#hara headcanons

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Can you write a college roommate head cannon for miguel O’Hara ( 18+ f!reader)

ik you asked for HCs but I have no self control... my bad, anon!

College Roommate!Miguel O'Hara Headcanons

(AO3 Mirror), Main Masterlist

pairing: College Roommate!Miguel O'Hara x f!reader

summary: Miguel is your roommate. And he’s hot. That’s it, that’s the tweet.

warnings: 18+ as fuuuck. F-receiving oral, using toys, masturbation, voyeurism (-ish), grinding, praise, service dom (idk?) Miguel, recreational drug use (reader and Miggy smoke a blunt). Minors DNI

a/n: I am a firm believer that modern day Miguel listens to 90s rnb, back when men were men: unabashedly, unashamedly down so fucking bad for their partners. he just gives me those vibes!!

edit: I'm writing a full fic for this! Rigor Mortis, college au fic, read here.

wc: 6k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm thinking you become roommates but he's your last choice. 

Very last minute: you have a big falling out with your now ex-boyfriend, and the plans for flatsharing next semester goes right out the window. 

So all the good places are taken, and you're going apartment-hunting, but everywhere's either too expensive, too dirty, or there's a predatory clause hidden in the lease: shitty landlords and blaring red flags in 9pt Times New Roman. 

When you stumble upon Miguel O'Hara; a student in private accomodation who, lucky you, is in need of a roommate; it feels like a godsend.

Rent is affordable and he's nice enough; refusing to grunt more than a few words to you, but is clean, organised, and from what you can tell, is barely in the apartment. 

You sign onto the lease, desperately, hoping you've just been lucky and trying not to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

You give a thousand mile stare at the blank document in front of you. A bullshit paper due in exactly 12 hours. Yes, you left it until the final stretch, and yes, it's 10k words. Very doable. You're not fucked. Nope.

You blame it on the banging from next door. Paper thin walls; obscene noises. Cries of Yes Miguel and Just like that, daddy have been plaguing you for almost an hour. His stamina must be superhuman, the way the woman in his bed has been howling. Howling may seem extreme, but she sounds like a dying cat: cock drunk and babbling over Miguel O'Hara? 

Your new roommate had been nice enough. Quiet, unassuming, and seemed more than absorbed in his schoolwork. So you didn't expect him to unashamedly fuck the girl he's been tutoring for the past week. It all clicks. The "perfect roommate" turned out to have one teeny tiny little flaw: loud, obnoxious sex, well into the early hours of the morning. 

On autopilot, you're clicking through tabs on your bed. Perhaps you're a prude, but the sex noises are abrasive, excessive, to the point of parody. Persistent, Miguel's low voice reverberates in the walls of your bedroom; making heat pool at the base of your stomach. 

"You want it, hermosa? Tell me…. such a pretty girl… like that?" It's muffled, but his voice is unmistakable. Low, greedy, heavy with want. God, the last time someone's spoken to you like that was… 

You shake your head free of cobwebs. No. You're not rewarding him. You can't . Your roommate is shameless, and inconsiderate, and really fucking annoying . 

The smacking noises increase, coupled with banging on his side of the wall. Resolute, your face hardens. From where you perch on your bed, you slam the wall with the side of your fist. 

"O'Hara! Keep it the fuck down!" 

~~~

He's a biochem major, up to his ass in assignments and he still has time for societies, internships and tutoring. 

The only times he'd be in the apartment really was an impromptu session, and you didn't notice at first, but it became more obvious as the semester went on.

As a so-called tutor, he only seemed to pick the prettiest girls - they would twirl their hair on your kitchen counter and bat their pretty lashes at him when they didn't understand. Favours for a couple of friends, is his only response when you ask. 

It felt like you'd open the door to a new girl every week and you are baffled. Donned in makeup and short skirts, they'd waddle in asking for Miggy, or drop off half-finished assignments whilst craning their head through, trying to catch a glimpse of him. 

The absurdity would make you laugh if it wasn't affecting your sleep. 

Not that he's not absolutely gorgeous, but he's so quiet you would never have thought he had it in him: to have a revolving door of women lining up to lay underneath him. 

This time, her name is Sarah: pretty little thing in Miguel's Advanced Math class.  She perches on a stool, wearing a tight dress that is wholly not appropriate for a tutoring session. She's one of his regulars, if you can call it that, and has been failing for at least 2 semesters. You flash her a smile as you pad through the kitchen, searching the cupboards for a snack. God, she is gorgeous; dolled up for another long session with Miguel, no doubt.

"Where's he gone?" She asks politely. 

You shrug. "I couldn't tell you, sorry."

"It's okay… I'm just a bit stuck." You almost snort and catch yourself. For some reason, you didn't think they actually did any work, merely a pretense for the… cardio later on in the day. 

You glance at her sheet of paper, scribbles in purple pen with large swathes crossed out. Leaning over, you scan the page.

"Right here." You point and she follows with a manicured finger. "You fucked up with this integral and I think… yeah, I think that messes with the whole thing."

Her eyes light up as she follows you, explaining with a piece of cookie hanging out of your mouth. She's definitely smart, just a few little mistakes here and there that you're happy to point out. Thanking you fervently, she rushes to correct it. 

"Ah, it's no problem. I get mixed up with it too." You smile and notice Miguel by the doorway, watching with a strange look in his face. You roll your eyes as you walk past. What a fucking weirdo. 

"Thought I was the tutor?" He croons.

You raise an eyebrow, voice low as Sarah is engrossed in her work. "...I don't want to fuck her, Miggy , if that's what you're worried about."

A little cruelly you push past him, shoulders clashing against one another. Is he smiling ? For now, you blame your perpetual tiredness when you think you catch the hint of a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

~~~

You're a light sleeper, and it all makes for a tired, delirious combo. You sleepwalk through the day, scramble to finish assignments and whilst it's not all O'Hara's fault, you can't help but blame him for a lot of it. 

After you successfully get through one long week, you decide to celebrate. That means a couple hours of mindless hedonism: your favourite movie, greasy food…. and your trusty dildo. Not at the same time, of course. 

Miguel's not home, and he's not tearing down the walls with some other girl, for once, so you decide to treat yourself. 

You've been going through a dry patch, and you'd hate to admit it, but he does sound good through the thin drywall. 

It was a joke gift; given to you by a friend for your birthday. An obnoxiously purple dildo with a suction cup at its base. Aptly named Hugh, due to its - ahem - large stature. Standing tall at 7 or 8 inches, far bigger or thicker than any partner you've taken in the past. Sitting around a small diner booth with your friends and opening the bag to reveal him, had been quite the experience, for sure. 

It wasn't your fault you had gone through a dry spell in the past few months. With work, with school, with relationship issues, you hadn't had the time or energy to sleep around. Not that you were desperate for drunk, lackluster sex, followed by an awkward dance of ubers and shitty coffee in the morning. Like many, you preferred to do it yourself. 

Laptop open, you ease yourself onto the toy, already slick with lube. Prepping yourself with your fingers had been quite the task, tabs open to something on a lewd website. It's cheesy, but you didn't really like the bright lights and plastic of usual porn. The moans felt too fake, the sex devoid of any real passion. So you found a couple of independent creators; couples, mostly; carnal fucking with fervour only borne from real love . It's embarrassing to admit it, but your favourite parts are the little kisses and touches in between, or light laughter after a rough session. As if to say: it's okay and I'm still here. 

On your screen now is a longtime favourite video, a broad man bullying his fat cock into his partner. You can't help but think he looks like Miguel, not as pretty but tan with strapping shoulders, and large hands that wrap around the neck of the girl in the video. 

" F-Fuck," You breathe, sinking down onto your toy. You bet Miguel's palm on your throat would be deliciously rough, and you imagine how he'd fuck the brat out of you like the man on your screen. 

What hadn't occurred to you, however, was that the thin walls went both ways. Whilst you were quieter than many of the girls Miguel brought home, you were fairly shameless with the moans and curses that fell from your lips. Headphones on, you were blissfully unaware that Miguel had slipped into the apartment some time ago. The slap of your thighs to the floor, the desperate whine as you roll your hips over the toy - he can hear it all. 

Miguel has a conscience, so he does feel some amount of shame when he slips a hand down his trousers and presses an ear to your shared wall. He closes his eyes and bites down lusty groans, fisting his cock to your pretty noises. Noises he's been wanting to hear from you for months, now, imagining it was you underneath him instead of his usual partners. 

He times it just right, squeezing around his tip in time with the steady slap just beyond the wall. Are you fucking yourself? On your knees, hands flat on the floor, churning up your insides with a toy… or maybe ass up, dildo attached to something…? He almost cums with that mental image, wondering what you'd look like on your knees for him. Is the dildo as big as him? He knows you, knows you'd want it to hurt - for his cock to stretch out your pretty pussy when he cums deep inside you. 

All things he thinks about with a hand around his cock, and he's already close. But he wants to cum with you, listening intently for the signs. 

" Fuck," Your voice comes out muffled, but it makes him buck up into his fist all the same. " Need it… oh God, I-" 

He speeds up, wondering what it would be like to have your thighs shake underneath him, what it would take to have you babbling and begging for more. How would he break you? Maybe on his cock, where he'd watch you squirm as you take his length. Or on your knees, choking around him and licking up his cum. Or, God, thighs wrapped around his head, riding out your high with his mouth sealed on your clit, crying for him slow down, for him to-

" H-Harder, Miguel, please." 

He releases, sudden and intense, spilling white ropes into his boxers. 

