naeverse - Tumblr blog

naeverse · 5 months ago

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This series is absolutely immaculate. 🤧 After reminiscing about it from my reader days, I scoured Tumblr just to find it again. I implore you to check it out! It was definitely one of my inspirations for writing Miguel fanfics.

Aphrodesiacs

Miguel O’Hara x fem! spidey! reader

yk that bit of spiderman lore between silk and peter where they were bitten by the same spider and can’t be near each other without feeling….

yeah this is that but with Miguel. SO NSFW. i love blue balling y’all. PART 2 IS UP NOW!

There were certain things that were absolutely not up for discussion when it came to Miguel: his leadership skills, his authority, his ability to lead this society, his daughter and…you.

There were too many issues to discuss about your strange…he didn’t even know what to call it at this point. See, you were both bitten by the same spider which everyone deemed highly impossible, but it happened. What came with being bit by the same spider were chemically and biologically bound side effects no one knew the first thing about. You and Miguel were more enhanced than the others, in many ways, many uncomfortable and impossibly distracting ways. You were physically drawn to each other, unable to physically feel anything but an intense primal, primitive and animalistic sexual attraction to one another. Neither of you could be in the same room without wanting to fuck like bunnies. The chemical compounds in your brains were the same, and it made you both become aphrodesiacs for each other. No one knew about it other than Lyla and Jess.

This was a problem, he was your boss and you couldn’t actually look at him without feeling hot and wet, you had fangs the same way he did but no one knew about it, Lyla made sure of it. Miguel on the other hand was a wreck because of it, his blood would burn at the mere thought of you. He worked his body out to the bone, he would work out and sweat the thoughts and desires away from him. It never worked. But he needed to pretend it did. Neither of you would anticipate how drastic it could be. You knew it was the genetics and the chemicals from the same spider that bit you which made you weary of ever getting close to one another but Lord, the desires were still there. It felt like you were muzzled and on a leash, hindered by moral righteousness. You both knew you couldn’t give in but that was rather difficult when you actually needed to see one another.

You ripped a hole in your suit, where your waist was and only Miguel seemed to have the supplies to fix it. A massive horizontal gash that exposed your skin. Your brain was dreading to see him, your heart said otherwise and your pussy throbbed at the mere idea. It was like you were magnets, constantly avoiding due to the the impossibility to be pulled apart. Taking a deep breath to keep a cool calm head seemed to work momentarily and then you walked into his lair.

Miguel could smell you from here. His skin tightened and his muscles tensed when he felt your scent wrap around him, like a warm golden glow. He would taint you in red. He would break you. He knew this. That’s why he could never….

“You know you can’t be here.” He sighed, ignoring your presence as he was staring blankly at his screens. “You know I can’t concentrate.” He added quietly.

You swallowed thickly and closed your eyes, wincing slightly. “I know we’re not- Look, I just need you to fix my suit and Lyla told me I had to fix it immediately or the wiring would go to shit. You know I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t need to.”

Miguel paused and blinked slightly at the last thing you said. You did need to see him. You did need to be here but neither of you wanted to talk about the true reason. He turned his head to face you. He wanted to groan at the sight of you.

Miguel had to force himself not to stare at your body and the way your suit clung to it, there was a massive gash in it that exposed the skin of your waist. Why did God always have to test his patience? Lord above give him strength. Even with his impeccable self control and strength, it took everything in his power to resist the urge to throw you against the floor and...Miguel groaned softly and rolled his eyes. “If that's what it takes...”

“I know you want to get rid of me quickly. I promise it won’t take long.” You say hurriedly as you hop onto his platform. You were really close to each other now, You swallowed and your breathing became slightly more shallow. Please let this be quick. Please. You begged silently. “I just need you too stitch my suit on my waist for me.” You say. “Quickly…” You added breathily. You had to get closer for him to actually help you and as he sat in his chair and pulled out his supplies, he raised an eyebrow to lure you closer. He felt his body tighten as you breathed so near him. The electricity was sizzling between you. Your heart beats synchronized and your minds only on one thing.

You got closer and you were practically standing inbetween his legs, you saw his breath hitch slightly but Miguel was a master at not letting his mask slip. He was good at pretending. His brow furrowed slightly, making a fruitless effort of avoiding that fucking look in your eyes. That face. Fuck.

This was bad, this was so dangerous. Being this close could end in a catastrophe for the both of you.

He paused before he put his fingers on your suit, a spark of electricity caused your body to still. He just closed his eyes and breahed out hurridly. He bit the bullet and grabbed your waist for you to stumble closer.

He needed to get this over and done with. No matter what it took, he needed to get you away from him. You gasped a little when he did that and he could feel that sound travel all the way to his dick. He tried to ignore it by getting to work and scanning your suit and then stitching up. His fingers worked at the speed of light. Your eyes just widened, continuing your mindless gawk as hazy thoughts of grabbing his hair and lowering his head further down between your thighs clouded your head. You tried to shake the sensation of his hands gripping your waist but it felt impossible, part of you genuinely wanted to grit your teeth until they shattered- the tension hurt.

Miguel always seemed to be perfectly fine on the outside, he had masked emotions other than anger or annoyance very well but this was causing that picture of himself to falter at the seams. Internally, he was breaking apart. Weakened by desperation. Lord, you were his weakness.

Images of you flashed through his head as he stitched, he wanted you tied up. Yes. With your own webs. Letting him have his way with you, pounding you until you cried and begged him to stop. He would fill you up, make you guzzle his cum as you pleaded for more. He let out a soft grunt at the sheer idea.

His fingers moved quickly as he sewed your torn suit together. “Why are you always getting hurt?” Miguel's voice was raspy, and he was unable to control his breathing. Miguel did his best to look away, but the smell of your exposed your skin was making it hard for him to think clearly. Your body was perfect. Jesus, it was like it was made for him.

You swallowed hard, your thoughts became hazy as he was this close. His hands were brushing on you and you tensed slightly at his fleeting barely there touchs. “Mm- I’m not always getting hurt.” You say softly, if you said it any louder you were sure you would moan.

“Right,” Miguel mumbled softly, his words catching in his throat. “I'm sure you were just passing by when you ran into trouble.” Miguel kept his eyes down to avoid meeting your gaze. All you could do was scowl at him. He finished his work and immediatly grabbed your waist and pushed you away as he got up from his chair to stare at his screens again as a means to avoid looking at you. “Don’t come back here.” He muttered at you seriously.

“I won’t.” You glowered at his broad and muscular back. You lied though, you were sure you’d be back. “But…I can’t keep going on like this.”

His ears pricked up at your admission and he felt the exact same way. Miguel's body was on fire. He wanted you. Right now. He didn't know what would happen if he gave into his urges. His body was shaking, and he had to make a conscious effort to keep his hands to himself. He was trying not to touch you, but every move you made, every tiny shift, only made your body more desirable. “Please, go.” Miguel choked, his voice harsh and strained.

You did as you were told and you hurriedly left. Praying that this would naturally wear off as long as you stayed away from him.

It had been a few days since your interaction and you had both successfully avoided each other since then but he could still feel your presence whenever you were at HQ. He could still feel the air in his office carrying your scent.

Now it was 2AM and he was still in his office. He was banging another hookup over his desk, she was bent over just so he couldn’t look at her. She was pretty but she wasn’t you. As his dick slid in and out, her moans fell flat to him, he only wanted to hear you. He was praying that this one would be the one that made him forget about you, that this one would tamper down his sexual anger and frustration but no. He got angrier. Animalistic. All he could think about was you. He was pretty sure he was hurting her when he was like this. His mood soured when he wondered what he would do to you if he finally gave in. Would he hurt you? God, what if he did….

He never wanted to hurt you.

He knew you would never be able to take it, to take all of it.

You on the other hand were in your apartment, also fucking a random hookup. You were hoping it would help your predicament but if anything it was making you more frustrated. He wasn’t fucking big enough. Yeah, his dick was better than average but it didn’t have the girth that Miguel would- You shook your head out of any thoughts of him and decided to be in the moment. You decided that it was a terrible moment. There were much more irritating things than faking an orgasm like your incessant need for Miguel.

Even though you were being fucked by another guy all you could thing about was: Miguel, Miguel, Miguel.

Nothing was working, for either of you.

Your mind wandered towards another way to fix this. Maybe there was a suppressant or an antidote to help keep down these primal urges and desires. These thoughts were keeping you from doing any sort of work, you couldn’t concentrate properly. Your mind was burned alive by constant thoughts of him in so many different situations. So you decided to talk to him about it. He’d probably end up killing you for even thinking about it but you were way passed that.

You sighed deeply before thrumming up the guts to see him again. Entering his lair was never a welcome idea to anyone but you and him were struggling and he was lying to himself. Miguel felt your presence again, your scent, your skin. He tampered down the jumping urge to drag you by your ankles and-

“I know you didn’t want me here again but we need to talk.” You crossed your arms but it further accentuated your chest, his stare lingered for a moment and he looked blank. Then he looked back down at a new suit he was fixing up and seemed unamused. That look just made you even more wet and desperate for his attention.

“No… we don’t.” He said thickly and your knees started buckling under the pressure. You swallowed.

“Uhm…there has to be an antidote for this or a suppressant for whatever…this is.” You said hurriedly. “Maybe I can manufacture one, I think I might be able to if I could genetically scan the spider and take it’s DNA and change its raw qualities…” Miguel watched you pace desperately as you rambled on, not even looking at him, you were pleading for a solution to this and he was getting more and more annoyed.

He stared at your lips as you spoke. Flashes of you on your knees, drooling and gagging on his cock pierced the forefront of his mind, causing his legs to feel nothing but limp. The things he wanted to do to you. He was an addict because of you.

“There is no cure for it!” He grunted loudly, cutting you off. “Hell, I’ve tried to make one since the first day I met you and all you’ve done is make me lose my fucking self control. You just standing there is enough to make me go crazy for you and I. Can’t. Help. It. I can smell you, I know you want me too but we have to fight it. We have to manage this because if you let me get close to you, I know I’ll hurt you and I won’t let that opportunity arise.” He admitted in a frenzy, his teeth almost shattering against each other, jaw clenching and unclenching. He ran a hand through his dishevelled hair as his eyes bore a ruby hue and his breathing became uneven and heavy.

You bit your lip at his angry outburst, not being able to deny how turned on you were by his rage and lack of self control. Part of you thought your mind was playing tricks on your or that you were hullicinating all of this as you were dulled by a cloud of lust, but no. You were very aware now that it was real. You were both feral for each other. You just glowered him.

“I have denied every single impulse I have ever had for you.” You grit out. “Maybe I want you to make it hurt, because any other kind of hurt right now is better than the pure need for you to fuck me right here, right now. You are not the only one who is capable of making another person hurt. Maybe I blame you. Maybe I can’t get you out of my head. Maybe I need your cock in me. Whatever….I just need to do something about it or else I’ll go fucking insane.” Miguel watched your brows furrow and your lips loosen as you uttered those fated words. His eyes glazed over twice and widened, your words were sharp and unfeeling. He believed that if you weren’t this way you wouldn’t find a need to be cruel and direct, the way your eyes glimmered yet darkened with need and passion caused him to halt in his tracks, now you were inching closer to him and he didn’t know what to do.

“It's impossible to create an antidote,it genetically and chemically changed our code.” Miguel mumbled, his voice husky and strained. “We're stuck like this...” He sighed, trying to collect himself. “Look, we just have to learn how to handle this," Miguel muttered, trying to convince himself more than you. “We'll learn to control ourselves. This...this is manageable.”

He didn’t believe any of the lies he spewed. There’s no way this was managable.

“Why do I get the feeling that that is not true.” You say softly, biting your lip and blinking up at him. Neither of you knew how you got this close now, it was like you were drawn to each other.

“Stop giving me that look. I-I can’t-“ He breathed heavily, trying to rescue himself or beg for your mercy. He didn’t know which one. Miguel hung his head and quickly turned his head as to not face you. “I’ll hurt you.” He added stoically.

“I. Don’t. Care ”

#miguel ohara #🙃naeverse posts🙃#Adored this! ❤️#i'm not crying you're crying

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naeverse · 6 months ago

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Happy Valentine’s Day! 💕

Give some love with these prompt lists, perfect for the day of love 💋

Romance Masterpost

February Posts

Valentine’s Day Prompts

Both partners want to surprise the other one with a wonderful date, but all of their cleverly thought out plans fail and it looks like this is going to go down in history as the worst Valentine’s Day ever. But maybe it’s actually not that bad in the end.

“I need just one date.” “You think you can woo me with just one date?” “Absolutely.”

They have never celebrated Valentine’s Day before and they want to make it perfect.

On Valentine’s Day everything seems to have a discount for couples, so why not pretend to be one to save some money and have fun?

They just found out about the custom of making Valentine’s Day cards and now they went crazy with the paper hearts and the glitter.

“Is that a ring box in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”

Having their first kiss at the end of a Valentine’s Day date may be cliché, but it’s also incredibly perfect.

Not focussing on the romantic love, but showing everyone they care for that they love them on this day turned out to be the best idea they ever had.

Amor tends to go a little overboard on Valentine’s Day, but this year really takes the cake.

Everyone is going as a couple to the Valentine’s Day Party and it would look stupid if we both went alone, right? Maybe we can just go together.

Sending all the love out to you all!

If you like my blog and want to support me, you can buy me a coffee or become a member! And check out my Instagram! 🥰

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naeverse · 6 months ago

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The Cat and His Spider

~Ｖｉｃｅ＃４~

𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝟒: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐔𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐞

(𝐎𝐜𝐭 𝟐𝟎-𝟑𝟏)

----

𝙂𝙧𝙚𝙚𝙙:

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘦𝘧 𝘰𝘧 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯, 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩.

“𝘎𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘦𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘴”

Ｍｕｓｉｃ：

“𝘈𝘯𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘴” - 𝘔𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘯 5

"𝘉𝘢𝘥 𝘎𝘶𝘺" - 𝘉𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘦 𝘌𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩

"𝘋𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘞𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯" - 𝘈𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘢 𝘎𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦

🐈‍⬛️staring: BlackCat!Miguel x Spiderwoman!Fem!Reader

🤍preview: “Spiderwoman,” he purred, his voice dripping with intent, “I want you.” The cat confessed with a toothy grin, chuckling as your shock was evident, even through the mask. “What can I say? A cat gets bored playing with the same toys,” he groaned, his voice heavy with a mix of weariness and desire.

Burying his face in your neck, he nuzzled the sensitive skin of your throat, a low purr rumbling in his chest as he inhaled your scent again. “Rob enough stores, steal too many jewels, and money starts to lose its value—its reason,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin.

“I need more—something challenging, something new. Something no one else would think to acquire—or to claim.”

💰summary: After a police report, you, Spiderwoman is encountered by the infamous Black Cat who forces you to confront the greed that drives him, and the price he's willing to pay.

🖤tw/cw: Adult Themes, Big Dick Miguel, Biting, Black Cat (Miguel O’Hara), Dirty Talk, Erotic Fiction, Exhibitionism, Forbidden Love, Hero/Villain Dynamics, Male/Female, Marking, Mature Content, Mutual Pining, Outside Sex, Rooftop sex, Spiderwoman (Reader-Insert), Temptation, Unconventional Relationships

❤️Pet names: Amor (Love), Arañita (Little Spider), Bebè (Baby), Cariño (Darling)

🤍Rating: 18+ explicit I SMUT I

🐈‍⬛Word Count: 8.2k words

The quiet chirps of birds and the usual hum of New York City traffic filled the peaceful night. The prime hour of mischief and villainy had struck at twelve.

You, a spider woman well-accustomed to the troublesome time, perched upon the ledge of a skyscraper. Your body crouched and coiled like a spring, ready to launch at any moment.

Through your mask lenses, your keen eyes scanned the streets below. From this height, the world seemed different—

More tranquil...

Peaceful...

One hand gripped the concrete ledge while the other rested on your knee, tapping rhythmically as you listened intently to the police radio scanner for any nearby crimes.

It felt like a lifetime waiting for a siren, a call for help, or a sign that needed your intervention. But tonight, the only thing calling seemed to be your bed, beckoning from your apartment building.

‘It's so quiet. That's a first,’ you thought, pressing a gloved finger to the earpiece of your mask to heighten the scanner's volume.

You didn’t want to miss a thing.

Returning to the rare calmness of the city, you gazed at the horizon. A soft breeze tugged at the edges of your skin-tight suit, its design and craftsmanship entirely your own.

Your mind wandered to your double life—the life of Y/N. You thought of the responsibilities, obstacles, and challenges that awaited you, still struggling to balance your personas despite being a hero for nearly two years.

A crackling static from your earpiece cut through your thoughts. Your ears perked up as the voice of a male officer broke through, reporting to his fellow comrades—and, unknowingly, to you.

"Dispatch, we’ve got a report of a robbery in progress at the Fifth Avenue jewelry store. Suspect is believed to be armed. Proceed with caution."

"A robbery?" you muttered. It wasn’t unusual—midnight was a common hour for petty theft.

Upon reaching out to shoot a web in preparation for slinging your way to the destination of the robbery, another officer's voice came through—more urgent and frantic than the previous one.

"Dispatch, we have visual confirmation—it's Black Cat! Repeat, Black Cat is on the scene!"

At the mention of the cunning and very familiar villain, you couldn’t help but smirk. “Looks like Miguel is up to his old tricks again,” you muttered to yourself with a small smile.

You and the mischievous feline had some history—history full of many conflicting encounters, where you faced the villain’s relentless seduction, crafty words, and, goodness, his touches alone were enough to leave you questioning whether you should even capture the thief at all.

Your face warmed underneath your mask at the thought of him.

You always adored Black Cat’s honeyed and towering form. Every part of his body was encased in muscles that bulged and moved beneath the fabric of his black and white villain attire.

However, the feline was most famous for his black fur coat. The jacket had a wild, untamed look, with white furry trimmings along the collar and lapels. He always wore the notorious piece unbuttoned, letting his defined 8-pack and taut pecs remain exposed—only further emphasizing the cat’s unfortunate mutations.

Though, he didn’t see them as such.

But it wasn’t his attire that made your judgment falter when you were in his presence. Miguel, simply being himself, was what, secretly, allured you.

Miguel O’Hara wielded his mutation like it had always been a part of him, despite the genetic manipulation he endured as a scientist at the notorious laboratory, Alchemax being what caused him to become what he was now.

Though using such powers for unethical things like theft wasn’t admirable, his confidence in himself still impressed you...

More than you expected.

With a motion of grace and fluidity, you pushed off the ledge to dive into the open air, racing to the scene.

The wind whipped past you, as you spun mid-flight to extend an arm, shooting a web towards a nearby building. The webline caught hold and you held on tight, swinging your weight through the bustling streets of New York.

The city, remaining true to it being a place of unrest, showcased individuals still roaming the sidewalks and visiting establishments in search of fun despite the lateness.

You swung past shocked and awe-struck citizens, the many lights from the passing towers bouncing off your mask lenses. Your eyes scanned the streets before finally landing on the reported jewelers.

‘This is the place.’ You thought, circling the perimeter for the naughty feline to find the sidewalks completely empty. “Typical.” The murmur escapes you at the discovery.

Quietly and discreetly, you lowered yourself onto the exterior of the store, using your ability to cling onto walls to your advantage. You stuck to the shadows, peering in through the windows of the store to find an unusual sight.

Nothing was disturbed…

Your eyebrows furrowed at the revelation.

The glass cases of jewelry held all their stored gems and accessories, the alarm hadn’t been triggered and neither was there any sign of a break-in.

Something was off…

“Weird…” You whispered, shooting a webline to a nearby streetlight to pull your weight to the designated position.

Landing perched on the hood of the pole, your eyes surveyed the area, a sense of uncertainty clinging to your being.

Suddenly, an intense, yet familar tingle shot through you like an electric current.

Your head snapped in the direction that was drawing every nerve of your body towards, overhearing a loud crash and scratch from a nearby alley, one similar to metal and claws.

Swiftly, you followed the sound.

Leaping from your spot, you swung, landing lightly on your feet in the foot of the alleyway next to the shop.

The alley was eerily quiet, the scurrying of critters and a dripping of a leaky pipe being the only sounds that filled your ears. Cautiously, you stepped further into the dark aisle, your senses on high alert for any unusual noises or signs of the villain’s presence.

Glancing to your left, you spotted a vent, torn from its hinges that led out of the jewelry shop and a few claw marks surrounding the brick walling.

“He was certainly here, only his claws could cause such damage.” You acknowledged to yourself, running a gloved finger along the deep indentation of his talon along the exterior. But, your suspension of the cat’s presence was further confirmed when your scanners picked up on an item that belonged to the feline, and him alone.

White hair from his mane.

You scoffed, crouching down to inspect the piece closer. Picking up the coarse strand in your gloved fingers, your eyes trailed along it, the screens in your mask lenses identifying it to, indeed, be his.

“You are becoming sloppy, kitty.” You uttered, removing a small circular gadget from the strap of your waist, tucking the loose loc inside for safekeeping for the police.

Before you could further examine the alley, that intense tingle shot through your being once more, accompanied by a deep, confident voice echoing from behind you, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Still listening to police scanners, arañita? It makes you predictable."

Miguel O'Hara—the Black Cat himself—spoke from behind you, emerging from the shadows of the alley.

A playful smirk adorned his lips as the moonlight highlighted his mischievous red eyes, piercing fangs, and the scar etched along his right eye. His presence brought on a sense of uneasiness and, dare you say…

Excitement.

You rolled your eyes, hastily attaching the disk back to your waist before rising to face him. "Me? Predictable? Says the villain who gets his kicks robbing jewelry stores. Isn’t this your fourth one this week?" you retorted, trying to ignore how he always seemed to make your heart skip a beat.

Miguel chuckled, the sound rumbling through the night. "I see someone’s keeping a close eye on me. Should I be flattered or worried?"

"You wish," you replied, thankful for the steadiness in your voice despite the fluttering in your chest.

Your gaze traveled along his body, noting his massive build and bulging arms that hinted at his evident strength. But you knew better than to underestimate him—his immense agility made him even more dangerous.

His scarlet eyes swept over your face, studying you intently. A hum of disapproval escaped him. "Why lie, muñeca?" he teased, stepping closer. His movements were graceful, almost feline, as his gaze never left yours.

"I can hear your heart, you know. Keen hearing and all," Miguel murmured, gesturing to his furry, white cat ears with a clawed finger.

You stood your ground as he approached, his towering frame closing the space between you. His presence engulfed you, the faint scent of his expensive cologne—likely stolen—lingering in the air.

"I can hear your little heart beating against your ribcage, Spiderwoman. It’s quite loud, amor. Very loud," he said, a sly smile revealing his sharp canines. The sight stirred a mix of discomfort and… something else entirely.

When Black Cat spoke, his voice carried a sultry, husky tone designed to seduce. Like a siren’s call, it was nearly impossible to ignore, no matter how hard you tried.

You swallowed hard, shaking off your embarrassment. "We’re not here to talk about me, Miguel. We’re here for you," you said sternly, grateful your mask concealed the flush spreading across your cheeks. "So either come willingly, or I’ll take you to the police by force."

At your words, a deep, rumbling laugh erupted from him, his broad chest shaking beneath his black fur coat. The sound echoed through the quiet alley, catching you off guard.

"Arañita, I thought you were smart. You disappoint me," he said mockingly, tapping a finger against your forehead. The gesture earned him a sharp glare from you.

"Use your eyes, chica. What jewels have I stolen? What bags am I carrying?" he asked, a fanged grin spreading across his face, as though he held a secret only he understood.

Your brows furrowed as you realized the truth in his words. Black Cat carried no bags, no evidence of a robbery. But why would you trust a cunning thief like him?

You wouldn’t…

Never…

You scoffed, your eyes narrowing from under your spider mask.. “Nice try, kitty, but I'm not falling for your games.”

“Ahh, pero no hay juego.” He stated, holding his white gloved hands up defensively, and shaking his head, his white mane swaying with the motion. “I tell the honest truth, arañita. I've stolen nothing.”

Despite his 'honesty,' you couldn't bring yourself to believe him. The thought of priceless jewels stashed away somewhere he knew about filled your mind, leaving his words hard to trust.

“You may claim innocence, cat, but I’m certain I heard reports of you committing a robbery here,” you said, your tone laced with annoyance. “So let’s skip the theatrics.”

Miguel snickered, leaning closer. His overwhelming presence and air of dominance made it hard to think clearly. “My little Spiderwoman, you wear confusion and irritation quite well. They’re striking looks on you,” he teased before sighing dramatically. “But it seems, idiota, you’re more predictable than I thought.”

“I am n-not predictable, and do not call me that!” You snapped, not going to take such name-calling from a man who spent his time committing petty theft for entertainment.

Black Cat laughed, tracing a gloved finger along your jaw. The sensation of his claw through your suit sent a shiver down your spine. “I’m just being honest, amor. Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think.”

Your breath hitched at the stroke his fingers made along your face, his touch enticing. Miguel smirked, taking notice of how you lingered in his palm, neither accepting nor pulling away. “If you did, you’ll know if I was truly stealing something, I wouldn't have stuck around to be found.”

The feline chuckled when you finally pulled away, regaining your senses. “And you’ve said it yourself, bebé,” he continued, grabbing your chin roughly and pulling you back toward him, making you yelp. “Robbing jewelry stores gets boring after a while. I crave the fun—the thrill—you give me that, arañita.” His voice was low, almost a purr, his scarlet eyes roaming you like prey.

You found yourself speechless at his admission. Wetting your lips and swallowing to cleanse your dry throat, the gears in your head started to spin.

‘This can't be what I think it is… right!?’

You gulped, forcing yourself to maintain a stern gaze behind your mask and not allow fear nor his grip on your chin to deter you. “So…this was a trap? And I fell for it?”

“Like prey wandering into the jaws of the beast.” Miguel clarified with a snicker.

As you feared, your suspicions proved true. Your eyes widened behind your lenses, preparing to fire a web to blind him, but he was faster.

A startled yelp escaped you as his massive hands seized your wrists, slamming you against the alley wall. “Too slow, muñeca,” he rasped darkly, pinning your arms above your head. Without hesitation, he trailed his nose along your sensitive throat, inhaling your scent.

“Fuck, you’re something else, Spiderwoman. Really something.”

You gasped when his hand slid lower, delivering a sudden, shameless squeeze to your rear. Your body jolted in his grip, heat flooding your face at the intensity of his touch.

His large hand lingered, gripping you firmly, sending a shiver down your spine. He hummed in satisfaction, leaning closer, his chest trapping you against the cold brick wall of the jewelry store. He inhaled deeply, savoring your scent like a patron indulging in the scent of freshly baked bread.

Miguel’s body boxed you in against the cold brick wall of the jewelry store, his solid chest pressing firmly against your form, the stark contrast enough to make your knees weak.

“Even though… y-you may have tricked me, the cops are still on their way,” you spat, finally finding your voice. Your eyes narrowed in defiance as they locked onto his.

Miguel's wandering hand stilled, his face lifting from your neck to meet your gaze.

The corner of his lips curved into a wicked smirk, a soft snicker escaping him. “Arañita, are you high under that mask? Drunk?” he teased, tugging tauntingly at the edge of your face covering.

You jerked your head away from his hand, determined to keep your identity hidden, though his words left you utterly confused. “N-no, I’m not—”

“Then tell me why it didn’t register in that cute, little head of yours that when I said this was a trap... it was a trap.” He chuckled, and your heart plummeted.

