#dark spider-man x reader

[l1tw1ck]

The Fall of Spider-Man

bottom!ftm Miguel x top!masc!villain reader

🕷️ Word Count: 1,897 🕷️

AFAB Language Used

CW: Non-Con, Kidnapping, Lingerie, Fingering, Squirting, Cunnilingus, Overstimulation, Crying, Corruption, Creampie, Nipple Play, Pregnancy Mention, Stockholm Syndrome (Kinda?)

Miguel’s eyes shoot open. He immediately analyzes his surroundings. He’s tied up and on the floor. He can't see anything but he can tell he’s wearing lingerie. He feels sick. His first instinct is to try and get out of his restraints but no matter how hard he tries, nothing happens. He’s powerless. How? Why? When? Where the hell is he? He looks around the dark room, stopping to look at a door. There's light coming from behind it and he can hear movements. Footsteps. Getting closer and closer.

“You’re awake! Good morning, Miguel.” You smile, turning the lights on before walking towards him. “How are you feeling?”

“Who are you?” He asks.

You give him your name. “The person who's going to defeat Spider-Man once and for all.” You grin. “Although my methods are a bit unconventional.” You chuckle.

Miguel keeps his mouth shut, waiting to hear what you have to say next. Your confidence scares him. It's not like he's never met a confident villain before, it's honestly less likely to meet an insecure one, but your confidence is scary. You know something he doesn't. He knows you're dangerous. He always chooses to fight but everything inside him is screaming to run away. It's not like he has the choice now though.

“Pretty soon, you’ll be my beautiful husband and the father of our children.” You kiss his forehead. His heart drops. “But first, I’m gonna have some fun with you.” You kneel down and caress his cheek. He grimaces in disgust. “Let me give you the play by play.” You push his lacy red panties aside. “First, I’m gonna play with this pretty pussy of yours and give it a lot of love.” You rub his clit. “Then, once I’m done, I’m gonna slide my cock inside of you. I’ll make sure to go real slow, make you feel every inch of my cock.” You bring your fingers down to his entrance and push two of them in.

“Yo- you're sick.” He spits on you.

You wipe your cheek. “I didn't give you permission to speak, or spit.” You slap his cunt, earning a moan from him. “Watch yourself, Miguel.”

He looks at you angrily but doesn't say anything, too ashamed of the sound he just made and too afraid of the consequences to do so. You push your fingers in and out of his cunt, giving Miguel unwelcomed pleasure. “You like that?” You smirk, moving faster. He bites his lip to silence his moans. “I know you do. Even if you try to deny it, your body doesn't lie.”

He hates this so much.

“And then, I’ll pick up the pace. I’ll fuck you rough and hard. So rough that you won't be able to think. So hard that you’ll cry.” You push your fingers all the way in and thumb his clit, moving your fingers inside of him absentmindedly. He tries to fight against the pleasure but it's no use. He’s going to come.

“I’d love to see you cry.” You grin. He’s not going to cry. He might do a plethora of shameful things tonight but one thing he isn't going to do is cry. He refuses to. “I know you think it's impossible but it's not. And I can't wait to see you break.” You punctuate your last word with a hit to his g-spot. Miguel gasps, hips raising in the air as he squirts. Miguel looks down at himself in shame, cheeks burning hotter than a flame. He’s never done that before. He hates that you're the reason it happened. “Oh Miguel…” You let out a sharp breath.

You move in between his legs and dig into his wet cunt, slurping up his slick before tonguing his sensitive hole. Miguel squirms around in protest. Why does this feel so good? He wants to curse you out but he's worried about what you’ll do if he acts out. He feels terrible and so fucking good at the same time. He wants to kill you but he also doesn't want you to stop. He rolls his eyes back and squirts again, feeling extremely exhausted.

You pull away and stand up, stripping down to nothing. Miguel looks at your cock in horror. That's not going to fit! He desperately tries to get away but he can't do much in the position he's in.

“You’re really boosting my ego, Miguel.” You chuckle, kneeling back down and grabbing his waist. You pull him close to you so his thighs are on yours and your shaft is right against his cunt. “I’m going to enjoy this.” You look at him like the 5 star meal he is. You move him so that his pussy is sliding up and down your length, bringing the both of you pleasure.