" Fuck, Miguel…"

He fucks his fist through it, overstimulated from the way you say his name. It feels like the only way it should be said; spilling from your mouth, haphazard and desperate. Like honey, like treacle; sweet things he didn't know he had the capacity for. He lets that feeling wash over him, panting, bringing his forehead to rest on cool wall. 

~~~

He's hot. He's smart. He's a whore.

A total blindspot for you, and no matter how much you can't stand him; you still find yourself stealing glances whenever he's home. 

And he does seem to be home a lot more, often choosing to study on the dining table rather than his room. It's like he does it on purpose, using the warmer weather as an excuse to wear tiny tank tops and loose gray sweats - showing off the muscles of his broad back and arms perfectly.

Funnily enough, when he's not around those girls, he's bearable - seems to have grown a couple of brain cells in those short few days between sessions. 

You laugh and joke, sometimes, and he surprises you by suggesting a movie one quiet night. 

He offers you his sweater to snuggle into, you eat your weight in greasy takeout, and your roommate seems like an actually decent guy?? 

You had fallen into an easy routine: O'Hara leaves a flask of coffee for you to snatch up in the morning, hair damp from the shower and all, and you meet him with netflix and instant noodles in the evening. A push and pull that works in the little space - much smoother than your rocky beginnings.

After a truly shitty day, you come home to a quiet apartment. Almost sleeping through an exam, forgetting lunch, missing the bus home, and having to trek back through pouring rain in a thin coat. Everything that could go wrong, did, and you are left with the pieces. You trudge through the living room into the kitchen, the wet squelch of socks on laminate floor haunting every step. Shedding your limp outerwear, you lay the contents of your backpack onto the kitchen counter: clumps of loose paper, the damp leftovers of a textbook, bleeding ink. Your main concern, however, is your laptop slick with rain water. 

With baited breath, you put it on the slab, and press the power button. A click, a stuttering whir, and the screen flickers on. Then, just as strained, it putters off. Dead. Completely dead. Your legs almost give out, and you lean on the counter to steady yourself. Half of your life was there; including the final project that would make up a good chunk of your grade. It takes you everything not to collapse onto the floor right then and there. 

"How was it?" You hear the click of a door and Miguel calls out from the hallway. 

You wince."...F-Fine?" 

You hear footsteps, as he gets closer. "Are you asking or telling me?" 

You clear your throat, desperately trying to keep your voice steady. "Fine. It was fine. I'm just… it was fine."

Back still turned, you fumble around with the wet contents of your bag, hoping he doesn't notice. 

"Long day?" He says warmly, head poking into the kitchen. Haphazardly, you spare him a glance from behind your shoulder. He's dressed in a sweater that fits snug around his chest, rolled up to expose his forearms, and loose sweats. In his hands, he drinks from a cheesy mug - your mug, donning a stupid pun. He looks warm. Cosy. Domestic. For some, reason it makes your heart sink even further. 

Long day? "Something like that." You manage to squeeze out. There's a pregnant pause as he comes closer. Rummaging blindly through a cupboard, you try to hide behind its door. If he sees you like this, now, you don't know if you'll be able to hold it together. 

You close the door, and all of a sudden he's there, mug in hand. 

" Fuck, man- " It makes you jump, as he squints and takes a sip of his coffee. 

"You look… wet." 

"That's because it rained, Miguel." Snapping at him, your tone is biting. You're tired, stressed and in desperate need of a cry, but he is unrelenting in his gaze. 

"Are you ok?" He asks, unfazed. 

There's a lump in your throat and all you can do is nod with a tight expression.  His eyes flicker towards the counter and you shuffle, trying to cover up the mess. And then you watch it happen; initial confusion, a flash of realisation, and then worry; all in the space of a couple seconds. 

Gently, he pulls you aside to inspect the damage. "Mierda. This is pretty bad. You sure you're ok?" 

He's got a hand on your arm now,  The dam breaks and you crumple into tears in the kitchen floor. Of course, he comes with you, rubbing your back as you blubber through the details. 

" Nothing's going right for me… and I've got my final project on there… I'm barely keeping up as it is…" All he does is nod, face tight with something you can't quite name. It must seem pathetic to him, you think, shamelessly crying on the kitchen floor, complaining to your poor roommate. He can't leave you like this, because he's a decent person - but internally, he must think you're going crazy. 

It helps, having him there: a steady presence by your side. Slowly but surely, your tears subside. 

"You could've asked me to pick you up." He hands you some tissues off the counter, and watches as you mop up the tears. "I would've come, if you called."

"I didn't… I didn't think we were…" You search for the right word. 

"...friends?" He offers, with a small smile. "You think I let just anyone steal my sweaters?" 

"First of all," It makes you laugh, despite yourself. "You offered. And second, I've seen what you do with your friends, and I don't know if I have the energy for it."

"Ouch." Bashful, he rubs his chest like it aches. He sits a little close to you, knocking your shoulders with his own. "I know this girl who's crazy good with computers. I could ask her to take a look, if you'd like? Might not be able to save it but maybe we could recover the files?"

"...I'd like that, to be honest."

"Muy bien ." He leaps to his feet, palm stretched towards you to help you up. "I'll run you a warm bath or something. You're creating a puddle and it's going to ruin my floor."

"Our floor, asshole. I pay rent here, too." 

~~~

You find that you enjoy being around him, and he feels the same. 

You can't help but compare him to your shitty ex who you were planning to move in with: and even with his quirks, Miguel is better in every way. 

There is harmony in your household, for a while, and you almost look forward to coming home to him after class. Almost. 

It doesn't last long, because of course it doesn't. You'd thought you'd come to a tentative ceasefire, able to casually rib and joke with each other - takeout and B-roll movies aside. He leaves you leftovers from food he makes, you turn down your music when he's studying, and he even woke you up the other day when you had slept through your alarm.

Beyond the wall, his music is loud: a playlist you recognise as the one he puts on to (unsuccessfully) mask the noise of his usual late night adventures. Cheesy love ballads, heady RnB that leaks into your own room. You'd rather die than admit his taste in music isn't horrible, but it usually means a long, long night for everyone around. With finals around the corner, there's no way you can let this stand. 

What kind of person does that? Lull you into a false sense of security with Snakes on a Plane and pepperoni pizza? 

Absorbed in your own work, you hadn't even realised he had someone over; let alone was gearing up for obnoxious sex. You'd bang on the wall, but you feel like you guys are past that: crossed a threshold of intimacy that means you can shout at him up close and personal. 

So you stomp over to the hallway, banging at the door to his room. In the short trip there, you've worked yourself into a frenzy. How many times have you told him to keep it down? That it was rude and inconsiderate to flaunt his sex life in your face; to fuck other women so loud you were practically involved? There was something about the little smile he would give you afterwards, when you catch him shepherding his latest out the door in the morning - like he gets off on it, enjoys it, when you react. Even when you think you're over it, he still manages to drive you absolutely crazy. 

“Miguel? Open the fuck up!"

You're still fuming when the door opens with a click, and Miguel appears in the sliver of the doorway. He opens it so that his frame is half swallowed by the door, top half peeking through with a lazy hand in his hair. And of his top half, he's bare from the waist up, black band of his boxers sitting low on his v-line and loose sweats. 

All the wind is knocked from your sails, and you lose your train of thought. 

"Yeah?" 

"I…" You clear your throat. "I don't care who you fuck, but when I'm doing work-" 

"-I'm not." He chuckles. "There's no one here, hermosa. Just me. And you, I guess…"

There's something about the way he says it, lazily, as if it's his first time saying those words - wrapping his tongue around your name to see how it fits. If it fits, how it tastes. His relaxed posture, the way his hair falls…

"You're high." Your brow shoots up. "... you're high!" 

With a finger pressed to his lips, he grabs your hand and pulls you into his room, eyes darting around the hallway. 

"Shhh! You can't-" Now, he gets close, whispering like he's saying something he shouldn't. "You can't tell anyone. "

"I won't." You breathe. His face is serious at first, and then you're both giggling. You've never seen him so carefree, and it's nice to see Miguel walking around without the weight of the world on his shoulders.

He's still holding your hand, pressed close, and you see him drag his eyes up and down your figure. "You want do something you'll regret…?"

"...I've got a 9am, tomorrow, I really-" 

"-shouldn't?" He finishes, dragging his hand up your bare arm, pupils blown. He gets up to your shoulders, tucking your hair behind your ear. It's sinful, the way his touch is gentle but gaze heavy - violent in the way he practically eyefucks you. You feel bare, in little sleep shorts and a t-shirt.

He steps back, lounging on his bed, and makes for a half finished blunt by the adjacent window sill. Sighing, you sit by him, sinking into the mattress. He pats you closer, dangerously close, and you comply. One arm curled by your waist, the other brings the blunt up close and you wrap your lips around it. When Miguel brings a lighter to the blunt, you lean into it, knuckles brushing your lips. 

You take a drag, long, heavy, eyes closed. And when they open, you're met with his own. Maybe it's the weed, maybe it's the heady atmosphere, but you swear his eyes are low and deep with lust.

"Good girl." He rumbles, cupping your chin and tracing a thumb to your lips. He separates, bringin the blunt to his own lips before leaning back to pass it to you. As quick as he gets close, he pulls away; leaning back into the expanse of his large bed. And he looks good, head drawn back and the curve of his tan arm drawn upwards. Tufts of hair from his chest, the trail that leads down suggestively - and without inhibition, you basically drool over him. God, there it is. You feel it kick in and let it wash over you. 

His music, long forgotten, blends into your downy haze. You want to sit in his lap, rest your head on his chest. You get it now: if this is the view all those women he tutors get to have, then you finally understand. 

"Come closer, hermosa ." You barely register the nickname, only focused on the way he says it, the delicious way it rolls off of his tongue. You nod, and shuffle closer. His siren song sounds sweeter, somehow, up close. 

You pass the blunt between you both, and watch it dwindle to the last dregs. Lying down next to him, he clutches your hand and takes the butt between his fingers, letting its flames die as you watch. You giggle and his gaze softens.

"I didn't expect this from you." You look up to see an upside-down Miguel, hiding a smile. 

"Expect what?" He drags himself downwards, to rest his head by your side. 

"All…" You gesture vaguely. "This. Don't even think I've been in your room for this long, before."

His room looks exactly how you'd expect it: tidy and modest, a row of trophies neatly lined up on a shelf, a telescope pointing out towards a window. There are posters by his bed; science related, mostly. You tilt your head in the direction of one of them.

"Is this what they see?" You mumble to no one in particular. 

He manages to catch it, sluggish in his response. "...Is this what who sees?" 

"All the girls you fuck." It tumbles your of your mouth, before you can help it. 

He tilts his head too, looking at the poster and you watch the sharp lines of his jaw besides you. Even at this angle, he's so pretty. 

"Huh. I guess they do." 