Miguel’s gloved palm slid over the taut fabric of your suit, his touch sending a jolt through your body. “So no, no cops will be coming to save you, Cariño,” he affirmed, his sharp eyes locking onto yours, glowing with amusement.

Your mind struggled to make sense of it. ‘Even the cops were a trap!? But I always listen to the police scanner... how could it be fake? This can’t be true.’ You panicked, shaking your head.

“B-But the police officers, I-I heard them,” you stammered. “T-they sounded real.” You tried to ignore the way your body burned with unwanted ecstasy at his sensual touches, how a treacherous part of you craved more.

The cat villain hummed in amusement. “Oh, they did sound real, didn’t they? But you’re not the only one with exceptional technology, baby.” He teased, tapping a claw against one of your mask’s lenses. The sudden gesture made you jump in his arms.

Your breathing quickened, fear flooding your mind as the pieces finally fell into place.

The unscathed shop. The evident signs of his presence. His ‘sloppy’ escape. His sudden appearance. Every detail screamed trap, and you had walked right into it.

Like an idiot, you’d served yourself up to the cat on a silver platter. You’d never felt so foolish.

“Why did you do this!? W-what do you want from me!?” you shouted, thrashing beneath him, desperately trying to free your arms from his vice-like grip. But it was useless—he was too strong.

“Relax, cálmate, little Spider,” Black Cat murmured soothingly, his voice a low purr meant to lull you into submission. “I just wanted a little time with you. You’re a hard woman to find, after all. A guy has to get creative.” His gloved hand slid to your hip, squeezing it firmly under his fingers.

You bit your lip, trying to swallow your irritation—and the betraying sounds of pleasure threatening to escape.

You couldn’t let him think you were enjoying this.

Even though you were.

“O-Okay… you have my time and my attention. Now, what do you want?” you asked through gritted teeth, your hands clenched into fists where they were pinned above your head.

“Now?” the cat echoed, his piercing scarlet eyes locking onto yours. “Now, you give me what I want, Cariño.” His tone was low, commanding, as though you’d stolen something precious, and he was here to claim it back.

Your face twisted in confusion, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “I… I don’t know what you want.”

A deep growl rumbled from his chest, vibrating through you. “Hmm, but you do,” he said, his voice dark and heavy with meaning. “And I’ll get it out of you, one way or another.” His jaw tightened, and his grip on your wrists became more unyielding, a glint of satisfaction flashing in his eyes as you winced.

Your heart pounded erratically, torn between fear and an unsettling arousal. You didn’t know what he was after, couldn’t even fathom where to begin unraveling his intentions.

“Nngh… I-I don’t know what you’re talking about, Miguel. Truly,” you admitted breathlessly, the thought of escape slipping further and further from your mind.

Because as much as you wanted to break free, there was a part of you—one you desperately wanted to ignore—that didn’t want to leave him at all.

Miguel’s predatory gaze roamed over your masked face, his white, furred ears twitching slightly atop his head. “I didn’t think I’d need to spell it out for you, Arañita,” he murmured, a smug smirk tugging at his lips.

Before you could process his words, his free hand cupped your chin, forcing you to meet his burning gaze. He pulled you closer, his grip firm but not harsh, his presence overwhelming.

“Spiderwoman,” he purred, his voice dripping with intent, “I want you.”

The cat confessed with a toothy grin, chuckling as your shock was evident, even through the mask. “What can I say? A cat gets bored playing with the same toys,” he groaned, his voice heavy with a mix of weariness and desire.

“I need more—something challenging, something new. Something no one else would think to acquire—or to claim.” His admission was laced with raw hunger, and the low timbre of his voice drew an involuntary moan from your lips. Mortified, you squeezed your eyes shut in embarrassment.

“I-I’m sorry,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper, “but I don’t want you in return, Miguel.”

“Lies, muñeca,” Black Cat snarled, his sharp canines nipping at your throat through your suit, the pressure just enough to draw a startled whimper from you.

He pulled back to meet your eyes, his expression dark with frustration and unrestrained longing. “All you do is lie—to me, to yourself, to every citizen in New York,” he growled, his voice tinged with both scorn and sympathy. “I pity you, Spiderwoman.”

His gloved finger traced your lips through the mask, your breath hitching at the intimacy of the gesture.

Black Cat smirked, his confidence unwavering as he released your wrists and cupped your face with both hands. His palms were surprisingly gentle, cradling your head like you were a precious prize he’d won.

“Come on, bebé,” he coaxed, his lips curling into a sly grin. “Let go with me. Let’s have some fun.”

His scarlet eyes raked over your form, lingering on every curve and detail of your suit, which clung to you like a perfectly wrapped gift. His lip caught between his teeth, his expression one of deliberate, unapologetic desire.

You breathed heavily, the air beneath your mask growing thin. The choice before you felt impossible, the weight of the decision pressing heavily on your chest. This wasn’t simple. Whatever you decided now would be life-changing—one wrong move, and everything could crumble.

Turning your head, you tried to deny him once more, no matter how difficult it was. “N-no. I can't.”

“But you can,” Black Cat purred, his voice smooth and tempting. “And what a delight you’d be when you finally let go, little Spider.” His hands traced along your body, every movement deliberate, as he whispered his words of temptation into your ear.

“Just imagine it for a moment,” he enticed, his breath warm against your skin. “Just you and me, with no distractions, no outsiders to stop us.” His white tail thumped softly against the pavement, a steady rhythm that seemed to soothe your racing thoughts.

You swallowed hard, your hands instinctively gripping his bulging forearms—something, anything, to ground you. You opened your mouth to protest again, but Miguel halted you with a low chuckle.

“It’ll simply be me and the pretty lady under the mask,” he said, his voice low and intoxicating. “Together, experiencing the passions that normal humans feel. Except we’ll be the upgrades.” He smirked, his fingers intertwined with yours, and pinning them to the wall once more.

His large hands engulfed yours, and Miguel’s lips began to wander. He kissed along your jaw and throat, his touch coaxing the response he desired from you.

Soft moans escaped your lips, your gloved hands squeezing his in return. Your body leaned into his, betraying the denial in your mind.

No matter how much you wanted to resist, you couldn’t.

You’d fantasized about this—about Black Cat, about Miguel doing this to you—so many times. You wanted to feel his hands on you, his mouth, his claws, and sharp teeth against your skin.

You longed for everything about him, craving him as you craved air in your lungs. Yet, deep down, a part of you wondered: would giving in, just this once, ruin you completely?

Would this moment—this indulgence—strip you of your worth as a hero? Would it make you unworthy to protect the citizens who relied on you day after day?

Could one moment of weakness destroy everything you had worked for?

But Miguel’s words echoed in your mind, replaying over and over like a broken record.

“It’ll simply be me and the pretty lady under the mask... together, experiencing the natural passions that normal humans feel.”

You might be a mutant, a being gifted with the powers of a spider, but at your core, you were human.

Humans make mistakes. Humans desire things—even things that are deemed wrong.

And if humans can be forgiven for their mistakes, then maybe this one indulgence, this one moment of weakness, could be seen for what it truly was:

A human making a mistake…

An evident moan, meant for Miguel’s ears, escaped you, his responding groan enough to soak your suit. “O-okay…” you agreed, giving his large hands another squeeze with your own.

You watched Miguel’s white, pointy ears perk up and his red eyes snap to yours. The surprise on his face was fleeting, replaced quickly by a fanged grin.

“Ahí está mi pequeña araña traviesa,” Miguel mewled, not wasting a moment before slipping a hand from yours, seeking to remove your mask.

Your hand hastily covered his, halting his movement. Meeting his gaze, you looked pleadingly at him, never before feeling so vulnerable before a villain. “Promise me that this stays between us.” You said, trying to hide the desperation in your voice.

“Of course, bebè—”

“I’m serious, Miguel O’Hara,” you sternly said, gripping his wrist with both of your hands. The size difference was evident as his one, larger arm made your two hands look miniature.

For once, the usually playful and seductive feline mirrored your stoicism. He gave your hands a squeeze as they rested on his forearm. “Whatever happens here stays between us, Cariño,” he replied sincerely, stroking your jaw with his thumb. A sigh escaped him, his eyes hardening at the wavering trust in your voice. “I swear it…

On my deceased daughter.”

Your eyes widened briefly at his words. You knew Miguel’s past well, having read his files more than was probably healthy.

Gabriella O’Hara, Black Cat's only daughter, had passed away from an illness—an illness that could have been prevented had Miguel had the means to afford the necessary treatments at the time.

His files spoke of their father-daughter bond being something impermeable, unlike anything else. It was clear that Gabriella’s tragic passing had pushed him down a dark road, a life of crime fueled by the desire to find joy in the misery of others, in hopes of brightening his own life, however briefly.

Your heart tugged at the thought of such devastation shaping the man before you.

Sneaking a hand up, you cupped his jaw, the tingles that coursed through your body at the contact enough to power a lighthouse. “I… trust you, Miguel,” you whispered, seeing the pain in his red orbs, despite his efforts to conceal it.

With your other hand, your gloved fingers slowly moved to the edge of your mask. Hesitating, you watched the cat villain’s expression shift from stern to anticipation as you removed the head covering of your hero suit, revealing your face—and, with it, your identity.

Tugging the loose fabric free, you felt your hair fall down and the cold breeze gently stroke your face, almost as if it were welcoming you with a kind gesture.

Now fully visible, you felt a surge of nervousness. Swallowing to ease the tightness in your throat, you met the cat villain’s gaze, trying to keep your embarrassment in check.

Miguel’s crimson eyes roamed over your face and body, glancing once, twice, even thrice, as if this moment were a dream that might vanish if he blinked. He hummed, letting out a low whistle of approval. “I knew I had taste, but damn, aren’t you a sight, arañita.” He complimented, brushing a stray hair behind your ear.

Black Cat examined you once more, his hidden fascination with you still rattling him. He flicked his tongue along his fangs, his gaze growing ravenous, hungry…

You blushed at his words, trying to maintain a steady expression, but with the absence of your mask, you’d never felt so exposed. “I cannot say the same,” you replied, your voice faltering. “I wouldn’t think my taste would be…” You averted your gaze from him, regretting voicing your inner thoughts about being a hero and feeling drawn to a villain like him.

At your flustered reaction, Black Cat chuckled, cupping your chin to gently turn your face back to him. “Don’t be ashamed, arañita. Everyone has their guilty pleasures.” He purred, pressing your body further into the wall and slipping a hand along your stomach, lower, to tease your clothed pelvis. “Pleasures I can surely satisfy.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, distracted by his touches and enticing words, your usual sense of strategic thinking lost in the haze. You’d always planned your next move, carefully considering every possibility, but right now, logic was the last thing on your mind.

His teasing touches along your inner thighs only fueled your desire, leaving you frantically nodding, pleading for more. “P-Please,” you stammered, the desperation in your voice undeniable, no longer hiding it.

A sultry smirk spread across Miguel’s lips, clearly delighted with your response. He cradled your face in his large, gloved palm, pulling you a hair’s breadth away from his lips.

“Hmm… Now, how could I deny such a sweet thing like you, arañita?”

The cat villain purred, his scarlet eyes gleaming with anticipation and desire for what he had in store for his little spider.

Through dazed eyes, you could only stare at the horizon—the same horizon that had entranced you only hours ago, touching your heart like never before.

With trembling limbs and a foggy mind, you wondered if the horizon would have returned your gaze, even for a moment, if it had known what you'd do later…

Would the starry night have glimmered brightly for you if it had known the slurred words you'd speak and the unashamed pleasure you'd feel shortly after?

Would the darkened sky still radiate in its purple and blue hues, like brushstrokes on a canvas, if it had known the lewd thoughts now plaguing your mind?

Worst of all, would the moon have graced you with its beautiful presence tonight if it had known how you would allow such a man—a villain—to take you in ways you never thought possible, all under its watchful gaze?

One would never know the answers, but you hoped it would have…

A broken whine escaped your lips as the cat’s thick cock touched the blissful spot inside of your pussy. Your back arched on the ledge. Unable to remember when the two of you had climbed onto the rooftop of a building adjacent to the jeweler’s shop and alley, to finally soothe the burning itch that had resonated in both of you for far too long."

The cat’s massive body, a frame of honeyed muscles and tantalizing scars were stripped bare, laid atop your chest, fucking you over the roof's ledge. His body engulfed your nude one in its musculature whilst his hands gripped you tightly—holding you close between each and every rut of his hips.

“Sì, sì… fuck. So tight for me, muñeca.” He purred, sinking his sharp canines into the soft skin of your neck, biting and sucking dark spots onto your skin before lapping at the tender spot.

You yelped, nails clawing into his burly back. Your legs tightened around his waist as your vision crossed for the fourth time since he'd begun fucking you like he was in heat.

“M-Miguel!” You moaned loudly when his merciless mouth lowered to mark your collarbone and breasts, his thrusting never ceasing.

A dark chuckle escaped the large feline at your loud moans, his tongue tracing patterns along the skin of your breasts. “Might want to keep it down, amor, wouldn't want to draw attention.” He snickered breathlessly against your skin, his drooling cock continuing its slow grind in and out your sensitive walls.

The thought of a possible neighboring apartment, full of residents, hearing your wails and cries of pleasure made your face burn in shame.

‘Gosh, how humiliating would it be if I were found like this—their hero, willingly being taken by Black Cat, a villain, right before their eyes?’

The thought made your heart skip a beat before they were instantly shattered when Miguel's cock slipped out of you, leaving you gasping for air.

Your eyes snapped up to him, his body towering over you as the usual cunning smirk played upon his lips. “Thinking again, arañita?” he asked, tracing his bare talons, free from his gloves, along your jaw.

Your eyes fluttered at his touch, feeling an intense heat that even the chilling breeze brushing against your skin couldn't quell.

Shaking your head in his palm, you replied breathlessly, “I—I can’t help it.” You panted, biting your lip, while his tempting touch never ceased.

The cat hummed, resuming his descent, his sharp claws trailing along your throat, over your collarbones, and toward your chest. “That’s a shame, Spiderwoman. It seems you want me to fuck you senseless—help you forget all your little problems,” the villain uttered with a snicker, his sharp eyes locking onto yours. “You’re quite the naughty one.”

Your cheeks flushed at his words, and you hastily denied him. “N-no, it’s not like that—” you tried to say, but your words were cut off as the cat pulled you to your feet, turning you to face the horizon and the towering buildings before you.

His hardened chest pressed against the expanse of your back, aligning perfectly with you. Miguel’s arm wrapped around your waist, his hand stroking your thighs and stomach. “You aren’t a naughty one as you claim, Miss Spider, but let me know if this sounds familiar,” he said huskily into your ear, his rumbling tone vibrating through his chest

A soft whine escaped you when he cupped a breast, rolling the stiff nub underneath his thumb. “You fight tirelessly every day, defending this… wretched city from potential dangers, bad guys, and such,” he muttered. “It sounds… exhausting, hmm?” The feline inquired, his touch blinding, and the reasoning behind his words rattling you further.

“Y-yes… it is,” you could only muster, whimpering when both of his massive, calloused hands grasped your breasts, squeezing them like stress balls under his palms. He purred, swiping his tongue along the shell of your ear, enjoying how you shuddered.

“And how does my Spiderwoman handle her stress?” Black Cat hummed, your cheeks burning at such a question. You gulped, opening your mouth to speak and answer, but no sound was produced—too embarrassed to respond.

Miguel’s fingers pinched your perky nipples, humming in satisfaction when you mewled in pleasure. “No answer, I see? I’ll guess then,” he said. Despite being behind you, you could tell he was smirking.

“After returning home and… shimmying yourself out of that sexy suit,” he said, giving your breasts a smack that made you gasp. His hands returned to engulf them tightly once more. “You’ll probably shower, have a meal, watch a little television before curling up in bed. Alone, I hope…” He trailed off, the wish he voiced carrying a hint of warning.

However, he sighed, releasing your chest and allowing you to breathe again. “But when the lights turn off, and your room becomes dark, that’s when your stress becomes prominent, doesn’t it, bebè?” The cat asked, brushing your hair aside to expose your throat, already marked with growing hickeys from his previous bites.

A shaky exhale escaped you as his sharp nails ran along your neck, tracing your pulse point. You hesitated, unwilling to answer him.

Miguel nodded slowly, taking your silence as a response. “That’s a shame, arañita,” the feline murmured with a tsk, brushing his rough palms down your arms, goosebumps rising on your skin.

“When you’re alone, you begin to desire, Spiderwoman. Is that your deep secret?” Black Cat asked, your heart pounding so loudly against your chest that you were certain he could hear it.

“But simply desire? That couldn’t be. Humans desire—we desire,” the feline snickered, gripping your waist, his lips brushing against your ear. “What dark secret does my little Spider have?” he chuckled darkly.

“I think we both know what that is.”

Your entire body tensed, unable to believe how accurate he was. You bit your lip, his white tail coiling around your leg, coaxing you into replying—confirming his suspicions.

You turned your head away, unwilling to voice such a thing—not that. Agreeing was one thing, but speaking aloud your darkest secrets was too much.

Miguel laughed, gripping your chin to pull you back toward him, wanting you to hear his words clearly.

“You began to desire me, arañita. That’s your dark secret.”

Your heart dropped at his knowledge of your hidden truth. You squeezed your eyes shut, wishing to hide under his stern gaze, neither wanting to agree nor disagree with him.

A growl rumbled from the male as his hand slithered up to grasp your throat, gripping it just softly enough to intimidate. He tugged you harshly back against him, his chest pressing against your backside like a thorn. “You still lie, arañita. Even after everything, you continue to lie,” he snarled into your ear, feeling his cock throb against the curve of your rear - heavy, thick, and very, very hard.

You shook your head, denying his claims of deceit, earning a tight squeeze on your throat that stopped your breathing for a moment. Despite the fear his action provoked, ecstasy coursed through your veins as your eyes rolled, beyond your control.

“M-Miguel—”

“Shh, shh, it’s okay, Spiderwoman,” he silenced you with a dark purr, running his other hand along your thighs. “You want me to work for your admission—your acceptance.” The cat cackled into your ear.

“Well, challenge accepted…”

With a gasp, you were pushed forward, collapsing across the ledge, your hands pressing against the concrete, your rear thrusted upward. Confused, you looked over your shoulder to find red eyes—full of determination and lust—staring back.

Miguel’s large palms gripped your hips, his throat rumbling with a snarl. “I'm going to fuck you until I hear what I want from you, Spiderwoman.” He replied and before you could speak, his girthy shaft was plunged inside of you again, filling you up in an instance.

Your eyes squeezed shut in bliss and agony, fingers gripping the edge of the ledge tightly. The cat didn't hesitate to begin thrusting into you, his hips slamming into your rear in deafening slaps that could be compared to thunderclaps.

“Mierda, you are mine, Spiderwoman. You may hesitate and deny it all you want, but this fucking pussy is telling me all that I need.” He spat breathlessly, leaning over to grasp your chin roughly. “Now I just need your lips to speak the same.” He growled, turning your head to capture your lips in a bruising kiss, not seeking your comfort and continuing to pound into your sloppy cunt.

Miguel sought to draw out his desired words from your mouth and break your resolve with his cock, willing to do so until you both were sore and burnt out if need be.

Your mind felt hazy, slowly becoming drunk on the feeling of his fat member rearranging your insides. The rough kiss left you further dazed as you tighten your grip on the ledge, feeling it crack under your enhanced strength.

Black Cat huffed, pulling away to grab a fistful of your hair, tugging you back. The feline's tip touched deeper inside you, his brutal pace, never slowing.

You whimpered, euphoric tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure. “Say it, bebè. Say you want me—fuck,” he began to babble, his white furry tail tightening around your leg, keeping you rooted in place.

Your back arched into a bow, seeking more of his shaft. The need for him was growing more intense by the minute, your mind becoming filled with Miguel and his girthy cock.

You moaned and mewled in his grip, but no longer could you deny that this very moment was one of your fantasies turned into reality.

Black Cat read your life to you as if he had lived it, every detail so accurate it was a little unsettling.

After your work as Spiderwoman, you returned home and settled for the night, thoughts of him creeping into your mind.

His white mane, furry tail, red eyes, sharp fangs, towering height, scars, muscles, spiked choker, fur jacket, and all-black-and-white attire filled your head in the seclusion of your bedroom.

You tossed and turned, tormented by his tempting yet forbidden features—things you couldn’t have, things you shouldn’t have.

But each night you found your hands roaming your body, touching yourself and imagining it was him. Using toys with the thought of his cock being what drove your movements, even going as far to moan his name upon release, knowing every orgasm you made that night was for him and him alone.

Black Cat was your guilty pleasure—a taboo fantasy that only took form inside the safety of your mind and bedroom. But now, standing before you, experiencing everything you had ever wanted, you found yourself uttering the words the feline villain had long sought from you.

“I—I want you… Miguel.”

You confessed aloud, your chest heaving from the intense pleasure and the mix of difficulty and relief in finally revealing your deep, dark secret

You felt Miguel’s arm tighten around your waist, a curse following with purrs of approval and ecstasy escaping him at your admission. “Hmm… there you go, Miss Spider. It feels good accepting your fate, giving in to your desires, doesn’t it?” he hummed, untangling his fingers from your hair to place his other hand on your waist. “I’m pleased, Spiderwoman, but I don’t trust it. Not yet.” The cat practically hissed, his claws digging enticingly into the soft skin of your hips, marking you with his talons.

His thrusts halted as he trailed open-mouthed kisses along your shoulder, up your neck and to your ear, tugging at the lobe with his teeth. “I want you to prove it to me.” The villain instructed, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

A soft smack upon your rear made you jump that only left the feline chuckling. “I want you to show me your eagerness, arañita, and if I must spell it out.” He mockingly replied, his cock still inside you but completely still due to his lack of motion.

“Move your hips.” The cat directed, taking the flesh of your hips into his palms and tugging you forward and back along his shaft. It wasn't long that your whimpers began to fill the night sky again.

Understanding what he was asking of you, you began to take control. You wanted the cat villain to know how you truly felt about him, despite how shameful your feelings were.

You began to rock back onto his fat cock, slowing your movements to relish in every vein and ridge of his shaft as it traveled in and out of your sensitive walls.

The cat cursed, giving your ass another smack. “Fuck—yes, that's my good girl.”He praised, his moans only encouraged you and filled you more with confidence.

Slurred confessions began to spill from your mouth like a leaky faucet, your pace quickening whilst your high rose simultaneously. “Y-yes... I’ve wanted you... M-Miguel, f-for a while now.”You admitted with a moan, eyes fluttering at how he twitched inside of you with your every word.

"I-I’m sorry it took... so long," you gasped, your chest heaving."I was... afraid." You paused, eyes fluttering shut for a moment before continuing, your voice shaky. "But now... I know..." Another deep inhale, your body trembling with the intensity. "My desire for you... is more than my fear." You stammered between mewls, your ass colliding with his hips with a loud slap each time.

The Black Cat growled, aroused further. Wrapping a forearm around your throat and gripping your waist, he pulled you to his chest, breathing into your ear. “Tell me more, spiderwoman. What else did you seek from me?” He inquired, his voice more slurred and raspy than before as he took control once more, pounding his shaft into you.

The bulgy muscle of his arm was pressed just right into your throat, engulfing you in his sweaty scent and musk that only made you drip puddles along his rapid shaft. “I-I wanted your touch…” you gasped, struggling to get the words out as your body trembled. “Y-your mark... from your fangs... and your…” You paused to catch your breath, heart racing, the weight of your confession sinking in… “A-and your c-cock!” You wailed out, feeling a harsh burn in the pit of your stomach beginning to grow.

Black Cat hummed, holding you to him, practically gluing your backside to his chest. His dick pounded into you, his shaft drenched in your combined juices. “I knew you were my… naughty, naughty girl.” He snickered breathlessly, his tail tightening around your calf.

“Ay Coño.” The curse escaped him. “Going to claim you, arañita. Going to fill this pretty pussy up, and you are going to enjoy it, sí?” The cat villain promised, his voice airy

You frantically nodded, moaning loudly as the pleasurable tears you tried to hold back began to stream down your cheeks. “P-please, please, please,” you chanted upon reaching your limit.

At your pleas, the feline rested his chest flat against your back, covering his large hands with yours to rest upon the concrete ledge before you. His movements became more purposeful and precise for the last time, slamming into you at an angle that touched that spot inside you repeatedly.

Your eyes rolled into your skull, fingers squeezing his so harshly you'd believe his digits would snap any moment.

With a final thrust, you released. Seeing white, you were overwhelmed by a wave of tingles and euphoric bliss, the feeling of your juices trickling down your hot skin going unnoticed.

Your tightness led Miguel to follow you over the edge. A guttural groan erupted from the Latino villain, his load filling up your inners and leaving you warm and full.

A peaceful silence settled upon the rooftop, broken only by your panting breaths and the occasional honking of cars down below.

Breathing heavily, the feline wrapped an arm around your midsection, stroking your stomach and nuzzling your hair. “Spiderwoman, you do not disappoint,” he chuckled breathlessly, inhaling the scent of your shampoo and enjoying the feeling of you in his arms.

The cat villain purred in contentment, the wind rustling his white mane and kissing the tips of his furry ears. “I never thought I'd find thrill in something else that didn’t leave my pockets filled with riches,” he confessed with a laugh, lapping his tongue along your neck to clean up the sweat there.

“So, let’s not make this our only playtime, hmm? I don’t believe I can simply leave here today, knowing how good you feel and unable to experience it again,” he admitted, resting his chin on your shoulder. His tail swished, and a purr rumbled from his throat when he was around you.

“So, what do you say? Want to have more fun with me—” Miguel’s words halted as he noticed the sleeping hero in his arms. The villain chuckled, not believing how long he’d rambled on, only to discover that he had been speaking to himself the whole time.

“A question for another time, then,” he trailed off with a sigh, pressing a kiss to your throat.

“Goodnight, arañita. Dream of me, would you?”

You groaned in annoyance at the beaming sun shining onto your closed eyelids. You shifted, feeling a blanket covering your body, which you didn’t hesitate to tug closer to your form.

Lying between a state of consciousness and unconsciousness, the recollections of last night began to fill your mind, causing your eyes to snap open.

“Miguel?” you called out, looking around to find yourself tangled in a series of comfy blankets, the rooftop empty except for you.

Your heart tugged at the feline’s disappearance.

Heaving a sigh, you drew back the sheets to find your Spiderwoman attire adorning your body. You couldn’t help but smile, aware that you had been nude before sleep claimed you, leaving the idea that Black Cat was the one who clothed you.

You stood, hastily tugging on your mask and beginning to roll up the blankets. “But why did you leave without saying goodbye?” you muttered glumly when you noticed a small, robotic white-and-black cat fall onto the floor from the bundle of sheets you held.

“One of Miguel’s kittens!?” you gasped, crouching down to pick up the small gadget that resembled the cunning feline.

You’d seen the robotic kitten many times before, knowing them best as tools for many of Miguel’s tasks, from spying to delivering messages. The little gadget was impressive tech, typical of the feline.

Pressing the red orb of the little cat’s eye and finally pulling its white tail, it began to speak aloud its recorded message:

“Good morning, Little Spider. Hope you slept well with the amount of drooling you did on my chest. I would have loved to stick around and bless your eyes with a sexy sight in the morning, but I had urgent business that needed taking care of. I assure you, arañita, we’ll meet again. Very soon.

Also, be sure to return the blankets—someone in a nearby laundromat just might be missing them.

Until then, keep your bed empty for me. I plan on filling it soon, Spiderwoman.”