He bares his fangs, showing you how angry he is without speaking. “Aw, you don't like this?” You frown, faking sympathy. “Or is it that you want something else?” You grin. “You want me to fuck you, is that it? You want me to finally fuck you?”

Miguel shakes his head rapidly. You move him backwards, just enough for you to be able to make an easier entrance. You point your tip against his clit, smearing pre cum over it and sliding down in between his folds. You tease him with your entrance, you're gently thrusting into him but only the tip is entering him. He can't stand the feeling. You eventually stop and slowly push your cock inside of him. You weren't exaggerating when you said he’d feel every inch of you. You’re practically tearing him apart with the way you’re stretching him out. You bite your lip, thoroughly enjoying his pussy. “I think I’m in heaven.”

If you’re in heaven, then Miguel’s in hell. You slowly slide in and out of him, reveling in his wet warmth. “That's right baby, sit back and take it like the pretty little slut you are.” You place your hand over the bulge of your cock on his stomach, enjoying the way it feels as you move and how sexy he looks with his tummy bulging. “You’re doing so good for me, you know that? Doing so well…”

He doesn't want to be good for you. He doesn't want you to enjoy this. If he wasn't afraid of the consequences he’d curse you out. You rub his clit gently, causing his breathing to turn shallow. “I wanna feel you come..” You mutter. “Come for me, baby.”

He grits his teeth, trying to stop himself from giving you what you want but it's too difficult. He can't hold back. It all feels too good, his pussy feels way too good, he can't do anything to prevent this. He shuts his eyes and comes, walls fluttering around your length. “You’re such a good boy, Miguel. You may be prickly but at least you know how to follow orders.” You caress his cheek. He turns away from your touch. “Even after all that…you're still trying to keep up this facade?” You pull away and turn him onto his stomach. “You won't be able to pretend any longer, Miguel.” You raise his ass in the air and plunge your length fully into him. He gasps. Miguel doesn't even get a minute to adjust to the new position thanks to you suddenly pounding into him. He rolls his eyes back, letting out uncontrollable moans as you fuck the shame out of him. He can barely think over the explicit sounds of your hips snapping against his ass and the loud wet sounds of your cock sliding in and out of his sensitive pussy. You're going too fast for him to even try and act like he doesn't like it. He’s always had a thing for being treated roughly and you're fulfilling his need for it. You pull on his hair, causing him to let out an almost scream-like moan as he squirts.

“Fu- fuck-” He feels tears welling up in his eyes as you continue fucking him through his orgasm.

“‘M gonna give you the child you always wanted, Miguel.” You fuck him even rougher than before, chasing your orgasm. Tears flow rapidly from Miguel’s eyes, as if there was a blockage that contained all his tears and prevented him from crying all these years. He sobs, crying loudly as you overwhelm him with pleasure. It feels good but it's too much, he can't handle it. He loves it but he needs it to stop. “Ah, I love hearing you cry..” You slow down your thrusts and dump your load inside of him. Miguel uses this break to finally catch his breath and calm down.

“Aw, was it too much for you, baby?” You coo, rubbing your hand down his back.

Miguel nods. “Ple- please..” He whimpers.

You pull out and turn him around. You pick him up and sink him down on your cock. You place your hands on his waist and kiss his cheek. “You’re so pretty when you cry, you know that?” You caress his face gently. He sniffles, not sure how to feel about that. You press your lips against his, kissing him slowly and sensually. Miguel reciprocates the kiss, following your tongue movements and subconsciously grinding down on your cock. He feels a little less stimulated than before. He feels like he's about to have an orgasm that’ll never come and somehow it feels good. He doesn't know how he feels about you now but you make him feel good, and thanks to the current state of mind he's in now, that's all that matters.

You pull away from the kiss and pepper kisses down his throat and to his chest. You undo the clip in the middle of his bra, causing the two cups to separate and reveal his breasts. You latch onto his nipple, sucking it gently while your hand goes to pull and twist on the other one. Miguel whimpers in pleasure. His nipples are so sensitive, he’ll definitely come from this. “mmh..” Miguel grinds down harder as he orgasms, his pussy clenching and unclenching around your length. You pull away from his nipple, your saliva dripping down the brown bud.

He still despises you but he knows he'll be stuck with you from now on. He’ll eventually learn to love you.