"It's not very romantic, is it?" You blink, oblivious. Your question is met with a noncommittal shrug. "What was her name last time? Cassie, Clara-something…"

"Katie." He hums. 

"Katie." Ignoring the twinge of disappointment at his quick response, you hope it's the weed and not jealousy that made you pretend to forget her name. 

You sit up on your haunches, tracing the valleys and mountains of his bare chest with a leisurely finger. You try not to notice the way he shivers at your touch. 

"I could hear everything. Every, 'Yes daddy'," You feign a moan by curling your lips into an O-shape. You bring your other hand to your hair, head tilted back with exaggerated movement. "And 'right there, Miggy, right fuckin' there' ." 

Technically, you're making fun of him and laughing, expecting him to follow. But he doesn't, head back and eyes boring into you - only bringing a hand to press yours at his chest. 

"Thin walls, Miguel." You clear your throat, sensing a shift in the atmosphere. Too far, probably. "Sorry, shit. I didn't mean-" 

"I hear you too." He says softly. "I heard you, the other day."

Head filled with cotton, it takes a moment for his words to really click. So he elaborates, lacing his fingers with your own. 

"Fucking yourself, hermosa ." He says it lazily, like the vulgarity of the act doesn't register.

Your eyes widen in horror. How much exactly did he hear?

"...and I heard you say my name." 

"It was…. i-it wasn't like that-" Fuck. You can't think straight as it is: and his voice is low and silky, rubbing circles on your hand close to his chest. Even now, he oozes confidence, the steady thump-thump of his heart giving away nothing. 

"Hmmm? Then what is it like?" You blink at him, unable to answer. "You're a hypocrite. You complain about all these women I supposedly fuck, but then-" 

He pulls you closer, so that your lips almost touch his. "-you lock yourself in your room, touching yourself and thinking about your poor roommate. What am I meant to do with you?"

A pause, and in your daze, you can't breathe. For all your theatrics, it's too easy for him - to prod and tease, and for you to chase after him. You move to kiss him, but he grabs your chin at the last second. "Not quite. I want to hear you say it."

"Fuck- " You crumple, hiding your head in the crook of his shoulder. Even in your haze, the nerves bubble up from the base of your stomach. "Fuck me, please , Miguel."

He places a hand on your thigh, leading you to straddle his middle, other hand wrapped around your waist. He grinds your lower half into his, leaning up to bring your lips together. 

He tastes sweet, greedily lapping up your moans in the clash. You're not thinking, not really, lost in the heat of his body, desperate and eager when you kiss. To contrast, Miguel cups your chin, pulling you away for air whenever you sink too deep. Somehow, he still manages to look smug, taunting you with a flash of his little fangs whenever you separate. If you weren't feeling the effects of that blunt, you may have had the means to be embarrassed at how much you want him - needily grinding against him and pawing at his chest. 

It's too slow, too leisurely, like a punishment; and he refuses to give you what he knows you want. Your whines betray you when he finally slips a hand down your shorts. 

"¿Paciencia, hmm?" He grabs a handful of your ass, clothed cock catching on your clit. It rips another moan from you, which he happily swallows with another kiss. "Patience, princesa."

You hump against one another like teenagers, your hands planted by his head for purchase. Hips moving of their own accord, you chase the relief Miguel provides: with his hands kneading your ass, length catching at your clit, and teeth nipping at your bare neck. 

He licks a stripe up your collarbone, soothing the blossoming hickeys with a hum. 

Fuck, how can he be so casual ? You don't know if it's the weed or something else, but he is in his element, hand dipping down your back to graze at your pussy from behind. He hisses when he realises how wet you are, swiping his fingers down your slit and taking them out to pop them in his mouth. 

Now, flushed and face hot with embarrassment, you look up at him with big doe eyes. It makes Miguel feel guilty for stopping you so close to your climax. Beautiful : lower lip hooked under your teeth, plump and swollen and kissable. He'll make up for it later: a promise he whispers into skin. 

"You're soaked." He cups your cheek to press a kiss to your forehead, and all you can do is whine. His gaze dips down, to the swell of your tits in that thin shirt.. 

"What did you think about when you touched yourself?" It's soft, said in the warm press of your bodies; hook-shaped and hazy and you fit like you were made for one another. The thought lingers, plants a dangerous seed that makes you forget that the man underneath you is your roommate : unrepentant whore, Miguel O'Hara. 

"You." You've seen it first hand, he eats hearts for breakfast; and yours is on a platter for him to devour.

He laughs, deep and rumbling, hands resting on your waist. "I know that, baby. You don't have fantasies? Fuck yourself to the thought of someone touchin' you just right?"

Not just someone, him, you think. Your voice dies in your throat at the way he looks at you. "Just… n-nothing really-"

He hums, grinding your hips onto his. "Speechless, I can't believe it. Is this what I need to do to get some fucking peace around here?" 

You roll your eyes, "Don't be a dick, Miguel. When I shout, it's because you deserve it."

"...there it is." Eyes shining, his face stretches into a shit-eating grin. Wide, unabashed, unambiguous. "You back with the living, sweetheart?" 

It makes you laugh, even though you hate to give him the satisfaction. 

"What do you want?" He kneads your thigh and pleasure pools at the base of your stomach. 

You mumble something begrudgingly.

"Hmm? Can't hear you, baby."

Louder, now. "...want to sit on your face, Miguel." 

Lowly, he groans, shaking his head. "Mierda… of course you do."

Expertly, he helps you take your shorts off, dragging the thin material down your thighs. You clambers upwards, wrapping them around his shoulders, watching intently as he kneads the soft skin. It's tentative, at first, and you place your hands on the headboard to perch just above his mouth. 

He licks, diving in with the flat of his tongue: a long upwards stroke that ends with him sucking your clit. Moaning, your hips jump and he chases your pretty pussy up, large palms pushing you back down. He concentrates on your bundle of nerves, lips around your clit like a man on a mission.

And, God, does it feel good; he watches and learns from your every movement, committing your body to memory. His moans vibrate deliciously, tension building at that spot faster than your mind can register it. Then, you clench around nothing, gushing into his mouth whilst he eases you through it. The noises he makes are obscene; one leg off the bed and a hand snaked under his boxers. He's getting off on it; watching you crumple and sob around his tongue. 

And when you begin to move off, thighs sore, he doesn't relent, sealing his mouth on your pretty little hole. 

"Miguel.. fuck-" After your first orgasm, it surprises you when he continues, tongue fucking you with fervour. He presses you close, impossibly close, and your body fights against his ministrations. Heat, everywhere, and it's too much. The haze of the blunt begins to wear off and you are left with biting clarity. You want more of him, deeper; drunk off of just his tongue. 

You card your hands in his hair, and he moans: deep and wanton, with his eyes fluttering shut. He wants to look, to watch you when you cum on his tongue for a second time. Back arched, the curve of your tits peeking through a tiny top, fucking yourself on his face. He wants it hard , wants you to take control and use him to get off. 

"Right there, fuck… "

Like you can hear his thoughts, you press yourself down harder, riding the deep ridge of his nose for relief. Miguel complies and leans into it. He eats you out like a man starved and the carnality of it all brings you to a second peak. You cum once again, legs wrapped tight around his face. Head back, he laps it up readily. 

You separate with a wet pop, and Miguel looks blissful : fucked out and panting, wiping the slick off of his face with a forearm. Exhausted, you lean back onto the mattress beside him. 

"That was…" He searches for the right word, and it's your turn to finish for him. 

"... good. " Scarily good. So good you won't be able to see him around the apartment without remembering what he looks like trapped between your thighs. 

Gently, he turns to cup your cheek and bring your lips to his. It starts off sweet and deepens rapidly, making that thread at the pit of your stomach tighten, again. He grabs your thigh, bringing it closer, and you feel his length poking your stomach. Fuck. 

"You haven't…?" Your hand makes for his trousers, and he stops you. "I want to, Miguel. Want you to feel good too."

His head sinks into your shoulder. "I know, baby, I know. Not like this. Not yet."

You nod, still wrapped up in his arms. You haven't even fucked, and it feels more intimate than it should. 

"You've got a 9am tomorrow." He smiles with a hand underneath his head. 

"I've got a 9am tomorrow," You repeat, sighing. "...and my life is falling apart. I'm failing half of my classes as it is."

He turns to you, lazily. 

"I could tutor you, if you'd like."

…

"That's not fucking funny, Miguel."

_

_

Miguel taglist: @d1lf-loverrr, @afro-hispwriter @ilovemiguelohara @weedxgirlx420 @ladydovahkiin180 @aaliyuh3 @sweetanimebakery @vvitcxen @rosecoloredlenses708 @daikondal @magikmina @impettywhenyouare @alonelygirlsuicidenote @plushyplants @javi0ca @rheeves @starrfruit @nikirikii @marsbars09 @foxglove-grove @mimooyi @crosshairclown @dead-by-light @kynamitedessert @naarra @wanderlustingcastaway @sagejin @cookielovesbook-akie @tangerineloverrr @gobblegluckgluckgod @wolfiepirate @jxxey3 @ebrysteria @elliemm @manchuria @youngghostpeachslime @weasleybuns @ilovemuppets @vauriz @bonbyon @aimno256 @ancientbeing10 @tvije @venus1224idkpleaze @neteyamsbulletwound @chickenjefferson-blog @maki-z @jasjasthings

_

edit: the full fic xx

[cyberjam]

ATSV HEADCANON: they have a crush on you . . . ☆

warnings - none really, super fluffy and adorable :), semi-proof read so i apologize for grammatical errors if there are any! no use of name or y/n, gender-neutral reader!

word count - 2.1k

main masterlist <3

☆ . . . miles morales

I imagine you two already being well-acquainted friends with each other once he realized his feelings for you. For quite some time he had a crush on gwen but now his heart strings are pulling him towards you, so he's struggling when it comes to addressing his feelings.

If you're in the same room as Miles, he will stare. Any conversation that he was having before is long forgotten and all that's on his mind is you.

Miles doesn't need to study, he's one of the top students in school. But he continues to go on study dates with you because he likes being in your presence and sharing his headphones with you while eating yummy pastries.