The message concluded, and the robotic kitten fell silent, Miguel’s voice fading as quickly as it had spoken.

You wistfully smiled, running a finger along the miniature, cunning feline’s white mane, wishing it was the real Black Cat’s.

“I already miss the furry idiot,” you breathed, tucking the robot into the strap on your waist before deciding it was time to take your leave.

Picking up the bundle of blankets that Black Cat would say he “borrowed,” you shot a webline to a neighboring building, swinging through the morning air toward, hopefully, the location of a laundromat that had recently experienced a thievery.

However, as you traveled, your mind was filled with thoughts of the cat and how uncertain your future would be now that such an occurrence had happened.

But you found yourself, not regretting a thing.

People make mistakes, some repeating the same ones over and over again, and yes, you were a hero—a mutant with powers far beyond, but you would always be…

Human…

A human that wouldn’t mind making mistakes here and there, especially if that mistake was a walking cat mutant with red eyes, a white tail, and a signature black fur coat.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed The Cat and His Spider! As always, it was a pleasure writing Miguel as a sly, cat villain. Goodness, he was literally so scrumptious!! 😍😍

This marks the finale of the Vicetober 2024 event, which I created with my older sister, @powerful-niya. Apologies once again for it spilling over into the new year—personal life and education got in the way for both of us, making it difficult to write. But I’m happy we were still able to complete this event for our wonderful fans! Love you guys so much! 🖤🤍🖤🤍

Following Vicetober 2024, I'll be returning to my normal works. This includes asks, my kink series Entangled Desires, oneshots, and continuing stories like Tangled in His Webs, Lapdog, and many more—so be on the lookout! 😏

Also, I now have an AO3 account where I'll be posting new stories and transferring existing ones from Tumblr.

If you're interested, feel free to check it out here >> 🤓🤓

Once again, thank you so much to everyone who was excited about this event and enjoyed my posts. I truly appreciate it!

Make sure to like, comment, reblog, and follow if you enjoy events like this—perhaps I'll do another? We'll never know, lol. 🤷🏾‍♀️ If you'd like to submit a request for Entangled Desires or share an idea in general, just message or send an ask! Don’t be nervous—your idea could be amazing! I hope you have a wonderful day—stay safe! 🖤🤍

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naeverse · 6 months ago

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naeverse · 7 months ago

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Dear My Beloved (2/2)

~Ｖｉｃｅ＃３~

𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝟑: 𝐃𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐥

(𝐎𝐜𝐭. 𝟏𝟑-𝟏𝟗)

----

𝘋𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳:

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘥 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯.

"𝘋𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯."

Ｍｕｓｉｃ：

"𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘉𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘛𝘰 𝘔𝘦" - 𝘏𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘯 𝘍𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳

"𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘖𝘰𝘨𝘶𝘮 𝘉𝘰𝘰𝘨𝘶𝘮 𝘚𝘰𝘯𝘨" - 𝘉𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘰𝘯 𝘞𝘰𝘰𝘥

🤎staring: Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

👗preview: But then, everything seemed to stop.

The music faded into the background as, almost in a trance, you stared at the kitchen tool in your hand, the hum slowing on your lips.

Twirling it between your fingers, your eyes traced the jagged edge. Transfixed, your hands ached with an foreign yet strangely familiar desire—one buried deep in the recesses of your mind.

The record player suddenly grabbed your attention when the previous song's lyrics of adoration from Helen Foster shifted.

The tune slowed, the pitch of the female singer’s voice deepening to an haunting croak.

“Nothing is what it seems… Oh dear, nothing is what it seems...”

💄summary: It’s your husband Miguel’s birthday, a day that should be filled with love and celebration. Yet, something feels…off.

🎂tw/cw: 1950s Era, Abuse, Angst, Blood, Body Horror, Death, Despair, Disturbing Imagery, Emotional Manipulation, Gore, Grief, Hallucinations, Mental Breakdown, Mental Illness, No Smut, Paranoia, Psychological Horror, Trauma, Violence,

💙Pet names: Amor (Love), Bebé (Baby), Cariño (Darling), Esposa (Wife), Mi amor (My love)

♥️Rating: 18+ explicit I ANGST I

🎵 Word Count: Total - 14.5k, Part 2 - 8.2k words

Art found on Pinterest, all credit go to original artists/designers/photographers

All credit also goes to musicians as I do not own the two songs heavily used in this oneshot. 😊

Dividers and mood board was created by me.

⚠️⚠️ Trigger Warning: This section contains highly sensitive content, including blood, trauma, verbal abuse, mental health struggles, and death. If any of these topics may be triggering for you, please proceed with caution and at your own discretion. ⚠️⚠️

“MAMA!!”

You froze, eyes wide, breath catching in your throat. Hastily, you pushed Miguel away, panic rising in your chest. “Did you hear that?!” you asked, your voice tight with alarm.

For once, Miguel’s expression mirrored the terror that gripped you. Rising from the couch, he reached out to steady you as both of you looked toward the stairs, your pulse pounding in your ears. The air between you was heavy now—this wasn’t just the innocent sound of a child’s call.

Something was wrong…

Your husband moved first, his long legs quickly striding to the stairway. He climbed them in an instant, with you close behind.

“Princesa!? Gabriella!?” Miguel’s thunderous voice echoed down the hall of your family home.

“Gabi?!” you called out, your heart hammering, never feeling this level of panic before.

Miguel walked briskly down the narrow upstairs hallway, flanked by four doors—two leading to bathrooms, one to your shared bedroom, and the last to Gabriella’s room.

Frantically, you tore through each room, throwing open doors, your eyes scanning for any trace of your daughter. With each second that passed, the dread in your chest grew heavier. “Gabi?!” your voice cracked as it echoed off the walls. But the silence that followed was unbearable.

She wasn’t there.

Meeting in the hallway, your teary eyes locked with Miguel’s. His stern gaze didn’t falter, but the tension in his clenched jaw betrayed his growing desperation.

“One last door, cariño. She’s here,” he said, his voice resolute as his knuckle brushed your cheek in a soothing gesture. But the flicker of anger in his eyes spoke volumes—anger at the unknown, at his own helplessness.

Swallowing hard, your throat dry, you both turned toward Gabriella’s bathroom.

Miguel let out a frustrated grunt, and with the force of a charging bull, he bursted the door open. You pushed past him, your feet hitting the cold tiles when you entered the room.

The bathroom hit you like a slap. The air was heavy, unnaturally still, and it clung to your skin in a way that made every nerve scream with unease. The cold tiles beneath your feet were a stark contrast to the warmth of the hallway carpet, a biting reminder of how wrong everything felt.

⚠️⚠️(Trigger Warning Approaching!!)) ⚠️⚠️

Skip to this if you wish to avoid it >> 🤎💙

Your hand scrambled along the wall, fumbling for the light switch. When the harsh fluorescent bulbs buzzed to life with a sickly hum, the scene before you came into focus.

And you froze.

The color drained from your face, your breath caught in your chest, and your knees felt as if they might give way beneath you. The bathtub, the room, the sight—it all sucked the life out of you in one brutal instant.

‘This has to be a dream. Let this be a fucking dream.’

But it wasn’t.

Gabriella was there, hunched over the edge of the bathtub.

Your sweet little girl—the same one who had just been beaming with joy as she dashed upstairs to fetch her gift—now laid lifelessly. Her small body was draped over the edge, twisted in a way that made her look like a discarded, broken doll. The innocence of her form had been stolen, transformed into something grotesque.

You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. The world had stopped spinning, leaving you trapped in this moment of unimaginable horror.

🤎💙 Safe to continue reading💙🤎

“No,” you whispered, shaking your head frantically. “No, no, no. This isn’t happening. This can’t be real.”

Your voice broke, a sob ripping through your chest while stepping back on trembling legs. “My daughter. My sweet little girl.” Tears blurred your vision, cascading down your cheeks as you sank to your knees.

“Oh, gosh, w-what happened to you? This can’t be real. No, no, no.” The words spilled from your lips in a torrent of grief and denial.

A guttural cry tore from your chest, raw and unrelenting, shaking your entire body. Your hands gripped the fabric of your blue dress so tightly that your knuckles turned white, the tears soaking the material until it clung to your trembling form.

Your heart raced, your breathing uneven, and your head throbbed with disbelief and terror. The questions, the pleas, the desperate prayers poured out of you in a relentless stream, each one more frantic than the last.

But the pain was too much.

Your vision blurred further, darkening at the edges as the world around you began to fade. Overwhelmed by the sheer weight of grief, your body gave out, collapsing into unconsciousness.

As darkness enveloped you, fragments of thoughts slipped through the cracks of your mind.

‘Please don’t be real.’

‘My sweet girl, Gabriella.’

‘I can’t lose you.’

And then, like a flickering light extinguished, your final thoughts faded into the void.

“Mi amor…”

“Shh, it’s okay. Everything will be okay.”

“You are okay.”

Your eyes slowly fluttered open, your body weak and trembling. A pounding headache reverberated through your skull—a pain so excruciating that even thinking was a grueling task.

“W-where am I?” you whispered, struggling to sit up from your crumpled position on the ground. Surrounded you a cold, dark hallway—one that sent a chill down your spine. The memories came rushing back, sharp and unbearable, as a strangled sob escaped your throat.

“G-Gabi. Oh gosh.” You wept into your hands, the ache in your chest only intensifying when the horrific moment played out in your mind once more.

Above, the lights flickered on, one by one, casting an eerie glow over the hallway. The endless stretch of white doors along the walls appeared stark and unnervingly perfect. Each was identical—smooth, sleek, and disturbingly pristine. No wood grain or signs of age, no layers of paint chipped over time. Just a clinical, sterile design that felt foreign. These weren’t the familiar, warm doors of your home.

Your gaze stretched down the corridor. The symmetry of the doors and the sterile glow of the flickering lights heightened the unsettling atmosphere. Your stomach churned, a sense of dread sinking deep into your bones.

Shakily, you rose to your feet, your legs trembling beneath you. You were still barefoot, dressed in the pastel blue dress you had worn earlier, although your jumbo curls were now a mess and in need of another douse in hairspray.

Everything about you was the same, yet you felt completely different—wrecked by despair that gripped you tighter with every thought of your little girl and…

Miguel.

Your eyes darted around frantically, trying to seek him to find no other being in sight.

Where was he? He had been with you when…

“Y/N!?”

His voice boomed through the hallway, shattering the silence.

Your head whipped toward the sound—a desperate yell followed by loud bangs against one of the white doors.

“Amor! Esposa!” Miguel’s frantic voice echoed as he jiggled the doorknob. “Fuck, it’s locked! I’m in here, baby! Open the door!”

“Miguel!?” you cried out, rushing toward the source of his voice.

“Y/N! Oh, bebé, I’m so happy to hear you are okay,” he said, relief breaking through his panicked tone.

“M-me too. But Miguel, Gabi—”

“I know, amor,” he interrupted, his voice cracking slightly. “First, I need you to open the door. There’s…something in here with me.”

His words sent a chill through your entire body.

“It’s chasing me through these halls. I can’t see it, and—shit—it stabbed me.”

“It stabbed you!?” you exclaimed, horrified, pressing yourself against the door wishing to be there next to him more than anything.

“Yes,” he groaned. “Nothing fatal, though.” But his weakening tone betrayed his words.

“It’ll be okay, Miguel. I-I’ll open the door. I’ll get you out.”

Your hands shook as you gripped the doorknob, turning it desperately. However, It didn’t budge.

It was locked…

Your heart sank. “M-Miguel, it’s locked!” you whimpered, twisting and pulling at the knob repeatedly in a frenzy.

“Try again. Stay calm for me, baby. Just try again.”

“I am!” you shouted, tears streaming down your face, completely helpless as fear tightened its grip on you. “Try it from your side!” you begged.

You stepped back, letting him attempt the lock from his side. The sounds of his struggle filled the hallway, but the door refused to open.

“Mierda!” He cursed in frustration, hands slamming against the door with a loud bang, making you jump.

“M-Miguel, what are we going to do? I-I can’t leave you, I can’t…” You sobbed, not wanting to be alone and leave your husband to die at the hands of that thing.

Instead of an answer, your stomach turned into knots at his response. “It’s here! Fuck!” Miguel stated, harsh bangs and kicks to the door filling the quiet hallway at your husband’s futile attempts to escape. “Get out of here, esposa!”

A new wave of terror crashed over you. “N-no! I’m not leaving you!” you cried, not wishing to leave and lose him too. You tugged at the door in desperation alongside his assaults upon the relentless door, crying all the while.

“Y/N!” Miguel’s stern voice cut through your panic, startling youfor a fleeting moment. “I love you, but you have to leave. Understand me!?”

You choked on your sobs, every fiber of your being screaming to stay, but his command left no room for argument.

“Y-yes. I understand,” you whimpered in a trembling voice. “I love you too.”

However, silence fell on the other side of the door.

Your eyes widened when a loud, sickening thud from behind the door filled your ears. In that moment, your heart shattered into a million pieces.

“Miguel!” you screamed, banging your fists against the wooden surface. Your cries were frantic, pleading for any response, begging for his death not to be real.

A harsh, coppery scent filled your nose, like a punch in the face. Sharp and metallic, it clawed at your every sense as a wet, sticky sensation spreading under your foot made your breath hitch.

Your eyes darted down in alarm.

Blood.

It pooled from beneath the door, crimson rivulets spreading across the pristine floor, soaking into the soles of your bare feet.

You staggered back, trembling, disbelief gripping your entire being.

“N-no, not you too. Not you too.”

The words spilled from your lips in broken, anguished sobs, a mantra of denial as tears blurred your vision. The reality was too much to bear, too cruel to endure.

You turned and sprinted down the hallway, no longer caring where it led, no longer caring if you’d be lost.

The sterile glow of the flickering lights stretched endlessly ahead of you, the hem of your blue dress billowing behind you as you ran. Your breath hitched, your sobs growing louder, hair whipping wildly around your tear-streaked face.

And then, your legs gave out.

You collapsed to your knees, chest heaving, despair consuming you.

You sobbed uncontrollably, your trembling hands clutching at the cold floor. The weight of the loss crushed you, leaving nothing but a hollow ache in its wake.

‘First Gabi, my little angel…and now Miguel.’

The thought shattered you. It was too much. Too much pain. Too much emptiness.

Your tears fell harder, your cries echoing down the lifeless corridor.

And then—

A sound.

The soft creak of a door swinging open.

Your head snapped up, your breath hitching and your heart plummeted into your stomach. One of the white doors stood ajar, its perfect surface now marred by a sinister shadow.

A cold, unnatural wind blew from the pitch-black doorway, tousling your hair and sending a shiver down your spine.

You froze, your body rigid with fear and grief, staring into the darkness.

For a fleeting moment, you found yourself yearning, besseching for whatever had taken Miguel to take you too. To end this nightmare. To reunite you with your family.

But instead of a monster emerging from the void, you saw something else.

You and Miguel…

But not really…

You were sitting in a fancy restaurant with your husband, Miguel, donned in a glamorous dress and him, a pristine tux. This world was nothing you were familiar with, nothing like your checkerboard floors, poodle skirts, and pin-up curls. It was more futuristic to what you were used to, yet familiar all the same.

The waitress completed taking your order and collected your menus. Innocently, your husband exchanged a glance with her, his eyes lingering a little too long for your liking, his smile too warm and it all riled you up.

As soon as the waitress left, you couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“I saw you.” You spat, glaring at him, the tension between the two of you growing thick. “I saw you look at her. You think I didn’t notice?” You asked with a scoff. "Anyone could see how your eyes nearly bulged out of your skull."

Miguel’s charming features shifted to a mix of confusion and frustration. He leaned in close, trying to keep your conversation down. “What are you talking about? I just glanced at her, it was nothing.”

“No, no, don’t lie to me! You think I’m stupid? T-That I cannot see what is evidently in front of me!?” Your voice rose, attracting the attention of nearby diners. “Well, I assure you, husband, I’m not fucking blind.” You said harshly, spitting his title that was meant for endearment like it was venom in your mouth.

Miguel steadily placed his glass down, his large hand reaching across the table to hold yours in hopes of quelling the raging storm. “Calm down, please, amor. Let’s not ruin our date.” He whispered hopefully, stroking your knuckles with his thumb. “You’re not seeing things clearly. Nothing happened.”

The look on your face was of pure rage from something so harmless as a glance. You were lost in your own chaotic thoughts—a belief that he would leave you for someone younger, someone more beautiful. The waiter, the clerk, the neighbor down the street—anyone could take him from you.

Anyone.

You yanked your hand from his, standing up with a loud squeak of your chair on the floor, gaining the attention of the entire restaurant. “Since you wish to ogle at waitresses, you can eat dinner by yourself. I'll be in the car.” You said, storming out and leaving an embarrassed and pitiful Miguel in your wake…

The door slammed shut with a loud bang, snapping you out of the long-lost memory. “W-who was that? What was that?” you stammered in utter confusion and horror at the person who looked like you but was anything but.

“That… could not have been me,” you thought, but you couldn’t shake the familiarity of the situation.

You could practically feel the red dress you wore upon your body, remember the paranoia and anger, smell the spices wafting through the restaurant, and see the look of pity your husband gave you amidst the storm of your deranged thoughts.

You rose on your shaky legs, the tears you shed now dried upon your cheeks. Your bare feet wandered down the flickering hallway and found yourself wanting answers to the many questions that plagued your mind.

Suddenly, you heard another door to your left fly open, forcing you into that terrible world once more—one that was far from the perfect world you remembered.

Or thought you remembered…

You were in the hallway, walking into the kitchen when you heard Miguel on the phone. His voice was lower than usual, speaking to someone in hushed tones. You couldn’t make out the words, but you could hear the familiarity in his voice. His voice was warmer. Softer. He didn’t speak to you like that.

Not anymore.

You stormed into the room, catching the last part of the conversation. “Yeah, I’ll pick you up later. Miss you too, sweetheart. Bye.”

Your mind instantly spiraled: Who was he talking to? Who is “she”?

Miguel looked back startled at your sudden appearance. “Hey, cariño, you scared me-”

“Who is she?” Your voice shaking in desperation and anger. “Who the hell were you talking to?”

He looked at you in perplexion, a flicker of hurt in his eyes at being accused of such a thing. “I was talking to Gabi. She’s at my mother’s for the weekend, remember?” He stated in betrayal. “Why are you constantly accusing me of cheating. I love you, amor. Only you.”

Miguel tried to convince you, but you didn’t believe him. You couldn’t.

You never could anymore.

“No, no, you’re lying to me. You’re having an affair. I know it. You don’t care about me anymore.” You wholeheartedly believed, could even see the loving looks he'd give her—hear the dirty things he would say to her.

“You are just using our daughter as a coverup!” You shouted at him, stepping up to jab a finger to his chest. “And I would not let you make me look like a fool, Miguel!”

The memory faded away, throwing you back into the endless hallway, the door swinging closed.

Your eyes watered up, tears beginning to fill your cheeks. “No, this can’t be true. What is this?” You whimpered, shaking your head. “This is a lie. Miguel and I were happy. He would dance with me, hold me, sing to me with his guitar. No, this isn’t real!” You shouted aloud, more to yourself in hopes of dismissing such riveting tales this nightmare was trying to plague you with.

“I won’t believe these false tales! I won’t let you lie to me!” You cried out, walking, or more like, stumbling down the hallway. Your body felt weaker, unable to hold yourself up as you walked to the next door that would surely bring you back to that hellish world.

Like you predicted, dread engulfed you when another white door flung open, pulling your consciousness into the world of false once more.

You sat on the sofa in the living room, sipping at a mug of coffee. Watching your daughter, Gabriella drew at her mini table, her small hands carefully drawing stick figures with bright red crayons. “What are you drawing, sweetie?” You asked, noticing her become tensed at your question.

“I’m…I’m drawing us, Mamá.” You hummed, peering over her shoulder with a smile until you noticed one of the three stick figures with their head tilted, a red line crossed through their face.

“What is this?” You demanded, pointing a finger at the crossed out figure. “I-Its-” Gabi’s eyes widened as you snatched the paper out of her hands before she could explain. “I-It’s just a…picture, Mamá.”

“A picture? And what is Mama doing here, huh? Being crossed out of your life?”

“N-No, Mamá…” She began to weep. “You are just sad.” Gabi cried, trying to point out that the red streaks were instead tears, but to you, they were anything but.

You turned to Miguel, who was watching from the kitchen. “This is what she learns from you, huh!?” You shouted in a voice full of accusation. “Filling her head with ideas of hating her mother?!”

Miguel hastily raced into the living room, hiis burly arms reaching out to place Gabi behind him, shielding her crying form from you. “It’s just a child’s drawing. She’s drawing what she is seeing.” Your husband stated. “Please, stop being like this. Please, amor.”

But you can’t let it go. The image haunts you, filling your mind with fears of what Gabi might be learning from her father, and what she could be thinking of you.

You storm out of the room, the paper crumpling in your hand, heart pounding with a sense of betrayal.

“No more.” Was the first thing that escaped your cracked lips and scratchy throat. You shook your head from your crumbled position on the floor, hair and blue dress a mess. “Please, don’t show me anymore.” You begged, knowing if you moved, you’d be brought to that horrid place again—feel the overwhelming anger, fear, delusion that raked your body, practically eating you alive—and your family too.

A faint, yet familiar noise began to echo down the hall. It was quiet and undiscernable, but you were sure it sought to drive you insane.

You didn’t want to make sense of what you were seeing, because if you made sense of it, it'd only mean they were true. “This isn’t real. I loved my Gabriella and she loved me.” You affirmed, remembering the memories you deemed true. “S-She’d draw me pictures all the time, work with me in the kitchen, a-and we'll play with her dolls together.” You cried, tears breaking free. “This isn’t real. I won’t believe it. I-I won’t.”

If to prove you wrong, another door bursted open further down the aisle. You instantly felt the pull, but this time, you wouldn’t let it easily take you.

You clawed at the floor, trying to fight against the force that was tugging you into the dark abyss. However, it only strengthened, seeking to haul you back to that horrid nightmare. The noise only grew louder, yet distant as if becoming angrier at your resistance. “No…please.” You begged, pleading for it not to take you as your fingers soon gave out, drawing you back again…

One afternoon, the thoughts have become too overbearing. ‘Miguel wants to leave, so I’ll help him.’ Your deranged mind thinks, believing you to be in the right as you heaved another load of his clothes, books, and personal items out onto the porch.

Only moments after Miguel comes back from work, Gabriella, at his side from school. He races inside in panic and sorrow. “B-Bebè, what is this?” he asks, his deep voice wavering for the first time.

You glared at him, breathing hard. “If you’re planning on leaving, then go. I already set your things outside, so get out!”

Miguel stares at you, heartbroken, whilst the sobs of Gabi behind his leg fills the hallway of your bedroom. “I-I never planned to leave, mi amor-”

“Then what is this!?” You exclaimed, throwing his personal journal at his chest, hearing it clatter to the floor. He didn’t even flinch. “You wrote in there that I was deranged, crazy, and needed help—help you cannot provide me. Isn't that right?” You asked with a wicked laugh, head falling back against your shoulders.

“I don’t think a handsome man like you would want a deranged wife, now do you?” The taunting words being spat at Miguel as he just stood there with Gabriella behind him, taking the full force of the lashes.

“I tried to stay strong for us—for Gabi—for you, mi amor.” He said once your verbal assault and endless pacing ceased. “But I can’t…not anymore. Not if you don’t seek help yourself, nor face the fact that you need it.” Miguel stated, his voice full of sorrow, but he should have been talking to the wall as nothing he said was reaching you. “If you want me gone so bad, I will-.”

“Are you still here?” You asked, looking over your shoulder at him, the wildness of your hair in crazed disarray. Your husband met your gaze of pure rage with pity. “Not anymore.” He muttered sadly. “Come on, Gabriella.” Miguel said, ushering your daughter along who weeped all the way out the front door.

But you knew deep in your core that they would be back. That your sweet husband and daughter would never truly leave you. They would never leave you, no matter how much Miguel said it.

Like a punch to the gut, you sunk to the floor, sobbing. You didn’t want to believe it, but the more you saw, the more you remembered, and the weaker your body became, like the energy was being drained from your being.

The familiar tune of the hall was loud, practically driving you mad. “Stop this. Please.” You begged anyone who would listen. Your hands gripped the wall, dragging yourself up onto your feet, your frail legs trembling under your weight.

A gasp escaped you when suddenly, the lights shut off for a moment, leaving you in blackness before one flickered back on. Your heart skipped a beat at the table that the light shone down upon. “W-What is that?” You whispered so quietly you weren’t sure you said it.

Staggering slowly over, your feet dragging along the floor in an effort to walk on your weakened limbs. You leaned your weight on the table to find only a black, unnamed folder that sat atop it.

You gulped, not wishing to see what was inside, but was drawn to it, despite yourself.

Your fingers reached out for it, instantly feeling like you were holding a sack of bricks although the folder seemed almost empty.

You took a deep breath, trying to bring yourself to open it and when you did, inside, you found two items:

A singular letter and…

Divorce papers.

A tear ran down your cheek at the papers.

Never in your life did you ever believe you’d see them, but here they were, practically burning the skin in your palm just by reading the fine print.

The first thing you saw are names: Miguel O'Hara and Y/N printed side by side in formal, sterile black text. Beneath them, the words "In the Matter of the Dissolution of Marriage of" are bold, undeniable. It feels distant, like this couldn’t possibly be real—but the sensation in your chest makes it all too clear.

This is real.

Petition for Dissolution of Marriage. You swallow, and your eyes drift down, taking in the official stamp, the cold lettering, the case number marked by a court you don’t recognize. Every word is unmistakable, every letter sharp, a document that seems foreign yet irrevocably final.

You placed the papers onto the table, unable to look at them any longer.

The neatly folded piece of letter draws your attention. You opened it slowly, heart sputtering and stomach churning at the pristine ink of your lover’s perfect lettering—a handwriting he swore was chicken scratch, but one you always adored. Your breath catches in your throat as you read the first words.

"Dear my beloved,"

You hear his voice in your head as you read, soft yet unwavering, as if he’s right beside you, saying every word with sorrow but certainty.

“I hope that by the time you read this, you are in a better place. I wanted to say this face to face, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to. I would be brought to stay, and I know I can’t. Not anymore.

I am leaving. For Gabriella’s sake. You know as well as I do that things have been falling apart for a long time. And I can’t—we can’t—keep pretending we’re fine.

I’ve tried, Y/N. Goodness, I’ve tried so hard. But the constant fighting, the tension… it’s not good for Gabi. She’s been through too much. It hurts me to hear her cry, hear her fears about you, our marriage. I need to give her the stability she deserves, and right now, I’m not sure I can provide that in this environment. And neither can you.

I’m taking Gabi with me. I know this will hurt you, and I know you’ll never understand why; I only wish that one day you will. But please, for her, for both of us… get the help you need. You need it more than I can give you.

I will always love you, Y/N. You will always be a part of me. I want you to know that. But I can’t keep watching our family fall apart. Please forgive me.

With all my love,Miguel O’Hara”

Your chest constricts as you finish reading, the words sinking in like a weight you can’t lift. The paper crinkles in your shaking hands while you stare at the letter, a deep ache in your body that won’t go away.

The tears come, but they’re different this time. They’re quiet. They don’t scream for help or comfort. They just fall, knowing no one would come to wipe them.

Beside the letter, divorce papers rest, untouched, cold.

And for the first time, you are alone.

