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everlastlady · 8 months

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𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎 '𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

✰ 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: Hello! My little heroes, villains, and civilians. The first Miguel O 'Hara post. Hopefully it's good, I'm not really good with Spanish so I'm using a translation thing to help me with the language. I do plan on learning Spanish after I finish learning Italian on duo, anyway if you enjoyed this story then my request box is open. You can support me by blazing, commenting, hearts, or reblogging. Don't forget to eat, drink water, and take your medicine. Also support your local fan fiction writers.

✰ 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬: kidnapping, drugging, manipulation, violence, lies, and stockholm syndrome.

✰ Part 2

• You are an absolute sweetheart to everyone at the society. Always making lunches for those who you were friends with or patching them up from missions. You always put others first, your smile could lit up a room. At first Miguel didn't think much of you, he honestly found you annoying and sometimes would have to tell you and Peter to be quiet whenever you both were trying to make Mayday laugh. " cierra el pico both of you, go do that somewhere else. " so when you and Peter left. Miguel sat there for a while wanting to hear your laugh again but not with Peter around, not with anyone around.

• He loved your cooking, he would tell you that he's only accepting your food out of respect. But he would ever last drop as if he was starving. He wondered what meals you would cook if you two were married, what dishes would you make whenever he came home from working. What lunches would you pack him. Would the kids help you with dinner. Miguel started asking you to bring him lunch everyday saying that he didn't have time to make his own and didn't want to spend money on take out. " Gracias cariño " he likes how your fingers brush against his whenever you hand him the bento box.

• Recently he stopped sending you on missions and is having you help him in the lab or having you in the medical wing to patch up other spiders. You didn't mind but you missed going on missions, and Miguel could tell but he knew soon that you wouldn't miss missions. And he was right, you started to distract yourself by stopping crime in your own universe and hanging out with the other spiders. Miguel didn't like this, what if get hurt in your own universe or worst fall in love. Miguel swore that he heard you talking to Noir and Peter B about this guy from your favorite coffee shop called Steven Grant. How you almost got hurt trying to stop a robbery in your neighborhood. He needed to plan something, it might be painful and hurt him emotionally but he needed to teach you a lesson.

• Boredom was killing you as you sat in the lab and started playing with paper clips but you jumped when Lyla flashes on your watch. " Woah, don't fall over and die (name), I'm blessing you with my presences to tell you that Miguel is sending you out on a mission since everyone else is busy or Miguel thinks they aren't capable. He thinks you can handle it so chop chop get to it! ". With that Lyla vanished. You let out a gleeful noise and put on your mask as you open the portal and jump through. You thought this was going to be fun and easy especially since you been training but you thought wrong. Everything in this universe was wrong; it was all dark and gloomy. Here you are running away like a scared child while bleeding. You suit in had claw marks and tears slide down your face. Crying into your watch for help. You were covered in claw marks, bruises, and your wrist broken.

• No one seemed to be answering their watches when you had Lyla contact Jess, Peter, Gwen Noir, Miles, and Hobie. No one picked up but Miguel did when you screamed for Lyla to call him. And when Miguel showed up he took care of the threat. " ¿Estás bien querida? You had me worried when you didn't return, come on let's get you to the medical wing. " Miguel picked you up, your injuries made you pass out but you could have swore that Miguel was smirking before you shut your eyes.

• You eventually woke up but you weren't in the medical wing, you were in a bedroom and it didn't belong to you. A delicious smell entered your noise and you looked down to see your wrist bandaged. You carefully got out of the bed groaning. Still sore from your injures. You left the bedroom and walk down the hallway and into the kitchen where Miguel stood cooking a delicious meal. He eas wearing a tight black t-shirt and grey sweatpants. Miguel turned around and saw your confused look. " Ah! corazon your awake! I brought you here because your injuries were so bad that I decided to treat you, also I didn't want the others to feel bad for not answering you. Good thing I answered you or else you would have been dead, now you know why I don't want to send you on anymore missions, you aren't strong enough which is fine, you were made for better things. " Miguel turned around and went back to cooking. You stood there and looked down, was Miguel right are you weak?

• Miguel had you sit down at table which you did still looking upset. " Now don't pout, until your injuries heal you can stay with me. I'll tell the others that you are on vacation a well deserved vacation. You do so much for everyone and take care of everyone. It's time for someone to take care of you~ " Miguel lifted up the fork to feed you some of the food. A break did sound nice and you could try to mentally recover from what had happened on the mission. So you agreed to stay at Miguel's place until your injuries healed. It wouldn't take that long for you to get better right?

• Wrong..... you always felt so weak and sleepy after every meal, Miguel made for you from breakfast, lunch, dinner, and even small snacks. You body always ached, you threw up, felt dizzy, and tired. Miguel ran some test and told you that you were sick but didn't know what you were suffering from. When you wanted to leave because you didn't want to be a burden. Miguel shook his head telling you that you weren't a burden that he would take care of you and that he didn't mind the company especially after all he lost. That made you feel sad so you stayed. Miguel bought you anything you wanted to make you feel at home, he even brought your clothes and other items from your apartment which felt weird at first because you didn't give anyone your address.

• While Miguel was gone and didn't come home the usual time he did. You were hungry and Miguel always cooked for you. So you wanted to surprise him and cook a meal for him and you. As you were going through the cabinets. You find a strange green bottle with some purple liquid inside. You ask Lyla about it, as she was painting her nails and not looking at you, she said the ingredients along with the side effects. " Not safe for human consumption, why do you ask? " She called out. Your whole body froze, was Miguel drugging you? Did he plan this whole thing to trap you here. You ran towards the bedroom to look for your watch but couldn't find it.

• " Looking for this corazon, it's rude to leave without saying goodbye or even a thank you mi amor for taking care of me... " You turned to see Miguel holding up your watch. Before you could react, Miguel threw it down and stepped on it. The watch broke into pieces. " oops... " Miguel quickly walked towards you and caged you with his body as your back was pressed against the wall. Tears stream down your face, this had to be a nghtmare. " D-Did you drug me, why did you drug me!? Did you send me on that mission knowing what would happen to me!? " You screamed at Miguel. Who stared at you with those red eyes. " Yes... because I needed to teach you a lesson that you are weak and only I can protect you because..... (Name), I love you~ " you flinch when Miguel strokes your cheek and wipes your tears away. " You are sick... " You said in between panic breathes. " I'm not sick, I was doing what was best for you... for us and you'll understand that soon but let's get you calmed down wouldn't want you to pass out again... " Miguel leans foward as you struggled. Miguel bit down sinking his fangs into your soft skin as you scream. But soon your body froze. " Shhh, te quiero. " Miguel laid you on the bed and left the room.

• You stayed trapped in Miguel's home for weeks. He told the others at the society that you quit and didn't want anyone to contact you since you wanted to retire from being a hero and didn't want any reminders or memories of the society. Of course everyone was upset but respected your wishes, if only they knew that truth. Just because you were kind that didn't mean you don't have a fighting spirit. You always fought to escape and tried taking Miguel's watch but he always overpowered you and knocked you got, always yelling his lungs out at you. " 𝙎𝙏𝙊𝙋 fighting me, I'm trying to care for us for you! I don't want to keep fighting you. But you leave me no choice but to do this..... " Those last words from Miguel made your stomach drop. He locked you in a room and only left you a blanket and a mattress. The room had a bathroom but no windows. " I'll let you out when you learn to be a loving partner. " And he left you alone in that dark room. The only time he came back in was to bring you food but said nothing and left.

• Being in that room was driving you crazy and the food wasn't good it was just microwave meals that weren't cooked all the way and the room was cold. You sat there on the mattress crying all day and all night. Screaming for Lyla but she didn't respond because Miguel instructed her not to. After a month you sat there feeling mentally, physically, and emotionally drained. The door opened as the hallway lights burns your eyes. Miguel stood there with his arms out while staring at you, he stood there waiting and you got up. Walking over you hug him tightly. Miguel smirked and hugged back as he planted a kiss on your head. " Have you learned your lesson, do you love me? " He asked while rubbing your back. You nod your head. " Then say it, say you are sorry and that you love me. " Miguel said while hugging you tightly so tight that he could snap you in half. " I'm sorry for being selfish for not appreciating what you do for me, I love you Miguel, please don't send me back into that room, I'll behave, I love you, I love, I love you. " You said in between sobs.

• Miguel smiles and kissed you. " Good, let's go get you properly cleaned up and a good meal~ " Miguel picked you up and did as promised, he gave you a bath, fresh pajamas, and cooked your favourite meal. The two of you even sat on the couch watching your favorite movie. What made Miguel happy was how you cling to him. How whenever he went to the bathroom you would panic and try to follow him. " Don't worry cariño, I'm just going to the bathroom I'll be back watch your movie and be good and I won't put you in the punishment room. " Miguel kissed you and left. That night you laid in bed with him and quickly fell asleep since you were in an actual nice bed. Miguel watched you sleep and was finally happy that you had you.

Part 2 coming soon comment if you wanna be tagged in part 2

#miguel ohara x reader #miguel fanfic #miguel spiderverse #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel x reader #miguel x you #yandere miguel o'hara #yandere stories #miguel ohara x gender neutral reader #everlasting writes🪻#fandom #fanfic #fan fiction

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occamcave · 8 months

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Dom!Miguel Ohara (drabble)

in which Miguel fulfills your request for him to fuck you

- Paring: Top! Miguel Ohara x Bottom! GN reader

-Content tags: 18+, MINORS DNI!!, porn w/o plot

- A/N: Excuse any mistakes i made, this is my first time writing

With a primal growl, Miguel stepped forward. His fingers eagerly found their way to your exposed hole, his touch teasing and exploratory. The sight before him was intoxicating—your spread cheeks, their invitation beckoning him to the edge of pleasure.

Unable to resist any longer, Miguel positioned himself behind you, your bodies aligning perfectly. His voice dripped with a mix of dominance and desire as he answered your request. "Oh, you want me to fuck you, mi amor? You're playing a dangerous game, y/n. But I'll gladly oblige."

With a swift motion, Miguel thrust into you, your bodies becoming one in a powerful union. His movements were filled with a mix of urgency and control, your desires intertwining in a dance of pleasure. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure rippling through both of you, your combined moans filling the room.

As the pace quickened, Miguel could feel his own release building, the intoxicating tightness of your body driving him closer to the edge. His grip tightened on your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh, marking you as his own.

Miguel's voice growled with a mix of dominance and need. "You want my cum? You want to feel me inside you?" His words were punctuated by each forceful thrust, your bodies moving in perfect synchronization. "You're going to take every drop, every inch of me... just as you asked."