He has an entire journal dedicated to you. Said journal includes: small journal entries of his day with you, little quotes of the funny/cute things you've said that stuck with him throughout the day, candid drawings of you that he created whenever you two hung out, cute sketches of you and him stargazing or slow-dancing together (and other secret drawings of him saving you as spider-man and cradling your body in his big strong arms but we won't get into that...)

Miles really can't get enough of you. He laughs extra loud at your jokes even if they aren't funny, his heartbeat quickens at the mention of your name, he'll offer you his jacket even if you don't need it, he always smiles when something reminds him of you, he'll share his headphones with you and shyly ask if you and him can make a "study playlist" (he listens to it at night while drawing you), and overall is just madly in love with you.

He wants to be with you more than anything, he's just struggling to find the right time to ask you. <3

"Hey, don't touch that! It's- No! It's not a diary, it's just...secret."

☆ . . . gwen stacy

She's pretty awkward herself. You were assigned to be partners for a project that would play a big part in your final grade, she came off slightly cold and seemed to be annoyed at your presence which made your relationship start off rocky. In reality she was just stressed, juggling her spider duties, getting kicked out of her house, and then school on top of that, it was just a lot. But when you made the effort to plan things and work around her busy schedule (that you didn't really know anything about) she started to become grateful for you.

Your parents welcomed her kindly each time she came over to study and whenever she would leave she was happy with a full belly and a sore face from smiling and laughing with you all night. The project was supposed to be done by the end of the semester but you and gwen were able to finish it the first month you got it. That didn't stop her bi-weekly visits, that then turned weekly, until she was suddenly walking home with you everyday, from and to school.

She likes to compare hands, shoes, and height just to see the difference in sizes. On walks back from school she'll give you a piggyback ride if you ask nicely. She also likes laying her head in your lap, if you run your fingers through her hair she'd be fast-asleep within 5 minutes.

You and her tend to share your oversized clothes together, You always wash her jackets/sweaters after you wear them, which she absolutely loves. She's fallen asleep curled up in your hoodie, inhaling the scent and listening to whatever song you rambled about the previous morning on repeat until she finally asks you to just make her a playlist. Hobie definitely knows about you, only because she slipped up by saying too much.

She enjoys staying over your house during rainy days. She tends to tense up whenever you're watching tv together on your bed and your head falls on her shoulder. During missions in other spider-verses gwen has taken little souvenirs from different worlds and given them to you, she always does it in a nonchalant way as if she wasn't grinning ear to ear on her way back, excited to see how you'd react.

You don't have sleepovers often but when you do they always seem more intimate than your usual hangouts. When you wake up and see gwen flustered on the other side of the bed you never understand why, not knowing that when you were fast asleep she woke up cuddled into you, nuzzling her body into yours.

"I-uhm. I-uh just had a weird dream. Nothing to worry about, heh.."

☆ . . . pavitr prabhakar

It's very obvious he has a crush on you, it might as well be written on his forehead. He follows you around like a lost puppy. He's constantly offering to carry your books, opening doors for you, paying for your snacks, and even giving you hand massages when you've been writing an essay for too long. He's just completely whipped for you and you're not even dating (yet).

You were a transfer student and he was assigned to show you around Mumbai. He found himself getting giddy at your cute reactions to the different sights he took you to. He adored how you were filled with so much curiosity and wonder, the awestruck look in your eyes when you saw the pretty lights at night and just how genuinely excited you seemed to stay and explore Mumbai. Since then, he's been glued to your side.

He's such a gentleman, you can tell he was raised right. Whenever you're talking his full attention is on you, nobody else matters in this moment but you. He'll even get a bit upset if someone cuts you off, ignoring whatever they're saying and urging you to continue. His legs feel wobbly around you, he gets dizzy at the sight of you, and he feels like he's floating whenever you smile at him.

There have been multiple occasions where you've caught him staring at you, depending on how he feels that day he'll either smirk and gently wave or quickly turn away with a blush on his face. He gushes about you to Hobie and Miles all of the time. They know so much about you and they've never even met you.

A true romantic. He buys you a singular flower one week out of the day, always explaining the meaning and where they originate from. (all of them are a variation of romance/love)

He tends to lean into you whenever you speak. More than one person has pointed out that you both tend to mirror each other's actions. He's feigning for your touch more than anything, a simple brush of your shoulders and he's full on putty in your hands.

He won't outright confront you when he figures out you like him, instead he'll invite you on a nightly walk. Taking you up to a rooftop with a gorgeous view, and gently resting his jacket on your shoulders. You'll sit for a while enjoying the scenery before he turns to you and says...

"a person as beautiful as yourself shouldn't wander this world alone.."

☆ . . . hobie brown

What a nightmare. He is constantly teasing and flirting with you. Always doubling over in laughter when he sees you get all flustered and the words you so badly wanna spew at him get stuck in your throat.

I imagine you both to be spider-people, you're a little more stuck-up than he is which is why he likes to tease you so much. Little by little your reactions fueled something deeper in him. He no-longer found himself flirting with you because he liked seeing how aggravated he could get you but because that was his way of approaching you and saying all of the things he wanted to while being able to play it off as a joke.

Besides teasing you relentlessly, he can be really caring and attentive to you when he wants to be. If you're in the medic he'll stop by pretty often to make sure you're okay. The only reason you found out is because you woke up to him fast asleep next to your bedside, feet propped on your bed and his vest laid across his torso like a blanket.

He'll eat the foods on your plate that you don't like. If you fall asleep he'll lay his vest onto your body and even move your position if it looks uncomfortable. If he senses danger before you he'll move you of the way as fast as he possibly can, but if he's not close enough he'll give you a heads up before anyone else. He tends to stare at you sometimes, always smiling gently to himself.

When you two get closer as friends he'll play any song on his guitar if you ask him nicely. He'll even give you lessons if you really want them. Carefully throwing his guitar over your torso, he brings his much larger hands to yours. You can feel his chest against your back, and the waves of his warm breath on your neck as he teaches you how to play. He'll also let you wear his jacket, saying it looks better on you than him. He might let you keep it, only in exchange for one of your jackets. (he sleeps with your jacket on, it makes him feel close to you.)

Hobie often checks up on you during missions, sometimes saying teasing phrases to get you riled up but mostly to make sure you're holding up okay. "you alright there, peaches? you took quite the hit."

Once he finds out you like him, he eases up on the teasing, but he doesn't refrain from dropping subtle hints of his knowingness that you like him. He's just waiting for you to finally say something.

"Yknow, if i ain't know any better i'd say you were doing this 'cause you like me."

☆ . . . miguel o' hara

You worked beside him in Alchemax, the two of you were assigned as partners. At first he didn't care much for you, simply telling you to stay out of his way and that he didn't need any help, but after Lyla practically forced him to be a cordial lab partner and work with you, he started to take a liking towards you. Sadly, it took months for him to tolerate you and even longer for him to like you.

Although he was quite stuck-up and practically seemed on edge most of the time, you were able to break through those confined walls and have a comfortable-playful work relationship with him. Every-time you made a joke or a light quip about his attitude he'd always respond with sarcasm, still not being able to hide the tiny smile that graced his face at your foolish acts.

He always runs his projects by you before submitting them. (and then lyla to triple check) He'll stop by and pick up empanadas from his favorite store, always boasting about how it's the best in Nueva York and you'll never taste anything better. Eventually he brings in a hefty share of empanadas that you two share over lunch time, your conversation flowing naturally without the teasing but with a fluffier feeling flowing through the air.

He pretends to be annoyed when he catches you over-working but he's genuinely worried for you. Always shaking his head in a disapproving way when he finds you fast asleep on your desk, papers scattered, and drool falling past your lips. Quietly scolding you in spanish before throwing his lab coat over your shoulders and organizing your papers neatly.

He tends to act unbothered when you do something that shows you care for him but in reality it makes his heart stutter and his stomach feel all loopy. He hates it because it makes him feel like a middle-schooler when they get their first crush but another part of him absolutely adores it and his main motivation to get up to go to work in the morning is you, although he'll never admit it.

If a co-worker is ever rude to you he will be the first to defend you, not hesitating to get in their face with a nasty scowl painting his features. On Friday's he made it his personal mission to walk you home, you two slowly walk side-by-side, quietly laughing to yourselves as you reminisce on lab accidents and old memories. There's a slight gleam in his eyes when you make it to your apartment door. He turns to you almost hesitantly, before stepping closer to you. He whispers a question, so quiet and soft you almost wouldn't be able to hear it.

"Can I kiss you?"

omg i hope you guys liked it! requests are still open btw and thank you for reading! <3

likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated <33

[demigoddessqueens]

soft headcanons

Based off these concept art expressions that the crew posted on Twitter

a soft Miguel is a rarity but you would know firsthand how he can get. Despite all his bark and bite, Miguel can also be pain-stakingly quiet and apprehensively seeks you out sometimes

ABSOLUTELY pouts and broods, so much so that when you look at him with a concerned expression (“are you ok?”), he feels guilty for worrying you

It’s the self-loathing that can eat away at him, thinking a good thing is going to slip away fast from him

a WHINY cuddler who lays on top on you, likes to bury his head into/under you neck. Also play with his hair!

Is the EPITOME of the touch-starved cheetah meme

he knows the size difference between you two (if there is one), which makes him feel protective as well towards you

If you’re a fellow comrade, he feels a bit of relief because you’re still within reach of him

EDIT: if Miguel ever has nightmares, he talks in his sleep and even gasping awake makes you wake up as well. Don’t blame him though, he’ll hide his face in your neck in the most bone-crushing hug, and only then it dawns on you what happened when your shoulder feels wet

also likes to stay close to you a bunch of times, nickname “Shadow” that he groans at when you say it

[lacedinweb22]

possessive *ੈ❦︎‧ Miguel O'Hara boyfriend headcanons nsfw 18+

❦︎ Miguel has Lyla track your location 24/7 (practically spying on you), giving him updates every time you move locations, making sure you’re not alone or in danger zones, and if you are, he’ll show up to scold and pick you up.

❦︎ He’ll be focused on work then suddenly demand, “Lyla, update on Y/N,” eyebrows furrowed, never breaking the concentrated look on his face, to which Lyla will pop up, giggling to herself; she’ll tell you about it later, and tease him in front of you. 