You sobbed silently, no sound passing your parted lips as you fell to your knees. Your body shook, feeling cold and empty, the sensation more real than the happy life you believed was true—more real than the blue pastel dress you wore from an era you never lived—and more real than the belief that this was all a dream.

You were so wrapped up in your grief and sorrow that you didn’t notice the lights shut off, the music now clear enough to identify that filled the hall again and the presence that now accompanied you.

The bulbs turned back on again, flickering eerily, the air thicker than before. Your gaze was blurry with tears, head pounding like a drum and you found yourself incapable of moving. You remained kneeled, slumped on your heels to look down at the end of the hallway, the table, folder, and note that was in your hand now gone.

You could feel that you weren’t alone, the familiar prickling on your neck beginning again. You weeped in fear, finally hearing the song that played on repeat, slower and slower, louder and louder.

It was your song.

‘You Belong To Me.’

The same song that you believed to have been the happiness of your relationship was also the catalyst of eternal ruin.

“See the pyramids along the Nile…

Watch the sun rise on a tropic isle…

Just remember, darling, all the while…

You belong to me…”

A loud thud to one of the doors made you yelp and break down into more tears. The song continued slowly, the female voice of Helen becoming horrendously eerie and croaky, almost inhumane. “P-Please stop! I-I understand now! Stop!”

“See the marketplace in old Algiers…”

“Send me photographs and souvenirs…”

“Just remember, when a dream appears…”

“You belong to me…”

Another bang that sent you cowering, shielding your eyes at the figure you knew was steadily approaching. The music continued to play, burning every lyric into your head and making sure you remembered that night.

“I’ll be so alone without you…”

“Maybe you’ll be lonesome, too

And blue…

Another voice—a deep, familiar voice sung along, causing the ache in your chest to intensify—the tears to run. “M-Miguel…” You whimpered his name, knowing the song well on his tongue.

“Fly the ocean in a silver plane…”

“See the jungle when it’s wet with rain…”

“Oh, mi querida, till you’re home again…”

“You…

Belong…

To…

Me…”

Your husband’s deep voice vanished along with the song, leaving you wishing to hear it again upon his lips—to hear his words of adoration—to see him again.

And for once, this nightmare granted your wish…

But with a price…

“Mi amor…”

“Shh, it's okay. Everything will be okay.”

“You are okay.”

Your heart leapt at the whispers of comfort that your husband always gave you. Frantically, your eyes searched the desolate hallway, only finding the doors before finally settling in front of you in the dark end of the hall.

His words were clear, coming from the blackness and calling out to you. “Mi amor, everything will be okay.” He consoled, footsteps slowly echoing closer.

Your chest heaved, rising and falling rapidly at being able to see him again. “M-Miguel!” You cried out for him, wanting to feel his touch, be in his arms again and found yourself craving that more than life itself.

However, your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach at the sight of him.

All you saw was…

Blood.

Shrieking, your hand clasped over your mouth, weeping. The white button-up and black slacks, the outfit he wore the last time you saw him still adorned his being, but it was completely ruined.

His once white shirt was now red, his dark brown slicked hair wet with blood and even worse was the wounds along his body. They were large and horribly fatal, littering his chest.

You sobbed into your palm, crying as he stepped towards your trembling form, unable to move due to being physically stuck in your spot. He shushed you in that soft tone he always used despite walking towards you like the undead.

“Shush, Cariño,” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper as he advanced, his movements slow and deliberate. “It’s okay; you’ll be okay.” His words, tender but hollow, slipped into your ears but it sounded so wrong, so unlike him in a way.

“No, no, no!” you wailed, voice cracking under the weight of terror and despair. “What is happening!? W-Who did this to you!?” Each cry came out strangled, desperate, as if voicing your confusion might somehow make sense of this nightmare.

Miguel’s body grew unnaturally still, his gaze sharpening, a twisted smirk spreading across his lips as he tilted his head to one side. “Oh, bebè, isn’t it obvious?” His bloody eyebrow rising in a mock question, daring you to confront the truth he already knew.

And then, before you could respond, his face seemed to explode with anger.

“ISN’T IT!?”

With a sudden roar, he lunged at you, your scream cut short as his hands found your throat, slamming you onto the cold floor. Your breath vanished instantly under his crushing grip. The impact jarred you, leaving your lungs heaving, begging for air.

You gasped, fingers clawing at his forearm, frantically trying to pry him off but his grip was unyielding, his hands like steel. The veins in his arms bulged underneath his button-up, his fingers digging into the skin of your throat and bruising the sensitive flesh. His face loomed over you, eyes blazing, dark and empty all at once.

“Look at me, Cariño. Look at what you’ve tried so hard to ignore!” He bellowed, each word cutting through you, sinking into your bones. “See it. Feel it, damnitt!” Your husband shouted, slamming you against the floor, feeling the air be knocked from you once more.

“You couldn’t hold on, could you? Couldn’t keep us together, not for me, not even for Gabi.” His grip tightened, further choking you. Your vision started to blur, spots of darkness creeping in. Tears began to prickle at the edges of your eyes at the thought of death by the hands of no one other than your beloved husband.

The blood dripping from his hair traced cold lines across your cheek that you could hardly feel against your numb skin. You could only stare up into the shell of your husband and see the inhumane rage, anger and spite that bled off him so tangibly you could practically taste it.

Your spouse’s amber orbs were devoid of warmth or light, his glowing skin now a lifeless gray, cold to the touch. “This is what you brought into our lives. This is what your love has done.” His tone, grueling and heartless, seeking to twist the already burrowed knife deeper into your gut until you were gone. Miguel leaned down, his face inches from yours, his breath a harsh reminder of everything slipping away.

“Accept it, mi amor. Embrace it, because this is all that’s left.”

Your sight blurred, eyes fluttering closed as those final, chilling words rung through your mind like chiming bells. Fingers loosened from his forearm, dropping to your side, body stilling to leave you encased in a world of blackness.

‘Accept? How can I accept this?��

A thought was breathed like the fluttering of faint fireflies in the darkness. Your consciousness slipping away.

‘Who could possibly accept consequences such as this…?’

The inquiry repeated alongside your husband’s words until the abyss consumed you, dragging you under and into the oblivion you could no longer escape.

“Serum R9 has left Patient 1105. Patient 1105 is now conscious.”

An electronic voice announced as your eyes fluttered open. Instantly, the blaring lights from the ceiling seared your vision, forcing you to cower away. ‘Where am I?’ you wondered, unable to survey your surroundings with the glaring bulbs overhead.

The hum of machines engulfed your ears, seeming to be everywhere at once. Each beep and whir further disoriented you. Everything felt distant and detached, like something had chewed at your memories, leaving you clueless.

Then, through the haze, you heard the familiar sound of a record scratching, stuttering through a line from You Belong To Me, a song you knew all too well—“See the… see the… see the…”

Weakly, you glanced down, noticing a white gown adorning your figure, but not remembering how you obtained it nor how you ended up in this bed. Your head ached the more you tried to fill the gaping holes in your memory, but one thing rang true.

“Gabi? M-Miguel?” you called out in a scratchy, hoarse voice that you almost didn’t recognize as your own. Your lips felt horribly cracked, and your legs were stiff from inactivity. ‘I have to get out of here. S-Someone has taken me somehow,’ you assumed, fear rising in your chest.

You tried to sit up, but found yourself physically incapable. ‘What the hell?’ Panic bubbled up inside as you tried again and again, but when your arm started to flail, you felt a tug at your wrist. The metal cuffs cut deep into your skin and clanged against the bed rail.

In horror, your eyes snapped down to see your hands were cuffed to the cold metal of your bed. “What is going on?” you hardly whispered, your dull eyes finding other things attached to your body that you hadn’t noticed before.

An IV drip pricked into your inner elbow with withered tape, wires coming from electrode pads under your gown to attach to your chest whilst an oxygen tube was held up to your nostrils, filling your body with more air than you needed at the moment.

An ache in your neck made you reach up to touch your nape. There, you felt a lump and upon touching it, a sharp pain shot through your skull that made you further disoriented and terrified.

Your chest began to heave, hyperventilating. ‘What is going on? I-I need to get out of here. I don’t understand what is happening.’ You could only think, weakly tugging at your cuffs, becoming a sobbing mess.

“Patient 1105’s heart rate elevated to 145 beats per minute. Respiration rate above normal limits. Increased agitation detected. Subject is vocalizing distress; emotional levels are unstable.”

Your body jumped at the inhuman form’s sudden voice, coming from somewhere in the room. Instantly, you became rigid with fear.

“Sending for Dr. Owens. Sending for Dr. Owens.”

“What’s happening? Why am I here? What happened to my family?” you could only ask the electronic voice in a strained whimper, seeking answers amidst your confusion and cluelessness. Your vision was shielded by globs of salty tears running down your cold cheeks as you wept.

Almost instantaneously, a door burst open somewhere in your room, startling you. You whimpered in fear, eyes squinting to see the newcomer.

In a white coat, a woman entered. Her dark brown curly hair was tied up in a professional ponytail with a stern look on her ebony face that made you tremble. “W-Who are you?” you tried to ask between crackles in your voice.

The woman barely acknowledged your words. Her attention, behind her glasses, was focused on a screen beside you, fingers flying over the keys as though your questions were mere background noise. Ignoring your weak, desperate gaze, she muttered something under her breath and continued to work.

“Please…” you croaked, throat tightening with desperation. “Where’s Miguel, m-my husband? Where’s my daughter, Gabi? H-How did I get here?”

You couldn’t explain it, but a sudden rage exploded from your being at her indifference. “Give me back my daughter and husband, dammit!” you shouted, your tight voice strained. Thrashing in your bed, you screamed and yelled, the cuffs crashing against the metal bed railing.

“I know you took them! You took them away from me, you bitch! Give them back to me! Give them back!” you bellowed before breaking down into tears, feeling your cheekbones press against the taut skin of your face. Your emotions felt all over the place.

Without looking up, the woman clicked a final command, heaving a sigh. “Patient 1105, I’m Dr. Jessica Owens, and as stated many times before, you agreed to this.”

Your eyebrows quivered, believing you’d heard her wrong. “W-What?” you rasped, your ghostly features scrunching up in confusion.

“Indeed. It was either receiving your normal sentence here or assisting us in a few tests,” the ebony doctor explained. You could only look at her in bewilderment. “And… w-where am I?”

“Obscura Psychiatric Facility,” she replied, her voice emotionless and straightforward. Your dull eyes studied her for a moment, trying to recall your past memories, but it felt impossible. “Why am I here? Why can’t I remember anything? What… tests did I agree to? And where is my family?” you asked, desperate for answers, or else you feared you would lose it.

Dr. Owens stepped up to your bedside, and your body instinctively recoiled from her. “You’ll be surprised how many times I’ve answered these exact questions from you before, Patient 1105,” she muttered, running a calculating eye over you from behind her frames. “But I’ll bite.” The doctor cleared her throat, clasping her hands behind her back.

“Patient 1105, or Y/N, you’ve been in our care for seven years. Upon arrival, you were miserable and depressed, seeking an end to your troubles that the judge took away from you.”

“T-The judge?!” you exclaimed in confusion, needing her to backtrack and explain. However, it seemed Dr. Owens only wished to tell you what she wanted, questions be damned.

“We presented you with the decision to continue your usual routine here at Obscura or to partake in testing of a new drug being administered. You chose the latter.” Dr. Owens said, walking over to a cabinet in the room and retrieving a pair of latex gloves to snap onto her hands.

“You were cautioned about the addictive effects, memory loss, and life-long dependency on this drug, but there was one thing about this medicine that fascinated you more than anything, causing you to choose it regardless of the consequences.”

“W-What was that?” you asked, watching her return to you and ignore your question like before. The doctor began checking your facial features, under your throat, along your arms, legs, and back, feeling for any abnormalities. “Serum R9 is the drug that is being tested on you, Patient 1105. It is still being researched, but from your results, it’s a paradise, putting you in a dreamscape that you’ve always wanted.”

You listened to Dr. Owens, allowing her to finish her checkup and scribble on a notepad she pulled out from the breast pocket of her lab coat. It felt odd being told about your actions and words despite not remembering them.

Glancing up at her as she wrote, anger bubbled inside of you. “If I’m here, where is my family?” you asked. “Is there a reason I don’t remember agreeing to this? Did you force me to do this?! A-And what is this thing in my neck?! ” You demanded, the lump in your neck tingling once more.

“My husband, Miguel, would never have let me agree to such a thing. He knows I have a daughter—a family to get back to, for fuck’s sake!” you angrily shouted. “And you—lying assholes have made me sell my life to a fucking drug, and now I can’t get back to my family because of you—”

“Patient 1105, your family is dead.”

Your words halted, and you felt like your world had ended. Swallowing thickly, you wetted your cracked lips. Your eyes narrowed, hands curling into fists. “W-What the hell are you talking about?” you bit out, glaring daggers at her. “If you’re lying to me, I promise you when I get out, I-I’ll…”

Dr. Owens chuckled at your stammered threat, utterly unamused. She shook her head, her curly ponytail moving with the motion. “I'll expect that from a killer like you.”

Before you could think, you could yourself leaping up, reaching for the collar of Dr. Owens’ coat, and due to her closeness, you grabbed hold. A sudden burst of energy coursed through your being. Pulling her toward you, the chains of your cuffs jiggled with your movements. “Say that again,” you growled, staring directly into her cold eyes that gazed back at you.

“You killed them,” the doctor spat back with indifference. “You stabbed your husband to death and drowned your daughter when he decided to divorce you because of your insanity. I take it you didn’t like the fact they were leaving you.”

“S-stop lying to me!” you shouted, shaking her, not wanting it to be true. “I tell you nothing but the truth, Patient 1105. You’re here because of your actions, and you begged for Serum R9 to escape the despair you’ve brought into your life,” Dr. Owens stated with a glare, pulling away from your tight hold.

Delusions and unchecked rage were what you were known for, and even now, you sought to silence Dr. Owens’ words. You weren’t ready for the truth, despite having already lived it.

Acceptance was a lesson one could never learn without getting hurt in the process. Although you couldn’t remember it, you didn’t want to feel that pain, hurt, or loss ever again, so you ran from acceptance like hell.

You chuckled manically, your laughter growing louder and more deranged. “You lie. You lie! YOU LIE!” you shouted over and over again, pure rage bellowing from your voice.

In your mind, you saw your husband and daughter at home, calling the police in search of their missing wife and mother. Dr. Owens and the people at this facility were keeping you from your family. It was the only reason—the only truth you saw and was willing to accept.

Suddenly, you snapped, shouting threats at Dr. Owens, trying to break free from your handcuffs, and thrashing about in your bed. Security and more nurses entered the room as Dr. Owens typed away on the screen by your bedside. “You lie, you bitch! You can’t keep me here! I’ll kill you, I promise you, you piece of shit!” you screamed at the top of your lungs. The electronic voice from before filled the room.

“Serum R9 is being administered once more. Sweet dreams, Patient 1105.”

The staff released you as the IV tube was filled with a blue liquid, flowing from a nearby machine into your arm and soon bloodstream. The lump in your neck buzzed to life upon activation and instantly, you became weak and drowsy.

“W-What are you doing to me? I-I have to get out of here. M-My family is…w-waiting for me,” you said once more, trying to fight the drug.

“You are right,” Through your hazy vision, you could see Dr. Owens resetting the needle on the record player as the song You Belong To Me began to play. Your body became rigid, unable to help but focus on the tune.

“Your family is waiting for you,” the ebony woman added, her voice growing fainter as the music grew louder, until it was the only thing you could hear.

“So don’t keep them waiting any longer,” were the last words you heard before the song drowned out everything, and your eyes closed.

Your world of darkness was full of despair and turmoil. Like the speed of light, every memory you couldn’t recall before came rushing back.

Entering second grade.

Going to prom.

Meeting Miguel.

Getting Married. Having Gabriella. Kissing your husband. Drawing with your daughter. Family dinners. Night cuddles. The fights. The screaming. The crying. The blood. The guilt. The hate. The loss.

The Despair.

It came rushing back so intensely that it was grueling, before vanishing as quickly as it came.

You were left a hollow husk of a person. Your memories shed, leaving only two things behind: pure happiness and a need for your family.

~ I say, Oogum, oogum, boogum, boogum ~Boogum now, baby, you're castin' your spell on me. ~

The jolly tune of Brenton Wood resonated from the record player, your hips swaying to the song while you cooked. Sunlight poured in through the drawn gingham drapes, filling your home with a warm glow that energized everyone inside.

But, in particular, you.

Your eyes occasionally glanced over at the cookbook you had "borrowed" from your and your husband's shared closet—a cookbook from his late mother.

Currently, you had tasked yourself with making a childhood Mexican-Irish breakfast for your husband to celebrate his birthda-

“Wait,” you uttered, coming to a stop. Your eyebrows furrowed, feeling like you’d done this before.

You glanced down at the breakfast you were cooking, a sensation of unease gripping you. You tried to figure out the source of this déjà vu when your thoughts were instantly interrupted by a pair of burly arms enveloping your waist from behind.

Your heart fluttered as a blinding warmth of happiness, adoration, and peace engulfed you. “Good morning, mi amor,” your husband whispered into your ear, his deep voice of love enough to quell even your most chaotic days.

You leaned back into him, accepting his embrace. All previous worries and concerns vanished from thought, and the only thing you could think about was the feeling of how right everything was.

“You okay?” he asked, his hand caressing your stomach through your dress, his touch setting your body ablaze. Completely in love, you nodded, a huge smile on your rosy lips.

“Of course...

Everything is perfect.”

A/N: I hope you enjoyed the finale of Dear, My Beloved. Yes, it was very sad, tragic, and completely different from my other writings—aside from A Fate Worse Than Death—but that was intentional. The vice was Despair, so I went above and beyond. If you almost cried like me, then I did my job, lol. 🤧

To tie up loose ends and make everything clearer: Y/N ended her family due to insanity, abandonment, and mental health struggles after being divorced by Miguel. Serum R9 is the drug administered by Obscura Psychiatric Facility, which places Y/N in a 1950s simulation-like world where everything is "just right."

The scary occurrences were caused by the serum leaving her system and attempting to restore her lost memories. The entity that "kills" Miguel is, in fact, Y/N’s true self.

And yes, I was inspired by the psychological thriller Don’t Worry Darling. It has to be one of my favorite movies! 😍

If there are any loose ends or unanswered questions, feel free to DM me or ask in the comments. I know this was a rather complex, psychological, and angsty one-shot that might leave some readers with questions.

Also, let me know if any additional content warnings need to be added! I know the Gabriella section needed a warning, but please DM me if you think any more should be included.

Overall, I hope you enjoyed it! If you’re excited to see what else my older sister, @powerful-niya, and I have in store for Vicetober (I know, I know 🤧), be sure to like, comment, reblog, and follow! Wishing you all a wonderful day—stay safe! 👋🏾💙🤎😈

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26 notes · View notes

naeverse · 7 months ago

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omg i’m so happy you’re back☺️ i’m glad you did what was best for you and ur mental health in the long run, as that’s the most important thing. don’t rlly have any requests lol js wanted to say smt lol. anyways that’s all and happy holidays nae!!🎄❄️💞

Aww, thanks so much ❄️! Seeing your post really made my day. I was stressing out about the whole Vicetober event and not having it done in time, along with everything else I need to write, like the second parts for Lapdog and Tangled in His Webs. I was feeling really overwhelmed. 😣

However, your message made everything feel a little bit lighter, so thank you so much. I hope you had a wonderful holiday as well, ❄️! I really miss your asks and heartfelt messages.❤️💚❤️💚

#🤓naeverse asks!🤓#Much needed pick-me-up #❤️❄️

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naeverse · 7 months ago

Text

Dear My Beloved (1/2)

~Ｖｉｃｅ＃３~

𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝟑: 𝐃𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐥

(𝐎𝐜𝐭. 𝟏𝟑-𝟏𝟗)

----

𝘋𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳:

Ｍｕｓｉｃ：

"𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘉𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘛𝘰 𝘔𝘦" - 𝘏𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘯 𝘍𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳

"𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘖𝘰𝘨𝘶𝘮 𝘉𝘰𝘰𝘨𝘶𝘮 𝘚𝘰𝘯𝘨" - 𝘉𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘰𝘯 𝘞𝘰𝘰𝘥

🤎staring: Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

👗preview: But then, everything seemed to stop.

The music faded into the background as, almost in a trance, you stared at the kitchen tool in your hand, the hum slowing on your lips.

Twirling it between your fingers, your eyes traced the jagged edge. Transfixed, your hands ached with an foreign yet strangely familiar desire—one buried deep in the recesses of your mind.

The record player suddenly grabbed your attention when the previous song's lyrics of adoration from Helen Foster shifted.

The tune slowed, the pitch of the female singer’s voice deepening to an haunting croak.

“Nothing is what it seems… Oh dear, nothing is what it seems...”

💄summary: It’s your husband Miguel’s birthday, a day that should be filled with love and celebration. Yet, something feels…off.

💙Pet names: Amor (Love), Bebé (Baby), Cariño (Darling), Esposa (Wife), Mi amor (My love)

♥️Rating: 18+ explicit I ANGST I

🎵 Word Count: Total - 14.5k, Part 1 - 6k words

Art found on Pinterest, all credit go to original artists/designers/photographers

All credit also goes to musicians as I do not own the two songs heavily used in this oneshot. 😊

Dividers and mood board was created by me.

~ I say, Oogum, oogum, boogum, boogum ~Boogum now, baby, you're castin' your spell on me. ~

But, in particular, you.

Your eyes occasionally glanced over at the cookbook you had "borrowed" from you and your husband's shared closet — a cookbook from his late mother.

Currently, you had tasked yourself with making a childhood Mexican-Irish breakfast for your husband to celebrate his birthday — a blend of chorizo and potatoes, black pudding, fried eggs, and homemade tortillas. However, you wanted to make it exactly how his parents made it for him all those years ago, but you were finding it difficult with how vague the measurements were.

“‘Enough oil to make things crispy, but don't be stingy, but don't swim in it either?’ Then how much oil do I use?” you whispered in slight bewilderment before continuing on, nevertheless, thankful for the English translations alongside the Spanish handwritten recipes inside the cookbook.

The smell of black coffee, just the way Miguel liked it, along with the sound of the knife slicing vegetables atop the cutting board, wafted through the air.

You hummed, singing along softly. “You got me doing funny things like a clown, just look at me~” Hips swaying, you danced over to the calendar on the kitchen wall, your heels clicking upon the checkerboard tiles in rhythm with the upbeat melody.

Your eyes ran along the autumn month, rosy red lips pulling into a grin at the sight. “October 13th, 1950. My beloved husband's birthday.” You beamed, poking the colorful orange pin into the appropriate date. Pressing a kiss to your two manicured fingers, you placed it upon the date, completely in love with your husband.

Spinning back towards the stove, the blue dress and white apron you wore flaring with your movement. Your hands moved about, dashing seasoning here, a slice of butter there, and a mix with the whisk here. The Oogum Boogum Song played steadily in the background all the while.

You heard, amidst the song and noises of the kitchen, the small pitter-pattering of feet on the mint and creamed checkered floors. It wasn't long before the owner of such adorable footsteps hugged your leg, tugging at your apron to get your attention.

“Good morning, mommy,” your daughter, Gabriella, whispered from your side.

Your daughter, Gabriella, now six, was your bundle of joy. You loved your little girl so much, willing to go through any lengths to ensure she knew how much you did.

You grinned, wiping your hands on your apron before crouching down to her level. “Good morning, my sweet girl,” you greeted, unable to help but giggle at her messy brown hair, showing she had instantly run downstairs as soon as her eyes opened from her slumber.

You ran a hand along her head, smoothing the wild strands with your palm. Adoring how your daughter beamed up at you in her pink floral nightgown that reached down to her ankles and how she tightly clutched her stuffed rabbit, Flopsy, in her arms — an old gift from Miguel and you upon learning of your pregnancy.

“You seem happy this morning. Did you sleep well?” you asked, caressing the top of her head. However, you watched her bright smile falter at your question, causing your eyebrows to furrow.

You already knew the reason for her change in mood.

“Another bad dream, huh?” you sighed, stroking her cheek with a finger, almost as if she were fragile glass that could break any moment.

“Yes… another bad dream. It's always the same, Mommy. I just wish they would go away,” she said, her eyes starting to glisten with approaching tears.

Your heart clenched as you reached out to embrace your daughter, hugging her close to your chest. “I know, baby, I know. I'm so sorry you are going through this.” you soothed. “No one should experience this, especially not a young girl like you.”

The first tremble and shaky sob that escaped your little girl's mouth was like a knife to the heart. “We don't have to talk about it if you do not want to.”

“B-but I want to, Mamá,” she quickly interjected, surprising you. “P-Papá told me t-talking about it could… make them go away.” Your daughter sniffled, remembering your husband’s words the last time she had a nightmare.

You gave her a squeeze, hating how such dreams were tormenting your little girl. “Okay…” you agreed, pulling away slightly to meet her eyes, bracing yourself to hear about the terrors she experienced in her sleep.

“Was it about… Mommy again?” you asked warily. The question was simple enough, but the way your heart skipped a beat made it feel much deeper.

The sad nod Gabriella gave you made you frown. “Really? Was it… bad Mommy again?”

“N-no.” She replied in a brittle voice, her tanned cheeks growing a rosy red. “Y-you weren’t scary t-this time, Mommy. You were… sleeping.”

“Sleeping?” you asked, not expecting her reply. She confirmed with a nod. “You were dressed in a… w-white dress, and you were l-laying on a white bed,” Gabriella explained, twirling the fabric of her pink gown around her finger. “There was a sound that wouldn't stop. A...b-beeping sound, I think." Your daughter said between trembling lips.

"People were t-talking, but I couldn't understand them, and...you laid in the center of them…

Sleeping.”

Your eyebrows rose, a horrid thought instantly coming to mind as you imagined what your daughter could have dreamt. You shook the thought away, unwilling to linger on it.

You smiled at Gabriella, cupping her cheeks. “I know dreams can be scary and confusing, but they’re just dreams,” you told her. “I’m okay, completely fine, my sweet. See?” You held your hands and arms out to her with a grin, showing her you were, indeed, okay.

You felt at peace when she returned a small smile of her own. “I know, Mamá…” she trailed off, taking your hands in her smaller ones. She fiddled with your fingers for a moment, lost in thought.

“Mamá… you'd never harm me or Papá… right?” Gabi asked, her question striking your core.

“What!? No, of course not, honey,” you assured her, squeezing her hands. “I’ll never harm you or Papá.”

“I know…” Gabriella replied with a small smile.

“Good. I love you, Gabi,” you said, kissing the top of her head. She returned your affection with a peck on your cheek, making your heart soar.

You gave her head a gentle pat. “But on a happier note,” you began, springing back to your full height to tend to the sizzling beans and eggs, feeling the joy of the morning return once more. “Do you know what today is?”

“Papá’s birthday!!”

“Shhh, not so loud,” you said, hastily clasping a hand over her mouth, making you both giggle. You didn’t want your sleeping husband to know you had plans for him.

“Sorry… it’s Papá’s birthday,” she whispered this time, watching from her short height as you returned to cooking, adding the appropriate herbs and vegetables to the dishes.

“Good job, it is,” you grinned, turning to her once more. “And did you finish your present for him?”

Frantically, Gabriella nodded. “Uh-huh, I did, and it was really hard work, so I hope Papá will like it.”

“He will, I assure you,” you promised, chuckling as you took note of her disarrayed hair once more. “We’re staying home all day to celebrate Papá’s birthday, so why don’t you return upstairs to get dressed?” you told her. “I’ll call you down when breakfast is finished.”

