take me on a trip upon your magic swirling ship.

My senses have been stripped.

The girl sits down, taking out her supplies as she was most likely directed. Tense hands moved shakily. Her breaths were harsh. Her eyebrows furrowed tightly against her forehead. She was nervous.

With a skip of his heart, Miles clears his throat. Her head snaps over quickly, eyes wide with anxiety as he stared her down.

My hands can't feel to grip.

My toes too numb to step.

“Uh..I’m Miles.”

She hesitates, biting the inside of her cheek before nodding.

“Y/N.”

Miles doesn’t look away. Y/N peeks over at his canvas. Her lips curve down into a smile, any trace of her previous fear gone. Her lips pressed together tightly, eyebrows raising. No tension, no anxiety.

“You’re really talented.”

“…Thanks.”

Her smile did not falter. She looked at him for a moment, and that one moment felt like an eternity.

Her nose, cheeks, and lips were a blend of heaven sitting on her face. Her hair was smooth and clean. Miles swore her eyes looked like stars.

Y/N was definitely beautiful.

Wait only for my boot heels to be wandering.

I'm ready to go anywhere, I'm ready for to fade into my own parade.

Cast your dancing spell my way, I promise to go under it.

“What, uh,” Miles spoke again, “what class was you coming from?”

He watched as Y/N fumbled with her schedule, a blue piece of paper crumpling in her hands.

“I have Spanish II, but I was in the office.”

Miles nodded, a small simper forming across his lips.

“I’m in there, too.”

Y/N grinned at him, eyes squinting slightly. It was almost bright.

Though you might hear laughing, spinning, swinging madly across the sun, it's not aimed at anyone.

It's just escaping on the run.

“I’ll walk with you, tomorrow?”

It came out as a question, and Miles would be lying if he said that didn’t surprise him. There was a fuzzy, warm feeling in his stomach that, for a second, made him question if he was getting sick.

Y/N chuckled, a simple melody that sent flowers blooming across his skin. It felt like goosebumps, but much more intense. The sensation matched that of bathing in the sun.

“I’d like that.”

And but for the sky there are no fences facing.

And if you hear vague traces of skipping reels of rhyme to your tambourine in time

Y/N glanced over to a small group of kids sitting diagonally from them. They were watching intently, eyes wide with curiosity. As quickly as it came, Miles’s almost cheerful expression fell back into place. The corners of his lips dropped, so did his eyebrows. In less than a moment, he was tense once more.

It's just a ragged clown behind.

I wouldn't pay it any mind, it's just a shadow you're seeing that he's chasing.

They turned away awkwardly, returning to their projects. Y/N sucked in a breath. There was tension within her chest. It was a sudden, sharp sensation in his fingertips.

“So did you just move here?”

Y/N smiled, nodding.

“Yeah, from New Jersey.”

Miles nodded along intently.

“How come?”

“Family.”

Questions and answers came as the two packed up their things.

And take me disappearing through the smoke rings of my mind, down the foggy ruins of time

The loud and obnoxious bell rang, and every other student in the class shoved past one another to get out of the room.

Far past the frozen leaves, the haunted frightened trees.

They walked down the hallways together slowly. For the first time, he felt as if he could ask questions. For the first time, someone answered. She answered.

Out to the windy beach, far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow.

“So, what’s Jersey like?”

“Well, it’s fun. The food is great.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Miles snickered.

Yes, to dance beneath the diamond sky, with one hand waving free.

“Do you like New York?”

“I’m…adjusting.”

“Adjusting?”

“It’s easy to get lost, here.”

Smiling shyly, Y/N pressed her lips together firmly. Miles could almost feel the heat of embarrassment coming from off her face.

“You just need someone to show you around. It gets easy, after all while.”

Silhouetted by the sea, circled by the circus sands.

“What’s there to show?”

Miles smiled, looking at the girl next to him as they stepped down the front steps of Visions Academy.

“The sky.”

There was a sudden melancholy feeling that ran down Miles’s spine. It was the same feeling he’d felt on those late nights, waiting for his mother to come home.

Miles did not remember his dad’s death. He didn’t remember the funeral. He just remembered the day the apartment felt less like home.

With all memory and fate, driven deep beneath the waves, let me forget about today until tomorrow.

“It’s the same sky as the one in New Jersey.”

“Different view.”

Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me.

“You’ll show me?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll show you.”

I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to.

“Good.”

“I’ll show you my mural, too.”

“Mural?”

“For my dad.”

Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me.

Miles nodded, smiling. She nodded back, humming in reply.

Miles had always been so much like his father. The same smile, the same attitude, the same wit.

Y/N looked at Miles curiously, and Miles became painfully aware of that fact. Birds sung in his lungs and trees grew in his mind. Fresh air.

“Let’s go, Miles. I’m expecting a tour.”