The room became a symphony of passionate moans and skin against skin as your bodies moved together, lost in the throes of desire. Miguel's control wavered as the pleasure intensified, his grip on you tightening, his rhythm becoming more frantic. Miguel's primal instincts took over, pushing him closer to the edge. With a final surge of desire, he released himself, filling you with his essence, marking you as his own in the only way imaginable.

A/N: Aaaaa i apologize for this being so short!! Again this is my first time writing so i didn’t wanna do anything too crazy! Please give me suggestions and tips!!!

#miguel o'hara #miguel ohara x y/n #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x gender neutral reader #top!miguel ohara #dom!miguel o'hara #bottom!reader #bottom reader #top miguel ohara #smut #gn reader #miguel smut #miguel ohara smut

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fangsp1der-2099 · 7 months

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Cold Hands, Warm Heart

Miguel x gn!reader

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| Navigation | warnings: None! I just didn’t proofread this 😭. | a/n: I SHOULD NOT BE FEELING FUCKING FESTIVE IN SEPTEMBER. Anyway enjoy 💞. | tags 🏷️: @thethreeeyed-raven @knight-of-flowerss

Miguel’s hands were always cold. Whether in freezing temperatures or scorching heat his hands were always stone cold. You had obviously noticed this.

In the heat his cold hands were useful. The perfect ice pack. If he saw you sweating or red in the face he would cup your face with his giant, cold hands. However in the winter his hands were your worst enemy. You had to wear gloves whenever you went out with him just in case he wanted to hold your hand.

It was winter once again and once again Miguel’s hands were freezing cold. You were out Christmas shopping, trying to find gifts for friends and family. Another problem of Miguel’s is that he never gave you any ideas for gifts. Whenever you ask he always responds with “I don’t know baby. I’m sure whatever you get me will be perfect.” It frustrated you. However this year you had an idea. You were going to tackle his cold hands problem.

“Hey I’m going to go into this shop. You should go get us some coffee while I go in.” You let go of his hand and you enter the store while he walks to the coffee shop. You look around the shop trying to find some gloves. You look around the store, aisle to aisle, trying to find the perfect pair of gloves. Then you see them. A pair of heated, blue and red gloves. You grab them quickly and you pay.

“Hi did you get the coffee?” He nods. “What’s in the bag?” He passes you your coffee and he points to the bag. “Nothing let’s get home.” You smile softly and he takes your hand once again, the coldness of his hand seeping through your gloves.

When you get home, you bound up the stairs with his present in your hands. You had to make it look perfect. You grabbed a box that you had saved and wrapped it in gift wrap that had cute little snowmen saying ‘Merry Christmas.’ You hide the box in your closet and you return to Miguel who gives you a soft peck on the lips.

It was finally Christmas Day. The day you had been waiting for, for the past week. You woke up before Miguel could and you take the present from the closet and you take it down stairs, under the tree.

About an hour later, you hear footsteps creep down the stairs. “Merry Christmas.” Miguel says groggily as he sits down next to you on the sofa. “Merry Christmas.” You reach up and give him a gentle kiss. “You ready to open presents?” You nod eagerly. “Yes but I want you to open mine first.” You squeal excitedly as you reach down to grab his present. “Here.” You pass him the gift waiting for him to unwrap the it. He slowly slashes through the gift wrap and takes the top off of the box. “Gloves?” He takes the gloves out of the box and holds them up. “Yeah! I thought it could help with your cold hands.” You smile softly to him. “Now put them on.” He takes the packaging off of the gloves and tries them on, only for them stop halfway. They didn’t fit. Of course they didn’t fit. His hands were always bigger than the normal human hand.

You look down in defeat “Sorry”. You sniffle a little. “Hey it’s ok I don’t mind.” He pulls you into a hug . “I don’t mind really. I’m more bothered about the meaning behind the gift.” He kisses the top of your head. “I know but I wanted to help you.” You look up to him and look into his crimson eyes. “The only reason I care about my hands is because I know they bother you.” He takes your hands into his. “But your hands are enough to keep me warm.” He gives you a reassuring squeeze and the most soft and genuine smile. “I’m still sorry. You don’t have a gift off of me now.” You lower your head.

“Baby you’re the only gift I’ve ever wanted.”

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a/n: I probably should’ve posted this in December but oh well. Hope you enjoyed 👹💞!

#miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #miguel x you #miguel o hara x you #miguel ohara x y/n #miguel o hara x reader #miguel o hara x y/n #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x gender neutral reader #miguel ohara x reader #across the spiderverse #miguel ohara

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a-pretty-nerd · 10 months

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Attention

Miguel O'Hara x gender neutral reader

Tags: SFW, Fluff?, Angst, Drama

⚠️ Warnings: Near Death experience, blood, knifes, hospital, Miguel got stabbed...again..your husband got stabbed...again..

Miguel O'Hara has a habit of stumbling home in the middle of the night with nearly fatal wounds. About every other month Miguel gets a little too beat up, a little too close to death for anyone's liking. Call it a death wish, call it his internalized suicidal tendencies, call them a bad case of the mondays- Miguel O'Hara gets beat up a lot as Spiderman.

One night in particular he stumbles into an ambulance because he was stabbed by a villian who left him for dead. Miguel was lucky someone found him before he bled out. Now, Miguel is tough. His handy dandy spider DNA kinda helps with that but, even the best aren't immune to a determined knife to the gut. Miguel was also very lucky that he was able to deactivate his suit before Spiderman was wheeled into the local hospital. He found himself struggling to breath and fighting shock in the back of an ambulance.

As the paramedics rolled him in, his attention was suddenly caught by the sight of his spouse standing there. Wearing a particularly annoyed expression too. In your pajamas and a cardigan with your bag hung over your shoulder told him that you'd been called while he was in the ambulance. He knew getting an apartment close to a hospital was a good idea. How convenient. You chased him down the halls of the hospital as they rolled his gurney.

"The hell do you think you're doing!?" You spat at him, jogging beside the gurney as the paramedics tried to urge you back. Miguel let out an annoyed groan as he pulled the bag valve mask away from his face. He doesn't know how you do it, but suddenly you being there makes him feel less dizzy, more focused. Even when he finds your attitude aggravating.

"Créeme- This wasn't planned!"

"Oh! Are you sure? Cause you have impeccable timing, sir!" You mock him a bit as he's rushed into the intensive care unit. Nurses rush over to him, asking a million questions. Who you were, where he was hurt, what happened? You let Miguel answer that and the lie that came out of his mouth was so lazy and dismissive and twisted.

"I was mugged." He groaned as the nurses pealed blood soaked towels off the knife still deeply lodged in his stomach. He was lucky it was left inside. He would have bled out by now if it wasn't for it. He hissed in pain as he threw his head back on the gurney. The pain was excruciating. It made his whole body feel like it was on fire. He tried to stay still as the nurses attended to the wound and addressed you. Asking you information like his blood type, and so on.

And just as he feels the exhaustion and drowsiness hit him; as his body is engulfed in fever, there is a touch. A freezing cold hand grabs ahold of his as he's settled into a hospital bed. You lace your fingers between his as you sit at his side. Leaning in closely to look him dead in the eyes. Light flickers in his as he watches you intently.

"Hey! Don't think you're getting out of this now. You're staying right here with me. We have too much to do and too much to talk about. And you can rest in surgery, but I need you here, now." You place your forehead to his and he feels a wave of energy flow through him. Your could forehead against his feels divine, your freezing fingers around his hand and arm are welcome relief. He lets out loud, pained grunts and groans as the doctors and nurses go about their work. He gently nods.

"I know- I know- I've had worse. I'm fine-" His hoarse voice tries to reason. A doctor announces the need for surgery to remove the weapon. You squeeze his hand and he returns the gesture with a firm squeeze back. You nod at one another. Before you're ushered to leave, you lean in and give Miguel a big, fat, passionate kiss. The strong and romantic kind. The kind that require a circling camera if it were in a movie. It nearly stuns everyone in the room. Including Miguel.

He's shocked that you'd use this moment to give him the most deep and intense smooch of his life, right then and there. It makes his heart race. His adrenaline kicks in, happy chemicals flow through his brain suddenly, keeping his pain at bay. He leans into it, returning the kiss to the staff's horror as they try to wheel him into surgery. When you finally pull away your annoyed expression returns.

"I'll see you soon, Tiger." Miguel's fangs flash out from behind his lips as he grinned. Heavy eyelids and raises brows made him look almost love-drunk.

"See you soon, Mi Vida." He hummed softly before laying back in the hospital bed and letting you drift away. He went into surgery feeling confident, clear headed. It was just simple. You were right. He had too much to do to die here. To die now. No way in hell. He worked too hard to die like this. You still had plans together. Lives to live together. He pulled through just fine.

But as he sat there in that hospital bed, the TV playing in front of him as you chatted with his doctor outside. He listened and watched you closely. His heart fluttered in his chest at the sight of you, at the thought of you. He hears the aggravation in your voice as you openly begin to argue with the doctor. Miguel smiled to himself. It was you. Always you. You were always the one to save him. To pull him out of it when he needed, not when he wanted. You protected him and cared for him and...he was wasting it.

Wasting it all. There he was in bed after another close call because he was too reckless again. It was time for a change. A big one.

#miguel ohara #miguel ohara imagine #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara fluff #miguel ohara angst #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x gender neutral reader

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dinsmechanic · 6 months

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𝐌.𝐎 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

──.★ sick [ @mirrored-movements ]

⌗ soft!miguel

⌗ fluffy !

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hoshigray · 11 months

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Had the most random thought, but what if you caught Miguel by surprise and sneaked a kiss on the back of his neck when he's stressed out?

An: Don't mind me, just feeling soft for Miguel because he's corrupting my brain at the moment, lol. Also, wanted to write this to distract me from the fact Pleasurable Practice got smacked with a community label ffs. But, tysm for the love on that fic <33, and [MAYBE] I'll work on pt ii for next week! Thanks again, you lovelies, and enjoy!!

Edited Note: Also, here's an ATSV masterlist I made earlier for your convenience!!

Cw: Miguel x reader - fluff - stressed Miguel bc when is he not - you give him a kiss on the neck - pet names (amorcito/little love, mi alma/my soul; amor/my love) - just you and Miguel being adorbs and him being whipped hehe~

Wc: 902

"Aaaaaarrgh!!!"

You snap away from what you were doing to find where the noise came from. Not to your surprise, it's from your boyfriend — Miguel O'Hara, who's expressing his dismay by throwing another tray full of empty containers you got from the cafeteria.