With a nod and another quick kiss to your cheek, Gabriella skipped off, her footsteps disappearing up the stairs.

You returned to the task at hand, but Gabriella’s dream lingered in your mind.

‘Is there a reason she’s having these dreams? Is it something she’s eating? Watching?’ you pondered, your parental fears taking root.

Setting the spatula aside, you moved toward the record player, wishing to change the song—when it hit you.

Sharp.

Sudden.

Like a spike driven into your skull.

The pain burst through your head, making you stagger. You gasped, bracing yourself against the counter.

Your vision blurred and clouded with white spots as a low ringing filled your ears.

It felt like the room was tilting, the ground shifting beneath your feet. You whimpered in agony, squeezing your eyes shut as you tried to steady yourself, but the pain lingered, pulsing relentlessly.

“G-gosh, what is happening?” you whined, gripping your temple in a futile attempt to quell the ache.

Without realizing it, the throbbing pain vanished as quickly as it had come—disappearing without a trace, leaving you shaken and breathless.

Slowly, you straightened, disoriented and confused, glancing around your kitchen.

Everything seemed normal again—the stove, the breakfast, the cheery sunlight—but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. The air felt heavier, as though an unseen force was pressing down on you.

“I-I’m just tired,” you muttered, trying to shake off the strange sensation. You continued toward the record player in the corner of the kitchen, which sat atop a circular table. “Tired, indeed,” you affirmed, convincing yourself that the odd occurrence was nothing more than exhaustion from trying to perfect your husband’s birthday.

Still, you reminded yourself that the tiredness was worth it.

It was for your husband, the man you cared so deeply about, after all…

“Nothing like music to help ease my troubles,” you whispered, running a finger along the records until you stopped at a familiar one. “Yes… this one.” You smiled fondly, the events of just moments ago fading from your mind at the sight of the worn sleeve.

You carefully pulled the vinyl from its case—one of yours and Miguel’s favorites. Slipping it free of the sleeve, you replaced the previous record, The Oogum Boogum Song, with the new selection, placing it delicately on the turntable.

The needle dropped, and the warm, familiar voice of Helen Foster filled the kitchen.

The song, You Belong to Me, always made your heart flutter. It was the soundtrack to so many of your happiest moments.

It played at your wedding as you walked down the aisle, the same song you and Miguel slow-danced to the night you discovered you were pregnant with your little girl.

It was also the song Miguel often sang while strumming his guitar, each deep note passing his lips a promise of his undying love.

The melody had wrapped around the two of you like a promise. Every time the soft, wistful notes filled the room, it felt like your love was stitched into the very air.

It was your song, the one you always came back to, every single time.

Hearing it now made everything feel right.

Perfect.

You breathed easier, allowing the song to calm you and completely erase what had happened before.

Everything was normal once more.

Everything was fine…

Returning to the pan of food, you found everything perfectly cooked. “Wonderful,” you murmured, feeling pleased. Turning off the stove and covering the finished dishes, you moved to begin setting the table.

You placed floral plates over perfectly selected napkins, then added a glass of cold juice for Gabriella, along with two mugs of coffee—one black for Miguel, and the other with sugar and cream for yourself. Lastly, you set the utensils in their proper places.

Each pastel-colored fork, spoon, and knife was meticulously arranged beside the empty dishes, perfectly aligned. Any deviation, no matter how slight, would surely unsettle you.

While setting the table, you hummed along with Helen Foster, holding a knife poised to place it on the pale yellow Formica dining table.

But then, everything seemed to stop.

The music faded into the background as, almost in a trance, you stared at the kitchen tool in your hand, the hum slowing on your lips.

Twirling it between your manicured fingers, your eyes traced the jagged edge. Transfixed, your hands ached with a foreign yet strangely familiar desire—one buried deep in the recesses of your mind.

The record player suddenly grabbed your attention when the previous song's lyrics of adoration from Helen Foster shifted.

The tune slowed, the pitch of the female singer’s voice deepening to an haunting croak.

“Nothing is what it seems…

Oh dear, nothing is what it seems...”

You froze in horror, the knife slipping from your grasp and clattering onto the floor. The sound snapping you from your trance, but a foggy haze lingered.

Your heart pounded like the rapid thump of a rabbit’s foot, your wide eyes fixated on the record player. Its eerie chant looped, searing into your mind.

“Nothing is what it seems...

Oh dear, nothing is what it seems...”

Over and over the words were repeated, searing the horrid message into your brain.

Chest heaving, you backed away to collide into the table, causing dishes and glasses to rattle. “W-what—” you could only stammer in terror.

Before you could spiral further in your petrified state, calloused hands reached out to you, cupping your face. With gentle caution, you were guided to meet a pair of familiar amber eyes.

“Cariño?”

“Is everything okay?”

The deep, concerned voice brought you back to reality. Its steady tone grew louder, grounding you amidst the chaos of your thoughts.

“Qué te pasa? Talk to me, miel.”

You met the gaze of your beloved husband, Miguel who stood in front of you, his features tight with worry. Slowly, the fog in your mind lifted, and the room regained focus.

“Esposa?” Miguel prompted, his voice low and steady as his thumb and forefinger tilted your chin, urging you to look at him.

“M-Miguel, I—” you faltered, your gaze darting toward the record player. Helen Foster’s soothing voice now played once more, making you question if you were going crazy.

But the chant—its ominous message—still echoed in your mind.

Miguel frowned, his concern deepening. “Mi amor, you’re shaking.” Your husband said, grabbing your attention. “Take a seat.” His tone left no room for argument, as he was already guiding you with a hand upon your lower back to one of the dining chairs.

You complied, feeling the soft cushion shift underneath you. Miguel’s large hand enveloped yours, his thumb brushing soothing circles across your knuckles.

For a moment, he studied you in silence, however, you hardly noticed as you could only focus on your lap, where your hands trembled slightly.

“What happened, miel?” he asked, breaking the silence. His voice was steady but laced with unease.

You gulped, simply recollecting the moment, causing your head to ache painfully. Your mouth opened and closed, unable to find anything to explain. “I-I don’t know,” you admitted, swallowing hard. “I... thought I heard something.”

“Heard something?” Miguel inquired, straightening to his full height. He began to pace the kitchen, his black slippers shuffling across the checkered tiles.

“It may have been Gabi,” he suggested, his attempt at humor evident despite the worry in his tone. “You know how our princesa tends to get carried away with her dolls.” He chuckled, knowing your daughter sometimes became noisy when she was excited during playtime. However, you could hear his nervousness.

Hastily, you shook your head, dismissing his assumption. “It wasn’t Gabi!” you exclaimed, louder than intended. Looking up to meet your spouse’s gaze, certain your fear was etched into every line of your face.

For the first time, you noticed Miguel’s attire—a burgundy robe that concealed his undershirt and casual trousers underneath. His outfit did little to conceal his musculature that pressed against the soft fabric of his sleepwear.

Miguel stopped pacing and crouched in front of you, his robe parting slightly to reveal his broad chest. “Hey, hey, hey,” he murmured, pulling you into his arms. “It’s okay. You’re okay.” He whispered soothingly, the timbre of his voice the only thing keeping you grounded.

You buried your face into his neck, letting his comforting words and the gentle strokes of his hand on your back to calm you.

“It’s just stress, sí?” he murmured. “You just needed a moment to rest.” He pressed a kiss to your temple, his warmth grounding you.

And like always, you wanted to believe your husband with all your heart—to accept his reassurance. But the chant lingered, clawing at your thoughts like a dark shadow.

“Nothing is as it seems...

Oh dear, nothing is as it seems...”

You managed to push through the festivities, finishing the breakfast your husband scarfed down with a grin and playing family party games that ended with your little girl winning (with some assistance). Now, it was time for your husband to blow out his candles.

“Here it is!” you shouted, bringing from the fridge the handmade cake that Gabriella and you had created the day before.

You set it on the pale yellow dining table: a vanilla cake adorned with white frosting, doused in sprinkles (Gabi's touch), and decorated with piped, wavy red and blue trimmings. A singular lit candle sat in the center of the cake, its flame flickering gently.

Gabi bounced up and down excitedly. Her orange blouse, knee-high skirt, and matching ribbon hair ties made her look even more adorable. “See, Papá?! I told you I helped!” she exclaimed, bringing a smile to Miguel's lips.

“I see, princesa,” he grinned. “No one quite has your... expertise in sprinkle quantity,” he chuckled, his chest rumbling at the sight of the overwhelming amount of colorful candies atop the white cake.

Your husband's previous sleepwear had been replaced with a simple white button-up, black slacks, and slippers. His dark brown hair was styled as usual—slicked back with precision, each strand flowing neatly to the back of his head.

When he settled his gaze on you, his eyes softened. “Esposa,” he practically whispered your name longingly, holding out an arm to wrap around your waist. Pulling you to his side, he pressed a gentle kiss to your head. “You did all of this for me?” he asked, stroking a thumb along your cheek.

You nodded, cupping his face. “Of course, baby,” you replied with a gentle smile. “You always take such good care of Gabi and me, so I wanted to do this for you—no matter how many times you tell me not to.” You giggled as your husband simply stared at you for a moment, his eyes glowing with adoration.

Leaning in close, he nuzzled your nose with his own, breathing you in. “Cómo demonios tuve tanta suerte?” he muttered, his lips seeking yours for a quick peck—only to be interrupted by none other than your daughter.

“When are we going to cut the cake!?” she cried out, her attention fixed on the sweet treat as she licked her lips eagerly.

Miguel snickered, giving your waist a squeeze. “Later. Much later,” he said, the fire in his gaze promising you a much needed night in his arms. The sight made your cheeks flush and your heart to skip a beat.

“Okay, okay, go turn the lights out, Gabi,” you instructed with a laugh, watching her hastily race off to flick the light switch, encasing the dining room in darkness except for the warm glow of the cake.

The three of you surrounded the table—you stood behind your daughter, your hands gently stroking her shoulders, while Miguel took his place in front of his birthday dessert, his eyes fixed on the glowing candle.

“I feel like I should make a grand speech,” your husband joked, glancing up at the two of you before settling his gaze on Gabi.

“Thank you, my sweet girl, for filling my days with your light and granting me the honor of being your father,” he said, his deep voice full of love. “There isn’t a day that you don’t amaze me with your intelligence, imagination, talent, and humor.” He expressed. “You make me proud to call you my daughter, my Gabriella.”

Gabi’s eyes sparkled with a mix of excitement and pride at her father’s words. She looked up at him, grinning widely, and then, in a small yet confident voice, she replied, “And I’m proud to call you my Papá. You’re like… the best dad ever!”

Miguel chuckled, his gaze tender as he looked at her. “Oh? The best ever, huh?” he teased gently, warmth lacing his tone.

“Sí!” she insisted, nodding eagerly. “You work so hard, but you always make time for me. And you teach me so much—like how to stand up for myself, help others, and to not let my emotions control me.”

Miguel’s expression softened as he reached out to gently ruffled her hair, his voice sweet. “You’re going to do amazing things, Gabi. I’m just lucky to be here to watch it all happen.”

Her smile widened, and she beamed up at him, her eyes filled with admiration. “I’m the lucky one, Papá. You’re my hero.”

Your husband, visibly touched by her words, shifted his gaze to you, his eyes brimming with the kind of love and gratitude that left you breathless.

In that moment, as if he were seeing into your very soul, you felt a surge of overwhelming adoration that no words could capture.

“Y/N, my beloved,” Miguel began, his voice trembling, almost on the verge of tears. “You’ve stood by me through my worst, mi amor. You’ve endured my workaholic ways, my stubborn temper, and all my flaws… yet you stayed by my side.” He snickered softly, the sound filled with both gratitude and disbelief. “Because of you, I’ve become a better man.”

He cleared his throat, placing his palms on the wooden table as if trying to ground himself. “Thank you, mi amor, for your unwavering presence, for loving me unconditionally, and for bringing our little miracle into my life.” He glanced lovingly at Gabi, a soft smile playing on his lips. “I truly don’t think I would be here today without you.”

Your heart swelled as you listened, each word deepening the adoration you already held for him.

He took a shaky breath, his eyes glistening in the warm candlelight, vulnerability etched across his face—a rare sight that made this moment feel even more precious.

“You’ve given me more than I ever thought I deserved,” he continued, his voice soft and sincere. “And I am endlessly grateful for every day, every laugh, every memory we’ve made together. You both are my everything.”

Gabi leaned back against you, her small hand finding yours as she whispered, “Te amo, Papá.” The simple words broke the last of his composure, and a tear slipped down his cheek. "Te amo, mi princesa." He replied wholeheartedly, giving his daughter's cheek a loving pinch that made her giggle.

Miguel reached out, taking your hand in his, and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I promise to keep working, to keep growing, so I can be the husband and father you both deserve.” He brought your hand to his lips, pressing a deep kiss to your knuckles, sealing his promise.

Your husband released you and closed his eyes, whispering his wish before blowing out the candle. Darkness momentarily engulfed the dining room before you applauded, your own emotions welling up as Gabi hurried to turn the lights back on.

The cake was forgotten as Miguel took two long strides toward you, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you into a deep embrace—one he surely needed.

“Te amo, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice full of emotion as he gave you a tender squeeze.

You melted into the hard planes of his chest, your arms encircling his neck. “I love you too, Miguel,” you replied softly, feeling the warmth of his love radiating through the embrace.

A small hand pressed gently against your back, making you smile. Both of you glanced down to find Gabi standing between you, her little arms wrapped around you both. “I love you too, Mamá and Papá,” Her laughter like a melody that filled the room with joy.

You welcomed her into the embrace, holding both of them tightly.

In that moment, as you stood together, you marveled at the depth of love you felt—a love you had never believed yourself capable of, let alone for two people who meant the world to you...

The three of you were now settled in the living room. The familiar scent of the cake still lingered in the air as you and Miguel sat together on the couch, the cushions soft beneath you, the fabric slightly worn from use.

The soft glow of the lamp next to the couch highlighted the pastel green walls. Evening light from the window casted dim shadows across the vintage floral wallpaper, while the small box TV that flickered white and black images rested on a shelf in front of you. The clock on the wall ticked quietly, its hands slowly marking the time.

Gabriella sat cross-legged on the floor; her plate of cake balanced on her lap as she eagerly dug in. You rested your head on Miguel’s shoulder, letting out a small sigh as he fed you a bite of his own cake. His eyes met yours with a grin, and you returned it, savoring the sweetness.

“May I get another?” Gabriella’s voice interrupted your quiet moment, light and innocent as she looked up at the both of you, her lips already smeared with frosting. You blinked in surprise, your eyes flicking to her plate. It was already clean. Miguel nor you have even finished yours.

“Gabriella!?” you exclaimed, the shock clear in your voice.

Miguel’s laughter erupted beside you, warm and full of affection. “Sorry… it was really good,” Gabriella said with a pout, her lips dusted with frosting like a mischievous little angel.

“It’s fine, bebé,” Miguel chuckled, his finger brushing one jumbo curl behind your ear in a way that always made your heart skip. He stood, towering over both you and Gabriella in an instant.

“This will be her last slice,” he promised, amusement in his voice. “Come on, you little cake monster. Let’s get you another slice,” he teased, walking toward the kitchen, Gabriella rushing behind him, eager to get there first.

You watched them both, a smile tugging at your lips. The love between the three of you felt so natural, so full, like this moment could stretch on forever. It was simple, perfect even.

You leaned back into the couch, feeling the soft cushions beneath you, and took another bite of your cake. It was the perfect slice, just sweet enough, and the warmth from Miguel’s touch still lingered on your skin.

But then something shifted...

You couldn’t quite place it, but there was a slight prickle at the back of your neck, an unsettling feeling that crawled across your skin like a soft whisper you couldn’t hear.

You paused, feeling the hairs on your arms rise.

Something… felt off.

The strange sensation was eerily similar to what had overcome you in the kitchen.

You were certain of it.

You couldn’t put it into words. It wasn’t a sound or a sight—just a feeling.

A quiet shift in the air...

Instinctively, your hand reached up to the back of your neck, fingertips brushing over your nape in an attempt to shake off the unease. That’s when it happened.

Your fingers grazed a lump, one you’d never noticed before. At the contact, a sharp pain exploded in your head, and your eyes rolled back into your skull.

Images, voices, and a crushing wave of dread surged through your mind all at once.

“Y/N, we have to be better for Gabi. You have to be better,” Miguel’s voice rang out, sharp and filled with disappointment.

“I am trying, Miguel! I don’t know what you want from me!” you shrieked.

The voice—your voice—sounded deranged and very unfamiliar despite being your own.

“Public breakdowns? Outbursts? I don’t believe that’s you trying to be better!” Miguel’s tone cut deep, piercing and accusatory.

“Just get out! Get out!” you screamed, hurling a glass vase. It struck the wall and shattered into a cascade of glittering shards.

A sharp gasp tore from your lips as you snapped back to reality. Your chest heaved, each breath shaky as your trembling body fought to regain control.

‘What was that?’ you thought, panic swirling in your mind. ‘What did I just see?’

You clutched your plate of half-eaten cake, fingers trembling as the memory replayed in your mind.

‘Miguel and I were…arguing?’ The very thought made your chest tighten painfully.

But the details... The setting, the clothes you and Miguel wore—it didn’t match. It wasn’t here. Not in this perfect, gleaming life you’d built together.

No, this memory felt wrong.

Your throat tightened, and you forced out a quivering breath, trying to steady your trembling hand. “I’m just... tired,” you muttered, your voice weak, as if saying it aloud would make it true.

‘Just tired. That’s all it is,’ you told yourself.

You shut your eyes, hoping the storm raging inside you would settle, that when you opened them again, everything would be normal.

When you finally opened them, your gaze fell to the plate of cake in your hands, and your heart instantly froze.

In pure terror, you watched the once neat red and blue frosting of the cake start to become uneven—distorted, as though someone was standing beside you, dragging their finger along it to write something in the icing.

You stared, petrified as the words formed one by one, the weight of dread building with every stroke until the final letter was etched…

OPEN YOUR EYES.

You froze, shaking, unable to tear your eyes away. No... this couldn’t be real. It had to be some trick of the light, a cruel fabrication of your mind.

But the message didn’t vanish.

And you couldn’t ignore how it had appeared—slowly, deliberately—as though someone had been watching you while they wrote it.

“M-Miguel!” you screamed, panic rising in your throat, your voice sharp and pleading.

The room seemed to tilt. Your vision blurred, and everything shifted in an instant.

An overwhelming pressure built in your chest, as if the weight of the world had collapsed onto you. The last thing you saw before your eyes snapped shut was the half-eaten cake with the horrid message—and then, darkness.

Suddenly, the sounds of the living room sharpened, each one more vivid than the last. The soft ticking of the clock on the wall. The faint rustling of fabric. And Miguel’s warm voice, gently calling your name.

“Mi amor? Is something wrong?"

You blinked, disoriented, struggling to find your bearings. The living room was just as it had been—the soft, plush couch beneath you, the warm glow of the lamp, chatter from the television, familiar scent of cake lingering in the air and your family close by.

You blinked again, and realization struck.

Your breath hitched.

Miguel and Gabriella were still in their same positions. They hadn’t gone anywhere. You hadn’t seen them leave to get more cake.

Glancing over at your daughter, still seated on the floor cross-legged as before, you saw her happily eating her first slice of cake—not her second.

Your gaze darted to your own plate, the one you distinctly remembered nibbling on, the one that had held that ominous message. But instead of the eerie writing, the cake sat uneaten, perfectly pristine.

A cold chill ran down your spine, your breathing beginning to quicken.

Things weren’t making sense. And it was starting to scare you.

Miguel’s hand cupped your face, warm and grounding, his concerned eyes searching yours. “Mi amor?” His voice was softer now, tinged with tenderness. “You dozed off. Are you okay?”

You stared up at him, wide-eyed and breathless, your mind racing to make sense of what had just happened.

What had just happened?

To you, it felt like you've done more then simply 'dozed off.' You recalled your love ones going to the kitchen, the shift in the air, heated occurrence between Miguel and you and then the...horrid message upon the cake.

You could speak the memory out loud, explain each detail like it was happening once more. So, why did it seem like it didn't happened - that it couldn't have happened.

Gabriella’s innocent gaze rested on you, her brows furrowed in worry. “Are you okay, mamá?” she asked, her small voice full of concern. The frosting smeared on her cheeks from her first slice of cake made her look even more endearing.

Her question snapped you out of your troubled thoughts, however, you couldn’t answer right away. Your throat felt dry, and your thoughts were swirling in a chaotic storm. The distorted memory that had overtaken you only moments ago lingered like a shadow, unshakable.

“I... I thought Gabriella asked for more cake,” you stammered, your voice unsteady. It made no sense. You could’ve sworn you’d seen them leave, yet part of you was convinced they hadn’t.

Miguel raised an eyebrow, a mix of concern and confusion crossing his face. “Are you okay, bebè?” he asked, chuckling nervously, as though trying to lighten the mood. “You told Gabi she can only have one slice, and was quite adamant before you went to sleep." Your husband explained. "So no, neither Gabriella and I have gone anywhere. We’ve been right here with you the whole time.”

He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied you more closely. "You were mumbling a lot as you slept, it made me worried. Did you have a bad dream?”

You blinked again, willing yourself to calm down. The confusion still clung to you like a heavy fog, but Miguel’s steady voice and familiar presence helped ease the edges of your panic.

The room felt normal again.

Everything looked... normal.

But you weren’t so sure.

Forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes, you murmured, “Perhaps...”

Your gaze dropped to the plate of cake in your hands. It was untouched, as if you’d never taken a bite.

Out of fear and a sudden loss of appetite, you hastily set the plate on the nearby pastel-green end table, wanting it out of your sight.

Like before, everything went back into motion. Your daughter seeking to savor every crumb and frosting of cake on her plate as Miguel returned to watching television, the words from the box of wires falling deaf to you.

Wrapping your arms around your husband’s burly one, you rested your chin on his shoulder. Nuzzling his sleeve, you clung to him like a lifeline. Your heart was still hammering against your ribcage from the previous occurrence, still unable to decipher if what happened was true or not.

‘What is happening? Am I going insane?’ You found yourself wondering, squeezing Miguel’s bicep tighter. Your perfectly sprayed jumbo curls brushed against your cheeks but you could hardly feel it, still completely rattled. The only solution that came to calming you was to confide in your husband, like you always did.

Glancing up at your spouse from where you rested on his arm, he gazed ahead of him at the black and white images that were flashing across the miniature television. You hesitated before leaning in, your rosy lips brushing his ear. “I—I have to talk to you,” you whispered, your eyes silently begging for his undivided attention.

You needed to tell him what was happening—how you felt like you were losing your mind.

But then it hit you…

It was your sweet husband’s birthday.

You didn’t want to alarm him with this—not today, the only day he was able to get a break from his demanding job and be free of the workload.

You can wait…

An worried expression appeared upon his face as he sipped from his glass of water. “What’s wrong, esposa?” he asked, his smiling features shifting into intense concern. The sight pierced your heart.

Laughing nervously, you shook your head and pulled away, hiding the trembling of your manicured hands in your lap. You tried to ignore how desperately you wanted him to comfort you. “Actually…i-it’s not that important,” you said, though the quiver in your voice betrayed you. The more you tried to dismiss his worry, the more troubled he seemed.

Luckily, Gabriella came to your rescue.

Having finished her slice of cake (and every crumb) she jumped up, her mouth still smeared with frosting. “Can I show Papá my gift now?!” she exclaimed, the sugar clearly taking effect. Her orange ribbons bounced in her hair with her excitement.

Miguel glanced briefly at Gabriella but remained unsettled by your earlier unease. You leaned into him, masking your distress with a playful smile. "How about it, my love? Ready to see our gifts to you?" you asked, your heart clenching at the way his eyes softened, adoring your words yet oblivious to the truth they were meant to conceal.

“Sí, princesa. I’d be delighted to see your present,” Miguel replied with a grin, flicking off the television with the remote. The two of you watched Gabriella race upstairs, her footsteps echoing and fading, leaving you alone with your husband in the living room.

A moment of silence passed, the air thick with the lingering excitement of your daughter’s energy, before Miguel smirked at you. “Now, what was it you wanted to tell me alone, hmm?” he teased, giving your cheek an affectionate pinch. “I know you only ask for me like that when you want something…” His eyes glinted with desire, unaware to the turmoil swirling within you.

You forced a soft laugh, schooling your features. “And… w-what if I did?” you replied, your voice faltering just slightly, your breath hitching when he leaned in closer.

Without warning, he pulled you into a kiss. The world around you seemed to melt away as his arms wrapped around you, his lips warm and urgent. Each kiss chipped away at your worries, his touch both soothing and electric. You pressed into him, feeling his heartbeat sync with yours.

He chuckled against your lips, each kiss leaving you hungrier for more. “So that was your plan? Hmm… Mi chica traviesa, traviesa.”

You gasped as his fingers brushed the nape of your neck, holding you steady. His touch was both tender and possessive, and the taste of him—sweeter than the cake you’d abandoned—flooded your senses, leaving your body humming with need.

Before you could process it, he gently pushed you back onto the couch, his lips never straying far from yours. A breathless laugh escaped you. “Miguel—”

Your halfhearted scolding was silenced by another kiss, and then another, each one more urgent than the last, until your bodies seemed to fit together seamlessly.

Your fingers combed through his dark curls, undoing the careful styling he’d done that morning. You tugged him impossibly closer, each kiss a promise—a vow that felt as eternal as the one he’d made to you on your wedding day.

And then, the spell shattered.

The sound of Gabriella’s blood-curdling scream pierced the air, cutting through the tranquility of the room like a knife.

Your heart dropped in an instant.

“MAMA!!”

You froze, eyes wide, breath catching in your throat. Hastily, you pushed Miguel away, panic rising in your chest. “Did you hear that?!” you asked, your voice tight with alarm.

For once, Miguel’s expression mirrored the terror that gripped you. Rising from the couch, he reached out to steady you as both of you looked toward the stairs, your pulse pounding in your ears.

The air between you was heavy now—this wasn’t just the innocent sound of a child’s call.

Something was wrong...

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed the first part of Dear, My Beloved! What exactly is happening in the O'Hara house? Is the life inside those perfect green vintage walls as idyllic as it seems, or is there something far more sinister at play? 🤔

Also, I know I've mentioned this before, but once again, my apologies for the late posting of Despair and Greed for this event. Life became unexpectedly overwhelming toward the end of 2024 for my sister and I, and during my break, I found myself needing to take some time to recharge. The last thing I want is for writing to shift from a hobby to a chore, so I hope you all can understand! ❤️❤️

This one-shot was also in dedication to Miggy's B-day, so happy belated birthday to the handsome Spider-man himself. 💙❤️

Lastly, Part 2 of Dear, My Beloved comes with a LOT of trigger warnings—seriously, a lot. I'll include them in the warnings list when it’s posted but consider this an extra heads-up! ⚠️⚠️

If you’re excited for the next part of Dear, My Beloved, and to see what else my older sister, @powerful-niya and I have in store for Vicetober (I know, I know 🤧), be sure to like, comment, reblog, and follow! Wishing you all a wonderful day—stay safe! 👋🏾💙🤎😈

<3 Taglist:

If you will like to be a part of the taglist in the future, just comment or send a DM!

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naeverse · 7 months ago

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naeverse · 8 months ago

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Happy New Years!! 🥳🎉 Here's to more stories, friendships, and love in the new year 2025! ❤️❤️ Love you guys!