In the jingle jangle morning I'll come following you.

don’t make me cry now , que era tan adorable - quiero decir todas tus cosas es pero omggggg

pls never stop writing 🙏

The Love Lab presents:

One Bite for You, One Bite for Me

💗 THIS IS MY 100 200 300 FOLLOWER SPECIAL!

pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!Reader

summary: One of the things you and Miguel bond over is delicious food. One day, you notice that your clothes aren’t fitting like they used to. Miguel is there to remind you how beautiful you are.

content warning: established relationship but they’re not married, 18+ so MDNI, non-Spiderman Miguel, LOTS OF MENTIONS OF FOOD AND DRINKS, weight gain, cycles, insecurity about body, alcohol, body worship, unprotected p in v sex (wrap it up 🫵🏾), cunnilingus, lots of praise, a little Spanish (if wrong please lmk)

credit for art + dividers: Me! + @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

a/n: This is actually the first fic I wrote when my Miguel hyperfixation came back in full force. I based it off of this video and a comment saying that girls are usually the ones that gain weight super quick in a relationship. Please know that gaining weight is not a bad thing, especially in this story. Relationship weight can be positive and food is here to nourish your body! Also know that everyone’s body is different. Our bodies will react to things in different, unique ways. If you’re ever feeling icky about your weight/health, please take a step back, breathe, and know that you’re beautiful no matter what. There are also sources out there that can help you if your thoughts overpower your heart. Please don’t hesitate to seek help.

word count: 4.3k

To all my food-lovers and fellow plus-size girlies, kisses to you! You’re beautiful!

SPRING 🥭

“Baby!”

You grinned as you heard Miguel’s shout from the front door. His voice had a giddy tilt as if he made a breakthrough in one of his projects.

“I was finally able to stop by the new Jamaican spot before they sold out and look what I got us,” Miguel says before he slides the take-out bags across the table. “Ribs, oxtails, rice and beans, mac, and your favorite…fried plantains!”

You quickly untie the bags, happy to have a break from your research paper, and immediately get hit with the smell of spices both sweet and savory. “Oh my god! That looks incredible.”

After frantically digging around for a plastic fork, you were finally able to pull a piece of meat off the oxtail. It looked mouth-watering and tender. One bite of the meat and you’re immediately groaning, slumped in your chair. You nod your head and scrunch your face, watching as the juice from the gravy soaks into the pieces of rice stuck at the bottom of the take-out plate.

“That is so fucking good, Mig. No wonder there’s never any combos left by the time you leave work.”

Miguel just watches you eat with a glint in his eyes, happy to see you so relaxed and enjoying the food. He reaches into the second bag, pulling out two bottles of juice, “And to make it better, I got their fruit juice, made fresh daily-”

“Passionfruit and mango flavor!” Your eyes got big as you jumped up and wrapped your arms around his neck. He knew how much of a juice fanatic you were, so this drink was just the cherry on top of the large ice cream sundae that was your generous boyfriend.

“Thank you, baby,” you giggled and gave his cheek a fat smooch. You patted his chest twice and moved back to set up the table, “Now, hurry and wash up so we can eat this before it gets cold! We’ve got shows to watch.”

“Entendido, I’ll be right back”

SUMMER 🍦

You and Miguel were walking hand in hand along the Cancun Hotel Zone, taking in all the sights. Miguel’s job had given him a promotion along with an extremely high bonus, so what better way to celebrate than to use his PTO and bring the love of his life on vacation?

Granted, the area you guys were currently in was a little touristy, borderline bougie, but it was all worth it when Miguel got to see your eyes light up as you watched the turquoise waves fade into white foam along the shoreline.

You wobbled a bit while clinging to Miguel’s side, a little tipsy from the frozen paloma you drank to pair with today’s lunch. It was a waterfront restaurant with a live band so the vibes were just right for a little bit of liquid fun.

The downside was that the two of you were supposed to meet up with Miguel’s family later that evening and while you were fine with the confidence boost you were sporting, you wanted to be more alert when speaking with loved ones. Plus, you needed to give a good impression to the relatives you hadn’t met yet. It will be nice to put a face to the names of Miguel’s childhood.

“What do you say we stop and get some ice cream?” Miguel suggested, chuckling at you when you grinned up at him, ecstatic over the proposed plan.

“You know me so well,” you said, arms reaching around his waist, face squished into the side of his chest. “I would absolutely love some ice cream. Cool me down from the inside.”

Miguel chuckled and kissed the top of your head. You were especially cute when you got like this.

FALL 🍕

“Baby, check this out,” Miguel shouted, finally returning to your table with your food.

The fair was packed full of people, especially due to the pop-up food truck festival happening that same week. You had never seen more people run to get fried turnip greens and loaded fries in your life.

Still, this was just another chance to hang out with Miguel. You really didn’t care where you went with him, as long as you got to see that pretty smile.

You look down at the table and see what he brought back. Before your eyes sat the most un-Miguel order ever: birria pizza and two walking tacos, one Hot Cheetos and the other Dorritos.

“Dorilocos, Miguel. Really?” you raised an eyebrow watching him try to steady the open chip bags over some spread-out napkins.

“Amor, don’t look at me like that! I had to get them because Gabriel kept talking my ear off about this new food truck that made them better than the ones we used to eat on our trips back home. I, for one, don’t believe that for a second, so what better way to test that theory than to eat it with my baby?” Miguel gave the saddest look he could muster and slid his hand across the table, trying to convince you to indulge with him.

“Fine, fine. Don’t give me that look,” you say, pulling off a slice of the pizza, making the cheese stretch as long as you can. “Just don’t complain to me from the bathroom while your stomach fights to digest something it hasn’t had in over a decade!”

Miguel pursed his lips while shoveling as much food as he could on one Doritto, “Shouldn’t I be the one telling you that? That’s a lot of cheese, babe.”

“Oh my god, some queso tears up my stomach one time and you can’t let that go, can you?”

“It was once and yet you were in agony about it for days. I think I’m allowed to remind you at least monthly.”

“Just eat your food and leave me and my iron stomach alone. We’ll see what happens between today and tomorrow,” you quip, pulling your phone out ready to record Miguel’s reaction to send to Gabriel.