The man is descending from his [godforsaken slow-ass] station, tapping his feet and huffing by the second. His brows are furrowed in anger, and he moves a hand to soothe his forehead with his fingers. When his post finally stops, he jumps down to sit on a chair and groans into his hands.

That was the third time this week. A villain was supposed to be captured and brought into the Spider Society to be sent back to their own universe; however, that was two days ago. And for some reason, this evil-doer has been hopping in and out of multiple universes. It's been a hassle for the other Spiders to grab hold of them; Lyla has to have eyes on them within every minute of every hour, and Miguel...Obviously, he would like to have this matter taken care of already.

You get up from where you're sitting and walk up behind Miguel, whose face is still covered by his hands with inaudible curses that you can tell are in Spanish. "You okay?"

The rise and fall of his broad shoulders entail a huge sigh seething out of his system. "No, mi amor." He frees his face only to rest his forehead with a hand propped by his leg. "This game of cat-and-mouse has been going on longer than necessary, got Spiders who're tired of the chase — I'm tired, yet there's more stuff piling up and—" He stops himself with another deep sigh, and you place your hands on his shoulders. "I just can't right now...."

All you can do is hum aimlessly while massaging his shoulders, his trapezius and deltoids tense with stress. You understand that a lot is going on for Miguel, giving him his space and letting him do what he does best: being a hero. But of course, being a superhero isn't all sunshine and rainbows, and you're bound to get hit with obstacles that'll hinder your progress. Annoyingly so, if you're a leader of an organization like your boyfriend.

Nevertheless, he's only one man, and you know he forgets this fact when he's too wrapped up in work. He's dedicated to protecting his peers, his home, and you. And although you appreciate the sentiment sincerely, you wish he'd remember to not go too hard on himself before he's burnt out.

You sigh through your nostrils, your hands kneading out any remnants of tension while Miguel indulges before storming back to work. That's when an idea hits you when your eyes land on the back ends of his hair, a smile creeping in slowly. Your hand brushes the lower tufts of his brown strands, and you lean down to press your soft lips on him after pulling his suit to expose his neck.

Immediately, Miguel goes rigid at the feeling of your lips on him. And his breath hitches when your hands wrap around him, pulling him closer to you as you lay your chin on top of his head (which you realize is a rare opportunity as he's taller than you).

"Mi lindo araña," You chuckle to yourself when you notice hints of red sneaking on the lobes of his ears. "The more you stress yourself, the more you look like a grouchy face."

"A grouchy face?" His tone holds slight confusion. "You've been hanging with Peter B. too much, amorcito." He shakes his head while you giggle, and you two sink into each other's presence for a little while, taking in the silence outside of the calming breaths Miguel takes. If he were to confess, it's as if almost all his fatigue has vanished into thin air when he's in your embrace. But he doesn't say anything — he doesn't have to. Because you already know.

You set your lips on his temple. "Feeling okay now?" His body vibrates from a tiny purr, and you remove yourself to stand up straight. "Alright then, I'm gonna go to the cafeteria to get something to share. Because you clearly need a snack. And while I'm gone, pick up that tray and those empty containers off the floor before Lyla has another reason to call you a 'grumpy man-child.'"

His face molds to a deep scowl from the mention of his pixelated peer's name-calling. "I am not a man-child."

You give him a look. "You kinda are."

"And what gives you that—"

"Muñeco," Miguel quickly refrains from arguing when you call him by his nickname, the name only you can use. "If you're not a man-child, why haven't you stood up and done what I asked yet?"

The man opens his mouth, yet no words dare leave. Reddish-brown eyes are honed in on your figure as you survey his reaction, and he exhales in defeat when he stands up from his chair. Your smile flourishes. "I'll be back," is what you say as you turn to exit his domain and head to the cafeteria.

Miguel watches you leave until you're out of his line of sight, unable to fight the twinge of his lips while he moves to pick up his mess like you instructed him to.

"Sólo tú puedes darme órdenes, mi alma."

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madschiavelique · 9 months

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dude imagine Miguel overhearing you talk to your friends about all the things you’d let him do to you in the most vile ways possible. like you’re just talking with your homies about how you’d have to get pried off of his dick if he let you smash or that you can’t hear him talk over how loud his ass looks in his jeans or whatever I dunno I think it’s amusing lmao

I LOVE THIS SO MUCH i just had to write a lil smth anon<33

summary : you talk about how you're down bad for miguel to your friends, and he hears it content warnings : mentions of SMUT (18+) minors dni, just reader being down bad for Miguel, no use of Y/N word count : 660 tag list : @fandom-ash

“Honestly, I’d suck him like a watermelon through a straw”

You were gathered in the cafeteria, not many people left, and Miguel was seated at a table not far from where you and your friends were seated. Whatever he was thinking about was soon replaced by listening to your conversation as soon as this sentence was uttered by you.

"Your mouth couldn't handle the size of him," sneered one of your friends to the others. "You'd dislocate your jaw."

"Some sacrifices are worth making," you sighed thoughtfully, your chin resting on your hand. You let out an almost childish whimper, "what I'd give to just impale myself on him!"

"Lord, you'd never let him leave your body, would you?" laughed another friend.

"Never!" you confirmed as you straightened up, "Miguel is so perfect... did you ever see how he walked? How his ass is round and perfect and to die for?!" your voice almost broke as your hands mimed grabbing something and kneading.

Miguel's ears began to heat up and he placed his hand over his mouth as he tried to keep his composure.

"What about his back? Oh..." you say, letting your head fall back, "I'd leave such beautiful nail marks on it."

"Wow, your marks?" laughed one as she reached for her drink.

"Pantone #996767, google it," you sigh.

"I think it's foam I'm seeing at the corners of your lips, you rabid slut," sneered one of them.

"But imagine, his pecs, touching them, laying my head on them, feeling them against my back as he pulls my hair..."

See when cartoon characters have hearts in their eyes? It was pretty close to what you looked like. And surprisingly, Miguel was starting to feel cramped in his pants.

"You're down bad," breathed one of your friends.

"I'd let him break me, I'll be his toy, he can do whatever he sees fit with me and I'll say thank you."

"Even bite you?" inquired another, well aware of the immobilizing properties of his venom.

"Especially bite me." you asserted with a burst of voice that was half laugh and half sigh.

"Would you have the courage to say all that to his face?"

"No way, he'd look at me like an alien."

"You're pretty close to looking like one at that," laughed one of the girls.

You continued to laugh, then when your meal was finished, you left the cafeteria. A few hours later in the afternoon, Miguel called you to his office. You were probably expecting him to send you to a dimension to catch an anomaly, or try to bring in a new Spider-Man.

But instead, as you walked up to him at a respectable distance for a boss and his employee, he asked you a simple question:

"Did you mean it?"

The question confused you.

"What?"

He turned to you, stepping forward a little more, one step at a time. His gaze seemed almost amused, but your habit of polite distance made you step back.

"Everything you said about me to your friends earlier in the cafeteria," your back halted against a wall as he approached again, coming very close to you, "did you mean it?"

Your heart began to pound in your chest as your cheeks heated up.

"Well?" he asked, towering over you as he put his hand next to your head against the wall, coming closer until only a few inches separated you. "I'd be very disappointed if all this were just words thrown into the air."

You swallow, your eyes falling ineluctably on his lips as you moisten yours, your gaze returning to his.

"Yes, I meant it."

His lip stretches to the side, his smile revealing his pointed fang.

"Lyla, status of the doors." he asked, his free hand coming down along your waist.

"Locked." she replied.

His hand slid up to grip your buttock, leaning in until his lips whispered against your ear:

"I hope you keep your word."

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yanderestarangel · 12 days

Text

tio miguel o'hara au

art cr: @/Andalusia_lu-

TW: EXTREMELY DARK CONTENT, STEP INCEST, OC MIGUEL, MANIPULATION, VIOLENCE, ALCOHOL, DARK THEMES, TRAUMA, GRIEF, BROKEN MIND, DUB CON, NON CON, POWER PLAY, HARASSMENT, GN READER, THREAT, PAIN KINK, DOLLFICATION, NSFW, BREEDKINK.

˖⁺ ⊹୨ notes ୧⊹ ⁺˖ no negativity please. If this isn’t your sort of content you’re more than welcome to block me and move on with your day.

I just wanted to make a definitive AU for my version of "Tio" Miguel O'Hara ✧⁠*ᜊ( ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ᜊ.

[PART.1.]

♡ ┆Tio Miguel is your non-blood uncle who is thirty-five years old, his skin tanned by the hot midday sun accentuates his body and he has greater muscle mass than most men of his age; brown hair usually combed back and dark brown eyes that seem to penetrate your soul.

♡ ┆ He arrived like a hurricane in your life and that of your family, right after you moved to another quieter place in the Mexican city, practically a rural place where Miguel lived just a few meters away on a large farm, isolated from curious eyes.

♡ ┆ You had a grandmother who already lived there and she introduced the previously unknown man to you, saying that he was Miguel O'Hara, a close neighbor who always came to visit and was always nice to her, practically a son for the older lady. The tall Mexican man helped your family unload the moving truck, he was the first to approach like a silent plague and the target was always you, since the first time he saw you he had felt something more like his life had meaning again.

♡ ┆ Soon he began to frequent your house, being a friendly and solitary gentleman keeping everything from his past between his teeth despite the entire reception of his family with his persona. You, on the other hand, saw how he always seemed to look for you regardless of the situation you were in, even asking you to call him "Uncle" and that was when it all really started for both of you, the demand to be called that was subtle but already functional that even your parents told/demanded that you respect the man as someone in the family and in a short time he was already an influential and feared member of your family.

♡ ┆He is almost always seen dressed in ranch clothes or dress shirts and jeans - punctuated with cowboy or work boots, most of the time they are expensive fabrics that are not compatible with the minimum wage he receives for his work as a caregiver of farms or livestock. He is occasionally seen wearing a shabby brown suede cowboy hat.

♡ ┆When you ask him about his profession he just smiles and uses the same excuse that he got extra money from some competitions he won at the local bullfight ─ and the mysterious gain is not only used for his own use but also to buy gifts for you, he is not afraid to manipulate or seduce you with monetary gains to capture your attention and keep it, if you want something he will give it to you without thinking twice just to keep you for him, whether for his money or by making you afraid. Miguel secretly ran the underworld of drugs and smuggling but he would never tell you that and he would rather die than for you to discover his source of money in reality.