❦︎ When you’re on your phone for a while, he lingers, watching what pictures you like or who you follow, secretly judging or resisting the urge to passive-aggressively comment on someone he suspects wants you. He pretends he’s not watching you, but he’s glancing between your screen and his hologram screen. 

❦︎ He trusts you … but he does look through your phone if you leave it lying around. You’ve told him you don’t care, you have nothing to hide, but it’s in his nature. He also asks Lyla to check the recent people you’ve texted or called, which she refuses, then he overrides. 

❦︎ He hates the stares you get when outside, makes his blood boil, though most men are too intimidated to look your way once they see Miguel. However, when you're at a cash register or any situation where you might interact with a creep, he'll stand in front of you. He'd much rather deal with strangers than let you. You cling to his forearm, as he blocks you, and he'll confront or give them a hell of an attitude for looking your way.

❦︎ After you tell him about a coworker’s advances towards you at work, he’s extra needy. He follows you around the apartment more, wraps his arms around you as you cook (nothing too abnormal), and inhales your scent; he could never lose his perfect girl. You’ll reassure him, and when things heat up later that night, he’ll let you know in hungry growls, that you’re his and his only. He digs his face into your neck and whimpers your name when he finishes inside of you, claiming you as his. You can't blame him; he just wants you to be his. The hickeys spread across your body, the claw marks across your ass— he’ll always get his point across. 

[0800-her]

He tried soo hard to be gentle, he really did. the whole night he made sure you were wet enough so he could slip in easily. he fingered you, made sure to stretch you open properly, talking you through it the whole time. when he finally bottomed out inside you, you hissed in pain shoving your head into a pillow to muffle your cries. "sweetheart? you ok? your feeling a little tense sweets," you mentally rolled your eyes. "Oh really? nah it's not like your digging in my guts or anything cos i can FKN feel it." Being a brat never got you anywhere. that's why the next morning you had to call in "sick" from work because you could hardly feel the bottom half of your body.

[keisobe]

── ⋆˙⟡♡ 𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬 (𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐚)

from spider-man : across the spiderverse (spoiler free!!)

characters. miles morales. miguel o’hara. hobie brown & peter b. parker. + pavitr prabhakar

notes. i quickly wrote this because spiderverse has consumed a lot of my attention (cue the tiktok edits i’ve saved of hobie and miguel). anyways hope i did the characterization accurate enough and hope it was fun to read ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡) + not completely proofread

𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬 ❤︎

he’s painfully awkward when it comes to hugging. his limbs don’t know where to wrap around, so they keep flaring everywhere until you end up locking him into one solid hug.

miles is also very respectful of your boundaries, he would do that weird hover hand thing over your waist that would look very off in photos (his hand literally 3 inches away from your shoulder, but a good photo overall).

but when he’s close to you, he would pull you into a protective and warm embrace— especially if he has been worried sick about you. that’s until he pulls away and let’s out a chuckle accompanied with a light scratch on the back of his neck to ease his worries.

“umm… wait— lemme just…”

miles’ arms were bending awkwardly and moving in lightning speed, a nervous smile plastered onto his conflicted features— twitching brows and all.

you huffed at his failed attempt to simply embrace you, so you forcefully hooked your arms around his neck and brought him closer, feeling the softness of his cheek against your forehead and the pacing heartbeat you didn’t know he had.

“it’s fine, it’s just me silly.” you teased into his ear, prompting miles to chuckle at his own awkwardness and to wrap his strong arms around your waist.

“right, it’s you.” he whispered more to himself, leaning down to reach your height and to cutely rest his head in the nape of your neck. “just you.”

𝐦𝐢��𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 ❤︎

hasn’t been held in so long. he says that he doesn’t do hugs, will probably go into flight-and-fight mode if you even asked for a small embrace. if you’re lucky though, he’ll leave you with a deadly glare and an annoyed huff.

but in the heat of the moment, in the moments of needed comfort, he will be there to give you an embrace. although, his hugs are tight, to the point you have a hard time breathing. it’ll take him a moment to notice that you’re literally breathless and will cough a lousy sorry as compensation for squeezing you to death (but he actually feels bad).

what nobody knows (maybe expect you) is that he prefers hugs that can display his strength. lifting you off from the ground with ease makes him smirk to himself. surprise hugs from the back also avoids the awkwardness of confronting actual romantic contact (it’s also more fun for him).

“what now?” miguel folds his arms impatiently as he watches you dumbly spread your arms out, a determined glint in your eyes.

no response, you simply spread your arms wider. miguel huffs an annoyed laugh and awkwardly comes up to you to embrace you, with a tightness that made you choke for air. then he suddenly lifts you from the floor, making you latch tightly around his neck.

miguel sighs deeply, the irritation that emitted from him suddenly became comfortably warm.

“did you need this hug?” you managed to breathe out, threading your fingers through the loose brown hair in the back of his neck.

“yeah, i really needed it.” miguel mumbles out in embarrassment, tightening his muscular arms around your waist— prompting a weak yet satisfied wheeze from your lips.

𝐡𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧 ❤︎

he’s chill with hugs, but he’s very friendly about it. likes to latch an arm on his mates and such— but an immediate sweet embrace you won’t really get (he’s good at reading people, so if you’re vibes are off, he ain’t moving an inch).

he generally prefers to give side hugs, nothing too personal and definitely fits his overall demeanor. match that up with a firm compliment and a friendly pat on the shoulder. but if he’s close to you, he’ll be there patiently with open arms.

then he’s analyzing you closely as you embrace him, listening closely for a change in your heartbeat or any small noise that escapes your mouth. he subtly smells you too and will not forget your scent (will use the same detergent as you right after the embrace). there’s a moment of silence and it’s perfectly comfortable.

“c’mere.” hobie faintly whispers with an expanded arm, his expression unusually soft.

immediately you ran to receive an embrace from his slim body, a wet sniffle muffled into his webbed suit as tears began to pour from your eyes. hobie hovers a calloused hand over your back, thinking for a moment, until he decides that it was fine to do so. he pats the small of your back comfortably, murmuring a song he wrote to soothe your sadness.

“thank you hobie.” you hiccuped, leaning onto his chest. hobie simply nodded, playing with the ends of your hair with a painted finger.

“yea...” he mumbled, noticing that the tears that stained your cheeks before faded and your breathing steadied. “no probs.”

𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐛. 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫 ❤︎

he’s painfully awkward too. pull him into an embrace, he will let out an uncomfortable chuckle as he carefully pries you off his body. peter makes it obvious he wants his space, rightfully so.

actually, head pats is something he prefers to give. it’s comforting for him to be able to teasingly mess your hair to get a whine from you, or feel the texture of your hair under his palms. also, he’s an old man (will feel extremely insulted if you say his comforting technique is equivalent to that of an elderly folk).

but if he’s close with you or there is a moment when an embrace is desperately needed, he wouldn’t hesitate to pull you into a deep embrace. due to his new plushness to his body and rarity of his soft affection, peter’s embraces feel warm and inviting. sorry though, it’ll only last a few seconds until he’s pulling away immediately (will give up if you pull him back into the embrace tho).

“there, there kiddo…” peter softly pats your head, poorly attempting to cool your temper.

“not working peter.”

peter sighs in defeat as he slowly retracted his hand, thinking of a solution to cheer you up. without a second thought, he quickly pulled you into an embrace with efficient strength— the softness of his stomach contrasted the hardness of his chest. immediately you light up, nuzzling into his warm arms as he playfully swayed your body side-to-side.

“better?” he chuckled at your dazed expression, maybe hugging wasn’t so bad.

“yeah…” you could hear the slow patters of his heartbeat as he tightened the protective hold around your waist.

MOCHIFILM © 2023. please do not copy, translate, or modify any of my work. all of my works are not permitted to be posted on any other sites.

[theorphicangel]

nsfw, 18+

thinking about spending a lazy day in bed with Miguel. the two of you had had a busy ass week, barely being able to spend quality time with each other. but now on this quiet Sunday, you both grabbed the opportunity as fast as you could, silently agreeing to cuddle up next to each other all day.

nothing else needed but you and him between the sheets. your naked limbs wrapped around each other, impossible to part. and sooner or later, one thing leads to another: slow, relaxed lovemaking without time jeopardising this moment together.

miguel is buried heavily into your cunt, stuffing you to the brim. your head falls into the crook of his neck, eyes closed, hiding your face in his warmth.

“c’mon my love,” he purrs, his voice raspy, “no te escondas de mi.” [don’t hide from me]

a whine leaves your throat in response and ever so slowly do you peel away from his warmth, coming up to meet his dark brown eyes. your lips are parted, breathless moans come out as light gasps as Miguel continues to thrust into you. each time he does, it’s slow and accurate, brushing against your sweet spot.

“it’s too good hmm?” and there’s a slight grin on his face as the words leave his mouth. he watches your eyes roll back, you’re completely intoxicated by his cock, no words come to your mind quick enough to respond.

you can just about murmur his name, your high pitched tone warns him of your climax.

“jus’ a little bit longer okay, nena? you’re doing so well for me.”

his praise in combination with his deep thrusts causes the pressure building up in your lower abdomen to burn. your pussy tightens around his cock and Miguel lets out a hiss, muttering under his breath as his hands kneads the fat of your ass. you’re almost there and so is he, much sooner than he had expected.

“fuckkkk-“ he seethes, his hands still kneading your ass, your body perfectly in tune with his; a perfect melody as the room fills with filthy skin slapping, his grunts and your drawn out moans.

it’s not long before he increases his pace, helping you bounce all over his cock until the two of you reach your climax. breathless, you lay on top of Miguel, body and soul exhausted. he peppers kisses across your face, never-ending praise leaving his lips. “you did so well for me, my love.”

you hum in response, sweat dripping down your skin, mixing with his. nor you or him were bothered to move, souls too tangled up to separate.

in this present moment, neither of you were bothered to sort through the knots, not now or ever.