Miguel takes a bite and just leans against the table, head slumped on his clean head.

“Dios mio, he was right. This can’t be happening,” he groaned, slightly annoyed that Gabriel wasn’t exaggerating. He was also shocked at the fact that someone even came close to getting the local snack right.

You giggled behind your phone, happy that his reaction worked in your favor. You zoomed in a little more on his face, capturing him smacking his lips and licking off excess sauce. He was so zoned in on his food that he didn’t even notice you with your phone up.

“Is it good, Mig?” you asked, mirth in your voice.

He looked at you ready to answer but his eyes snapped to your camera and started to whine, “Amor, please stop recording!”

With a small smile, you made sure to add the video to your folder full of Miguel. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. You just look so cute, I couldn’t help it.”

Miguel just mumbled to himself while stacking up another chip, neck heated over the interaction. “Here, just try this,” he said, holding a nacho close to your mouth.

You opened your mouth, just barely getting the chip in. Cupping your hand under your head, you begin to hum, the flavors all tangy, spicy, and savory. “I don’t know what your childhood Dorilocos tasted like, but this is really freaking good.”

“Just know that this one is only slightly better. By 0.00001% to be exact,” he said, rubbing sauce off of the corner of your lips and licking it off. The movement was muscle memory for him as he always liked to watch your face when you ate food, especially when it came to any nostalgic or homecooked dishes you never tried before. It warmed his heart to see you find comfort in his favorite foods.

“Well, I can tell you it’s 100% better than the ‘Taco Tuesday’ luncheon my job hosted last month. Nothing but unseasoned ground beef, endless black olives, and store-bought guacamole for two hours,” you respond, shuddering at the memory of soppy taco shells and your coworkers complaining about how spicy the mild salsa was.

“On second thought, this is absolutely a step up. Was the guacamole name brand at least?” He asked, peering up at you with a twist on his lips.

“I’m pretty sure it was a grocery store brand, so no.”

“Damn.”

WINTER 🍫

You were at your apartment in your bed, completely covered under the comforter with a fluffy blanket on top.

It was snowing heavily outside and you were freezing. However, your heater tended to make your apartment feel like a sauna, so you kept snatching the blanket off only to put it back on minutes later. Plus, your cycle was here. Your cramps left you lying on your side, rolling back and forth between the cool side of the bed and the warm side.

Physically, you were exhausted, but mentally, you knew you had so much to get done.

Christmas was just around the corner but you still had so many presents left to buy and wrap. Your job was doing the dreaded Secret Santa gift exchange and you were stuck wondering what gift would appeal to the stuck-up director in the accounting department.

You and Miguel were also hosting a small Christmas party amongst your friends, and there was still food left to buy. To top it all off, you were worried about your gift for Miguel, wondering if a silly little apron saying “Kiss me, I’m Irish” would hide the fact that you spent a ridiculous amount of money on some new tech he was eyeing.

You heard the apartment door open and close.

Knowing it was Miguel, you groan out dramatically.

He opens the bedroom door and peaks inside, “Baby?”

You just groan out again, “Everything hurts, Miggy.”

He comes up to bed and sits on the edge, “I know, amor. I’m sorry.” He bends down to kiss your head. “Want me to plug up the heat pack?”

“Yeah,” you say, leaning into his hands. When he gets up to grab the pack, you whine at his absence.

“I know, I know. I’m coming back,” he says, voice soothing.

Instead of turning the pack on, he removes your covers and sits back down on the edge. You shiver a little bit and he’s quick to cover your body with his, rubbing the top of your head as he kisses your temple.

“Are you feeling too bad to eat something for me?” Miguel asks, the timber of his voice settling you.

You shake your head and lean in closer to him.

“I think I want some food,” you reply, squeezing his body. “I haven’t eaten anything yet.”

Miguel tuts as he sits up and pulls you up with him, “That’s no good, baby. You have to eat so you can feel better. Your body needs it.”

You groan again and put your face in his neck, not wanting to move.

“Come on,” Miguel says, rubbing you from your back to your leg. “I got you some soup and a grilled cheese.”

“Did you get the stuff for the hot chocolate bar? For the party?” you whisper.

“Mm hm. Jumbo marshmallows included.”

You nuzzle his neck before you look at him, “Carry me to the kitchen?”

He makes a swift move to wrap your legs around his body and hike you up.

He gets up and holds you close, heading to the kitchen, “Let’s get some food in you, yeah?”

SPRING 🍇

The short spring break trip that Miguel surprised you with has been lovely. Miguel woke you with kisses down your body, taking you to the hilt with his mouth alone. You had to muffle your cries as to not disturb the neighbors in the inn. As his tongue danced inside of you, you gripped his hair with one hand and his head with your thighs. Miguel wouldn’t want it any other way.

After his first course, Miguel treated you to breakfast on the balcony. You two enjoyed looking over the horizon as you ate yogurt parfaits and fluffy omelets.

Later on, the two of you enjoyed a few tours of the vineyard and the city. The sights were beyond compare and the atmosphere was serene.

“Thank you so much for this Miguel,” you say, interrupting the silence.

“Anything for my lady,” he says back. “You’re doing great work this semester so you need the break.” Miguel stopped and turned to you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

You leaned up and kissed him, hands warm on the sides of his face.

You both started to makeout for so long that Miguel forgot about the massage he had planned for you before tonight’s farm-to-table dinner.