♡ ┆He always uses affectionate and possessive nicknames with you, like 'Mi vida' 'Mi angelito' 'Mi carinõ'; practically like a passionate lover would do or even he would grab you and hug you, touching you in different places and leaving a trail of heat wherever his fingers passed, even though he was your uncle he would treat you like a possessive companion would.

♡ ┆He drinks a lot, his favorite drink is expensive and pure whiskey. He also becomes almost predatory when he's drunk, often coming into your room on celebratory nights and whispering dark promises to you ─ you've seen him kneeling at the side of your bed as the warm alcoholic breath comes from his thick lips, phrases like: "You will always belong to me", "anyone who dares to come close to you I will kill them.", "I will never let you slip out of my hands, my precious angel." Or even the secret desires to use your body escaped his lips on those rare nights when the drink overcame his stoic and cold demeanor.

♡ ┆Most of his cold behavior is the result of the fact that he never had children and also due to the death of his late wife, killed by a fateful fate that he refused to talk about. He tends to be extremely rude to everyone but he tries to be as gentle as possible with you, even though it can be scary at times. He is domineering, impatient and quick-tempered, looking for your company during family outings or parties. Miguel will manipulate you by saying that his behavior is normal, saying that you were his family and he was just trying to make your bond grow and he will also manipulate your family to sweep away any complaints you may make. from the carpet or say that you were being dramatic and if you try to return his advances he can be extremely rude and easily hold your body, whispering subtle threats like: "You don't want to see me angry, do you, angel?" While leaving your wrists marked red from the force he had put there.

♡ ┆He doesn't let you have boyfriends or girlfriends, if you dare to have a partner he will do everything to make your parents stop this relationship. Even if you are an adult he will do everything in his power to make your life hell if you dare to leave him for a random person. Most of your relationships ended mysteriously because your dear tio used his influence in the underworld to threaten your partner. It will also alienate you from friends or acquaintances, a useful way to maintain control over yourself.

♡ ┆He always invites you to his farm on the weekends, always with the promise of some expensive gift or comfort from all the weekly stress. If you accepted (through free and spontaneous pressure from him) he would spoil you and always spend exorbitant amounts of money on you. If you have problems with your family, he will convince you to leave your home and talk to your parents to let you stay with him in his house for an indefinite period of time. Your Tio I planned to make you his perfect future companion, submissive and untouched by the evils of the world, a husband/wife so he could have a real family again, even if he was your uncle.

♡ ┆He tries to make you sleep with him several times, be it with monetary gains, manipulation or breaking you to the point that you throw yourself into his arms because he thinks you won't get anyone to love you like he does. During sex he plays the role of a tough dominant, often treating you roughly and likes to use your body to vent his frustrations. Miguel will choke and bite you, marking your neck and shoulders with painful, red bites, - even hitting you if you try to struggle or struggle against him, whether it's slaps to the face or butt making you whimper and become more still and controlled in his control. He uses his greater physical experience and constitution to hold you back if you try to run. Your Uncle likes to fantasize about getting you pregnant and making you a perfect little doll for him, he fills all your holes with his semen. He can spit in your mouth, hit his dick on your face, giving you hickeys on your neck, strong bites, or cumming on your face and recording everything afterwards to threaten you if you don't want to accept his marriage proposal later.

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ynscrazylife · 7 months

Text

Whumptober Day 01: Swooning

Summary: Miguel usually loves to make you swoon. He doesn’t like it when you’re swooning like this, though.

Masterlist

It was LYLA who first alerted him that something was wrong. “Sir,” the AI said. Even that one word had Miguel sitting up straight in his chair. LYLA only ever addressed him formally when she wasn’t joking about something, when it was serious. “I think you should go check on Y/N. They just got to HQ and, from looking at their vitals, something seems . . . Off.”

Despite sharing a place together, Miguel always left earlier than you, usually at the crack of dawn. He was the Leader of the Spider Society, after-all. He’d wake up before you, cuddle with you for a few minutes, and then reluctantly leave your warmth to get ready for the day. Sometimes, you’d let out a sleepy mumble of protest against him going, which always made his heart swell with so much love and adoration for you.

He tried to think back to the morning of that day now. Nothing was very out of the ordinary. He awoke to find you sleeping on your stomach, facing away from him. He had wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you in close so that your back was against his chest. You grunted a bit, and made a small noise when Miguel had kissed your cheek and said that he was leaving, but otherwise nothing happened.

Still, he wouldn’t be able to focus now until he made sure that you were alright. “Thanks, LYLA,” he muttered, rising from his seat and leaving his office. She told him that you were at your own desk, which was also a little odd, because usually you’d come to his office to greet him.

The moment your desk came into view, Miguel started to understand. Other Spiders around him shot him worried looks and he saw that you were sitting in your chair, practically slumped over. Even from his distance, Miguel noticed that you were pale. Usually you were energetic when you got to HQ, but this was the exact opposite now.

“Honey?” Miguel murmured as he walked over to you, coming up to stand behind you and rub your arms. “You alright? How’d you sleep?”

Instead of answering his questions (or showing any sign that you had heard him), you jumped a bit. “Sorry, sorry,” you muttered, quickly going to type at your keyboard and turn your computer on.

Miguel sighed. You tended to be a bit of a workaholic, so this wasn’t much of a surprise. Thankful he had listened to his employees and got the chairs that swiveled, he spun your chair around so you could face him — only to regret it a second later. The action made you visibly dizzy and you swooned, rocking from side to side.

Usually he loved to see you swoon — he prided himself on eliciting that from you — but this? It filled him with an awful feeling.

“Are you not feeling well? Did you sleep alright last night?” Miguel asked softly, not letting go of the sleeping thing. You had a tendency to not feel like sleep was very important and often sacrificed it in favor of working. Miguel had told you that you didn’t have to do that, as both your boyfriend and your boss, but you refused to listen to him.

“Hmm?” You hummed, struggling to focus on your boyfriend, even though he was right in front of you. You were really trying, though, and Miguel could see that. He carefully cupped your cheek in his hand, rubbing over your skin comfortingly.

“Can you try to tell me what’s going on here, babe?” He asked, trying to be patient for your sake. It was hard since he was a naturally impatient person.

“Faced a Mysterio anomaly yesterday . . . Messed with my head. Couldn’t fall asleep for a while. Didn’t sleep much earlier in the week, either,” you admitted, eyes nearly fully closed.

“I thought you said the fight with Mysterio went alright yesterday, hm?” Miguel pointed out, reaching up to brush your hair back.

You shrugged. “I thought I could brush it off. That it’d go away. Didn’t want to worry you. You were really busy yesterday,” you explained, feeling guilty because Miguel had told you before to always come to him if something was wrong, no matter what.

“Oh, honey,” he cooed. He knew he was going to be having another conversation with you about not hiding these things from him, but that could wait. You looked absolutely miserable right now. “Let’s get you home, alright?”

“You—you can’t leave work, Miguel,” you said, almost wanting to cry. More than anything did you want to give him and let him take you home, but he had a responsibility as the leader here.

“Yes, I can. I’m the boss. Plus, LYLA and Peter B. can handle things. Sometimes they almost do a better job than I do,” he joked, trying to ease the tension. Around you, he was always so soft. You brought out that side of him and he loved it.

“Are you sure?” You asked, and he nodded.

“Completely,” he assured you. He stood up from where he had been crouching down in front of your chair and pulled you up with him.

You swooned again and Miguel was quick to tuck you against his side. He would have loved to sweep you up into his arms and carry you, but you’d be embarrassed at everyone seeing. So, he grabbed your bag and slung it on his shoulder, then focussed on getting the two of you out of there. He moved slowly, taking it at your pace.

When the two of you get out of HQ, Miguel murmured to you that he was going to pick you up before he does, carrying you in bridal style. You leaned your head against his chest, feeling safe enough to let your eyes fully close.

He secured you in the passenger’s seat, bucking you up before he got in the driver’s seat and pulled out of the parking lot. Miguel turned on classical music on the radio in hopes that it would help soothe you, and your eyes remained closed and body still the entire ride home. Miguel made sure to focus on the rode, but glanced at you every so often, checking up on you.

Thankfully the drive wasn’t too long and soon, he pulled into the garage of your home. Miguel looked over at you, rubbing your shoulder a bit, but you never stirred. Leaning in, he noticed your deep breathing and smiled, as you were asleep.

Miguel quietly got out of the car, going up to the door and unlocking it. He returned to the car, opening your door and undoing your seat belt. You started to curl into him, letting out a noise.

“I got you, shhh,” he coped, taking you into his arms. He lifted you up, closing your door with a gentle kick and locking the car. He took you inside and headed straight to the bedroom.

Miguel laid you down in bed, deciding to just let you sleep in your work clothes instead of waking you up to change. He still changed out of his work clothes and into pajamas, before grabbing his laptop and slipping into bed beside you. Miguel tucked you in and fluffed your pillows, then turned on the laptop to do work while you slept.

It didn’t take very long for you to roll over in your sleep, though. Your arm landed across his abdomen and he smiled, glancing down at you.

“You want me to stop working, hmm? Is that it?” He teased, finding you utterly adorable. Your face was smushed against the pillow, though he did take note of the bags under your eyes.

Unable to look away from you, Miguel decided that work was done for the day. He put away the laptop, curling up in bed and holding you close.

“You just keep on sleeping. Get all the rest you need,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead, and rubbing your back and side.

That’s how the two of you stayed for hours. Miguel was perfectly content to lay there, watching over you and holding you. If he could do that forever, he’d take the chance in a heartbeat.

#whumptober #no.1 #swooning #miguel spiderverse #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x gender neutral reader #miguel ohara x y/n #miguel ohara x you #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel x you #miguel x y/n #spider man 2099 #spider man 2099 x reader #spiderverse miguel

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roguelov · 10 months

Text

Bubblegum Pop

Summary: An annoying habit of yours - popping your gum - finally pushed Miguel over the edge. So, he decided to finally take action.

Word Count: ~1.7k

Reader: Gender Neutral (not specified)

Warnings: Brief heated make-out (nothing more, just a hint of spice), a little arguing, unestablished relationship

Pop.

Hunched forward - back aching slightly from the uncomfortable position - at your new desk in Miguel’s office, you blew yet again another bubble. It was the umpteenth one within the short hour. Miguel gritted his teeth, each pop grated on his ears.

Why? Why did he agree to this?

Ah, yes, your scientific background.