[lmk if that Spanish translation is correct because I do not trust myself 😵‍💫😵‍💫]

[ultravioletrayz]

𖤓1K FOLLOWERS SPECIAL𖤓

💜(N)SFW HEADCANONS💜

Pairing: miguel o’hara x f!reader

Warnings: 18+, body descriptions (miguel is all buff and reader is curvy), size kink, manhandling, floor sex, oral (f. receiving), rough-ish sex, choking w/ bicep, 69, just the tip

Summary: miguel being a big, beefy man

A/N: tysm for 1000 followers!!

SFW

This man breaks EVERYTHING. Both in fits of rage, and just when using everyday items, Miguel's pure, superhuman strength just leads to him accidentally breaking shit all of the time. He has most definitely hurled the remote at the TV screen while watching soccer, also has probably broken things like glasses or mugs in his unintentionally firm grip before. He's always laughing embarrassedly and apologising for it, although deep down he's genuinely shamed of his brute strength and always having to go out and buy replacements for the things he breaks.

It's funny to watch him use utensils, brush his teeth, talk on the phone etc., because his hands are so big that everything looks comically tiny in his grasp. Also, Miguel purposefully puts things on high shelves to show off how tall he is. If you're struggling to reach something, he's definitely the type to reach for it from behind you and make you beg him to hand it to you. He's an asshole a tease who can't resist bragging about how much bigger and stronger he is compared to you.

He uses you as weights when he works out. It doesn't matter how heavy you are, since Miguel can canonically lift up to 10 tons, so he only works out for definition/tone rather than strength. He loves hearing your shocked gasps and giggles when he pushes you up suddenly while benching you, or when he curls your cute body and you blush every time he pecks your face when he lifts you towards him.

Miguel is always open to carrying you. He isn't into PDA, but his exception is the way you pout and complain about your feet hurting, and he's always quick to effortlessly scoop you up bridal style and carry you around the street, keeping you nestled against his warm tits chest. He also insists on carrying groceries and laundry, and he absolutely loves it when you ask for help/give him a task that requires him to show off his strength. Miguel is the king of princess treatment and will happily wait on your hand and foot if you ask, solely because he's physically capable of doing so.

Sometimes Miguel can be insecure about his strength because of the trauma associated with his mutant powers and his self-destructive tendencies, but the way that you give him a space to drop the tough, intimidating act makes him want to cry. You know he's a strong guy, but you never take advantage of his superhuman abilities. He just wants to be loved, he doesn't want to be seen as the scary animal he's made out to be.

NSFW

Following on from the "breaks everything" headcanon, Miguel has most definitely broken things while you guys have sex. In fear of hurting you, Miguel has a tendency to grip the headboard, the sheer strength in his hold causing the wood to snap in his hands. Obviously, the force of his thrusts has caused the bed itself to collapse underneath the two of you, but whenever it's happened Miguel has just dragged you onto the floor, kissed you on the cheek, and continued. He's a man on a mission when he's inside you.

Miguel treats you like a rag doll, he manhandles you completely. He makes sure not to hurt you too badly, but he likes to throw you around, lift you up, and pin you in place. He can easily contort your body into any position he pleases, and support you no matter what. When he eats you out, you can barely muster the energy to squirm, because he’s got your thighs wedged open with his broad shoulders, his rough hands keeping you spread. Sometimes, he’ll lift you up over his shoulders and eat your pussy while standing, leaving you dangling in the air and grabbing his hair helplessly as he keeps his hands hooked underneath your knees.

This headcanon is dedicated to Miguel’s arms. More specifically, Miguel putting you in a chokehold while he’s hitting it from the back. Heavy balls slapping against your clit as his bulging bicep engulfs your throat, restricting your breathing so deliciously that you’re panting and drooling all over the mass of beautiful tan skin and hard muscle underneath your chin, his pulsing veins caressing your throat with an almost sinful delicacy. His free hand gropes the fat of your waist and your ass, each slap that lands on your big butt making you squeal in pure ecstasy, to which his beefy arm squeezes around you tighter to stop you from escaping his deep strokes into your sopping cunt. Definitely talks to you half-degrading, half-praising just to make your mind spin and your pussy clench around him. “Keep taking it, sweetheart. Doing so good for me. You still breathing? Or am I fucking you so good you’ve forgotten how to do it, niña tonta?”

(This one is HEAVILY inspired by @mybvalentine’s 69ing with Miguel blurb because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since I read it 🤭) But 69ing would definitely be a competition between you and Miguel, in the sense that you'd both be competing to taste each other. Miguel is so tall, and by comparison, you're so much smaller than him, so unless the two of you are willing to strain your necks and bodies by leaning in to suck and nibble at each other's essence, 69ing is a test of your patience. While Miguel has you pulled back, sitting on his face as he feverishly eats you out, you're stuck watching the way his pretty cock weeps at the taste of your slick coating his tongue, making you insatiably hungry for him. When you finally escape his grasp and lay forward with Miguel's dick prodding at the depths of your warm throat, Miguel groans at the way a combination of his spit and your juices dribbles onto his pecs, causing him to compromise and helplessly finger your weeping hole, scooping up your slick and bringing it to his mouth so that he can taste you again as you swallow and choke around his big cock.

Miguel is too big. Like, I’ve said in other posts, his dick can be unbearable at times, the dull aching off his cock stretching you out and filling every crevice occasionally becoming a relentless throbbing sensation. So, when you’re just too tight and he’s too thick to handle, Miguel will do just the tip to give your thoroughly bruised cervix a break. Even his flared, leaky tip is a tight squeeze in your little cunt, the wet *pop* sound the head of his dick makes each time Miguel pulls his hips back to the point where his slit is brushing against the rim of your entrance making you mewl. The sight of you unravelling on just his tip goes straight to Miguel’s head (you can decide which one).

sooo this was actually meant to be for 500 followers but I delayed it so much that it became my 1K special... 👀

oops!

[spdrwdw]

Could you possibly do a dbf (dads best friend) miguel.? nsfw Ty!😋

Ps. I love your stories

While I am okay with doing age gaps, both parties must be of legal age. I hope headcanons are okay! I had too many ideas and couldn’t narrow it down lol

♡DBF!Miguel Headcanons♡

Warnings: 18+ content, MDNI, age gap, smut, nsfw

A/N: If any other writers out there are interested in using any of my headcanons for a fic, please let me know! I wouldn’t mind as long as you credit me. I would turn this to a fic myself, but I already got my hands full with other wips. ❤️

DBF!Miguel who you met for the first time at your dad's country club. You couldn't help but to steal glances over his way, and unbeknownst to you, he was doing the same.

DBF! Miguel who went to your house one day to hang out with your dad, they were going to watch a game on tv. While your dad was outside firing the grill, Miguel couldn't help but stare at you as you lounged around by the pool in your swimsuit, soaking up some sun. You could see him staring at you through your sunglasses, a slight smirk lifting your lips. DBF! Miguel who came over to your house one day while your parents were away to fix something for your dad. You were upstairs in your room studying for your college exams when he passed by, seeing you in nothing but a tank-top and panties as you laid sprawled out on the bed. You turned around and noticed him just staring at your by the doorway before he quickly left. This made you want to make him notice you more. So, you started wearing the most revealing pieces of clothing you had.

DBF! Miguel who came over again for another game night with your dad. You did your hair and makeup and wore the most revealing dress you had, making your way downstairs over to the kitchen. You swayed your ass as you walked, making you he would notice you, and he did. That was the first time he had made his way into your room. DBF! Miguel who would come over more often while your parents weren't home, and not because he was going to fix something. At first it was a little awkward between the two of you when you were along with him, but, he was always gentle with you. It was rather sweet. However, as your private encounters occurred more frequently, you wanted him to not be as gentle with you.

DBF! Miguel who would by laying on your bed, his large frame taking over the majority of the bed, his legs dangling over the edge because of how big he was. He would help you with any homework that you may have, even help you study for tests. After you were done, he'd eat your pussy out as a reward. His tongue practically swallowed your folds, he usually didn't even need to use his fingers to get you undone, but when he did, your body would be quivering and flailing as you begged him for release, which he always gladly awarded you. DBF! Miguel who's cock was just so big that the first time you had intercourse, you honestly thought he was going to break you. But, he didn't. He filled you up rather nicely and after that, you had gotten addicted to him stretching you and pounding into you, filling you with his cum. Of course, he'd ask if you were on any form of birth control first. DBF! Miguel who will shoot you a pointed look whenever you tease him from under the table. You'll be sitting across from him and slip off your shoe, reaching over and rub his crotch with your foot. He would have to bite his lip from letting out a groan, and you could feel his cock growing hard underneath his pants.

DBF! Miguel who would give you a lift to and from your University, sporting his shiny sports car. The some car in which he would fuck you senseless in while parked in some secluded area. The windows would be tinted so no one could see what was going on inside. DBF! Miguel who'd call you a 'good girl' whenever you take his cock into your mouth and suck him off. He loved it when he came in your mouth and would see streams of his cum drooling from the corners of your mouth because it was just too much for you to swallow it all.

DBF! Miguel who secretly loves it when you call him ‘daddy’ while he rails you. It puts him on edge and he knows it won’t be long until he is spilling himself inside you. DBF! Miguel would you let you ride him on your bed. He's be surrounded by your plushies, which was actually pretty humorous to you. Here was a big man getting fucked by you while surrounded by all of your cutesy plushies.

DBF! Miguel who would low-key be your sugar-daddy because he would always be buying you things, no matter how expensive it was. He would take you on his yacht and fuck you either in the cabin or out on the deck.

[yandere-wishes]

Spider Bite Love

Synopsis: Miguel loves you, this you know. But neither the story nor the hero ever stops long enough to wonder if you love him too. 

Warnings: Choking, Biting, Reader is from Miles' universe, Miguel is kinda a perfectionist. Yandere themes.

Author's note: Forgive the Spanish it's mostly found on Google. I took like four months of Spanish back in 7th grade and have retained exactly 0.1% of that knowledge. 

💙🕷💙🕷💙🕷💙🕷💙🕷💙🕷💙🕷💙🕷💙

The future is porcelain, all marble white and reflective crystal. Flying cars and a horizon that echoes soft tamed pastels. Nueva York can almost be described as beautiful. Almost.

If not for the technicalities and lies and the loss of total freedom. 