Needless to say, he laid you out on your bed and oiled your body down. Your head was in your arms as rubbed his hands up and down your back. His hands were heaven and you felt like puddy by the time he flipped you over.

After he massaged your inner thighs he pounded you into the mattress. Something you’re sure the hired masseuse would never be able to do.

Miguel joked and called it the Miguel Magic Massage when you asked if he offered this special regularly. The price? Being his cariño, his amor, his sweetheart.

By the time dinner started, you were glowing. You felt adored and the courses were amazing.

Miguel made sure everyone knew you were his. His hand never left your thigh the entire meal, staring down the older men sitting at the end table who were looking a little too long at the dip of your dress.

You were oblivious, feeding Miguel bites occasionally and humming at how fresh and delicious everything was.

After the last course was over, the men came to you all’s side of the table quickly. All of them started to make conversation with you, plugging in their businesses, and stuffing their business cards in your hands.

It was as if Miguel was invisible. He scowls deeper when they let out hearty laughs at something you said.

“Are you fellas here with your wives?” Miguel asked loudly, completely irritated. “My wife and I have really enjoyed our time here. It’s a beautiful place for couples.”

Some of the men went red in the face flustered at Miguel catching their scheme. Others just scowled, pissed off at being interrupted.

None of them could answer his question.

You looked at Miguel, eyes heavy and relaxed.

“You gentlemen have a great night,” you said, putting your hand in Miguel’s as he guided you to the exit.

“Your wife, huh?” you asked, core on fire. It was hot watching Miguel get so worked up over you.

“Baby, they were looking at you like you were some fresh meat. Like I wasn’t even sitting there,” he grumbled.

“One of them already offered to bring me on a cruise. He’s staying right next to us,” you say, standing outside your room as Miguel swipes his card at the door. You walked your fingers up his chest, heated over the grit you could see from his profile.

He was oh so upset.

“He’s next to us? Right here?” Miguel asked, voice low.

You nodded as you bit your lip, arm around his neck.

Miguel picked you up and dragged you to the bed. You giggled a little to yourself as he plopped you down. Mission accomplished. Silently, you thank those older men. If it weren’t for their overconfidence, Miguel wouldn’t have been tearing at your clothes like he us right now.

Miguel kept you up almost that whole night, making sure that the neighbors heard your cries. Those old geezers were sure to know his name by the next morning. Buying you a ring wasn’t enough. He needed a bat.

It was all worth it to see the tired and flushed looks of their faces when you all checked out the next day.

SUMMER 🍯

“What the fuck,” you mumble, looking down at the pair of jeans you were trying to put on.

It was early morning. You had a family reunion that you and Miguel would take a bit of a drive to get to.

You made sure that everything was packed the following night. Some clothes to stay for a few days, a few snacks for the road, a book for you to catch up on, and even a crossword puzzle book for Miguel.

You planned ahead. You were diligent. So why is it that when everything else is going right, your pants decide not to button up?

You pulled at the flaps once more, trying your hardest to connect the button with the hole. It fails as they slip from your grasp. You try again, sucking in your stomach as much as you could. You get the button to snap in this time, but it’s digging unbearably into your skin. The zipper fights against you as you try to pull it up.

You huff out in frustration and the pants snap open again.

Defeated, you let out a watery sigh and look in the mirror.

Your stomach was bigger than you last remembered, fupa a little more prominent. Your thighs were also a little thicker, the jeans hugging them a little tight. Your breasts looked a little big in your shirt. The family name stretches a bit more across your bust than the original design intended. Even your face was a little chubbier than normal. When was the last time your jaw was like this? High school?

When did you get like this?

You felt your throat start to burn, a sob building in your system. You’ve always been fine with your body, loving the dips and curves. Adoring your flaws and finding beauty in what society decides is not worthy.

You knew this. You knew that you were beautiful. Why was it so hard to get that thought into your conscience?

You felt the tears roll down as you peeled the jeans off of your legs. They were especially tight at your hips and you wondered how you even forced them past in the first place.

You didn’t know what to do. It was so hot outside, so you needed something comfortable, but those jeans…you had your mind set to wear those jeans.

You rummage through your closet in frustration, pushing and pulling the clothes across the rack.

By the time Miguel found you, you were squatting in the closet, hot tears covering your face.

“Babe, it’s been almost 30 minutes and we need to head out before the work traffic starts-”

Miguel stopped in the doorway as he noticed the state of the closet, “Hey, hey, what’s wrong? ¿Que pasó, cariño?”

You wipe furiously at your face, sniffling loud as you hear Miguel push clothes to the side to get to you.

“My pants don’t fit. I don’t think anything else will fit either,” you say, stuttering out your words as Miguel gets to your side.

You let him pull you up into a standing position. You felt defeated.

Miguel looked at you and wiped away the tears that you missed. You feel horrible as your face scrunches up again, tears forming in your eyes.

“No, no, no,” Miguel says, hugging you close. “Listen to me. I know that this feels like a lot, but this is normal. Your body will always change with you. You’re still the same beautiful, gorgeous woman I met years ago and that’s not changing because you got some extra hips, baby.”

“But Miguel,” you say, voice so sad. “I feel like I just got those pants. And. Nothing else in here goes with this shirt. I’m scared that nothing else will fit-”

“And if that’s the case, I’ll buy you new clothes,” Miguel says, pressing kisses over your face. “If these clothes mean that much to you, I’ll take you to the gym. Let me work out with you, but until then, I’m loving your body as is.”

You stare at Miguel, heart beating at his revelation. He stared right back at you, daring you to question or challenge his words.