You had offered your assistance to try to find a more permanent way to prevent anomalies from spilling out into other universes. He was obviously reluctant at first, but before he could say no - as per usual with any help - Lyla appeared saying yes for him. Sighing, he relented. He did need help, he happened to also be very stubborn too. But, he definitely did not agree to deal with your annoying habit.

Wherever you went, and at most times of the day, a piece of gum was slotted between your teeth. You always chewed on a piece, enjoying the simple habit. You like rolling it over your tongue and throughout your mouth, savoring the always fleeting minty taste, and of course blowing bubbles. Sigmund Freud might say you have an oral fixation.

Worst of all, in Miguel’s opinion, the sweet minty aroma clung fiercely to you. One brush by and his senses were assaulted by you.

And it drove Miguel insane.

Dear god, he wanted to kiss you, knowing exactly how you would taste on his tongue. He wanted to have you pinned beneath him, writhing in pleasure. He wanted to nuzzle his nose into your neck, inhaling deeply and running his tongue over your skin. He wanted to -

Pop.

Miguel flinched.

His spiraling thoughts were viciously cut short; thankfully before he got too heated and distracted. His lips thinned. His anger wasn’t all directed solely at you, but mostly at himself for delving into such lustful thoughts. Again.

It was just easier to be angry at someone else.

Miguel peered over his shoulder, glaring a little at you. He stood at his desk on the circular platform that rested a foot off the ground, rather than raised high above towards the ceiling. He tried to keep his voice calm as he spoke, “Can you stop that?”

“Huh?” You glanced over at him slightly confused. The piece of gum rested on your bottom lip and teeth before your tongue swept it back into the dark corners of your mouth. “What?”

Oh, that only further irritated him; your genuine obliviousness to how annoying and frustrating your popping was to his sensitive ears. As if proving his point, you absentmindedly blew another bubble.

“That. Stop doing that,” he huffed.

You blinked, “Oh, uh, sorry.”

You quickly turned back to your screens. You felt a little embarrassed. It wasn’t intentional - it never was - and you felt somewhat guilty for upsetting him. You thought about spitting it out, but you enjoyed the minor stimulation. Then again, you supposed you should act a little more professional. Maybe, you will try to cut back.

Maybe.

Miguel eyed you for a moment. Your figure was hunched forward again. Yet, there was a new tension woven into your body, as if you were trying to shrink away. He sighed. He shouldn’t have snapped, and he should apologize. However, he didn’t. Not surprising. So, he spun around focusing back on his own work.

An hour must have passed. Another agonizing hour with no progress or improvements to show for it.

What fun.

You leaned back in your chair, looking up at the high vaulted ceiling. Crossing your arms, you let out a disappointed sigh.

One act - one simple sigh - and Miguel had to suppress a groan. He was instantly overwhelmed by the sweet mint. He dug his fingers into the edges of his desk. The desk creaked under such strength. His talons definitely made small dents as he desperately held himself back. It was all so enticing. He wanted to taste you, and his body craved you.

Oblivious to Miguel’s struggle, you allowed your thoughts to consume you. Some were important - like the multiple ideas to seal the leaking portals issue to possible new ways to improve Spider Society in general - to the completely irrelevant - such as a song stuck in your head from this morning, thoughts about what to have for dinner, to the more perverse ones about a certain hot headed spider. Thoughts about anything and everything, but not about what Miguel asked of you. No, that one thing had been quickly brushed aside and forgotten: don’t blow any more bubbles.

Your tongue was already going through the habit, a muscle memory at this point. You flattened out the surprisingly still minty gum, rolling over it a few times. Moving it around, you pressed the now stretched piece of gum to your teeth. And without a care or sparing a second thought, you blew.

The small pop was quite deafening in the silent, vast room. So much, it reverberated and echoed just a bit. Almost cartoonishly so.

You instantly flinched in your seat. You almost didn’t dare look over at him. His wrath already emanated from him in waves. Slowly peering over, more so out of curiosity, all you saw was Miguel’s back. His muscles were wrought in tight agitated nerves. You hissed through your teeth and sheepishly mumbled, “Sorry.”

Miguel exhaled loudly, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “God, can’t you do the one thing I asked of you?”

The main problem of Miguel O’Hara was that his anger was infectious. Your embarrassment, and regret, vanished instantaneously. His snide comment set a fire inside of you.

Pop.

Miguel whipped his head around. You leaned causally back in your chair with a bored expression. You cocked an eyebrow and blew another bubble in his direction.

His eyes widened, the gall of you. He stepped down from his desk area, and marched over to you. His eyes burned with a firey irritation. You should be intimidated - and admittedly you were. However, you wouldn’t outwardly show it. He grabbed the back of your swivel chair and whirled you around. He bent down. His hands landed on the armrests, caging you in and looming over you threateningly. “Spit it out.”

You popped another bubble. “No.”

A waft of mint filled his nose. He gritted his teeth. “Spit it out,” he repeated, seething in anger.

You puckered your lips. You didn’t answer. Miguel thought you had finally come to your senses at least.

Nope. He was wrong.

Your lips parted. The pale blue gum was stretched over your tongue. Pressing it to your teeth, you blew. The pop echoed louder than all the others before, or it seemed like it did. A bit of gum stuck to your lip, but you quickly licked it away.

Miguel twitched.

He reached out, grabbing your face and smushing your cheeks. His talons started to dig into your cheeks. You thought he was going to force you to spit it out. You tucked the gum in the back corner of your mouth, then glared ferociously up at him. You tried to jerk your head out of his grasp, but he kept you firmly in place.

He leaned in. His crimson eyes burned brightly. You expected more heated words, calling you such things like childish or immature. Hell, for a brief second, you expected him to reach inside of your mouth. But, he surprised you.

His lips collided with yours.

You inhaled sharply, eyes going wide.

Yet, he did not falter.

Oh, he had you now, and he was ready to devour you. He wanted you. His teeth - his fangs - grazed over your bottom lip. You shivered, and piece by piece you leaned more and more into the kiss. Your resolve, and confusion, melted away. Your eyes fluttered close, thoroughly enjoying this strange turn of events.

Why? Why was this happening … why do I care? Enjoy it.

His hand moved and wrapped around the back of your neck. Tugging on the edges of your hair, he tipped your head back further. He deepened the kiss. His tongue skimmed by, begging for entrance. You happily, almost too eagerly, obliged. Humming pleased, his tongue slipped inside and swirled around. You reached out, bunching up the front of his suit. A moan rumbled in the back of your throat.

And he swallowed it up.

Fuck.

His tongue explored, tasted, and continuously drew out such desires. Your thoughts seized, and your skin ignited with passion. His lips were the gasoline to a small kindling fire inside of you. You were set ablaze. Your heart pounded in your ears, nearly drowning out the sensual noises of him attacking your lips. Your body burned hotter and hotter with each passing second. You were aching for him. To be fair, you always did. But, you never thought the day would come. And you never expected for him to make the first move.

It was too much, and somehow not enough.

Unfortunately, this bizzare dream ended. He pulled away, breaking the kiss. You whined very faintly.

Why? Why did it have to end?

Opening your eyes, you saw a thin trail of spit connecting to his lips from yours. He easily wiped it away with his tongue. You shivered. His eyes shone with such amusement. He greatly enjoyed the effect he had on you. You were breathing heavily, gasping for air. Your whole body slouched forward, drooped with the desire he brought out.

Why? What -

Miguel then smirked mischievously. Ever so slowly, he parted his lips, revealing a piece of gum nestled between his front teeth. You blinked, a jolt ran down your spine. No. Your tongue searched your mouth. Oh yes indeed, that was your gum.

Your eyes widened.

He turned his head, spitting it out in the nearby waste bin.

“Next time,” he began and bent back down to your level. His eyes dropped to your swollen, abused lips. Smirking, he teasingly wiped the corner of your mouth with his thumb. He gently held your chin, tipping it up. Leaning in, he whispered to your lips, “Listen.”

Your mouth just hung agape in stunned silence.

“Now, get back to work.” He let his fingers trail along your jaw, before heading back to his desk.

He was utterly satisfied with the outcome, and pleased to think he made his point perfectly clear. You, on the other hand, made a mental note to always carry a pack of gum on you at all times from now on.

A point was made, just not one Miguel had hoped.

#across the spiderverse #astv #spiderverse #spiderman #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderverse #astv miguel #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel x reader #gn!reader #gender neutral reader

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fauustic · 11 months

Text

a second chance

BRIEF SPOILERS FOR ACROSS THE SPIDER-VERSE, DESCRIPTION OF REVEALED WORLD-BUILDING.

gender-nonconforming reader x miguel “spider-man 2099″ o’hara

angst. comfort. a bit of fluff. miguel o’hara breaks up with you for your safety, but the universe gives you both a second chance.

warnings: description of violence.

word count: 7358

Somehow, the city seemed even more suffocating out the window of Miguel’s apartment, lights of every color on the spectrum peering into the room as highly advanced cars skimmed by. The millions of people inhabiting such a place had their own problems, but for a moment you wished you were someone else. On their way to work in a tip-top business suit, an old person trying to make the most out of every passing day– anything other than here was more appetizing.

For a moment, you wish you were ignorant to the burden of these powers, the powers Miguel was forced upon and the powers you greedily accepted like a little kid in a candy shop.

It was all too much.

You’ve never seen Miguel so emotional, his knees meeting the ground before you could even shut the door.

There were glimpses of what let through, the broken state of his mind that he so desperately tried to keep together like grains of sand falling through fingers. Late nights he would break down sobbing in your grounding hold, chanting and repeating broken phrases of what had him so upset. Other times these fits you slowly grew accustomed to would be set off from your kindness, actions so deeply rooted in your routine that when it started creating disturbances in your relationship. It was painful, being the glue that held him together.

At the beginning of your relationship, it was something magical. Like one of the romance comics you’d skim through as a teenager, or a romcom movie that had you pining for the lovey-dovey side character.

Miguel was set in his ways no matter what he was faced upon, and making a statement on how serious he felt about you was no different. He’d court you with the utmost respect, swaying you with gifts and flowers that reminded him of you. His affectionate nature came to fruition as you crumbled all his walls in mere months, destroying the years of progress that he enforced to keep others out.

Yet, those nasty habits Miguel formed when he had no-one else slowly peeked through the crevices of your time together. Soft red flags that waved in passing roses he’d give after bad arguments of “your safety,” a bad feeling in your gut whenever Miguel mentioned something along the lines of, “they can’t hurt you too.”

The few months leading to the end of it all was messy, as secrets he precariously kept away from you fell right at your feet. Literally, and figuratively.