If not for a fate that's been prewritten. Repeated across centuries and dimensions. So uncontrollable that it practically cultivates inferiority within your heart. An age-old tradition found in every child's tale about dashing heroes and harrowing villains.

If not for the looming uncomfortable, presence known as Miguel O'Hara who refuses to leave you alone. 

Your lover.

Your hero.

Your Spider-man

Although he's not your Spider-Man. Not really. And you're not the love of his life. Not really. You're both just Look-alikes, cheap replicas from a corner dimension. 

It's difficult to comprehend, pondering it encompasses you with an unruly headache. Galling and overpowering, not unlike your so-called "Lover".

To put it simply or rather to oversimplify. You are not meant to be here.  You are from Earth-1610, at least you think you are. It's hard to tell since apparently from what you've gathered there was another (y/n). One who looked just like you, acted just like you, and was essentially you in every microscopic aspect. At least that's what Miguel says, and you've come to learn that he's not awfully good at telling the full truth. 

She died or was killed. As is customary with every hero's first crush.  Thus leaving Miguel without a lover or a prisoner. Depending on which iteration of the story you fancy. 

Then Miles came along disrupting the canon and causing a dimension's wide spider hunt, with Miguel leading the charge. Somewhere along the lines, between chasing down Miles and barking orders at the other Superheroes his secret society was made of. He passes by your window. Caught a rogue glimpse and froze. He'd found you again, after all these years of believing that you were dead. Technically you were dead, his (y/n) was dead. But there was one here, another one, just as radiant and beautiful as his original lover had been. Miguel knew he had to have you. To take you back to his dimension. To complete his Canon. 

Your dimension was doomed anyway. 

So he wasn't really doing any harm. 

You shuffle uncomfortably on the couch, attempting to readjust your position as to better gaze out the window at the porcelain city. 

It's almost homogeneous to Miguel himself. 

A perfect city with no room for cracks or mistakes.

A perfect hero who flawlessly preserves the multiverse.

They're both perfect you think as you steal your gaze from the skyline. Although sometimes perfect and pristine aren't always reflective of a person's inner workings. Miguel isn't exactly corrupted but he's far from innocent either. You - and the motley amount of fang marks spread across your body- are living proof of that.

His apartment is clean, spotless, all ceramic tiles and snowy furniture. 

No room for faults or fallacy. His whole life is meant to be errorless. Just like the delicate spider-verse, he's all so keen on protecting. 

The door chimes, a light buzz and a thud. It's hard to remember that this is technically the future. That trivial things such as keys and locks have long since been eradicated. 

Miguel steps in, a bouquet of red and yellow roses grasped within his hand. He walks in as the door buzzes closed behind him. There's a docile look in his eyes as he spots you sitting on the couch. A repeated memory you realize and you wonder if his (y/n) use to wait for him to get back from Spider HQ, all patient and passive like a pretty doll awaiting her master. 

"Para vos, mi querida" he mumbles, somehow apathetic and bashful all at the same time. 

You reach for the flowers a practiced smile bearly tugging at your lips, your fingers curling around the bouquet, then you freeze eyes going wide. 

There's blood on his claws again, pristine rudy red that drips to an invisible tempo. You wonder who he's killed this time. A canon divergent Spider-Man or Spider-Women. A villain running amuck across the city. 

Or some regular civilian he was supposed to protect. A regular civilian who had some interaction with you on one of the rare times Miguel actually agreed to take you out. You wonder but you don't date ask. 

His suit is unscratched -as it always is- His face is bruise-less, so it makes you think that your final hypothesis may just be the accurate one. Miguel's eyes narrow when notices your frozen hand. 

"What's wrong," he asks a gruff edge in his voice, a warning.

One your mind begs you to obey. 

"Who did you kill?" You ask eyes concentrated on the sharp blue razors that make him look more monster than superhero. Your fingers abandon the bouquet's base and return to your side. You try to force your eyes into a glare despite the unruly beating of your fearful heart. 

One look from Miguel snuffs all that resistance out. One dark glare from eyes that can't choose if they wish to be red or blue. Human or hero. Human or monster. And you're back to cowering into the couch cushions. 

"It doesn't matter" he all but barks, a supernatural chill encompasses the room. As he throws the bouquet down onto the ceramic floor. His lips pull back in a snarl, showcasing milky white fangs that gleam in the low lights. 

"It does matter Miguel!" Your voice is raising, itching to scream to yell. To make him understand a fraction of your hatred

"You're supposed to be a hero, a savior, but all you ever do is act like a villain. You stole me from my home, you killed my universe's Spider-man, you destroyed my dimension! You're nothing more than a villain wearing a hero's mask." 

There's a punchline to this, you're almost sure of it. Some storybook explanation as to why you decided to lash out at the most terrifying creature you've ever met. Maybe in the heat of the frigid moment, you forgot that he's no mere spider. He's a tarantula, bloodthirsty and savage, ready to attack when someone goes poking at him with a stick. 

Miguel's fingers tighten around your throat, sharp claws digging into soft skin and delicate muscles. Pushing you further into the couch. Miguel's ears ring with the symphony of your gagging as he tightens his grasp. He thinks you're choking, suffocating, asphyxiating. 

Good. With any luck, you'll be dead soon.

"Mocosa ingrata"

He's not sure if your death will be significant in any way. You're honestly too trivial to have any impact on things. If you hold a place in the canon of his timeline or yours, he's yet to find it. 

Miguel hates oddities, things that disrupt the canon, selfish missteps that destroy entire dimensions. You're not quite an oddity per se, although everything in your timeline is broken. Dangling from a loose threat at the edge of a cliff. All because Miles Morales decided to be selfish and greedy and "change" what's been canon for longer than any "Spider-man" has been alive. Miles is a mistake. that whole universe is a mistake. It's bound to collapse on itself at any moment. So for the life of him, Miguel can't understand why you're so ungrateful. So desperate to reprimand him and belittle him when all he's doing is trying to save everyone. 

He's failed once, 

He's failed twice,

He refuses to fail for a third time. 

It doesn't matter that you're some helpless civilian who was stuck in the wrong universe at the wrong time. All that matters is that you're (y/n), his (y/n). Every other Spiderman has their Gwen or their MJ. A dutiful lover, to return to when the night ends, when the fighting ends. When the ignorant sun finally decides to reawaken and cast the city in a temporary ray of peacefulness. Someone to love and cherish, to take their minds off of the dread and misery that runs amuck across their lives. 

Peter Parker has his Mary Jane.

Miles Morales had his Gwen Stacy.

So why can't Miguel O'Hara have his (Y/n) (L/n)?

When Miguel looks back down at you, he notices your dark eyes. How the life is slowly fading from your body. He relents, pulling you forward and slamming you into the couch one last time before retracting his hand. He sits down next to your coughing body. 

"I hate you" you manage to blurt out between desperate heaves. Trying to fill your lungs with as much oxygen as possible. You don't bother looking at him, you know he's mad. He's always mad when you refuse to act like his (y/n). When you poke holes at the perfect illusion he's created. 

There's a brief pause. A second of tranquility. Before Miguel grabs your arm and pulls you onto his lap. His mouth parts. Fangs releasing and hovering above your jugular. His fangs pierce your vain, releasing his poison into your bloodstream. It's not lethal, at least not yet. Miguel prefers to think of it as a sedative for when you start to act up. 

It soothes you, calms you into remembering your place. Your head lulls to the side, falling on his shoulder as your groggy eyes look up at him with a stare that he can almost trick himself into believing is loving, or some variant of the same emotion. 

You're his, he knows that. You have to be. It's all he can tell himself as to stay sane. You'll understand someday. Realize you love him too. 

After all every hero needs a lover. 

[fairlyang]

husband!miguel x wife!reader headcanons 🕷️

waking up at 5 in the morning to make his lunch before he leaves for work and making sure he has a decent amount of food so he’ll be full until he comes home. Switching it off from papas con chorizo to tortas to leftovers from the day before. Just making sure he has different things to eat so he won’t get bored of them (not like he’d complain)

along with his main meal you give him two cans of Jumex (his fav would def be mango or strawberry), and some kind of fruit because you wanted him to eat all the proteins and vitamins his body needed

and when he finally gets home from work you’ve already prepared dinner, again varying from all the different kinds of foods he loved like ole reliable burgers to chiles rellenos because they “tasted like home”, as he liked to say

there was nothing he loved more than coming home to find you in the kitchen so he can come up behind you and wrap his arms around you because he was just so appreciative of everything you do for him

and you wouldn’t have it any other way because both of your love languages was acts of service and you adored doing things for miguel, and of course also loved to cook

after finishing up dinner he’d wash the dishes, dry them off, and put them away so you’d have one less thing to worry about the next day and to just be able to have a relaxing night with you

your daily routine was usually the same unless you had errands you had to do or when laundry day came

but even then miguel would also want to help like carrying the shared laundry basket all the way to the basement and of course he would carry all the grocery bags just so you wouldn’t have to because he could just do it for you

he was an absolute sweetheart of a husband, making sure he took you out on a date every weekend, buying you flowers and plants daily because he knew how much you loved them

he’d be the kind of husband to pay attention to every detail, (even if small)

he is an attentive listener and will give his take on whatever you may rant to him about, whether it be the novela you’ve been watching or giving him the chisme about one of the neighbors

you’d be what they called a yapper sometimes and he found it very endearing especially when he wouldn’t even be able to get a word in and you may as well have sounded like a parrot

but it was one of the many things he adored about you and would just make him fall even harder for you

part two

[cyberjam]

ATSV HEADCANON: the spiders as yanderes . . . ☆

warnings - usual yandere themes, use of (bug) pet names like ladybug, no use of y/n or reader, stalking, manipulation, paranoia, a hint of kidnapping, a suggestion of stockholm syndrome, not proof read etc...

word count - 814

i was sleep-deprived while writing this request, so i apologize for any errors or mistakes, enjoy :)

main masterlist <33

MILES - the delusional yandere.

Miles would be so deeply in-love with you that there wasn't much you could possibly do to get him away from you. You could kick and scream at the top of your lungs and he'd just laugh to himself thinking you wanted to play fight. He would go to the ends of the earth for you and he assumes you would do the same for him as well. You could tell him how much you hated his guts and he'd simply take it as you being a bit cranky and in need of a nap. There wasn't a single thing in this world that could make him think you hated him, and once you found out he was Spider-man, that tiny bit of assurance that you were safe was completely washed away and you no-longer felt secure in the city that was supposedly protected.