“Don’t beat yourself up over something like this. If anyone has ever let you feel insecure about your body, they’re an ass, let me deal with them. If I ever do anything to make you feel insecure, tell me. Yell at me. Question me, because as far as I’m concerned, that’s not me.”

He hiked you up on the closet island in the middle of the room. You shiver a bit as your naked legs hit the wood.

He leans closer, placing his hands on the side of you, “Now, let’s think. Don’t you have a pair of cargo shorts that match the ones I’m wearing right now?”

You whisper out a yes.

“Would you be ok with wearing those? I’m sure they fit perfectly.”

You say yes again, head leaning onto his. You could accessorize it perfectly. It would make a great couple’s look.

Miguel knew this much, he just had to get you to see it.

“I love you, ok?” he says, voice clear.

“I love you, too. Thank you,” you say.

“Anything for my girl,” Miguel says. “My beautiful girl. She’s just for me. I can’t believe it.”

Your heart beats faster as he starts to kiss down your body.

“Her face is so lovely.” A kiss to your cheek and your lips.

“She’s always working so hard.” A kiss to your neck and your collarbone. He pulls your shirt over your head.

“She makes me so happy.” A suck to your breasts as he unclasps your bra.

“Her body is beyond comparison.” A trail of kisses down your stomach, your belly twitching as his breath twinkles on along your skin. “Soft. Amazing. Irresistible.”

“Her thighs are my earmuffs.” A caress to your inner thighs. Your legs snap a bit, ticklish at his ministrations.

“Miguel?” you whimper out.

“I have to relax you before this ride. Can’t have you upset,” he says, kissing his way up your thighs to your panties. “May I?”

You nod your head, fingers grasping at nothing but then a flat surface.

Miguel was swift. He pulled your underwear down and kissed at your clit. You could only hold tight as he pulled your body forward and dove in.

It wasn’t long before you were shaking like a leaf. Miguel sucked at you for minutes, pulling a long orgasm out of your system.

He kneaded your thighs as you trembled around his tongue, humming as your legs squeezed tighter. That was the queue for him to go further, so he added his fingers to the mix, moving his mouth up so that his fingers could pump in and out of you.

It took all of your strength not to let your body drop off the other side of the island.

“Miggy, please,” you wailed. You wanted more.

Miguel looked up at you whining above him. You pull your legs up, holding your hands under your thighs, practically begging for him.

Miguel kissed up your body again. He was swift with removing his clothes. You still had to have these clothes fresh for later and Miguel was about to wear you out.

He moved to push himself inside of you, grunting as you gripped him.

He replaced your hands with his and pulled your legs up by his head. You balanced yourself on the island as he slowly started to thrust.

“So good. Just for me,” Miguel said, watching as your body moved with his movement. “Perfect. And all mine.”

You remained quiet, whimpering softly as he dragged against you.

“You heard me, hermosa?” Miguel said. “You’re beautiful. C’mon. Say it for me.”

“I’m,” you stopped, mind foggy. You didn’t know how you were supposed to respond when he was going so deep.

“Say it.”

You cried out as he snapped harder, “I’m beautiful.”

“That’s right baby,” Miguel praises you, bending further to give you a kiss. “So amazing.”

He praised you until you finished, squeezing at any of you that he got his hands. By the time he was done, your arms felt like jelly from holding you up.

He carried you to the bathroom for a quick shower, never stopping his reassurances of you.

You guys made it in the car an hour and a half off schedule, but it was worth it for the uplifted way you carried yourself throughout the day.

It was worth it to see you happy and healthy.

By the time you made it to the reunion, it was like you were born anew. You greeted your family with smiles and laughter. Miguel couldn’t help but to cheese watching you do your thing.

He felt his heart soar as you caught up with family. Your smile was the biggest as you were out on the floor line dancing your heart out. He was right up behind you when Outstanding came on. The song was really a declaration of how he felt about you.

You giggled as he crooned in your ear.

“You light my fire,” he sang, swinging your hips in time with his.

“I feel alive with you, baby,” he spins you around to him, a smile on his face.

“You blow my mind,” he pulled you out and back in.

“I’m satisfied,” you squeal as he spins you in the air and puts you back down to keep dancing.

Outstanding. You really knock him out.

Another season where Miguel adored you more.

Another season where Miguel wanted you to be forever his.

Another season where he made sure he fed you well.

Another season of you making his heart pound.

Another season of your love reaching to the fullest.

Miguel was excited for the next season with you.

As always, I hope you enjoyed reading! 💗

Any likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated. Let me know how you feel! 🥺🧁

Until next time,

-Lauro 💗

cozy glow fluff

(hobie x pink!reader) — fem prns..?

hobie, the rule breaking, cop hating, spider-punk. he goes around spraypainting walls, or beating some evil villain. that or he’s being told off by miguel for his “disrespectful” behavior. AKA he was telling the truth and miguel doesn’t seem to appreciate honesty as much as hobart does.

maybe people expect him to have a girlfriend just as punk as him. maybe they don’t expect a girlfriend at all.