Waking into your shared home, all that was on your mind was preparing a meal for you boyfriend who always seemed to come home late. The scent of the apartment washed over your exhaustion-ridded body, cracking your shoulder with a pained hiss.

Distinct woody fragrances wafted throughout the cozy décor, Miguel’s aroma of Sambac jasmine combined with cedar and praline met your senses as a familiar comfort. You wondered if Miguel experienced the same after a long day, your magnolia and orange blossom washes relieving him of the stress of work.

Miguel was overwhelmed, sickened by his work at his lab. You’d always try to help him through his struggles with a massage, which he'd melt under your touch in mere seconds, but the moment you attempted to get him to speak about his troubles he always found an excuse.

So you stopped, having to face rejection so many times by the man you adored put so much wear on your own mental health too.

Getting home a bit earlier, you situated your suit in your over-the-shoulder bag before fully stepping into the apartment. As your entire being was surrounded by the reminder of Miguel, guilt slashed through your consciousness at keeping your own secrets away from him as well. But he was worried sick always, whether it be about his own duties or confusingly about your safety.

Yet, when your sneakers you changed into moments before entering the house slipped onto something haphazardly thrown against tile floor– the façade Miguel tried to feed into to "keep you away from harm" came crashing down.

It felt like an earthquake within your own home, rattling your heart around your ribcage like a feral bird stuck in an aviary. You were quiet, the gasp where sickness soon followed escaped through your stifling fingers wrapped against your mouth. It was terrible, being exposed to the truth in an act caught red-handed.

Curiosity snatched up your brain, the urge to prove what the mask strewn against the floor truly meant. You knew what was bound to come, but you couldn't help but think of a million different excuses in the time you tiptoed through the hallway and met the sight of his scarred back sitting upon the table.

His suit was torn off in a hurry, you assumed, by the state of how the half of his suit was rolled down to his waist and his mask was ripped off and thrown down carelessly. Finally catching him in such a vulnerable position, your heart seized and shriveled just to be rolled out again as his groan in pain cut you away from your thoughts.

You were upset. You know you had no right to be, but as every lie he fabricated to allow the space to have this second life pushed to the forefront of your mind, a choked sob erupted through your throat.

Why did he suffer through this burden alone? Is this what kept him from letting me in? Your brain became muddled with questions, tears clouding your tired gaze. Miguel was in the middle of tightening a gauze against a nasty cut on his forearm, curls damp with sweat and blood, when the choked cry that escaped your lips caught his attention like a spooked animal.

"Miguel," you sobbed harder as he continued to try and make excuses,

"Cariño, it isn't what it looks like–"

Your voice raised as heightened emotions threatened the atmosphere, your grasp on your bag tightening because you had your own secrets and second identity. Why wouldn't honesty escape from your mind and rid the ache in your chest?

You settled on being mad. Being absolutely furious as you reminded yourself of the lies he'd conjured, make you worry about his job as a chemist and even embarrass yourself by going up there and filing a complaint. Knowing it was all an act and you were just a side-character to his play, a mix of disappointment and betrayal fogged your mind. "I'm not blind, O'Hara!"

Stomping back down to swipe up the mask, lens broken and flimsy under your manhandling, you waved it around the air like you were showcasing an audience. Miguel only groaned, pinching his nose as his own frustration clouded his critical thinking. "I know exactly what I'm looking at, Miguel, really? Is this why you act like you're so fucking scared of something?"

He repeated your name this time, cold and calculated. Like you were a villain on the battlefield Spider-man– he– just destroyed earlier, spitting out the criminal's tag like it was worse than the dirt he stepped on. "¡Mierda!" He seethe, standing up only to shuffle closer, but you only stepped away. "Do you think I enjoyed keeping this fucked up secret away from you? No estoy orgullosa de mí misma."

Tell him you have the same problems.

"Were you ever going to tell me?" You cried instead, and his hands reached to cradle your cheeks but you pathetically swiped them away.

Tell him you have to worry about living until the next day for the sake of protecting others.

He was frozen stiff, his hands– claws you've never noticed before, unsheathing in and out of his palms. "I.. was. But I was terrified."

Tell him you're scared of others finding out who you really are too. Tell him you relate, and there was no reason to hide anymore.

But you didn't, instead you wiped away your own tears with sweaty palms, struggling to keep yourself from staring at Miguel's broken expression. He looked like a kicked puppy, his arms reaching out to you subtly to show if you walked into his arms he'd never let you go.

"Scared of what?" You tried your best to sound as furious as before, but all that came was a meek whisper.

Miguel's own tears fell onto the floor, catching your eyes as you stared at his mask in your clutches. "I'm so, so fucking scared of losing you. Tú eres mi vida, the air I breathe. You're the one constant I've had in my life, having it ripped away from me would kill me."

He's finally being open, and for a moment you saw light at the end of the tunnel. A turning point for the man, a second chance at being transparent in your relationship. It gave you the courage to come clean about your own second life and to apologize for your irrational words. But he spoke before you, rough and etched with hurt.

"But I don't know if we can keep this up."

"What?" The trance he was putting you under was shattered.

He laughed at nothing, his stare tinted with animalistic craze. Miguel's claws dug into his curls, "We need to break up."

The mask in your grip fell, a stunned silence settling over the two of you. He had just said he couldn't live without you, how he wouldn't know what to do if you were ripped away from him– and now he's proposing a breakup?

"You, what? Is this some joke?"

He turned away from you, pacing in unsaid panic. You knew he didn't want to do this, yet once he had a plan in his mind you also knew that he'd sacrifice anything to do the "right thing."

Miguel repeats your name the second time that night, your composure thrown off at the lack of pet names he would utter like honey from his tongue. He sounds hollow, dissociated from himself to make this discussion finish quicker. "They, I'm scared– okay? Scared shitless that they're going to come after you." He wheezed out another dry laugh, his bruised knuckles coming to kiss his eyes to blind his vision. The loudness of your voice from before must be giving him headaches. Because you were struggling with the same thing too.

"I can fend for myself–" you began to counter, hands coming in contact with the spider suit in your bag before his booming voice shook you to your core.

"No, no. You don't understand." Sobs choked his words, a flood of tears he couldn't bother to rid staining his cheeks and rolling down his jaw. "You can't! They're coming for me, and the ones I love. And the only one I love is you." Miguel emphasized himself by grazing your chest with a talon, exactly where your heart beat lurched and pattered like a broken down engine. "They will target you, and they will kill you."

Desperate, you were the one now begging for him to walk into your embrace. But he only turned away, his marred back facing you. The image burned itself in your mind.

"Who are they, Miguel? Why, even now, you won't tell me anything?" You sank to your knees, crawling towards him in despair. It couldn't be over.

"Hemos terminado. We're done, over." Miguel's tone steeled over, icy and painful and jarring. "Get out of my house."

He stood there like a statue, one arm holding himself only for his free hand to be pinching the bridge of his nose. Miguel didn't move as you quieted down your wails, and storm through the house to take what was yours and what you needed.

No words left your lips as you would steal a glance at his unmoving figure, the only giveaway that he was even breathing was his wavering composure. His attention stayed fixated on a corner of his apartment, head turned away from you the entire time.

You didn't care that you were still leaving so much of your stuff as your legs tripped over themselves to finally leave his apartment. You had more than enough money to live on your own, to buy the barebones like a toothbrush and necessities all over again.

Miguel O'Hara would now be a thing of the past, and all of the things tied to him could burn down in the apartment he held you.

Your senses could tell that once your sneakers squeaked down the hallway of his apartment, thinking you would never be able to notice– Miguel's knees met the floor of his apartment with a heavy thud.

Fighting the amount of bags in your hands while simultaneously pushing the button of the first floor repetitively, the last memory you have of Miguel was his unfiltered sobs filling the apartment floor.

☆

With time, you found yourself.

Whether it be from the new body wash you had bought for yourself or the different commute you began to take for work, a niche engineering project you've stumbled upon after the breakup– and it coincidentally helps you test materials that you could incorporate into your suit. The constant reminder of the man you brought to your knees didn't hurt that much anymore. Progress was being made, or so you thought.

Every time your back met a brick wall from the force of some outer-dimensional monster turned sentient who all of a sudden wants to get back at the human race, the thud that echoed from the impact would knock you right back to the apartment filled with sweet praline and magnolia. His sobs trailing behind a screech of pain from your enemies, causing hesitation in your combat.

The cheers below you snapped you out of your daze, civilians chanting for your victory or screaming in fear as they ran away. After the breakup, you've found yourself with the leniency of being able to suit up whenever your heart desires because you weren't keeping a secret away from another anymore.

You bit your cheek in frustration, upset at how you handled the situation because you had done the same and you were mad at him for doing exactly what you were doing. All these months have passed, and you still can't help but feel guilty.

But it's in the past now.

Another screech met your ears, back shivering as a chill washed over your spine. With the fast reaction speed you were able to build, you swung out of the way to another rooftop before the alienistic creature side slammed you. The web slinger you have tinkered with enhanced your ability to shoot out organic webs at a consistent pace, working as fine as a charm when you swing back towards the vicious monster to crunch your knuckles sickeningly into its slimy flesh. It glitched disgustingly.

It withered away with ease, falling off the skyscraper it had leaped upon in an attempt to finish you off. Throwing a device onto the being, it was trapped into a vibrant hold it couldn’t get out of.

Your soft cream-white suit glistened with its green blood, covering the black trim you painstakingly painted in the dead of night.

The appearance you kept up as a Spider-person upgraded with time because you didn't exactly mind the limelight. Not staying in the shadows anymore since you didn't have to worry about O’Hara finding out about you, your suit became something you adorned with confidence. It was a part of you now, as cheers sounded out from below at your entertaining brawl with a slime monster that totally wants to eradicate the city.

But yeah, go ahead and cheer you poor ignorant souls.

You never really came up with a name, but as you began incorporating little trinkets on your newly added combat satchel like a stray feather and charms of swans because a little girl said "your suit reminded her of one," the news generously graced you with the title "Spider Swan." On some bad days on the broadcast, though, the name would easily become a tomato show for jokes like "baby bird couldn't flap its wings," or "someone left the nest a bit too early."

It was infuriating.

The headgear installed in your mask allowed you to pick up on police waves, listening into calls and urgent matters so you could have a better idea of where you were needed and how you could help.

It rang through the noise of webs slinging from a glass window to a neon billboard, the police urgently requesting backup on a city street not that far away from you. It was describing a creature just like the one you obliterated, slimy and green and totally not from your universe. A scream pierced the radio waves, encouraging a sense of a little more urgency in your movements.