"you're shaking, bug..don't worry your friendly neighborhood spider-man is here."

GWEN - the overprotective yandere.

You were just a sweet quiet kid. You sat in the back of the class, constantly in your own world. You didn't disturb anyone, always got your work done, and simply just tried to make yourself invisible to the best of your abilities. But It didn't take long for gwen to take notice of you. (you did share multiple classes together..) gwen took pity on you for some time, you were so quiet and innocent...so weak. How could someone like you survive in this world without her? It didn't take long for gwen to take on an aggressively protective role over you. She just knew deep down in her heart that people were gonna walk all over you and she had to be the one to stop them before they reached you. You don't need to be involved with the filth of the world, you need to be with her. So, once she takes you please don't be mad, she only wants what's best for you.

"i finally got you in my arms, ladybug..shh, don't worry i'm not doing this to hurt you, i just wanna protect you."

PAVITR - the clingy yandere.

Pavitr becomes so emotionally attached to you that he truly believes a second without you by his side would shatter him completely. It was rough for him in the beginning, not being able to hold you, smother you in kisses, and talk your ear off about his endless amounts of love for you. But once you two became well acquainted enough to his liking, he won't hold back at all. Pavitr will always be able to slip in his obsession with you in any conversation you two have, always going a bit overboard when he mentions how the reason he's able to live and be the best version of himself is because of your very existence. He gets overwhelmed when you're not close by, it worries him when he doesn't know what you're doing 24/7. What if you're talking to someone else? Laughing at someone else's joke? Surely whoever you're talking to isn't as amazing as Pavitr and If you can't see that he'll just have to show you.

"being away from you causes too much pain, jalebi...we were meant to be one."

HOBIE - the manipulative yandere.

Hobie will make you feel like you can't live without him. That you need him for absolutely everything, wether it be running to the store, picking out an outfit for the day, or even eating food on your own. He will break you emotionally until you're fully dependent on him and feel absolutely useless. He wants you to ask him for everything, he wants to hear the sweet sound of your voice calling his name for help, He needs to hear you say that you need him. Because you do, don't you?

" I don' know why you continue to fight my affection, darling. I'm the only one who's gonna love you the way you need to be loved. Why don't you get that? "

MIGUEL - the possessive yandere.

Miguel wants to be wanted by you. He wants you to be so dependent on him that the only words that ever slip past your lips are silent pleas for his help. He wants you to cling to him and whine at the absence of his presence. He wants you to be fully dependent on him. Any ounce of freedom you used to have before you met him is completely stripped away. Whenever he feels as if you're being independent or going about your day without acknowledging him, he gets extremely upset. You are his and his only so he will not hesitate to remove family and friends from your life if he has to, because in reality you don't really need anyone but him, right?

"tsk. this is why you should always come to me for help, it's what i'm here for, baby."

maybe i'll make a more descriptive one in the future, who knows...until then, send me some requests :)

likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated <33

[demigoddessqueens]

They couldn’t give STEM boyfriend-husband a five o’clock shadow with the glasses because he’d be too powerful in his final form

Also the red eyes??? Miguel’s confirmed light-sensitive!! I need him in sunglasses at all times

[lacedinweb22]

your neighbor, stoner Miguel ✥°o｡ headcanons nsfw 18+

✤ Stoner Mig who leaves his apartment door open a crack just before you get back from work, knowing the smell will force you to come over.

✤ Stoner Mig, who with eyes red, voice lazy, leads you to his couch, where you sit on his lap.

✤ Stoner Mig who puts the joint in between your lips, lighting it slowly, his eyes on your lips.

✤ Stoner Mig who talks you through it, telling you when to inhale and exhale. He praises you, “Took it so well, chula,” he whispers, eyes low as he takes the joint from your lips into his. He has a glass of water ready in case you start to cough. He’ll hold the glass up to your lips, eyes on yours. He knows how to take care of you.

✤ Stoner Mig who inhales the smoke you exhale, getting high off of the air you breathe.

✤ Stoner Mig who lets the smoke slowly escape his lips, then presses his lips to yours, passing you the little smoke left in his lungs. The kiss gets messy, you lazily kiss, giggling, as your hands roam each other.

✤ Stoner Mig who flirts with you all night, towering over you in the kitchen, pressing up against you, your back against the counter.

✤ Stoner Mig who will make sure you’re fed, dragging you to the kitchen so he can make you a sandwich, a real sandwich. He shows you his pantry, impressing you with all of the snacks he bought, the snacks he knows you like. You stand in the kitchen for what feels like hours, munching on ten different kinds of snacks, talking and giggling til your ribs hurt.

✤ Stoner Mig who rests his hand on your thigh, prompting you to move from your spot on the couch to his lap. You feel his hard-on through his sweats, grinding slowly; it’s innocent really. You’re both high, it happens.

✤ Stoner Mig who lazily whispers how good of a girl you are as you finish him off through his sweatpants. His eyes are drowsy, voice low, deep and raspy. He looks up at you, eyes red, cheeks pink, as you comb your fingers through his hair.

✤ Stoner Mig who spreads you on the couch, his lips wandering down to your thighs. He pulls down your pants slowly, trailing kisses towards your underwear. He drags your panties down to your ankles, as you tug at his roots, he moans at your touch. His lips finally wrap around you, he lazily laps at your core, high, and still able to give you the best head of your life.

✤ Stoner Mig who is needy when high, asking you to come under the blanket with him. He eventually lays down on his side, spooning you, whispering sweet nothings into your hair, high off his ass. You wait for him to fall asleep then head back to your place. You’ll repeat this tomorrow anyways.

‧̍̊˙˚˙ᵕ꒳ᵕ˙˚˙

I’m finally 21 years old! ৻(≧ᗜ≦৻) ✿༶⋆˙⊹✢

[alastorswifee]

Minors DNI

Warnings: breeding kink, unprotected sex, bad Spanish translations(I’m sorry I used a translator😭)

————————————✾—————————————

“Shit..”

Quick and harsh thrusts as Miguel fucked you into the bed, he promised you a baby and he’s going to make sure of it.

Hips bruised as his hands were gripping on tight, neck and collarbones littered with dark possessive hickeys and bite marks.

“dios mío, qué linda..”

Tears were streaming down your face due to constant orgasm after orgasm, you couldn’t even keep track of how many your husband had given you

Your vision was blurry due to the tears mixed with seeing stars, he wouldn’t slow down even for a minute

“M-Mi- Haah!”

You could barely get any words out from the overwhelming amounts of pleasure coursing through your fucked out body

Miguel smirked at the sounds tho, eyes locked onto your face as he kept his rough pace

His hand would snake up and cup your jaw within his palm

“That’s it..let everyone hear who’s fuckin’ you this good.”

Soon enough your body tensed up, legs quivering as you contracted your walls around his cock, you came as your back slightly arched off the bed which made Miguel let out a breathy chuckle

It didn’t take too long before he filled you up once again with his load

Maybe now he would give you a break?

“Lista para otra ronda, cariño?”

————————————✾—————————————

dios mío, qué linda - my god, so cute

Lista para otra ronda, cariño? - ready for another round honey/baby?

————————————✾—————————————

Tags: @bloodandthestars @daemontqrg

(If anyone else would like to be tagged when I post Miguel content just say)

Also I’m getting used to writing him so spare me the criticism

[theorphicangel]

a rare morning. miguel x reader

Stirring awake, your hands rub at your eyes, trying to adjust to the new day that lies ahead of you. The coldness of the room makes you shuffle your feet against his calves, attempting to derive some warmth from his body.

He’s still asleep, his chest rising and falling, light— no, heavy snores leaving his mouth. Miguel’s hands are loosely wrapped around your waist, his face buried into the crook of your neck. And with every exhale your skin tingles from his breath.

Selfishly, you desire to move. You want to stretch your limbs to escape from the past restraint of sleep. But you hesitate, desperately trying to think of a way to do so without disturbing your lover from his sleep. He’s been working till late recently and waking up at times that no human possibly should be waking up at.

But, this morning was a rare morning. A rare morning where he’s promised to stay in and spend some time with you.

And he can tell that you’ve been missing him lately. Your failed attempts to stay up and wait for him were obvious, he’d often find you asleep on the couch with a book opened on its spine adjacent.

Becoming restless with every second, you decide to get up for a glass of water. Now you knew that you would have to be stragtegic. One wrong move and you’ll wake up him up. You first problem was the hands that held your waist.

Carefully, you begin guide one hand off. His large hands severely contrasting your own. You freeze at the sound of a groan, then an inaudible murmur.

‘Is he awake?’ You think to yourself. Anxiously, you wait a few seconds until his breathing returns to normal and place his hand away from you.

Now you just had to remove the other one and you’d be ‘free’ to go, that is if you don’t wake him up. Your hand only seem to make it to his wrist before you’re stopped.

“Baby?”

shit.

Another groan leaves Miguel’s throat and simulatenously, his hand wraps around your waist again.

“M’just going for a glass of water.” You whisper.

“Stay.”

“M’ really thirsty, I’ll come back.”

He mumbles again and you can’t make out what he’s saying, his mouth slightly covered by his pillow.

“baby I can’t hear you.”

“I’ll go, you stay.” He mumbles.

“Mig’-“

“Just five more minutes.”

And with that, his hands are all over you again, caging you back with him. mission unaccomplished.

You settle back into his arms, accepting your fate. You guess you can wait a few more hours.

After a few minutes of silence, a muffled voice is heard by your shoulder.

“are you still thirsty, nena? Because I can go get you that glass—“

“no miggy, m’fine.” you smile. Perhaps if it was any other morning you’d still be restless but this?

You rarely got to experience this. his arms around you, his bare skin on yours, his naked soul entwined with your own. Upon meeting him for the first time you would have never thought that this is how you’d end up. Being one of the only people that he feels comfortable around. So much so, that he feels comfortable being vulnerable with you.

and you wouldn’t take it for granted. not anymore.

i love him your honor. :(