————

last night had been a long one. he had just gotten home from a mission with gwendy. he had some scrapes and bruises so he was forced to go to the medical center. he hated being told to do things, especially go to the medical center. it was so sterile, so void of life. and could definitely use a new paint job.

he had missed band practice which means having his phone blown up about their upcoming gig and how it was the 4th time that month he’d “skipped” practicing.

as he swung through the city all he could think of was you. all he could think of was the way you smelt like sugar cookies and rainy days. he dodged building after building, soon his eyes focusing on the apartment ahead. only one room illuminated.

only one room with that familiar cozy glow that he came to appreciate oh so much. as he approached the edifice, his eyes trained on the dusty bricks, and the chipping paint of the window sill that he had glued himself against, climbing the side of the structure.

he pryed open the window, a loud creaking noise ensuing. he winced slightly, hoping that if you were sleeping, you hadn’t woken up. he crawled into the kitchen, inhaling at your aroma that snuck its way throughout the flat.

he scanned the space, he saw the muffins you had left on the stove top. he grabbed one as he snuck towards your bedroom. noting the usual decorations as well as some new ones. pictures of him, in a pink frame of course. he ran his fingers over it, reminiscing on the memory, one from a week prior. you had convinced hobie to go to a fair.

the both of you had a wonderful time then, even if he was reluctant to admit it. you accepted this and was proud that he stepped out of his comfort zone while also managing not to steal.

curse you and your sickeningly sweet smile that makes him forget how horrible the system is. don’t worry, he made some ruckus the next day to make up for the loss. as his eyes grew heavy he reached for the handle of your door.

the door opened with a loud moan of the hinges. the list on your fridge of things to fix in your house obviously not helping. glancing at the clock, he read the time. 2 am. he mentally cursed himself for coming to see you that late, but really who could blame him.

most see hobie as a ruffian who only causes uproar and disharmony. but you saw him as much more. he was able to be himself with you. he allowed himself to let you in, to see all his insecurities that weren’t open to the rest of the world.

he glanced back at you, snuggled up in a pink blanket and your hello kitty pajamas. both of which he bought (stole) for you (but he wouldn’t tell you that he actually stole it). the light still shining dimly, he chuckled, knowing you had probably stayed up waiting for him.

he soon discarded the majority of his clothes and climbed into bed next to you. your figure tossing and turning, your breath changing before restoring back to a soft snore. you found it embarrassing that you snore, he found it adorable and made sure to reassure you of that. and also to remind you that insecurity is another way the government divides us so we can’t band together and overthrow it.

reaching over he turned off the light. his black shirt contrasting with the rosy color of your linens. he wraps his arms around you, which you quickly oblige. snuggling closer into his chest.

“love ‘ya doe.” he had begun calling you doe when you first met, it was to point out your innocence which soon became something he treasured most about you. although he did appreciate your tenacity when protesting. you could definitely overthrow one hell of a government all on your own when you were angry.

“mm love you too,” you said sleepily, only mildly drooling on hobie. you fell back asleep as quick as you woke up. he smiled and rested his chin on top your head.

closing his eyes and falling asleep.

—————

okay first fic what do we think? do you want more hobie? or maybe something with miguel??? i have a whole list of ideas but i’d love some more!! pls pls request something you want to see and i’ll add it to the list.

reblogs much appreciated, feel free to message me 🩷

I’ve seen everyone doing these drabbles/aus and I wanted to join! 🤠

It gets suggestive towards the end so MINORS BEWARE.

word count: 719 (kind of proofread, I got excited)

dividers by @y-onb 🩵

Daydreaming about GymRat!Miguel x PlusSize!Reader / Chubby!Reader and the dynamic of big tall bf x shorter chubby gf 🚻

GymRat!Miguel who started off as an awkward, lanky, nerdy teen using the gym to blow off steam. His mom felt that he wasn’t a great influence to his brother, his father wasn’t his real father, and his step-brother was an asshole.

GymRat!Miguel who’s nearly triple his weight by the time he starts college, body full of muscle. His mom has calmed down despite him previously eating her out of a house and a home. His biological dad agreed to help with any leftover college expenses and his step-dad helps him move on campus. He’s tearful when he hugs Gabriel goodbye, promising to call and play their weekly games.

GymRat!Miguel who stays loyal to his nerdy roots and aims for a Science degree with a minor in Robotics for fun. He sticks out like a sore thumb in his classes, body taking up the ends of lab tables. Even though he prefers to sit in the front of classes, he opts to sit in the back so that everyone can see. He’s constantly using office hours and lingering after class so that he can make sure that his notes are correct.

GymRat!Miguel who first meets you in one of his bio labs and is immediately enamored by you. Your clothes hug your curves, you smell sweet, and something on you always matches. Your shoes and your backpack, your skirt and your jacket, your accessories and your nails.

GymRat!Miguel who ends up being in your group for a project and watches in awe as you take the lead, helping everyone decide which parts to complete. You go out of your way to make the powerpoint colorful and creative. You’re ecstatic when he turns in his parts extra early as everyone else has gone a-wall.

GymRat!Miguel who calms you down when the deadline is near and the rest of the group still hasn’t done their part. You two meet late in the library to finish everything. He thinks you’re adorable despite how stressed and tired you are. He makes the last minute decision to delete the other two group member’s names off of the title slide, taking the initiative to email the teacher before hand.

GymRat!Miguel who walks into the lab building on presentation day 50 minutes early and sees you being cornered by the other group members eyes full of confusion. He quickly walks over asking if there was a problem. Seeing him looming over them, the two decide give up, and scramble together a last minute presentation.

GymRat!Miguel who explains everything, telling you not to worry about the others and just focus on you all’s presentation. You two have great presentation, chemistry blooming as you bounce off each other. You both get an easy A and you hug Miguel out of an excitement before the next lab starts.

GymRat!Miguel who imprints the feeling of your body against his in his memory. Your smell, how soft you were. how small you felt in his arms, how tight you squeezed him.