Becoming more involved with this line of work, you began to understand Miguel's worries. Corrupt organizations would pray for your downfall, threatening everyone you should probably hold dear to your heart as your spurred shoes met the slide of their faces. Other times skilled criminals would form alliances with one another and try to dig up your true identity as a way of blackmail.

It never worked and they're now where they need to be, but you suppose after you hear so many threats you begin to take it with nonchalance– and suddenly it isn't an empty threat– the panic that overwhelmed O’Hara was perfectly reasonable.

The beautiful lights of the underground city lit up against your lenses like a wildfire, a visual feast you’ve never been able to get enough of. Swinging throughout the tight spaces of Nueva York, you neared closer to where you were needed. A gunshot veered past you, presumably from a dumb cop, and you had to flip in the air and roll onto the street before picking up speed again.

Hissing out in pain, a quip escaped your lips when you neared the police force. “Did anyone here train to do their job? The last time I was here you almost shot me in my good eye–” Before you could even finish your sentence, two rookies pulled their guns in a defensive stance. With a heavy sigh, you easily subdued them with your webs before swinging into action.

The monster looked as if it was already struggling, turned away from your figure and groaning in its mother tongue, oozing with a gross slime that littered and disrupted the flow of traffic down below. It was relatively larger than the one you had just captured and suddenly the device in your hand feels a little too small. Nonetheless, as the villain flailed lazily, the heel of your foot met the crunching sensation from one of its many eyes. You almost gagged as it exploded onto your white suit, but the navy blue lenses meeting your contrasting white made time stop. It wasn’t until one of the many tentacles belonging to the creature yanked your ankle– soaring you violently towards a skyscraper– that the trance from the one you had been avoiding was interrupted with a shock.

“You–”

He had been trying to find you like a fox finding a bunny, you knew that. Waiting in the shadows, you always see him stalking beyond the darkness. And now you’re right here, finally coexisting in the same space after months of a cat-mouse game. “Can’t exactly talk here,” You yelled, deepening your voice in a pitch that made you cringe. “Let’s put a raincheck on what’s going on here and focus on the weird dimensional-octopus that’s currently beating your ass.” Spider-Man, with a groan of frustration that was just so familiar, noticeably squinted in your direction that had you sweating bullets as he right hooked the head of the monstrosity.

You knew everything about him. He knew nothing about you.

“I’m supposed to be the one and only Spider-Man of this–” He dodged a tentacle aiming for the head, only to unsheathe his claws and start ripping into the flesh of the villain. The smell, something similar to the stench of Sulphur mixed with radioactive chemicals. It burned your enhanced senses, tipping your balance before you caught yourself.

“Well obviously, you’re not.” Steadying your emotions, the calmness of your tone contrasted his irritability. “You know it’s not impossible–” Webs meeting tentacles, the screech of the glitching excrescence interrupting your words before quickly silencing it with another heel to the eyes. Pointing up and then at the watch around his wrist, you gave him a pointed look and a shrug. Nothing was said, but at the exasperated howl at your accusatory gesture– he obviously understood the unsaid.

“I’ve been speaking to you for a minute–” Another punch. “And I’m already finding you the most annoying out of all of them–”

You rolled your eyes, webbing the tentacles of the monster together like shoelaces stuck together. “Gee, thanks tough guy.” No response.

The monstrosity the two of you had been grappling against grew more frantic with its movements, growing more aware of its losing battle by the moment. With defeat in tow, the tentacles split into multiple. Green juice splattering excessively over the city blocks, it screamed horrendously in pain. The dimensional monster was imploding into itself, never allowing it the chance to return back to its universe.

Being so close to the glitching, dramatic death of the slime monster– Spider-Man pushed the heaving half-corpse’s weight off his own in a flurry. Always having to be quick on your feet in this field, you webbed the monster in the air so it could hang uselessly– the death of the anomaly would not be able to interfere with anything amongst Nueva York.

Being on your own despite having so much at your finger-tips, the separation between you and O’Hara made things difficult. You were on your own despite being at the core of everything.

Head buzzing with spider senses, your attention snapped towards the man that is tangled with your entire being– a useless game of push-and-pull that neither one of you are giving into.

Spider-Man miscalculated the leap away, his claws trying to find purchase in the metal beams of the building. But something was wrong, the slime running down his forearms ruining his suit’s resistance.

The structure O’Hara clung to was threatening to crumble due to the constant strain of the battle, doused in the greasy muck that pixelated and discolored by each passing moment the villain was close to combusting entirely. Before you knew it, the construction of the building that was so complexly fabricated was coming down and shifting into rubble on the borough down below.

Your limbs began moving on its own, your mind racing into a frenzy of saving the people down below and the man you revolved around like the sun and moon– unknowing forces pushing the two of you together but never touching.

Until now.

The collision lasted only seconds, but to you it was as if the eclipse was forever. Skin sizzling with nerves you didn’t even know you could feel ignited aflame, the pads of your feet coming into contact with the building’s crumbling walls– diving into spaces and using the webs you shot as a catapult.

Your hold came into contact with a body before you knew it, warm and intimate like you were back in his home. Tucked away in the softness of his duvet, your arms wrapped around his skin like an anchor against the raging waves. Memories came flooding in, lightheaded with your spider senses crying out in danger against the puzzle pieces that placed O’Hara on a pedestal. The first rose he gave you floated through the crevices of your brain, an astray petal landing softly on a memory you forced down.

The radioactive spider that latched its fangs into your skin on the night you met O’Hara, pain mixing with anticipation.

It's like the city lights grew more vibrant at the realization, soda blue mixing with dragon fruit pink– lime green swirling with sunny yellow. Everything fits together. This was how it was supposed to go, despite all the pain.

Strength you’ve built up allowed yourself to heave him onto your shoulder, breathing heavily at his weight crushing yours. But determination and adrenaline pushed you further, swinging through the shadowed city until you found a safe perch– laying him down gently. Time was running out, but you had to do what needed to be done.

Ripping on the tattered mask upon your face, you scooped up his head into a soft grasp. Right hand behind his neck and the other leaning the back of his head towards your unearth identity, his lenses tiredly widened at the abrupt reveal.

Tears you didn’t know you had in you– not shedding a tear ever since the day the two of you broke up– flooded your eyes and rolled down your sliced skin. Salt mixed with flesh, the pain kept you wide awake and aware.

“Still the most annoying one you ever met?” You couldn’t help but try to ease the tension in the atmosphere, yet failing with obvious reason.

O’Hara whispered your name like a blessing, claw upon his chest meeting the dirt on your cheek in the softest graze he’s ever bestowed against you. “You– you’re here.”

“I’m here.” You echoed, resting your forehead against his own. His suit caressed against your skin, and the world stopped. All that you could hear was his soft wheezing of breath and your own, and suddenly everything felt okay.

“¿Cómo puede ser eso?” He muttered aloud, “How can this be? How are you here?” he became a mumbling mess as nervousness clutched his rationality. O’Hara’s hand swiping against your jaw shifted to the small of your back in a hug. It was like nothing had ever happened, and you were about to fall in the ravine of his presence before a ear-blasting trill of beams breaking pulled you back into reality. You stood up, rolling your mask back on before looking down below. A miracle was going to have to happen for everything to turn out okay, but you were willing to take that risk. He called your name, reaching the hand not clutching his side out in desperation. “Don’t do this– you can’t change–”

You kept your back turned, shooting your webs onto a piece of rubble falling for leverage. “Don’t you dare fucking move.” Was the last thing you said before you plunged into the chaos that was unravelling Nueva York from the inside out.

☆

The abrasion of concrete rubbing against your skin carved into your skin, until it didn’t. Dust threatened to enter your lungs as you weaved in and out of obstacles created from the fissures of collapsing high-rises, bodies clasping onto you like a lifeline– until that ended as soon as you started as well.

Everything made sense finally, and then it stopped. Paused as soon as it strengthened, disentangling memories and causing fragmentation.

Lips met yours, the firm grasp of palms against your hips. “Cariño, you don’t understand how much I’ve thought about my mouth on yours since we last met.” A familiar voice whispered into your ear, kneading into your flesh as each syllable rolled out lazily. But the warm breath fanning the side of your face never came, and the wisps of hair that met your forehead never tickled you.

The touch of an elevator button against your index ignited your senses, bags dragging down your tired form. The thud of knees meeting tile followed, before ending with sobs echoing in the corners of your mind.

Darkness enveloped your mind, the vibrancy of neon lights that grew so comforting never came.

Cold metal met your limbs, grazing your chest and the beeping of a scan met your ears. Orange hues painted the darkness for just a moment, before vanishing like a hallucination. Little bits and pieces of words would echo throughout the chamber you’ve found yourself in– “When do you think,” – “¡Mierda! Are you even doing your job correcting?!” – “Let me take over,” “You have no idea what you are even looking at, Miguel!” – “But you do?!”

It was like this for a while, until the words grew closer and the colors overlapping pitch black spread like webs.

The first thing you felt was a weight on your leg, thigh trapped under the pressure of something breathing and shifting ever so slightly. The covers lying atop your form was nothing close to the softness you were used to, instead the scratchy fabric brushed against your skin and the thin gown you felt as you twitched.

Your muscles ached, both out of stiffness and the strain of what you remember: the buildings collapsing around you, rubble piercing your skin. Your throat felt dry, the lights overhead intruded against your eyelids. The metal sensation from before, cold and icy, trailed along your arms as you woke.

Peeling your gaze open, your spider senses went into overdrive. It feels as if your body had sunken into the pit of an ocean, drowning and heavy with salt water flooding your pores.

The first to catch your eye was the spider-shaped robotic machinery tending to your wounds, scabbed and bandaged with care. Your fists curled into the bed you rested against; the smell of chemicals embedded within the fabric burned at your nostrils. The luminescence of the lamps on the bedside counter were dimmed low as your gaze adjusted to the sensory intake, breathing deeply in a way to calm yourself.

This place was nothing you’ve ever seen before, but with an abundance of spider-themed gadgetry adorned along the wall and medical systems– alongside the hyper-technologically advanced computer interfaces connected to the tubed legs of the metallic spiders accessing the wounds you had, you assumed it must have been the Spider Society HQ you’ve heard in passing. The building above the greenery beyond Nueva York, a vision you were only able to get glimpses from riding the train.

Holding your breath, you looked at the weight atop your thigh.

A tuft of combed-back brown curls met your stare before tracing the few strands hanging delicately over his forehead. His eyes were fluttered shut, eyebrows furrowed as if he was having a bad dream. Deep stress lines you desperately wanted to thumb away rested in-between his brow, leading you to the circles under his closed eyes. Deep and prominent against olive skin, O’Hara was now in a slightly modified, upgraded version of his navy blue suit that had none of the previous damage from the battle you stumbled upon.