#happy new year #new year 2025 #❤️❤️❤️#🙃naeverse posts🙃

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naeverse · 8 months ago

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Update on Naeverse! 🤓

Hi everyone! Long time no see! 👋🏾 A LOT has happened since I was last active here on Tumblr. First, I want to apologize for the sudden interruption of the Vicetober event. During that time, personal life and education became really demanding. I found myself juggling home life, classes, and writing, and it honestly became too much. At that point, I decided to set writing aside to focus more on school and family.

However, now it’s winter break! YAY!! 🎉 I have some plans I’d like to accomplish this month before the new year and before my classes start in January.

Firstly, I plan to finish the 2024 Vicetober event. The Despair and Greed stories are both finished but are currently in the editing phase—honestly, the dreadful phase. 😮‍💨 I’ll try my best to get those done and share them with you, alongside my older sister @powerful-niya’s stories, to complete the Vicetober event.

Secondly, I want to start working on asks. I have SO many, it’s not even funny. 😭 I’d like to start with at least one of them. (I don’t want to promise it’ll be done in December, but I’ll definitely start it— surely!)

I also wanted to work on the second part of Lapdog or Tangled in His Webs, but honestly, I need more time for those to marinate in my brain. 😕 I don’t want to post the next parts of these amazing stories if I’m not absolutely in love with them. I hope you guys understand that I’ll need a bit more time to make them something special.

But yeah, that’s that! Sorry for the random hiatus—this year has been a lot for me in terms of education, so I’m hoping next semester will be a little less overwhelming.

I’m so thankful for the love you guys show my stories. It still amazes me how much support I’ve received. When I first posted Extra Credit, I didn’t think I’d get even one like, let alone build the fanbase I have now! 😂😂 I’m truly grateful to have all of you by my side, cheering me on. Always remember, I love you all, and stay safe!! ♥️♥️

#❤️❤️❤️#life update #🙃naeverse posts🙃#missed you all

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naeverse · 10 months ago

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Happy Birthday Miguel O'Hara!

Happy birthday to Miguel O'Hara, Spider-Man 2099, the love of my life and forever-husband. 🤍🤎 Lol, but in all seriousness, it's been a year, and this man still has my heart—and rightfully so. 😂🤎

I'm entirely grateful to the artists at Sony for creating such a specimen of a man, as no one has made me run around my room, squeal, and smile from ear to ear like him.

So happy birthday, my sexy man! I can't wait to see you in Beyond the Spider-Verse! 😘❤️

I also wish to announce that tomorrow, October 14th, marks a year since I began writing about Miggy and sharing stories on this wonderful platform.

I want to express how thankful I am to each of my followers and the writer friends I’ve met along the way. The love you all show me is something I can never get used to, and I’m forever grateful that you take time out of your day to read the stories I’ve created about the sexy man, Miguel O'Hara. It really warms my heart. 🫶🏽🫶🏽

Thank you for the love, and I hope you continue to support and enjoy the stories I put out. I also hope to become closer with my followers, as I love hearing your ideas, likes, dislikes, or simply chatting with you all. 😊

Love you all, and I hope you stay safe!

Mood board created by me, but all art was found on Pinterest, and all credit goes to the original artists, designers, and photographers.

#miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse #spider man 2099 #miguel ohara #the blue panther #miguel smut #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #miguel #miguel 2099 #astv miguel #atsv miguel #miguel atsv #miguel o hara #Happy Birthday Miguel O'Hara!!#❤️💙❤️💙#🕷️❤️#🙃naeverse posts🙃

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naeverse · 10 months ago

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You're Not My Husband

~Ｖｉｃｅ＃２~

𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝟐: 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐌𝐲 𝐃𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐥𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫

(𝐎𝐜𝐭. 𝟔-𝟏𝟐)

----

𝘓𝘶𝘴𝘵:

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘦'𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘫𝘶𝘥𝘨𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘳.

𝘓𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘴, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘧𝘪𝘦𝘴.

"𝘙𝘰𝘥𝘦𝘰" - 𝘓𝘢𝘩 𝘗𝘢𝘵

“𝘚𝘩𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴” - 𝘊𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘢 𝘊𝘢𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘰

Art was found on Pinterest. All credit goes to the original artists, designers, and photographers.

🕷️staring: Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader

🩸preview:

Placing in the brown contacts that he’d made last minute to hide his red irises and removing the black square frames from his sleeping, pathetic variant, he gazed at himself in the car mirror. There, he found himself—but not truly him.

Just a version of Miguel you would believe in…

A weaker variant of himself, the Spider Society Leader was willing to be for you.

🖤summary: After the tragic death of his daughter, Gabriella, Miguel is consumed by emptiness and darkness. Desperate for solace, he discovers you—a woman from another dimension—trapped in an unfulfilling marriage with a lesser version of himself. Seeing you reignites something in him, and he knows he must have you, no matter the consequences.

❤️tw/cw: Big Dick Miguel, Biting, Body worship, Claiming, Cock bulge, Desperation, Deception, Doppelganger, Dirty Talk, Human Miguel O’Hara, Identity Play, Imposter Fantasty, Fantasies, Fantasizing, Fingering, Marking, Multiple Orgasms, Rough sex, Spiderman-2099, Tits Worship

🕸️Pet names: Amor (Love), Bebé (Baby), Cariño (Darling), Esposa (Wife), Hiel (Honey), Mi amor (My love)

🩸Rating: 18+ explicit I SMUT I

🕷️ Word Count: 8k words

“Miguel…”

The enchanted voice called out to him like a siren beckoning from the depths. The image of the magnificent woman before him—you—appeared, your hair blowing gently in the wind, sunlight illuminating each strand, making you look even more ethereal. Your skin glistened, and your eyes sparkled with a warmth that made his heart clench.

You were perfect, almost unreal, yet so tangible it ached.

“Miguel.” You smiled, that same smile that could quell his hot temper, soothe the desire in him that had been lost since his daughter passed, and unravel the most intricate parts of him, leaving him bare and vulnerable for the first time in a long while.

His chest tightened, his heart pounded, and he knew without a doubt that this woman was meant to be his…

“Miguel!?”

The voice called out again, but it wasn’t your soft, hypnotizing one. No, it was distant, sharp, snapping him back to reality.

Miguel flinched, his senses kicking in as he stood inside his office, his muscular body rigid under his blue and red holographic suit. His red eyes focused on Jessica Owens, his right-hand, standing in front of him, her arms crossed and eyebrows raised in both confusion and frustration.

“Did you hear anything I just said?” she asked, peering at him through her shades, evidently noticing his distraction.

Clearing his throat and blinking his dazed eyes, Miguel tried to compose himself, his thoughts still lingering on you, trapped in the endless loops of desire that seemed to consume him. Running a tired hand through his unkempt, dark curls, he released a deep sigh. “Mis disculpas… could you repeat that?”

Jessica eyed him warily, sighing. “I was talking about the anomaly in Earth-274 that LYLA detected,” she stated, her gloved fingers moving along the gizmo on her wrist, displaying the rampaging Green Goblin anomaly. “He’s been creating chaos since his arrival. We need to capture him and send him back to his dimension before he causes any more damage.”

Miguel hummed in acknowledgment, though his attention was barely on her words, simply appearing to listen. His mind was still reeling, the image of you seared into his consciousness.

He turned his back to Jessica, fingers moving across the neon-yellow keyboards of his monitors in a distracted manner. Holographic screens beamed brightly, displaying surveillance data, Spider Society operations, and loose anomalies like the Green Goblin variant… but hidden behind the chaos was your world.

Earth-956.

Jessica’s voice became background noise as he stared at the monitors. His mind wandered back to you again—to your laughter, the way your eyes shimmered when you smiled, the hypnotizing, graceful way your body moved…

It drove him mad.

He couldn’t keep doing this.

Jessica’s gaze lingered on him, and Miguel knew his right-hand could sense something was off.

And she would be correct—Miguel was anything but okay.

His appearance had grown disheveled. His tan skin had become pale and gaunt from lack of sleep. The usual sharpness in his red eyes had dulled, haunted by sleepless nights replaced with lust and longing. His dark brown hair was messy, the bags beneath his eyes deeper than ever.

But, as always, he waved off her concern.

“I’m fine, Jess,” he growled, his voice tight. “I’ll send you and a team to handle the anomaly on Earth-274. I don’t want any mistakes. Entiende?”

“Yeah, sure,” she replied, though suspicion and worry were evident in her voice. Miguel could hear her hesitance—the opening and closing of her mouth to speak—before she ultimately left, her footsteps fading into the distance.

The second the doors to his office sealed shut, Miguel let out a shaky breath, relief washing over him.

The buzz of electronics and the hum of Nueva York outside his window barely registered as he stood there, his chest heaving. All he could think about was you, the woman from Earth-956.

The one thing that kept him tethered to this madness.

“Ay, coño… I can’t keep doing this,” he muttered, his voice low and gravelly, scolding himself as he fought the ache coursing through his body. His fingers itched, craving just one more glimpse of you before he denied himself completely. Just one more moment of pretending…

“One last time.” He told himself the same lie every time, but the need was too strong. It clawed at him, consumed him. His hands moved on their own, bringing up the hidden screen, and there you were—like a light in the darkness.

“Come on, my love, you have work,” your voice floated through the feed, gentle and warm. He watched you walk across your bedroom, your hair falling perfectly, your skin glowing in the morning light. The sight of you always made Miguel’s heart leap into his throat.

The Spider Society Leader had discovered you by mistake while scanning the multiverse for anomalies, and from the moment he saw you, he knew he had to have you.

He adored the way you laughed, the way you moved, the way you said his name—even though it wasn’t him you were addressing.

“Hmm… yes, mi amor. I’m getting up,” came the familiar, sleepy voice of Miguel’s own. The one who looked like him but lacked everything that made him, him. The sight made his blood boil.

It was the other Miguel—the human version of himself from Earth-956. The weak, pathetic variant that didn’t deserve you. Miguel watched as this powerless copy of himself, with glasses and a smaller physique, shuffled into the frame, hugging you from behind.

Miguel’s red eyes narrowed in anger, growling in envy when Earth-956 Miguel nuzzled your neck, his hands stroking your stomach. The human Miguel pressed his cheek to yours, his voice low and apologetic. “Are you angry with me, mi amor?”

“No, of course not.” You hastily replied, but there was a sadness in your voice that Miguel could hear clearly, even if your husband couldn’t. “I just… I miss you.”

The human Miguel kissed the side of your neck, his affection weak and empty.

Pathetic.

“It’s just another project. I promise, I'll try not to work late.”

‘La perra débil siempre dice esto.’ Miguel thought, the rage in him bubbling up. This other version of himself was throwing away everything that mattered—you—and for what? More time at Alchemax? More time busying himself with chemicals and useless projects? More nights away from his precious wife?

It made Miguel sick.

You pulled away from your husband, the hurt in your eyes piercing Miguel’s heart. “I just want my husband back,” you said, your voice brittle as you walked out of the bedroom. The human Miguel didn’t chase after you. He simply stood there, devastated, watching your retreating form before getting dressed for work.

Miguel clenched his fists, his sharp talons digging into his palms, enough to draw blood. Hearing the sadness and longing in your voice tore him apart. You needed someone to comfort you, to love you, to give you the affection you deserved.

Something Miguel desired in you just as deeply…

Earth-956 Miguel didn’t deserve you. He didn’t know how to love you, how to keep you.

But Miguel O’Hara did…

You wanted a child, and Earth-956 Miguel couldn’t even give you that. All his time was spent in the labs, toiling away at meaningless work while you were left alone at home.

It made Miguel furious. Angry growls slipped past his lips at the sight of his weaker counterpart, so blissfully ignorant of what he had.

Miguel’s mind raced. The thought had been gnawing at him for weeks, the seed of an insane idea growing until it consumed him entirely.

He could take Earth-956 Miguel’s place. Just for a day—even a moment—and he could give you the child you wanted, the life you deserved. It would be so easy—pose as him, slip into your world while the weakling wasted his life at Alchemax.

He would make you his, and you wouldn’t even know the difference…

Miguel O'Hara knew the risks. He’d attempted happiness before, only for the universe to deny him, taking his daughter and leaving him colder and emptier.

So yes, he was afraid…

But the sound of your weeping from the guest bedroom, and the sight of Earth-956 Miguel leaving the house, the door locking behind him, only solidified Miguel’s decision.

“I’m coming, mi amor,” he whispered to your sobbing form on the screen, his fingers reaching out to the holographic display, aching to console you, to erase all the sadness from your life—knowing he would, soon enough.

“I’m coming.”

You grumbled, picking up another of Miguel's many shoes left astray in front of the bed. ‘Can’t you clean up after yourself?’ you thought, understanding your husband’s passion for his work, but growing frustrated with his workaholic tendencies.

‘It always leads to this,’ you sighed, carrying the shoes to the foyer, where you neatly placed them on the shoe rack.

Dusting off your hands, you glanced around the home you and your husband shared. It was spacious, with three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a kitchen, dining room, living room, and even a study for Miguel—though he hardly used it.

Your eyes drifted over the large portraits hanging on the walls of the foyer, giving anyone who visited the impression of a happy, loving couple.

But that wasn’t your reality anymore…

The huge grins, loving gazes, and passionate kisses captured in the photos were like scenes from a forgotten fairy tale. Now, you could only hope your husband makes it home for supper and wouldn’t fall asleep at the dining table.

Your heart sank at the revelation. What happened? Where did things go wrong between you and your beloved?

Is he falling out of love?

Has he found someone new?

Is he…

Cheating?

A tremor of fear ran through your body, making you ache.

But deep down, you knew the cause of your marriage’s decline.

A child…

Ever since you and Miguel married two years ago, you both dreamed of having a baby—someone to love and cherish, knowing it was the embodiment of your shared adoration.

But no matter how hard you tried, it never happened.

After countless failed attempts and doctors offering no explanations or solutions, Miguel eventually gave up on the idea of having a child. His voice was filled with defeat when he said it was impossible. He couldn’t even meet your eyes that night.

Devastation didn’t begin to cover how you felt.

Since then, it seemed as if Miguel had given up on everything, including your relationship.

Now, your once passionate marriage felt like a hollow shell.

Fighting back tears, you turned away from the photos that once told the story of your happy marriage and headed into the living room. Settling onto the sofa, you wiped your wet cheeks, trying to erase the traces of your sorrow.

“Television always helps,” you muttered, forcing a small smile as you pulled a throw blanket over your body, dressed comfortably in a matching shirt and shorts.

You grabbed the remote and quickly found a show you liked, hoping it would distract you from the heaviness in your chest. For a while, it worked—laughter bubbled out of you, the show helping you forget your pain, even if just for a moment.

But then a single tear slipped down your cheek, betraying the sadness still lurking beneath.

“Aww, man, was that seriously the last episode?” you sighed, realizing you’d soon run out of shows if you kept binge-watching like this.

Reaching for your glass and the wine bottle, you frowned when both were empty. You’d only just opened that bottle, hadn’t you?

You gave the bottle a little shake, hearing the last few drops swish inside. The desire for just more wine, for that brief numbness, tugged at you.

Glancing at your phone, you saw the time: 7:10 p.m.

“Gosh, Miguel wouldn’t like me going out this late—especially just for wine,” you pouted. But the craving was strong.

“It’ll just be a quick run,” you began to reason, but your thoughts were interrupted by a sound. ‘Did the door just open?’ You couldn’t believe it—Miguel never came home this early.

“Cariño, I’m home!”

The familiar voice of your husband filled the house, confirming your suspicions. Hastily, you stood and moved to the foyer, bare feet padding against the floor until you came face-to-face with him.

In utter disbelief, you watched as he took off his black oxfords, placing them neatly on the shoe stand. “I... I thought you were working late today,” you uttered as he turned to face you.

The trench coat, beige collared shirt, and brown slacks he wore seemed to hug him tightly, accentuating muscles that appeared more defined than usual. You pushed aside the hidden admiration for your husband’s new physique and walked over to him.

“Have you been working out lately? You seem… bigger,” you remarked, reaching to help him remove his coat, carefully sliding it off his broad shoulders before hanging it up.

Oddly, Miguel didn’t respond. He just stared at you, silent.

Raising an eyebrow, you glanced over your shoulder at him, worry creeping into your features. “Miggy… are you okay?”

Miguel O’Hara watched you—the woman he’d dreamed of, the one he’d longed to be close to—as you moved around him, touching him, so unaware of the truth.

Miguel had followed his plan perfectly. He’d completed his tasks at the Spider Society, disabled LYLA with a fake technical error, and entered Earth-956.

Tracking down his human counterpart at Alchemax had been almost too easy. Creeping through the lab’s vents and knocking the weakling out with a blow to the head felt strangely satisfying.

After undressing his unconscious self and stealing his car, Miguel was able to escape the place unnoticed and haul the man into the backseat.

As he headed to his human variant's home, where you sat possibly watching television like you always did, Miguel felt his heart beating rapidly in his chest.

‘Would I be able to pull this off?’

‘What if she finds out and I scare her shitless?’

‘What if I lose her like Gabriella?’

Miguel’s mind raced, the last thought a hard pill to swallow. His large hands gripped the steering wheel, feeling the leather buckle under his strength. “Whatever happens, I did it for her happiness—my happiness…” he whispered, pulling into the driveway of his human self’s home.

For the first time in a long while, Miguel felt that familiar flutter in his chest. Amidst the butterflies of nervousness and fear in his stomach was one of anticipation.

Just a version of Miguel you would believe in…

A weaker variant of himself, the Spider Society Leader was willing to be for you.

And for you, he stood in the foyer, gazing at the woman he knew like the back of his hand, yet he was an imposter inside your own home.

Shaking off the stupor, he cleared his throat. “Sí, I am, mi amor,” he assured fondly, giving you a smile that showed none of his fanged teeth.

You slowly nodded, believing it was the stress, returning to smoothing out his coat on the stand. “Well, there are leftovers in the fridge. You’ll have to warm them up—” A gasp escaped you when his large arms engulfed your center, hugging you from behind.

His body heat overwhelmed you, your husband’s hardened chest pressing into your backside, allowing you to feel every ridge of his abs and pecs—a musculature that you never knew was so defined. “M-Miggy…?” You called him in confusion, but you didn’t deny how your face filled with warmth at his touch.

You leaned back into his chest, your eyes fluttering closed as his cologne of sandalwood mixed with spicy undertones filled your senses, his scent always making you melt. The way he embraced you felt different from this morning, making you feel cherished and loved for the first time in a long while.

“Hmm?” Miguel hummed in response, running his broad nose under your jaw and along your neck, inhaling you deeply. You smelled just as sweet and felt as soft as he thought you’d be.

His rough hands stroked your stomach through your shirt and circled your navel with his thumb. “How have you been today, mi amor?” he purred into your ear. “I know I don’t ask a lot, and I’m sorry.” Miguel muttered, giving your smaller body a gentle squeeze.

Your heart clenched at his question of concern, as he’d never asked before. “I’ve been…fine,” you lied, as usual, never wanting to worry him. Placing a hand over his, you traced the ridges of his knuckles and interlocked your fingers with his, not remembering the last time he touched and explored your body.

A disapproving growl, almost animalistic, rang from his chest at your answer. “No me mientas, bebé. Be honest with me,” he scolded softly, his rough hand engulfing yours, running his thumb over your knuckles.

You bit your lip, unsure about being honest. However, he felt different today…

More caring, affectionate, loving…

Just like he was all those years ago.

“I…I felt…terrible,” you confessed aloud for the first time in years. “I-I was looking at our…pictures, and I couldn’t help wondering what happened to us, Miggy?” You asked, pulling out of his hold to turn to face him.

Keeping your hands in his, you gazed up at your husband, your eyes taking in his tired features and, despite attempting to be neat, messy hair. “Did I upset you? Anger you? You desperately asked. “Do you not…love me anymore because I was unable to grant you what you…wanted?” A broken sob you’d been trying to hold back tumbled free, followed by streams of tears.

At the sight of your tears, Miguel felt utterly devastated, each sob from your pretty lips bringing him immense pain he had never experienced before. He immediately sought to silence your cries. ‘Bebé, what you’re saying is tontería. It’s not true,’ he said softly, cupping your face and swiftly wiping the endless tears from your cheeks.”

You shook your head, crying in his hold. “H-how? You've done n-nothing but avoid me, Miggy,” you explained, your cheeks rosy and your eyes glossy. “You constantly stay at work, miss dinner, and I know y-you try, but at times I feel like…I feel like you do not love me. Not like you used to.”

Miguel watched with a mixture of sorrow and anger at the byproduct of his pathetic human self's actions. ‘How dare he hurt you so much? How dare he cause you to shed a single tear?’ he thought, wanting to erase your sadness, starting with removing these delusions.

Earth-956 Miguel probably avoided you, stayed at work, and missed supper—hell, the bastard possibly didn’t love you anymore—but Miguel O'Hara did.

He fell in love the moment he saw you…

Without warning, he pulled you close, his lips claiming yours in an instant, quieting your worries and cries.

He swallowed the surprised gasp you gave him as his hands cradled your face in his palms. Miguel wanted to cease your doubts about not being loved and to show you exactly who you belonged to.

Your eyes widened, your brain unable to keep up. ‘Miguel… is kissing me!?’ You were shocked.

It had been so long since your husband showed his adoration, let alone kissed you like you were his. Your heart fluttered, hands tentatively moving to grip his beige shirt, bunching the fabric at his hips to tug him closer.

This moment felt so surreal; just this morning, you had been arguing like always. Now he was showering you with the love you had been craving for years.

“Miguel…” You whimpered, your much smaller fingers clawing at him, from his biceps to his hips and chest in desperation. The sensation made him harden under his slacks.

Suddenly, as if a switch had flipped, the restraint Miguel had melted away. He grunted against your lips, pushing you against the wall with enough force to send your couple portraits rattling. Like a beast, Miguel was atop you once more, his massive body trapping you beneath him.

“Careful!” You giggled, but were instantly silenced by another bruising kiss.

Your husband’s kisses were deep and demanding, as if he were trying to memorize the feel and taste of you. His hands explored your body with a possessiveness that made your head spin, gripping your ass and sliding up your back as if he couldn’t get enough.

Every touch, every kiss was rougher and more insistent, much different from the loving and gentle intimacy he had shown you in the past.

A breathy moan escaped your parted lips when Miguel’s large hands engulfed your breasts, kneading them roughly through the fabric of your shirt. “Goodness, Miguel… I didn’t expect you to be like this.” You panted between sloppy kisses, believing it was the lack of intimacy that was causing this new and more passionate display of affection.

Miguel simply grunted in response, the Spider Society Leader completely blinded by lust. One hand left your chest to grip a fistful of your hair, tugging your head back to expose your bare neck. At the sight of your untouched skin, Miguel practically salivated, attacking your throat.

You gasped, biting your lip when he pulled your hair. The slight sting on your scalp was a foreign sensation that you instantly adored. Humming in bliss, his lips along your throat made your head foggy, as if he were kissing your very soul.

“I’ve been neglecting you, babygirl, haven’t I?” Miguel asked, trailing his fangs along your skin, feeling you tremble at the sensation. The sweet nod you gave made his heart clench, fueling his desire further. “Let me make it up to you, cariño.” He purred, nipping harshly at your neck, leaving red love bites that he lapped at to soothe you, his discretion forgotten.

You whimpered, unsure of what you were feeling in your overwhelming state. “M-Miguel…” His name was all you could breathe, your nipples hardening under your shirt, clearly displaying your lack of a bra underneath.

Miguel’s mouth halted, ready to add another mark to your precious neck when his eyes snapped down to your chest, noticing the peaks. He smirked, pulling away to meet your hooded gaze. “Mi chica traviesa, traviesa,” he cooed, marveling at your breasts. “It seems you want me more than I believed.” Miguel teased, cupping your breasts and thumbing the hardened nubs.

You moaned, his touch sending tingles throughout your being. Gazing into the eyes of your husband, you discovered pure ravenous need staring back at you—a look you had never seen before, but it made you wetter than ever.

“I do; I’ve wanted you for a while, my love.” You genuinely told him, sticking to the agreement of honesty between the two of you.

However, your eyes widened, and your body warmed in pleasure as Miguel swiped his tongue along your cheek, coating your face with his warm saliva.

“Fuck, cariño, I’m one lucky bastard—” he rambled, kissing your lips, cheeks, neck, and collarbone, seeming to be everywhere at once, his hands following suit. “To have such an incredible, loving, and sexy wife.” Miguel muttered, leaving your breasts unattended as his hand descended lower, causing your heart to thump loudly in your chest.

“Joder, cómo tuvo tanta suerte?” he hissed, your husband’s words falling on deaf ears when his hand cupped your sex, making you squeak in surprise.

Moaning, he began to rub you, his palm pressing into your throbbing bud. “Hmm, I love you so much, esposa. Do you love me?” Miguel asked, his deep voice airy and full of lust, seeking your love.

Your mind was jumbled, unable to think of an answer when your touch-starved body was finally getting the attention it craved. Frantically, you nodded, grinding on his palm. “Y-Yes, always.”

The Spider Society Leader cursed under his breath, your shared adoration being what he had always wanted to hear from your pretty lips.

‘Shit, I can’t wait any longer,’ he thought, feeling the drool trickling down his jaw, his cock leaking precum inside his slacks, and talons threatening to extend from the tips of his fingers if he didn’t have you.

Right at this very moment…

“I need you, mi amor,” Miguel growled in a strained voice, a yelp escaping you when he hoisted you up in his arms.

Your legs clung to his waist, arms wrapping around his neck as his large hands grasped the underside of your thighs. A blush sprouted on your cheeks at the feeling of his erection throbbing against your core.

For the first time, when you looked at your husband, he appeared alive and energetic; even his skin seemed to be glowing.

You didn't know what had happened today at work to cause such a change, but nonetheless, you were beyond thankful for it.

Giving him a nod, you claimed his lips once more, needing him just the same.

Miguel smirked against your mouth, effortlessly carrying you through the dim hallways of your home.

His legs wandered the place like he always lived there, climbing the stairs with ease while satisfying your craving for his lips. Miguel devoured your pretty mouth, kissing and suckling your eager tongue that yearned for him as he did for you.

Upon reaching your shared bedroom, Miguel kicked open the door, not hesitating to toss you onto the bed.

You laughed as you landed on the mattress, feeling it sink under your weight. Laying on your back, your legs sprawled beneath you, your eyes peered teasingly up at your spouse. “You are being so rough… I kinda like it,” you told him with a smirk.

Miguel snickered, a hidden excitement in the back of his mind at the knowledge of not truly being your husband, yet you were enjoying everything he was giving you.

“Good,” the Spider Society Leader purred, removing his shirt with an effortless pull at the lapels of his button-up. Buttons flew, and fabric tore, but Miguel couldn’t be bothered; his eyes were trained on you.

His loving wife.

Your eyes widened, every moment with your spouse surprising you. “Miguel, your shirt—” Your words fell flat, practically choking when he revealed himself to you.

Removing the remnants of the destroyed button-up, your husband’s chest was on full display.

With an agape mouth and gaze of astonishment, you gawked at his defined pectoral muscles, the evident 8-pack that flexed with every movement, the pulsating veins from his burly arms, and lastly, how hairy your husband was.

Dark brown coarse hair covered his chest and descended from his navel, under his slacks, practically making you drool.

The amount of body hair was unlike him, knowing he was always about being clean and neat, but tonight, he had been different ever since he stepped through the door.