GymRat!Miguel whose dreams of you have him tossing and turning in his twin sized bed that was far too little for him. He scares his poor roommate to death when his body hits the floor with a big boom. The dream of you under him shattering as he collides with the ground. He groans and apologizes to his roommate, pain in his side and his groin.

GymRat!Miguel who takes a cold shower, too aroused to go back to sleep. He bites his fist trying to quiet his moans, not wanting to wake his roommate for a second time. He replays images of you in his mind, pulling at his length until he shutters against the tile walls.

GymRat!Miguel whose heart drops when he checks his phone after his shower. You followed him on Instagram three hours ago. He checks your page and sees that you're private, but your profile picture is a lot. It's an angle from above you, your cleavage on display.

GymRat!Miguel who stands in the bathroom ogling at the photo like an idiot. He clicks the follow back button, watching as it shifts to pending, and stares down at his body again. He sighs and turns the shower back on, banking on his roommate sleeping through everything once again.

You had no idea the effect you had on him.

Leave a like and a comment! Let me know how you feel 😶‍🌫️

v.17.10.23 day nine: primal ( nsfw )

RUN, BABY, RUN — miguel o’hara: you’re on the run. running from a man with claws and fangs. you didn’t mean to trespass, it was your friends’ idea. too bad you’ve now found yourself alone in the woods.

marks predator/prey dynamic. dubcon. sex in the woods. claws and fangs kink. reflecting on old slasher vibe. finger sucking. nipple play. fear play. slight blood kink. slight monster kink.

it was far too dark, and far too cold. you didn’t mean for your feet to stumble against the uprooted trees, in fact you didn’t mean for any of this. it was an innocent night out with friends. but god you shouldn’t have gone to that stupid cabin. you really shouldn't have followed your friends into the woods.

now you’re here, forced to run. you aren’t sure if you can even call this running. what, with your tripping toes, and hair array in front of your face. you were barely making it past the trees, your breathing, one out of a horror movie. then a twig snaps. no. please no. you try to quicken. there’s ruffles of fallen leaves.

he wants you to hear him. that much is clear. you don’t mean for your hands to shake, but at this point your body is on it's own path. you stumble, palms hitting against the ground as you groan, chest still heaving. you’re covered in dirt, clothes far from a quick wash. you try to stand, hopefully run again, but you know it’s too late.

reaching a large tree, you hit back against it, pressing your fist against your cracked lips to drown out the sounds of pain threatening to spill. then it’s silent. the only sounds being the whispering wind, and a possible rush of a faraway lake. the bark scratches at your back but you stay still. scared probably isn’t the best suited word here. you were terrified.

you pressed further against the tree, hoping that it’ll just swallow you whole. “you don’t have to run...” you freeze at the voice. because you had been running from a monster, something that had claws and fangs, and distinct red eyes. not a man. your brows furrow, as your hand fists the dirt. “you’re probably scared.” his voice is…comforting, and you can’t help but let your breathing slow.

could he possibly help you? does he know about the monster in these woods? you swallow down saliva, your throat dry. “who…who are you?” you ask almost a fraction too quiet. but he catches it, his steps nearing you now. “miguel…” he answers softly. closer, closer, closer. still fisting the dirt you manage to stand up against the tree. “are you running from the monster too?”

“i think the monster might have gone in the other direction.” he says. and oh now he’s close, his low voice reverberating through you. “i think…” he continues, and your breathing catches as his breath tickles your ear. you swiftly spin to face him, and your heart stops. because in the moonlit woods his most prominent features stand out. red eyes. he smiles. fangs… “i think that you are far too trusting for your own good, mi querida.”

you begin to shake your head. “no…”

he steps closer. you stumble back. he’s grabbing your shirt and tugging you forward. you try to escape. his arm loops around your waist, pulling you flush against him, his lips hitting your ear. “shh shh…you’re okay.”

“please, i—“ you choke out the words as you try to get your hands free. hit him. anywhere. but he has you trapped, arms locked tight against your body like a vice. his hand moves to stroke at your hair, his mouth open against your ear. a shiver runs down your spine at the claws you feel. he chuckles, low and mocking, as he grabs your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “i’m quite a offended actually. you think i’m a monster?” but his words don’t show sadness they show taunting.

“you are.” you try to hiss out the words, but they do you no good. “hm…” miguel hums, his tongue poking out against his lower lip, dragging smoothly against his fangs. then he leans closer. “why is that? is it my claws?” he raises his hand higher up your face, the tip of his claw tracing the sensitive skin of your cheek. he drags it down leaving a fading red mark, until he reaches your lips. he pulls on your lower lip, forcing your mouth to open.

your frozen, completely unsure on what to do and how to do it. his eyes seem to be fixated on your mouth now, his claw actually sinking in, past your lips and all you can do is let him. “you know, I’ve never found humans to be…pretty in any sense.” he says, now finding your tongue with his claw, stroking it slowly. “you’re all such a…disappointing species.” you want to gulp, but you can’t with his finger inside your mouth. though your subconscious doesn’t seem notice the intrusion as it forces you to swallow, your lips wrapping around his finger. miguel’s eyes immediately darken.

“but you…you’re at least a little prettier than them.” he keeps his low, taunting tone, as he then inserts another finger. “suck it.” he demands. your eyes slightly widen, and when you don’t immediately obey he pushes his two fingers further into your mouth making you nearly choke, as you wrap your lips back around them. you slowly, hesitantly begin to suck, swirling around his claws with your tongue.