His head lay against your thighs heavily, breathing in your scent deeply as he dozed off. Every few snores, he’d stutter in his sleep as if he was about to shock himself awake– but he easily settled back in the softness of your muscle after his hand upon your stomach would grab the flesh of your stomach softly.

You took a moment to study him. There’s been a few times you’ve sighted him in the streets, usually his mask covering his identity always. This is the first time you’ve truly had him so close and the realization of it all made your palms sweat and your stomach churn. The usual quips and your homemade spider-mask could not save you now, you were in the den of a lion’s. He quite literally had you in his grasp.

The knowledge you had of this place was limited, not being a part of the Spider Society because you had to avoid him– and now that everything has been revealed in regards to both of your secrets you had no idea what to do from here. Not like you could do much right now though, your bones feel fragile and your muscles feel weak. How long have you been holed up in this cage?

A groan escaped O’Hara’s lips, a frown contorting his features. Under the spell of sleep, he looked much more soft. The rigidness of his stoicism couldn’t plague his expression as dreams consumed him, but as his frown deepened and the lines between his eyebrows became more prominent,, you couldn’t help but slide your hand underneath his. Squeezing it, his scarred fingers subconsciously intertwined with yours without a moment’s hesitation.

A smile bloomed onto your lips at the sight, your heart running a marathon at the closeness you were allowed. All the anger festered up from that night ebbed away with time and understanding– having the role as a Spiderperson since the split made you candidly comprehend the stress and dedication one has to have. With the experience, the hardness O’Hara had on himself and others suddenly made sense, and as the confusion cleared– love remained. The man within your reach finally, has always been in the corners of your mind, memories unearthed by every little thing in your life. You may have changed your route to work, but then you started to pass his favorite restaurant. You may have changed your body wash, but the scent of praline underlined the floral smell of ocean breeze.

He was always there, one way or another.

Silence enveloped the room, minus the soft beeping and the slight hiss that escaped you whenever one of the freaky looking medical spiders zapped skin back into place. Yet, as you sat there quietly while looking outside the window, tracing flying cars with your gaze or simply admiring the amount of green you’ve possibly ever seen before– a shaky voice met your rhythmic, soft breathing.

Your name was the first thing he said, disbelief lacing his tone before both his hands scooped up the clutch you held onto him with delicacy, like he was hiding away a treasure in the palm of his hands. “Can’t believe anything any of this–”

“How… how long was I out, O’Hara?” Your voice didn’t sound like your own, fragile and meek. It made you feel pathetic– being able to save so many people in less than two minutes and suddenly you couldn't even bring yourself to speak. Without a word, he reached over to the bedside table to fiddle with a water bottle and a straw. He set the straw to your lips, grabbing your chin to take the straw.

He sighed, tutting like a worried mother hen. “Don’t use your voice so much, cisne. Drink.” It’s been so long since you’ve been waited on hand-and-foot that it almost made you annoyed, but you did what he said because you are bedridden after all. And in a way, it made you feel like he cared. The way O’Hara’s thumb swiped your lower lip when water trickled down your chin was calculated, as if he was trying to embed the feeling into his brain again.

“You had been slipping in-and-out of consciousness over the past week and a half.” He murmured, leaning into your space as your free hand patted on his chest to indicate you had enough water. A soft frown threatened at his lips, worry evident in his gaze.

Coughing from choking down so much water, the question tumbled from your mind without second-thinking. “And how long have you been here?” You felt your cheeks hearten due to the lack of filter, but a part of you really wanted to know.

Your embarrassment transferred to him as soon as the question hung into the hair, his gaze ripping away from your own. His frown wobbled at getting caught within the act, vulnerability showing through for once between the amount of time the two of you have shared. “I’ve..” Having an internal battle with himself, he exhaled with stress in defeat. “Been here since you got here.” Your eyes lit up, and he only groaned at your obvious excitement.

“You were worried.”

“I was– I was not worried– dios mío–”

You sat up further on the pillows behind you, pointing into his chest as he leaned further away in lighthearted mortification of finally having to talk about his feelings. “O’Hara! You were! You were worried!”

“If I admit it will you stop repeating yourself–”

“Yes,”

O’Hara’s brow furrowed as if he was in physical pain, leaning back into the chair he sat right beside your bed. His hands still stuck firming around your sweating ones, his head leaned back in exasperation. “I was worried. I am always worried about you. I was scared shitless sitting there on that ledge while you dived into the unknown.”

Breath stuttering, you held the air within your lungs for a long second. It felt like a dream, having the Miguel O’Hara hunched over with his hands around your own like a delicate doll, flushed and embarrassed because he finally has to admit his feelings. The urge to kiss him overwhelmed you, and if you had the strength to lean forward and do so, you would. But exhaustion was dwelled deep into your limbs, and you didn’t want to overexert yourself.

“And, and– stop calling me that. Jesus, it’s like hearing a teacher addressing me.”

This caught your attention as his scarlet eyes met yours, swirling with a flurry of emotions that screamed of intensity. “Calling you what?” You asked, trying to sound indifferent when truly you were just teasing him. But he was more than observant– and when he caught you trying to play him like you were a guitarist and he was your bass. This only riled him up more.

“O’Hara?! I’m Miguel to you, Miguel.” His hands tightened around your own as he repeated his name twice, almost like a plea. “Stop making me act like a child, I have a reputation to uphold–”

“You became O’Hara the day you broke up with me.” Low blow, and quite petty– but you wanted to test if he truly had changed.

The rant you cut off halted without another word, O’Hara’s forehead meeting your thigh as if you just slapped him atop the head when you knocked sense into him. “I didn’t know what else to do.” His voice choked up almost instantaneously, his emotions as high as ever like he just processed you were truly here and talking to him. “And look at where we ended up.” The latter didn’t sound like he was speaking to you, more like he was stuck in his head someplace far away. “Your safety was what mattered the most to me– and back then these people, these people threatened to remove you from here. Wipe you off the plane of this universe like you never even happened.”

You were silent as his hands kneaded into your thighs gently, fingertips trailing up your stomach like he was trying to remember every part of your body again unconsciously. “I didn’t want to lose you, and for the longest time I pushed it away as much as I could until I couldn’t anymore.”

Your brain clicked and churred, gears rolling back in place in your post-coma fog. “.. Is that why you were so stressed, so different throughout the end of our relationship?”

Miguel sighed heavily, tears threatening to fall as if an entire world was lifted off his shoulders. “.. Yes. Yes, I’m not proud of it. I’m really not proud of myself.” He repeated, confessing his sins like you were the pastor and he was a sinner. “I just was terrified for you to be gone.”

“.. I’m tired of having so much loss in my life.” It was barely above a whisper, but you heard it.

His shoulders raised, stammering as if he was holding himself back. Without a word, you shrugged your hand from his own. Scarlet gaze meeting yours in surprise, fangs on display unknowingly as his mouth slacked– your arms raised towards him and instantly he allowed himself to melt into your embrace.

“I didn’t know.” Was all you said.

“I didn’t want you to know,” He murmured against your cheek, breath fanning your ear and arms meeting your back strongly. Just like your dreams. Miguel’s words trailed off anxiously, before concluding with something you haven’t heard in a long time, “mi cielo.”

Tears soaked your shoulder sleeve, but you didn’t care. “But I want you to know everything now. I want you to be a part of my life now, we can get through it all–”

A small frown met your lips, heart clenching at his words. “I, I can’t–

“Mi pajarito, please,” Miguel breathed in deeply, “I really, really have missed you.” His hold surrounding you tightened subtly. The buzz of floating cars whizzed by as silence enveloped the both of you, the noise of watches sounding throughout the hallway kept you grounded. Drilled it into your head that this was truly happening, that you’re here with Miguel with both of your secrets unveiled. Under each other's protection.

“Miguel, I.. I can’t be hurt again.” You wanted him, wanted him more than anything. But something snatched your heart up and forced it into an aviary. It raged against the railings of its captor, fluttering with desperation. You were scared of rejection again, the repressed emotions flooding your senses and making you sob. Miguel held you as you cried and continued to do so, tracing shapes into your skin like all those months ago. “Please don’t leave me again.”

The plea escaped you through tears, Miguel promised and promised and promised as he swiped away the wetness amongst your cheeks, his cold exterior he kept affront during your relationship crashed down in waves as his own tears pressed into your skin. “I’m so sorry. Please, please like you gave me– give me a second chance.”

His fingers trailed up, grasping the nape of your neck while the other caressed your cheek with a shakiness you’ve never seen before. Always so confident, it reminded you of the brokenness you witnessed on the last night you were together. But this felt genuine, the looming fear and despair hanging over his head all those months ago were fanned away with time. This was Miguel’s honest attempt at vulnerability.

You stared into his tearful eyes, a smile playing at your lips as your hands sat upon his own holding your face. Leaning in, your nose brushed his as your eyes fluttered shut. Your lips, chapped and cold, met his contrasting warm and refined touch. Miguel presumably did not care, as his fingers intertwined with your hair and grasped your chin with a sparked need. The kiss was short and sweet, as the two of you breathed into each other’s mouth. Relishing in the moment, you pushed forward again as desperation seeped into your rationality.

Your hands moved from his own to his shoulders, pulling him deeper into the kiss and he just consumed whatever space you gave him. Miguel was aware of every muscle he pushed against you, but as the both of you clawed into each other’s flesh Miguel’s resolve to stay gentle ebbed away as his spit swapped with yours. It was if you were a struggling flower, and he was both the air and sun and water combined. He was everything you needed, and he was everything you wanted. To you, he was the sun and you were the moon– seeing one another in passing but never touching until today.

But to him, you were the stars that littered the sky. A comet passing by, beautiful and alluring. You were in each neon sign of Nueva York, where he stared a little too hard and could see a figure of you that was constructed from the little imagination he had left.

He saw you in the headquarters he overworked himself in to forget you. He saw you in the shadows of the city he protected. Miguel saw you in everything he believed in, yet everything he went against simultaneously.

But he’ll learn to make exceptions with himself and the rules he place, because as his fangs dig into your lower lip and the noise that erupts from your throat wraps him around your finger– Miguel tries to understand how he ever let you go.

“Miguel, you kiss me once and you’re already trying to bite me–” You begin to scold in your little way, until Miguel shushes you with another kiss to the lips.

“It’s all out of love, cariño.”

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