Perhaps this new him was everything you had ever wanted…

“I see someone has been… making some changes without my knowledge,” you said, trying to hide how arousing his rugged appearance was. “You've also been working out, it seems.”

Miguel raised a thick eyebrow, glancing down at his hairy body that was full of rippling muscles and sinewy limbs that coursed with the power from his mutation.

He wanted to mentally curse, knowing his muscular body type was too extreme compared to Earth-956 Miguel’s, your rightful husband.

But when the Spider Society Leader met your gaze of desire and saw how you bit your lip, it brought the beast out of him once more.

Abruptly, Miguel joined you on the bed, his body atop yours. He kissed along your neck and lapped at the previous markings he had given you. “Yeah, you like?” Miguel hummed.

You nodded, cupping his face. “Yes, but not as much as this,” you muttered, running a hand along his hairy chest, feeling the coarse strands tickle your palm.

I like this new you,” you whispered, meeting his glasses-covered eyes. “You should show this side of yourself more, hm?” Teasingly, you added, giggling as you reached out to remove his black square glasses and set them on your nightstand, eager to see your husband’s sexy features without the frames.

Miguel’s heart skipped a beat at your words, falling in love with you even more.

He pulled you into a searing kiss, groaning into your mouth and finding himself incapable of getting used to the sweet taste of you. His hands moved down to grab the front of your shirt; with ease, he tore open the fabric, releasing your bare breasts.

Your reaction was cut short as your husband descended down your body, sucking a tit into his mouth.

Whimpering, your fingers gripped the strands of his dark brown hair, tugging and holding him close. A nip from his very sharp teeth on your hardened peaks made you yelp

Miguel chuckled, swirling his tongue around your aching nipple, calming the sting from his bite. “You’re even more perfect than I’ve imagined,” he muttered against your skin, pulling away to gaze down at you.

Your spouse’s hands hastily began to unbuckle and unzip his pants to free his throbbing cock. “Undress, mi amor.” His words caused your heart to skip a beat. “Show me the pussy that belongs to me.”

Your chest heaved, your thighs sticky with arousal that ached for your husband. Looking up at him, you couldn’t help but marvel at the idea of him being yours to love for the rest of your life— a thought you believed had faded years ago but was restored on this very night.

Matching his pace, you swiftly tugged your shirt off, freeing your bare breasts, and shimmied off your shorts to expose your legs and clothed pussy.

The Spider Society Leader groaned, your arousal filling his nose. “Fuck, you smell so good, bonita.” He purred, removing his boxers and pants to finally relieve his throbbing cock.

Your gaze traveled over your husband’s shaft, noticing it was surrounded by a bush of pelvic hair and seemed bigger and thicker than you remembered, believing it was due to his arousal. You bit your lip at the effect you had on him. “Gosh, I missed you so much,” you told him lovingly, spreading your legs and revealing your soaked panties.

A groan escaped Miguel at your words, precum dripping down his length at the sight of you.

He felt a burning in his chest to allow his true self to break free, to ravage you like the beast he knew he was and grant you what you desired.

And so he did...

His red eyes, concealed by brown contact lenses, darkened, and a growl escaped him. “You missed me, cariño?” he asked with a dark smirk, not bothering to hide his fangs that dripped with venom. “Then show me,” Miguel chuckled, stepping back to allow you room to obey his command. “On all fours. Ass up.”

Your eyebrows furrowed for a moment; the authoritative tone in his voice was unlike anything you’d ever heard from your husband. You watched with hidden interest as he stood behind you, stroking his large shaft, precum dripping onto the floor. Miguel’s eyes were narrowed, his face stern while waiting for you to comply.

You might not have experienced this new act of intimacy your spouse was showing you, but you didn’t want to disappoint him—not when you were so close to having him be yours again…

Moving into position, you turned to balance on your hands and knees, your rear facing your husband as he requested. Glancing over your shoulder at him, you felt a sense of satisfaction wash over you at his look of approval. “Good girl,” he praised, biting your lip when the bed creaked behind you, his body heat engulfing you from behind.

Miguel eyed his sweet wife, running his large palm along the rear of the woman that was now his. He knew that once he claimed you, you’d never go back to the pathetic version of him known as your husband.

The Spider Society Leader ran a thumb along your clothed core, feeling it quiver under his digit. “Hmm... this pussy is begging for me, isn’t it, amor?” he laughed, sliding your panties to the side to reveal your dripping entrance.

Your breath hitched as the cold air brushed against your exposed intimate area. “Yes, Miguel, please. I need you,” you begged, arching your back and pushing your rear further towards him.

Miguel felt his heart skip a beat, the sight in front of him being every image that filled his mind when he jerked off at night. The pleading that left your pretty lips for him was what he fantasized about while fighting anomalies. This sight before him was everything he’d ever wanted, and now it was actually happening.

‘Fuck, this has to be a dream,’ he thought, even when he knew it wasn’t. “Please, Miggy. Don’t make me wait any longer,” you begged once more, your words going straight to his cock.

“Mierda,” he cursed, lining himself up and sinking into your delectable hole. Miguel growled, filling you instantly. “Joder, estás tan apretado, cariño,” he groaned, unable to wait as he slowly pulled out and slammed back in.

You moaned, your back arching at how good your husband made you feel. “Miguel! G-Goodness!” you cried out, not remembering the last time you both were intimate in this manner.

However, this time felt different—more intense, more desperate.

Your voice reached a pitch you never thought possible as his shaft penetrated deeper inside you, his hands gripping your arms and pinning them to your back.Your ass was raised higher for your spouse, your face pressed into the mattress as inaudible moans escaped you with the change of angle.

The dominance he showcased was so unlike what you were used to, but it was something you instantly enjoyed.

Miguel bit his lip harshly, his grip tightening around your arms. “You like that? Like how my cock feels inside you, miel?” he asked, giving your ass a smack at your lack of response. The frantic nods and exclamations of agreement from your gaping mouth only increased Miguel’s effort.

His hips snapped, thrusting into his sweet wife. The clenching of your pussy around his shaft was intoxicating, his cock plunging into your soppy cunt.

The sounds of wet skin and your gushing pussy bounced off the walls of your bedroom along with your combined cries.

“Yes, yes, yes!” you chanted, nails digging into your palms, your eyes rolling when the tip of your husband’s cock kissed your cervix. “Gosh! M-M-Miggy, I-I have to cum!” you choked, saliva trickling down your mouth, burying your face into the bed to muffle your cries.

With a scream, your release crashed over you. Your body thrashed and quivered, your eyes squeezing shut as the intense tingles of pleasure coursed through you.

Your juices spilled down your trembling thighs as you felt your husband pull away, leaving you to catch your breath.

Breathing heavily, your body remained kneeled, back arched and face resting on the bed, your messy hair shielding your features. The aftershocks of your orgasm were more extreme than you’d ever felt before and it left you in utter ecstasy.

Feeling pleased, you looked over your shoulder at your husband through your disheveled strands to find a surprising sight.

He was still...

energetic.

“Do you still want more, my love?” you asked breathlessly in sheer amazement.

Your husband usually needed to rest after granting you one round of intimacy, requiring a moment of recovery. But tonight, he was changed...

Miguel groaned, his cock still aching for more of you. The desire he felt from the intimacy with you was still at an all-time high. “Always, I always want more, baby,” he breathed, releasing your arms to join you on the bed.

He tugged you to rest your back against his chest, your body molding perfectly to his hardened one. His hand lifted your leg, sliding his rigid cock along your slit and teasing you with his thick member. “I know you’ve always wanted a little one, mi amor,” Miguel whispered into your ear.

“Why don’t we try one more time?”

Your eyes widened at your husband’s words, the shock and pleasure blending perfectly. Resting on your side, you cupped his face behind you, searching his features to ensure he was serious. “A-Are you sure? You... believed it wasn’t... meant to be years ago,” you told him between soft moans, the gentle peck on your temple from your spouse confirming your suspicions.

“I know, bebé. But I want to make you happy,” Miguel said, his gaze boring into yours, seeing the hope and love blooming inside. “I want to give you what you deserve, mi amor—what we deserve.”

To emphasize his words, he pushed into you once more, filling you to the hilt. You moaned; the eye contact between the two of you unbreaking as your husband thrust into you. His hand held your thigh, spreading you perfectly to take his cock with ease.

Your cries and the sound of your pussy’s squelching were music to Miguel’s ears, his fingers digging into the softness of your leg enough to bruise. “Fuck, you feel so good, cariño,” he growled, pounding into you vigorously.

Your eyes fluttered, instantly feeling that familiar burning in your stomach again “I-I’m close, M-Miggy,” you whined, your body very responsive and sensitive due to your lack of intimacy as of late.

Miguel snarled, increasing his pace. He buried his face in your hair, his balls slapping against your ass. “Cariño, I want you... to remember this moment,” he growled, his shaft pounding into you at an inhumane speed.

“When you become pregnant with our child, I want you to remember this—remember me,” he said, pulling away to use his other hand to grab a fistful of your hair, tugging you back to meet his eyes.

“I want you to know that it was I who made you happy—who granted you the child you've always wanted.” His words were punctuated with each rapid and precise thrust that took your breath away.

His fingers tightened in your hair as the ache in his groin and the tightening sensation of his balls grew. “Do you understand me, amor?” Miguel asked through parted lips, his fangs peeking out, but he doubted you’d noticed in your state.

He stared into the depths of your glazed eyes, hoping you’d grant his wish of being remembered even after he departed.

You gazed at your husband, your heart skipping a beat. His words seemed to hold a deeper meaning, spoken in a manner that felt wistful, but you hoped you were wrong, blaming it on the fuzziness in your brain.

His groans and continuous thrusts made your stomach burn with pleasure as you nodded. When you looked at your husband, even in his disheveled state, you couldn’t deny that he looked sexier than ever.

Tonight, every feature about him made you fall in love all over again—from his messy hair and amber eyes to his defined cheekbones and large frame that always made you feel small yet guarded and protected.

Tonight, your husband rekindled your adoration for him and your marriage, which was everything you didn’t know you needed.

“Y-yes…” you replied amidst the wet slapping of skin. “I’ll r-remember, for y-you.”

Miguel’s heart clenched, his movements halting as you looked up at him in utter infatuation—a look he believed was meant for him, not the Earth-956 Miguel.

The hot-tempered and controlling Spider Society Leader had finally found what he was looking for:

you.

Miguel groaned, smashing his lips against yours and moving in deep, slow thrusts. He wanted you to feel every moment.

When your spouse kissed you, it wasn’t filled with hunger and desperation like before; it was loving, which almost made you tear up.

The change in pace allowed you to relish every part of your husband, feeling the ridges and veins of his cock, the sheer girth of him, how he stretched you out perfectly and touched your G-spot so well that it made your toes curl.

It wasn’t long before you felt that high again—that need to release. “I-I’m cumming, M-Miggy, I’m cumming,” you said in a shaky voice, lying on your side with his muscular frame behind you, holding you close and showing his love with each pound of his cock.

The Spider Society Leader kissed your cheek as you shook in his hold, allowing your orgasm to overwhelm you. The way you screamed his name was everything to him; for once, you were addressing him, and he was no longer on the outside looking in.

Following your release, Miguel sped up. With a hiss, his shaft returned to its bestial pace, fucking into you like an animal in heat.

But it wasn’t long before the Spider Society Leader joined you in bliss.

With a deep thrust, a loud guttural groan erupted from his chest, releasing his load into you, filling you completely.

You moaned, arching your back against him, feeling yourself being stuffed. Your eyes squeezed shut in exhaustion as Miguel slowly pulled out.

Miguel brushed your hair from your face, taking in your stunning features. His heart clenched as he pressed gentle kisses on your shoulder and cheek, relishing each peck, knowing it would have to be his last.

He slowly rose to his full height, running his hand along your thighs and caressing your belly, hoping that by leaving a piece of him with you, it would grant you the happiness he wouldn’t be able to provide due to his absence.

Your husband’s loving touches comforted you. Sighing in relief, you felt him cover you with a blanket, the fabric soothing your jittery being. With a flick of a lamp, your bedroom was encased in darkness, except for the light beaming from Miguel’s side of the bed.

You could hear him moving around, making sure you were comfortable and content. However, when your eyes opened, you found him tugging on his pants, his massive body blocking the light as he put on his bottoms.

“Where are you…going?” you asked, the worry and sadness evident in your voice, Hastily, you sat up, tugging the blanket over your body, aware your hair looked like a total mess from your shared intimacy.

You didn’t want to go back to the ruin of your marriage, sleeping separately, with one of you in the guest bedroom while the other lay here.

You didn’t want to return to a marriage in which you weren’t happy, hoping your husband felt the same.

The longing for him was what Miguel feared. He couldn’t stay, no matter how much he wanted to.

But when he looked back at you sitting up in bed, your sad eyes practically on the verge of tears at his leaving made the thought of denying you impossible.

Smiling, he returned, crawling onto the bed and wrapping you in his arms. His arms engulfed you, holding you and seeking to not let you go anytime soon.

“Thank you,” you whispered, snuggling closer and resting your face on his chest.

“Anything for you, mi amor.” His response making your heart flutter.

You lay with your husband, listening to his deep breathing and the faint thumping of his heart, feeling safe in his arms.

“I hope this moment never ends,” you said aloud, your fingers dancing across his defined abs and relishing in the expanse of muscle that encased you.

Miguel took in your words and your hopes for this moment to last forever. Oblivious, you didn’t realize that desiring more of this moment meant wanting him, not your previous husband.

Glancing down at your form resting atop him, Miguel couldn’t help but let another insane thought creep into his mind.

It was perfect—perhaps a little wicked and cruel—but he was doing this for you.

And your little one…

With a dark smirk, he tightened his arm around your waist, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple.

“Sí, let’s make this moment last forever…mi eposa…”

A/N: That concludes “You’re Not My Husband!” Goodness, writing both Miguel as a human and as Spider-Man 2099 was a joy! I especially like the difference between the two. If you enjoyed it just as much as I did, please like, comment, reblog, and follow!

I’ll be making a separate post, but Happy Birthday to the love of my life, Miguel O'Hara!! ❤️😘💙

If you’re excited to see what else my older sister, @powerful-niya, and I have in store for Vicetober, stay tuned. 😈

Hope everyone has a wonderful day! Stay safe!!

<3 Taglist:

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naeverse · 10 months ago

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naeverse · 10 months ago

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The Beast Within - (2/2)

~ Ｖｉｃｅ＃１ ~

𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐨𝐧𝐞: 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠, 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐲

(𝐎𝐜𝐭. 𝟏-𝟔)

----

𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘦:

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴

"𝘐𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘪𝘴 '𝘐.'"

Ｍｕｓｉｃ：

“𝘉𝘢𝘣𝘺, 𝘐’𝘮 𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴” - 𝘐𝘴𝘢𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘢 𝘓𝘢𝘙𝘰𝘴𝘢

“𝘐𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘋𝘢𝘳𝘬” - 𝘊𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘢 𝘊𝘢𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘰

Apologies for the late post. October 7th (today/yesterday) was my birthday, and my older sister, @powerful-niya, my family, and I spent the last couple of days celebrating. So once again, my apologies, lol. 😅❤️ I hope you all enjoy the finale of The Beast Within. As always, it was a joy to write! 🐻❤️

Art was found on Pinterest. All credit goes to the original artists, designers, and photographers.

🐻staring: Beast!Miguel O’Hara x Explorer Fem!Reader

✒️preview:

He cleared his throat, crouching down to your level as you sat on the edge of his bed. “My body is craving a new mate, little twig,” he bluntly stated, his face full of seriousness.

“I haven’t cared about mating in a long while, but you’ve reawakened the urge,” he explained, his hands constantly seeking to touch you, now running along your arms. “So for my… price,” Miguel’s eyes locked onto yours, taking in your emotions that were hard for him to read.

“I want to mate with you, humanita.”

❄️summary: The Monster of the Great Mountains was a tale that spread far and wide—a story of a creature that slaughtered anyone who dared enter the snowy peaks of the Great Mountains. Fueled by the growing fear propagated by the media, you decided to take on this legend. As a supernatural explorer, you sought out hauntings, monsters, and creepy artifacts, determined to prove to the world that they were simply tales told in the dark—nothing more.

But with your latest discovery, you may soon find that not every story is just a story.

🖤tw/cw: Big Dick Miguel, Blood (Just a smidge), Body Worship, Cock Bulge, Claiming, Cunninglius, Dirty Talk, Gore, Marking, Multiple Organisms, Non-human AU, Olfactophilia, Oral Sex, Ownership, Pussy Worship, Scent Kink, Size Kink, Size Different, Riding, Violence, many more…

🏔️Pet names: Gusano (Worm), Humanita (Little Human), Terca (Stubborn One)

📘Rating: 18+ explicit I SMUT I

🤎 Word Count: Total - 11k, Part 2 - 7k words

🐻Click here for Part 1

‘What madness compelled me to leave this human unscathed, and instead bring it back to my den?’ This was the only rattling question that filled Miguel’s mind as he carried the unconscious woman against his furry chest through the harsh blizzard.

His narrowed eyes occasionally snapped down to the human, so small, fragile, weak. ‘I have gone mad,’ he concluded with a grumble, crunching through the snow as the blizzard raged at an all-time high.

‘Should’ve left her. Should’ve killed her,’ his inner voice growled. ‘Why did I pull her from the snow when the Great Mountains so clearly sought her sacrifice with that avalanche?’ The monster wondered, not understanding his actions.

But Miguel knew the reason—the atrocious reason.

This human was seemingly different, dangerously so.

Any other human, male or female, who entered the Great Mountains was met with death. It was their rightful punishment as the bear saw it.

But Miguel found himself incapable of harming this human, and it rattled him.

The snow-encased breeze lashed at his fur, causing him to tighten his grip on the fragile creature, holding the human closer to his chest to warm and protect.

It wasn’t long before his mahogany eyes spotted his cave through the blizzard—a well-hidden opening on the side of the mighty Great Mountains.

With a huff, he quickened his pace. ‘She’s ice cold. Not good. Not good for a small thing like her.’ He found himself worrying. Escaping the harsh storm, the beast ducked into his home.

Upon entering the cave, the beast was greeted by the warmth of a small fire—embers glowing within a ring of stones. In one corner of the large cavern lay a heap of furs and hides that the bear used as a makeshift bed. Collections of bones, logs, and trophies from hunts, such as antlers, hung on a ledge as decorations.

The cave was completed by a naturally formed alcove in one of the walls, where the bear stored small items like bowls, containers, and his food. Chunks of dried meat, fish, and winter berries were kept and preserved there, aided by the natural cold of the cave and small ice pockets along the niche.

The beast swiftly moved along, and with great care— foreign to him—he settled the human down upon the plush furs. ‘Careful. Nice and easy,’ he told himself, afraid of accidentally harming the much weaker being, this sense of caution unfamiliar to him.

Miguel’s eyes roamed the unconscious human, taking in the sight of them inside his most sacred space. The bear wanted to scowl at the thought, still unable to believe he had allowed such a wretched thing to breathe another breath of air—inside his lair, of all places.

His clawed, calloused hand lifted to brush the drenched strands of hair from the human’s face. The beast marveled at the woman’s softness, so different from his own fur and rough skin. Like touching sizzling fire, he yanked his hand away, growling at himself. “What has come over me?” he snarled, standing up and moving away to start a fire, needing to distance himself from the puny human of temptation lying on his bedding.

“It’s a human—a lying, deceitful, and greedy human,” the beast spat, his blood boiling at the mere thought of the despicable little monsters. He had sworn long ago to protect these mountains from their clamorous fingers and to slaughter every single one of them, like they’d done his little one—his precious cub he had failed to save.

Miguel’s teeth clenched together, claws digging into the stick he held to stoke the fire, tearing through the bark. “Now one wishes to entice me—blind me with her—” The beast snarled, looking over his shoulder at the sleeping beauty, taking note of how completely still she lay. The sight was almost alarming.

His heart leapt, and he hurried to prepare a small broth and warm water over the fire before returning to her side. It had been a long time since he’d felt fear or concern, but the bear detested how his worry was for a human—the very beings that took everything from him and sought to take even more.

Glancing at the entrance of his cave, he saw the brutal winds and cutthroat chills, knowing the blizzard wouldn’t stop anytime soon. ‘She’s a weak, lowly human. She’ll die if she goes back out there,’ Miguel thought. But another jarring voice filled his head: ‘Why do I care? It’s a human. I should kill her now. Snap her like a twig underfoot.’ The words clouded his mind, but when he looked at her, he couldn’t will himself to do it.

‘Was it her appearance?’ The beast wondered, wishing to understand the reason behind his hesitance. His gaze ran along the slope of her nose, the fan of her long lashes against her flushed skin, and the curve of her red, parted lips, which seemed to call out to him. “This human is… decent,” he grumbled, unwilling to admit aloud his attraction to her beauty. But he could feel his body heat rising, not out of anger like he usually felt, or to warm himself when the mountains became too cold, but for another reason...

An animalistic want.

A shaky exhale escaped his muzzle when he finally noticed it.

Your scent.

Like honey, it clung to every part of his cave, flooding his den and clouding his senses.

Sweet, intoxicating, and very, very dangerous…

The bear groaned, feeling an ache inside him that he hadn’t felt in years—an ache to mate, to bury himself inside a warm burrow and rut until he was content.

‘It’s her scent that’s causing this… indifference.’ The beast assumed with a gulp, a part of him wanting to lunge at the sleeping human, to take what he wanted and needed. Yet another side of him felt a sense of protectiveness for this frail, yet hated being.

“I need to stay away from her. Get far away,” the demihuman whispered, but found himself incapable of moving, no matter how much of a risk he knew he was taking by standing in her presence.

He growled, hearing the raving storm outside. ‘Just until the storm passes,’ Miguel told himself, gently reaching out to cup the woman’s jaw. Instantly, he noticed how small she was compared to his massive palm, his thumb tenderly tracing her cheek. ‘Then she’ll leave, or…

I’ll kill her…’

For once, Miguel found the latter as difficult as chewing through stone.

The bear slowly became entranced by the soft rise and fall of your chest, your beauty, and an overwhelming desire to fully take in your scent.

Lifting your chin without hesitation, he buried his snout in your neck and took a deep inhale. Like the sweetest nectar quenching his parched throat, a feral growl rumbled from him.

His eyes fluttered shut, your scent so intoxicating it seemed to ensnare him, making him crave more with each breath. Sniffing along the length of your sensitive throat, his muzzle brushed your skin, each inhalation only making his cock throb beneath his gray loincloth, causing him to groan.

Drool trickled past his lips, dripping down his jaw as though he'd gone days without food. "Oh, Great Mountains, what are you doing to me?" he muttered in ecstasy, his rough hands gripping your shoulders to keep you rooted beneath him on his pile of furs.

The more he ravaged your throat with sniffs, the stronger his need to mate became, a primal stirring in his loins. The creature wanted to touch, taste, and claim, the restraints holding him back beginning to loosen.

A soft whimper, not from Miguel, broke through his daze, stopping him abruptly. Eyes widening, Miguel swiftly stood, his massive chest heaving. 'No, you fool,' he scolded himself, barely able to believe how quickly he'd succumbed to his animal urges.

'She's human. Vulnerable and weak. Not for you. Never for you,' he thought, jaw clenching as he watched you stir. When your eyes met his mahogany gaze, he braced for your inevitable reaction to his beastly form looming over you.

Your eyes slowly opened, feeling as if you'd been hit by a truck. Your entire body ached—a blend of cold, bruised limbs and warmth. A weak groan escaped you as your vision tried to focus on your surroundings.

The first thing you noticed was the jagged stone walls surrounding you, so different from the vast snow where you last remembered being. Furrowing your brows, you struggled to recall what had happened.

‘Greg and I came to these mountains to explore. Greg left me stranded, I made camp, then the blizzard, and then—’ Your chest heaved as fear gripped you. You turned to your side, locking eyes with a pair of mahogany orbs staring right back at you.

“What’s g-going on? W-Where am I? H-How am I a-alive?” you stammered frantically, finally coming to terms with what stood before you. “Y-you're—” You gulped, eyes wide as you took in the beast that you once believed to be a myth, now undeniably real.

The creature was massive, a blend of human and bear-like features, both alluring and terrifying. His chest rippled with strength beneath thick, coarse fur that lined the center of his pectorals, with a trail of hair descending from his navel beneath a gray fur loincloth. His broad torso, with large, powerful pectorals, rose and fell with every breath, exuding raw power and barely concealed aggression.

His dark brown fur matched the wild mane atop his head, and his furry arms and shoulders were equally formidable, veins pulsing along his sinewy limbs.

The mahogany eyes of the White Walker pierced through you, his gaze animalistic beneath his wild hair. His shadow engulfed you, his immense size and presence looming menacingly, making your heart pound in your chest.

You watched the beast, battling your fear and the instinct to flee while remaining on guard. The atmosphere was tense, as if you were being sized up by the predatorwho was ready to strike at any moment.

“In my den,” the bear answered, his deep voice reverberating through the stone enclosure, making you jump. Your body screamed at you to run, but how could you when your feet were so frozen in your boots you couldn’t feel them?

“W-why?” you asked, your voice so cold it was hoarse. “I-I…thought I was dead.” The memory of your near-death experience and the hopelessness that had gripped you came rushing back causing you to clench the rawhide blanket tightly in your gloved hands.

Your heavy coat, pants, and boots—once believed to be your protection—were now soaked through, the melted ice intensifying the chill against your skin. Despite the dire circumstances, you forced yourself to stay strong, staring at the monster and trying not to show your fear.

However, it was hard to ignore the stiffness and soreness of your body. If his intentions were to kill you, it would be all too easy in your weakened state.

Miguel stared at the human, finding you even more captivating now that you were awake. The sight of your small, fragile body filled with life, gazing up at him with those beautiful eyes, sent a strange tingle through him. He cleared his throat, shaking off the unfamiliar feeling of fascination as his thick brows furrowed.

“I pulled you from the snow, human,” he spat, turning his back to tend to the simmering broth of meat he was preparing.

Miguel didn’t know what humans ate, but if the broth was enough to nourish him, it should be enough to strengthen the fragile creature resting in his bed.

Grasping a hand-carved wooden bowl, he began to ladle the broth into it. The smell was rich and savory, and Miguel grunted in approval, secretly hoping it would be to your liking—before quickly dismissing the thought.

You watched the beast, recalling everything you’d ever heard or read about him. ‘But here he is, crouched over the fire, proving everything I thought was fiction to be fact,’ you thought, still struggling to come to terms with it.

But you were wrong.

So very wrong…

You couldn’t help but marvel at the creature, his body brimming with strength. His large frame and powerful muscles flexed with his every movement. You found yourself wondering just how strong he truly was, whether he possessed any supernatural abilities, and how long he had lived in the cold, desolate Great Mountains.

The explorer in you couldn’t help pondering questions about the White Walker, but one thought above all echoed in your mind: ‘Why save me?’ That question rose to the surface again and again, desperate for an answer as you sat frozen in place.

Every story and legend about the Monster of the Great Mountains told of his hatred for humans—how he killed any trespassers, inflicting slow, excruciating deaths out of spite. ‘But… he saved me?’ You nearly laughed at the irony, though the coughing fit rising in your throat quickly stifled it.

You had been sure he would kill you—that he’d dug you out of the snow just to toy with you, waiting for you to regain consciousness for his amusement. ‘It wouldn’t be any fun to kill a human if they weren’t awake,’ you belived were the beast’s thoughts,

Teeth chattering, chills wracking your body, numbness gripping your fingers and toes, and the overwhelming sense of vulnerability—it all felt like torture, knowing death was still likely to come.