“that’s it...” he murmurs, completely focused on your mouths movements. “yeah…maybe you aren’t so bad. much better than them.” the barely audible hitch in your breath catches his attention as his lips curve up, slightly pulling his now dripping fingers out of your mouth. “my friends—what—what did you do to them?”

miguel, ever so calm, tilts your head up again and with his wet fingers he begins to trace them on your collarbone. “not much.” he replies evenly, as he keeps his gaze on the invisible patterns he's drawing. “no—please tell me they’re alright.”

“they trespassed—“ but you cut him off, ignoring the cold feel of your spit gliding further down your chest. “i trespassed. i was one of the first.”

“oh it was easy to tell who was stickler and who wanted to actually trespass. you, mi querida, are far too innocent to want to invade someone’s home.” he says, tugging you closer, as his hand skips over your shirt to reach the hem, sinking up and underneath, making your back unintentionally arch. you had no bra on. it was late. you were planning to go to bed when your friends had proposed this now awful idea.

"your friends are the ones i dislike." miguel says, grazing a claw along the underside of your breast. you can't help but let your lips quiver, tears welling, as you force them down. "but don't worry, i won't spare the details." he says, still stroking your hair with his other hand. "i wouldn't want to taint what's already so...sweet." at that he engulfs one of your breasts with his hand, large and demanding.

"p-please." you try, still stuck in his grip. "please what?" he taunts, flicking your nipple with his claw making your body jolt. he hums at the reaction pinching and rolling the sensitive part of you between his fingers. "how sweet are you, i wonder..." he leans closer, now licking at where the wet trail, from his fingers still lingers. "ay, cariño...you taste lovely."

you're shaking, body already exhausted from the running. "are you going to...to kill me?" you ask shakily. for some reason that seemed like the only plausible outcome right now. your adrenaline is running out, and all you can feel is his touch and fear. you don't mean to sound so weak, but in this position it's clear who takes the role as prey. "aw." he coos, now pulling at your hair to force your head higher up, as his mouth nears yours. he’s switched to your other breast, pulling, pinching, rolling. fondling almost tenderly, experimentally. "kill you? now why would i do that?"

his breath is now practically in your own open mouth, as you try to hold down unwanted sounds threatening to surface. "why would i kill someone so sweet...so pretty." he says in an almost low whisper. then as his lips graze yours. "i've already had that kind of fun with your friends." you gasp as he suddenly lifts you up by your thighs, your back now pressed against the tree you were seeking shelter from, as he forcefully widens your legs, his groin pressed right up against you finally making a small sound leave your lips.

he chuckles, his claws digging into your skin. you were wearing stupid loose shorts. again, thinking it was only a small night walk, and that you'd be heading to bed soon. he easily bypasses your shorts, his claw pulling your panties to the side. you didn't hear the unzip of his pants, until you felt his cock running right up your slit, making you choke a gasp. "what—"

"shh, cariño...“ he hums, not caring for your shock or your pleas. “my my, aren’t you soaked?" he continues to tease your entrance with the head of his cock, forcing mixes of whimpers and whines to fall from your lips. "yeah, look at you, all wet f'me." he whispered this more to himself, as he harshly pushes you further up against the tree, completely sinking into you, stretching you, and making you exclaim in a mix of pain and something else. "mierda..." he mumbles, licking at his lower lip as he thrusts into you.

"oh—" you whine, head hitting back against the tree, as your body moves with his thrusts. animalistic as he groans. "i knew you'd feel so—so tight—carajo..." his grip on your thighs has tightened, most definitely leaving marks. your hands are gripped onto the material of his shirt by his shoulders, your body at complete mercy to him.

then his mouth is on yours. hungry, demanding, and full of authority. with his harsh thrusts, and protruding tongue you can barely think. you have to kiss back, it's all you can do. your lips wrap around his lips as you join his tongue. miguel briefly opens his mouth against yours. "atta girl…mm, what an obedient sweetheart i found."

before he's pushing harder against your mouth, devouring your tongue. then your body jolts against his cock, still working in and out of you. he had bit you. your lower lip now smeared in your own blood, as your breathing stutters. while his claw moves down between you to flick and fiddle with your clit, his tongue drags right across your lower lip, tasting your blood with an audible groan.

he doesn't hold back, ramming up into you, as he widens your legs impossibly until they ache. the pressure building in your stomach is almost taking over your brain, as you moan and whimper. "you're—you're too big—too much—" you manage in chokes. he makes a point to fill you up entirely, nearly making you scream. "come on now, take all of it f'me, dulce chica, that's it...you're doing so well...so well for a so called monster. was that what you called me?" he knows the answer. and as you bounce against his cock, lewd sounds drowning out both your ears, you mutter a "y-yes.”

"hm." he hums, now nipping at the skin on your neck and chest, almost glistening in the moonlight with a mix of spit and sweat. "good." he murmurs into your skin. and as you near the precipice of your release, hands now discolored from how tight you’ve been gripping him, you hear him mutter right into your ear. "don't go looking for your friends now...they won’t help you."

"no—i—" but you can barely speak. "keep bouncing on my cock." he all but demands as you had slowed in fear. and with the help of his grip on your thighs, he ruts into you, his own release now close. and when he reaches his high, muttering curses in spanish, your body is exhausted to the limit. and as he places your shaky legs back down onto the ground, a cruel glint in his eyes, he whispers. "if you don't want me to taste more of you...i’d suggest you run."

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