“I-If… you’re going to k-kill me, just do it,” you croaked, trying to maintain your bravado. Head held high, you stared at the beast’s broad back as he filled the wooden bowl. “I-I won’t… beg for my life, so g-get it over with if t-that’s what you want.” you said, your voice trembling with cold, though the terror in your chest contrasted sharply with your defiant words.

Miguel raised an eyebrow, surprised by your words. He had never heard a human so openly ask for death, much less demand it. Huffing, he poured another ladle of broth into the bowl before rising to his full height.

When his gaze met yours again, his heart leapt at the sight of your narrowed eyes and determined expression. Yet, beneath the surface, he could practically smell your fear.

It was…

Captivating.

4The bear’s footsteps were heavy and deliberate as he approached you, his face devoid of emotion. “Drink,” he commanded, ignoring your previous demand. Miguel watched with mild surprise as your face twisted in anger, pushing his hand away and rejecting him.

“I-I don’t want that,” you stated firmly, surprised your arms were even capable of moving from their frozen position at your sides. “Why am I here? T-Tell me. Now,” you demanded, unwilling to let your questions be dismissed. If you were going to be killed, you felt you had the right to know.

A deep growl escaped the beast, his paw tightening around the bowl. “You will obey, or I will make you,” he threatened, his tone holding little patience. Again, he thrust the bowl toward you. “Drink. Now.” Miguel commanded, cradling the back of your head and bringing the wooden container to your lips.

The bear’s touch in your hair was unexpected, but strangely, not unwelcome. You glanced at the bowl of brown broth, the small pieces of meat floating inside enticing you.

You couldn’t even remember the last time you had eaten…

You swallowed, the warm broth soothing your parched throat, its smell alluring. Wary, you glanced at him before allowing him to feed you since your hands were still too numb from the cold.

A quiet purr escaped him as his nails combed through your drenched hair, caressing your scalp. He relished the look of defiance you gave him with each sip you took.

Miguel felt his cock twitch beneath his loincloth as he watched your lips part over the container. He assisted, tilting the bowl to help you drink the broth he’d made for you.

The interaction felt intimate, watching your pretty eyes flutter shut as you slurped his cooking. The bear couldn’t help subtly stroking your scalp whilst you ate.

You hummed, finishing the broth, and pulling away with a sigh. Coming back to reality, you glanced skeptically at the beast. The broth had warmed you, but you couldn’t wrap your head around the reasoning behind the creature’s kindness—if you could even call it that.

You couldn’t deny that the broth helped. The hot liquid soothed your frozen insides and tasted surprisingly good.

Not that you’d ever tell him that…

Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you glared at the beast, clearing your throat. “Now, answer me. W-what am I doing here?”

Miguel eyed you for a moment, debating whether or not to reveal the truth. His fingers loosened from your hair, leaving behind a lingering warmth.

His pride led him to dismiss the question entirely. “All you humans do is take and take. Even when there’s nothing left to be taken, you seek to claim something else that isn’t yours,” he growled, his disdain evident. He tossed the empty bowl to the cave floor with a loud thud.

“I sought to cleanse my lands of you wretched beings,” Miguel stated, his mahogany eyes seeming to glow redder as his anger flared.

“And then you came.”

“Me?!” you exclaimed, raising an eyebrow in surprise. You chuckled, shaking your head. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking abou—” your words cut off into sputtering coughs. You hacked into your hands, the cold overwhelming you as you practically barked up a lung.

Miguel’s eyes widened, and he hastily moved to your side. He wanted to leave you to your growing sickness, but for the first time, he felt something close to sympathy for a human.

Grumbling, Miguel yanked the blanket off your body, revealing your drenched, cold jacket, pants, and boots.

“W-What are you… doing?” you asked between coughs, your voice weak. The bear ignored you, grasping the wet fabric of your coat and giving it a squeeze, watching water drip from it. “You’re soaked and cold. Not good,” he rumbled. “Undress.” The beast commanded, pulling away.

Your entire body tensed, your head snapping toward the monster in disbelief. “W-What?”

“Take off your clothes,” he repeated sternly, leaving no room for refusal. You shook your head and burst into another fit of coughs. “N-No… I-I-I’m fine,” you tried to assure him, not wanting to show any weakness.

“No, you’re not,” Miguel snarled, his brows narrowing at your defiance. “You and I both know you won’t survive another minute in this state, twig.” He hissed, looking you up and down, noting how your cheeks and nose were rosy, your face sickly.

The bear found himself cupping your face, his massive hand cradling your jaw. “You’ll get sick and die, little twig,” Miguel purred, tracing his thumb along your cheekbone. “The Great Mountains aren’t meant for humans.”

Your breath hitched, his body heat so comforting against your cold skin that you subconsciously nuzzled into his palm, seeking warmth. Realizing your mistake, you quickly pulled away. “W-Why do you care?” you asked, wheezing. “I-I thought you… h-hated humans.” You coughed.

Miguel huffed, his heart skipping a beat when you snuggled against his palm. “I’ve told you already, gusano,” he said, gazing at you, your scent surrounding him. A growl rumbled in his chest. “Undress… I won’t ask again.”

The threat made your heart drop. You met his gaze and saw he was entirely serious. “Shit,” you muttered under your breath, narrowing your eyes at him.

“F-Fine…”

Your trembling fingers slowly worked to unfasten the straps from your wrists, freeing your palms from the drenched gloves. You sighed, tossing them aside before beginning to remove your clothes. Glancing up at the beast, you noticed the flicker of fascination in his eyes before he masked it with his usual stoicism.

“Continue,” he rasped, his arms crossed over his large chest. Rolling your eyes, you grabbed the zipper of your puffy jacket, drawing it down to reveal the soaked sweater underneath. You shrugged off the heavy coat, casting it to the cave floor with your gloves. The cold air immediately sank into your wet sweater, making you shiver.

You were about to stop, but the bear’s growl urged you to continue. Cursing under your breath, you gripped the hem of your sweater and pulled it over your head, exposing your bare, wet skin to the icy cave. Adding the sweater to the pile of clothes, you were left in only your bra, pants, and boots. You quivered, reaching for the blankets to seek warmth.

“No,” the bear said, gripping your wrist to stop you. “All of it.” He nodded toward the rest of your clothes, clearly expecting you to remove everything.

You scoffed, unable to believe the audacity of this creature. “I-I will do no such thi—” another fit of coughs interrupted your words.

Miguel growled, having had enough. He reached for you, ignoring your protests as his rough hands gripped your pants and pulled them down along with your undergarments. He continued undressing you, his senses overwhelmed by your scent, which intensified with every layer he removed.

After removing your boots and finally your bra, he left you completely bare on his fur bedding.

“That wasn’t so hard, human,” he rumbled, his gaze sweeping over your nude form, his heart dropping.

Your body was a vision of perfection upon his bed. Your skin, pale from the cold with a patchwork of bruises, bore the harsh marks of the avalanche. The purplish-blue splotches trailed along your hips, thighs, and arms where the snow and debris had pummeled you.

Miguel could see the tiny hairs standing on end on your legs and arms, your body trying desperately to generate heat in its exposed state.

He watched your chest rise and fall rapidly, the cool air brushing over your sensitive skin as the ethereal curves of your body lay vulnerable and on display before the beastly creature.

Your nipples, hardened from the cold, stood out against the soft flesh of your breasts, and the faint shadows of muscles you had built from years of exploration were evident as your stomach tensed, drawn in from the chill.

Miguel noticed blotches of redness along your skin where your wet clothes had clung tightly. The beast wanted nothing more than to lick your wounds, bruise after bruise, and ravish your body until he was satisfied.

The growing ache in the pit of his stomach intensified—the urge to grasp the small human and do what he should have done the moment he rescued you from the avalanche. But he had to stop himself.

‘She's small, fragile. Not for you,’ he reminded himself once more.

No matter how beautiful you looked lying upon his bedding, Miguel must quell the need inside of him.

In a mixture of embarrassment and shock, you swiftly grabbed the rawhide blanket, tugging it over your body. You had never felt so humiliated, laying completely bare before a being you had once denied existed, feeling weak—a feeling you were not used to.

“H-Happy?” you shivered, trying to keep an authoritative tone in your voice. Yet, oddly, a warmth in your gut found his gaze of desire to be…

Interesting…

Miguel didn't respond, instead, he picked up your clothes and boots, and swiftly moved to hang them by the fire.

He needed to distance himself from you before he lost control.

You studied him, your fingers toying with the fur on the blanket. You had so many questions and wondered if the mysterious creature would answer any of them. “Do you have a name?” you inquired, hoping for an easy question he’d answer.

Hugging the rawhide tightly over your body, you awaited his response, wishing he’d give you something useful.

Miguel ran his palm along your drenched sweater, smoothing it out where it hung. “Miguel,” he replied gruffly.

“Miguel…” You whispered his name, trying it out, but the sound of it on your lips stirred something under his loincloth. “What is yours, terca?” Miguel asked, secretly wanting to know yours as well.

“Y/N,” you said, feeling the discomfort of your wet hair sticking to the back of your neck and shoulders. Reaching up, you gave the heavily soaked strands a squeeze to relieve them of water, your movements sluggish.

The bear watched you closely, hearing the unique name. “Y/N,” he muttered so softly you couldn’t hear, his fascination evident.

Miguel hated the interest he felt for you—a human. He was supposed to hate all humans, the same creatures who had raided his lands and killed his little girl.

He wasn’t meant to feel anything for you, so why did he?

He huffed, picking up a nearby stick to stoke the fire, needing to occupy his hands.

‘Miguel... I didn’t expect it to have a name,’ you thought, unable to help but track the beast’s movements. His furry, defined backside was to you, his gray loincloth hugging his waist tightly. The muscular curves of his thighs and legs were heavily accentuated beneath his fur as he crouched before the flames.

“What are you?” you asked, fascinated by the creature and wanting to know more about him.

Miguel scoffed, irritation clear in his deep voice. “Why don't you tell me, human? Your kind seems to be all-knowing,” he retorted.

You rolled your eyes, now comfortably warm under the blanket since your soaked layers were removed. ‘Perhaps the creature knows a thing or two,’ you thought, but his lack of answers was starting to irritate you.

“Will you tell me anything, or will you keep me here without reason?” you asked, no longer wanting to beat around the bush.

“I'll decide your fate when the storm passes, twig,” he snapped, glancing back at you from the fire.

The beast grunted, his turn to ask questions. “Why did you come here?” he inquired, standing to his full, towering height, tossing the stick aside. “What foolish ideals led you to me?”

Despite the ominous tone of his words, you gazed up at him without the fear you had felt before. You couldn't explain it, but you felt like he wouldn't hurt you.

“For you,” you confessed, hoping your answer might earn you some in return.

“I came here with a colleague to prove that the ‘Monster in the Great Mountains’ was false,” you chuckled, looking him up and down. “And I must say, I'm not used to being wrong.”

Miguel’s mahogany eyes widened for a moment, surprised by your answer. He stared at you, letting it sink in. “And why were you seeking me? I could have killed you in your ‘search,’” he smirked, remembering the fate of the last human who came for exploration, seeking him and their fate.

You shrugged. “I was seeking a good story—a journal entry to show the tales of you were just that: tales. I didn't believe—didn’t even think you were… real,” you sighed, meeting his eyes.

Miguel chortled, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Foolish, just like the rest of them,” he spat, hoping to uncover why you were different—why he couldn’t kill you—but finding only similarities to the other humans he had encountered.

"You do things without thinking, putting yourself in danger just for the sake of proving truths—or tales—false?"The beast scoffed, shaking his head, his brown mane swaying with the movement. “I'm surprised your kind hasn't killed itself off with your idiocy.”

You huffed, feeling attacked. “And what makes you so great?” you shot back, turning to sit on the edge of the bedding, glaring daggers at him. Your hand gripping the blanket that encased your body tightly all the while.

“You’re a lone beast that roams a mountain of snow, only existing to kill a race you deem weaker!” you spat angrily. “Who gives you the right to play judge, jury, and executioner!?”

“Watch your tongue, mortal!”

Miguel roared, suddenly looming over you in the blink of an eye. “You know nothing of what you speak.” He growled. “So unless you wish to become another sacrifice to the mountains, I'll cease your senseless speech,” he threatened, his claws itching to hurt you, though he knew he really couldn’t.

You gulped, realizing you might have gone too far, but you couldn’t stop. “Why? Is it true?” you pressed, noticing his red eyes and heavy breathing. “You’ve killed enough humans to cover the Great Mountains, and yet, I stand before you. Why?” You demanded, the intensity between you and the beast growing. “Why am I still alive? Why haven’t you killed me like all the others?”

Miguel held your gaze, your questions cutting into him like shards of ice.

Never had he met a human like you—someone who could match his temper, who wasn’t afraid of him, and who returned his anger just as much as he gave.

It made him as hard as stone.

“Why?” he rasped, his paw reaching to grab the back of your head, fingers sinking into your drenched hair. Miguel loved how your stern gaze never faltered, and you didn’t flinch.

“I’ve been wondering the same thing,” Miguel confessed for the first time in your presence.

Your eyes widened as his touch was surprisingly gentle, cradling your head like you were made of glass. “I don’t… understand,” you uttered, brows furrowed.

“Neither do I,” the beast replied, leaning in close.

“I thought it was your appearance,” he purred, tracing his claws along your face. “Then I thought it was your scent,” Miguel muttered, lifting your chin and running his snout along your throat, inhaling your sweet aroma, which made him ravenous.

But that wasn’t it.

“Then, you spoke to me with little to no fear,” he growled, moving up to your ear, nuzzling your skin and savoring the shaky exhale that escaped you. “I’ve never had a human speak to me like that. It’s...

Intoxicating.”

The creature’s closeness and body heat made your heart flutter, his touch hypnotizing you. Yet, you were puzzled as to why you felt this way for a killer beast of all things.

‘Am I dreaming?’ you wondered, questioning if the beast’s existence was just a hallucination—that you were sicker than you believed.

The bear pulled away, his mahogany eyes now burning a deep red, full of desire. His rough fingers traced your lips, nose, and jaw as if studying every aspect of you.

The creature’s behavior sent shivers through you, the sensations too real to be a hallucination, though you wondered if you were truly lost.

You bit your lip, eyes roaming over his beastly and human features, trying to uncover the reason behind your shared fascination. Then it hit you—

You were the first.

You, Y/N, the infamous supernatural explorer, were the first to meet Miguel—the White Walker and Monster of the Great Mountains.

Before you, no one had set foot in the Great Mountains without facing death, let alone seeing him and feeling his curious strokes along your cheeks.

Miguel was a mystery, and not only could you confirm his existence, but you could be the first to discover all of him, if you so chose to.

You observed the beast, secretly admiring how gentle he was when touching you—his fingers featherlight along your ears. “Then perhaps…” you began, his hand stilling on your hair as he ran your strands between his forefinger and thumb.

You smiled, looking him up and down, noticing his hardened eight-pack and the scars that decorated his chest, with some hidden under his furred arms. “Perhaps I’ll let you find the answer to your questions, if you allow me to do the same,” you offered.

Miguel’s thick eyebrows furrowed, withdrawing his fingers from your hair. He was intrigued by your proposal, his animalistic urges wild beneath his skin, but he was also…

Afraid.

“My questions come with a price,” his deep voice replied, eyeing your smaller body and wondering how intimacy between you could occur without harm.

“As do mine,” you retorted with a smirk, enjoying how your words surprised the beast. “Name your price.”

Miguel grunted, admiring your confidence. He felt his body responding more and more to your bravery, something nearly all humans he’d met previously lacked.

He cleared his throat, crouching down to your level as you sat on the edge of his bed. “My body is craving a new mate, little twig,” he bluntly stated, his face full of seriousness.

“I want to mate with you, humanita.”

Disbelief coursed through you.

‘Mate? He wants to mate… with me?!’ you thought, though your face masked your true feelings well.

You could see the need in his gaze, the way his chest heaved and shaky, rumbling exhales escaped him.

Although you hesitated at the thought of such an act with the large, killer beast, your desire for knowledge and discovery outweighed everything.

“Okay, you have yourself a deal, Miguel,” you grinned, testing the waters by running a finger along the slope of his defined cheekbone, feeling him stiffen at your touch. “Only if you’re okay with me studying you in the process.”

Miguel groaned, leaning into your touch as the anger and aggression—emotions that always simmered within him—were quelled by your presence and soft strokes.

"I'm fine with your… observations, human," Miguel grumbled, grasping the blanket you used to conceal your body, preparing to rip it free.

His arousal heightened when your hand loosened, allowing him to remove the fur shield.

You felt the beast slowly draw the rawhide fabric from your being, exposing your bare self to him in all its glory.

You couldn’t help but chuckle as the bear stood in awe, hand still holding the blanket, completely frozen. "I take it you've never seen a human this way?"

Miguel licked his lips, a slight scoff escaping him. "I’ve never cared to," he muttered, dropping the hide and advancing toward you.

His massive hands grasped your breasts first, swallowing the soft flesh in his palms. The bear sniffed and licked at your shoulder and neck, familiarizing himself with your scent.

"You are so small, little human. I fear I may harm you," the beast admitted, voicing his concerns. His grip on your chest was gentle, brushing over your nipples with his thumbs with tender swipes.

You moaned, your back arching into his palms. Running your nails through his hair, you tugged gently. "Hmm… who knew you were such a gentle bear, Miguel?" you teased, grinning as his eyes darkened.

"Gentle… bear?" The beast repeated, a challenge in his gaze. With a snarl, he pushed you back onto his bedding, engulfing you in an instant with his body of muscles and fur.

You couldn’t help but laugh, provoking him quickly becoming your new favorite game. "Yes, quite a gentle one for a killer beast," you giggled, humming softly as he ran a flat tongue along the pulse point of your neck.

Miguel was slowly losing himself, needing the reminder that his new mate was human to keep him grounded. Yet, despite how foreign the word "gentle" felt, he found himself liking it when it came from your lips.

"Sí, I can be… gentle," he whispered gruffly, trailing down your body, following the alluring scent that had tempted him since he pulled you from the snow.

Miguel gave your inner thighs a nip, smirking when you jolted. "Así que, considérate afortunada, pequeña humanita," he purred, feeling his shaft pressing against the gray fur of his loincloth at the scent of your arousal.

Your eyes fluttered, fingers stroking his hair and ears from atop his head. You gasped at the sensation of his nose pressing against your core, seeking to smell your readiness.

“F-fuck...” you cursed, your head falling back on the fur bed, legs spreading wider for him.

Repeatedly, you glanced down, still in disbelief that it was truly a massive bear causing such pleasure. The situation was surreal, and you couldn't help but think, ‘Shit, this would make one hell of a journal entry.’

You bit your lip, savoring how the mysterious creature was making you feel so incredibly good.

Miguel lapped at your core, his tongue teasing your clit while exploring every inch of your intimate area. His hands gripped the soft flesh of your thighs, keeping them spread as he continued his feast.

Like the beast he was, he ravaged his new mate—suckling, nipping, and licking your entrance. His tongue tasted your wetness, loving how you dripped for him and how your grip tightened in his hair.

Your body writhed and squirmed, feeling like the bear was everywhere at once. His teeth grazed your thighs, leaving love bites, while he suckled your swollen clit and lapped at your entrance. The sensations overwhelmed you, and it wasn’t long before that familiar burning built in your belly, only to explode just as quickly.

You choked back a moan, your body writhing in bliss, feeling weightless as the beast devoured every drop you gave him.

But even after you climaxed, Miguel couldn’t get enough of you. You smelled so good, tasted even better, and his tongue trailed along your trembling thighs, marking them with his scent and teeth, wanting all to know you were his new mate.

The bear found himself content to stay between your legs, basking in your heat and scent until the end of his days. And he would have…

Had his cock not demanded your attention.

Miguel pulled away, your scent still clinging to his snout. His clawed hands didn’t hesitate to rip his fur loincloth away, revealing his massive, drooling shaft.

Your dazed eyes widened at the sight of it, the fogginess of your mind vanishing in an instant. You knew for certain that he wouldn’t fit. “You are rather… big,” you remarked with a nervous chuckle, trying to mask your anxiousness.

The beast glanced down at his own shaft, a breathy laugh escaping him for the first time in a long while. “Sí, it is,” he smirked, grabbing your ankles and pulling you closer to the edge of the bed with ease.

You yelped at his strength, your body sliding effortlessly like you weighed nothing. Gasping, you felt his heavy shaft rest against your stomach.

Swallowing hard, you realized, like always, you might have bitten off more than you could chew, but the ache of desire coursing through you was undeniable—and very enticing.

The beast’s shaft was unlike anything you had ever seen. It was long and equally girthy, with a pink tip and a dark brown base that matched his fur. His balls were large and hairy, about the size of two grapefruits, hanging heavily at the base of his impressive length. The veins along his member throbbed, and pre-cum dripped steadily from his shaft, showing his evident need.

“Don’t lose your confidence now, little twig,” he purred, resting his large hands on either side of your head, the pile of furs sinking beneath you under his weight. “It’s what makes you so delectable,” the beast rasped into your ear, tugging at your earlobe with his sharp teeth.

You scoffed, masking your hesitation with a layer of false courage. “Who said I was afraid, beast?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as you reached down to grip the massive cock in your hand, giving it a few strokes. You bit your lip, surprised at its weight.

“Let me take control, Miguel,” you said with a naughty grin, looking up at the beast while working him over with your hand. “Let me show you just how strong a human can be.”

Miguel’s mind turned to mush, a rush of pleasure and need causing him to drool slightly. His little human—his mate—was very brave and bold, something he had grown to adore.

“Está bien,” he uttered breathlessly, thrusting one last time into your soft palm before pulling away to stand over your prone body.

For the first time, Miguel looked to someone else for direction.

Pleased, you rose up, noting the size difference as your head tilted back to maintain eye contact. Taking his hand, you guided him to lie down on the pile of furs, watching as his muscular form sank into the soft fabrics.

Miguel’s red eyes followed your every move, wary of what you had planned. “Careful, humanita,” he warned, feeling his worry rising again. “I do not wish to harm you,” he muttered, watching you climb on top of him like you were scaling the Great Mountains themselves.

You giggled, balancing perfectly on Miguel’s bulging thighs. “Where’s your confidence gone, mighty protector?” you teased, his cock fully erect and smacking against your belly at your taunt. “It’s what made you delectable,” you laughed, smearing his pre-cum along his tip with your thumb, eliciting a sexy growl from him.

“Besides, I can handle it,” you boldly told him, determined to prove it.

To both Miguel’s and your surprise, you were capable of doing just that.

The beast watched you in sheer amazement as you took his length inside your small body. Animalistic roars and unintelligible words escaped him while you rode him, bouncing on his monster of a cock as if you’d done it countless times before.

His rough paws reached for your waist, his large hands practically enclosing around your center, guiding your movements. Sharp tingles of pleasure surged through his body, leaving him trembling and growling beneath you.

You whimpered, feeling like you’d gone mad with lust at how good his massive cock felt inside you, stretching you to the extreme. “O-Oh, fuck,” was the constant mantra you repeated, curse after curse spilling from your panting mouth with every bounce on his hips.

Miguel couldn’t get enough of how tight you were and how sensitive he was. It had been years—decades—since he’d mated, and only seconds in, he found himself whining like a virgin cub during his first time.

“You’re… impressing me, twig,” the beast huffed, his claws gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. He was mesmerized by the sight of your pussy devouring him in wet guzzles.

The squelching of your pussy didn’t go unnoticed by the bear; the sounds shot straight to his cock as you repeatedly rose and slammed down onto his large, throbbing length, which begged for your return with each departure.

‘Who would’ve thought a small, weak human could take a being like me?’ was all the beast could think between the intense squeezes of your exquisite pussy.

Your hands landed on Miguel’s chest, feeling the taut muscles and scratching new markings into his pecs. You ground yourself on his cock, taking him as deep as your body would allow.

Communication was impossible; your eyes crossed, jaw hanging slack as only curses, moans, and high-pitched noises left your lips.

The bear grunted, noticing your sputtering hips that signaled you were close. Snarling, he tossed you onto your back, taking control before either of you could come to your senses.

His hips moved into you with raw power, his thick-furred muscles snapping with a precision deemed inconceivable. Miguel couldn’t take his eyes off your bouncing tits, the flesh moving in sync with his thrusts and the lustful sight of him joined with his new mate.

The beast’s little human was so strong, taking everything he gave you. He purred, clearly seeing the tip of his girthy cock poke through your soft abdomen, making you tremble and choke back moans at his inhuman size. “Tan perfecta, pequeña, tan perfecta para mí," the creature rumbled, the praise practically unintelligible.

Your combined cries of pleasure rang throughout the cave, bouncing off the stony walls as the blizzard continued to rage outside.

You squirmed, not remembering when your arms enveloped the bear’s broad backside, nails marking his tough skin. Whimpering and moaning in overwhelming pleasure, you were pushed over the edge in an instant when you felt Miguel’s cock press tightly against the opening to your womb.

Shrieking, you released, your back arching off the bedding and your thighs clasping around his waist. Aftershocks of electric bliss coursed through your nerves, shocking you back to life as Miguel continued his rutting.

The beast roared, his hips stalling at the clench you gave him before thrusting more erratically than before.

Burying his face in your neck, the bear whined, “Sí, sí, humanita.” He panted, his fangs grazing the skin of your ear, making you tremble in delight.

“Llevarías a mis pequeñas, mi compañera?" Miguel murmured into your ear, his pace becoming more frantic, his large balls smacking against your ass.

"Llevarás mi legado y te quedarás conmigo. Nunca me dejarías, pequeña compañera. Nunca." The beast growled, allowing the rush to overtake him.

With a loud bellow, the bear came. He held your hips down in a bruising grip, burying his cock as far as it would go, leaving no doubt you were filled with his seed.

Your toes curled, holding onto the monster tightly and moaning into his shoulder. You were left exhausted, your mind empty and devoid of thought. Your belly felt full, stuffed by the beast, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Your exploration was complete…

Breathing a sigh of relief, you welcomed the beast beside you, never wanting to let go. Your arms gripped his waist tightly, your face nuzzled into his furry chest.

Out of exhaustion, sleep overtook you in no time, melting into the bear’s hardened pecs as soft snores escaped you.

Miguel pulled you close, engulfing you in his burly arms. He used his massive, furry body to warm and shield you, his fingers brushing strands of your sweaty hair from your face.

He admired the human next to him, never in his life foreseeing this. “A human as my mate?” he whispered with a small chuckle, his hand moving to caress his little human’s belly, knowing what was growing there and what he would ensure would grow.

“You are mine now, Y/N, for all eternity.”

Miguel, the Monster of the Great Mountains, stated, his arms tightening around his new mate.

You were now Miguel’s, his little human and mate who was never to leave his cave.

He’d keep you here, where he could protect you, fill you full of his little cubs, and ensure you’d never escape his sight.

Miguel knew you’d probably fight him and disagree with his desires, but inevitably, you’d stay with him.

Whether you liked it or not…

A/N: That concludes The Beast Within! Writing Miguel as a beast was such an interesting and fun experience for me, and I really enjoyed it. If you enjoyed it just as much as I did, please like, comment, reblog, and follow!

If you’re excited to see what else my older sister, @powerful-niya, and I have in store, stay tuned—Vicetober is just getting started. 😈

Hope everyone has a wonderful day! Stay safe!!

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