Miguel turns on the radio as he starts cooking breakfast. The reporter talks about all the crime going on in the city and he doesn't seem to care, even though he’s back to normal and completely autonomous, he has no intention of going out to fight. He wants to stay home with you. The Spider Society’s been trying to contact him but he's ignored all their calls. He only leaves the house for dates and groceries, why would he go anywhere without you? He loves you so much, he wants to stay by your side as much as he can. Nobody seems to understand it but he doesn't care to explain it to them. Peter B. and Jessica have been trying to convince Miguel to come back and many spider people have tried to kill you but to no avail. He doesn't want to come back, especially not when they're trying to kill his beloved. He’s perfectly content with where he is now and he can't wait to have his first child with you.

[intoxicated-chan]

Hi! Can you make yandere head canons for miguel o'hara? I'm curious what kind of yandere he will be ;-;

Yandere!Miguel O’Hara Hcs

✿ฺ Paring ➳❥ Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader

✿ฺ Summary ➳❥ What it’s like having Miguel as a Yandere, welcome to the life.

✿ฺ (A/n) ➳❥ Reminder! This is DARK CONTENT!! Thank you for the request! I may have gotten carried away with it… I also feel like this is more of a little fic than hcs, I’m sorry if it appears that way!

✿ฺ Word Count ➳❥ 1k

✿ฺ Content Warnings ➳❥ Female reader, DARK CONTENT, stalking, toxic relationship, controlling, death, blood, power imbalance, tracking, baby trapping…

Dark content under the cut. MDNI 18+

If you are an employee at his business, Miguel can be/is controlling and delusional.

Controlling people is easy for him, he owns a business, and quite a large one.

So, in the beginning, of course he’s in denial. But he wasn’t going to deny the affection you gave him. You just offered him a drink. He wasn’t going to deny your attention. He collapsed before a meeting.

Because of this, you became more affectionate. In reality, you were just worried about Miguel, you couldn’t sleep at night unless you knew he was taking care of himself, which is why Miguel issued you a watch. Lyla was built into i2t and it gave you access to Miguel whenever.

What you clearly didn’t know was that there was a tracker built into it, and Lyla kept tabs on you as well, per Miguel’s request.

It was all harmless, he just needed to know where you were 24/7. The location of your apartment, friends’ houses, favorite shops or cafes. Everything about you.

But one day, randomly, he thought back to the people he lost. He worked so hard for you, he couldn’t dare lose you.

Slowly, Miguel confined you to work at home. Then came the random visits so he could check up on you, but he was getting a good look at your apartment. Which room is what? Where’s the bathroom? First-aid… Things like that.

Then comes the stalking. The man has all the connections he needs to get what he wants. It’s easy for him to have people watch you, and if they aren’t good enough, then he’ll have to do it himself.

Which is why Spider-Man is always coming around when you’re in trouble, almost like he knows what’s going to happen. You didn’t find it strange, he’s Spider-Man. He should be everywhere and keep everyone safe.

It��s all harmless, it’s not like he’s purposely leading bad guys to you so he can save you, having you believe Spider-Man will always be there for you. Which is an ego boost for him, a very big one.

But your day became hell when Miguel promoted you to his personal assistant. It was from then on that he stayed in his office almost the entire day and you were there with him, running files, altering him of meetings, you had to keep him organized and on schedule. With his stubbornness, it was impossible.

It was like he was purposely giving you the wrong papers which made you look like a fool in front of everyone. Which ruined your reputation within the business. A once proudful, one time, and perfect employee is now screwing up simple numbers.

Which then leads you to talk about it with Miguel, he became your support system.

But being your shoulder to cry on wasn’t enough for him. But having you by his side, tabs on you, knowing your location… It will settle the dust, but not for long.

He’s going to start craving for more and more,

When you get into a relationship with him, he can become violent. But not directly at you, he’ll be punching walls, throwing objects as a way of controlling.

Making you second guess your choices of words. He’s jealous and highly possessive, manipulative and overly affectionate.

There will be days where he’d ignore you then a few hours later, he comes in with your favorite flowers and all doting on you.

“You must understand why I am hard on you, because everything I do, I do it for you.”

He wants you to know that you’re the only one who’s perfect for him and the other way around. So when an insect comes crawling into your life and putting thoughts into your minds, he has no other choice but to get his hands bloody.

He prefers slow and painful rather than quick and harmless. He wants the insect to know the pain of how hard it was to convince you that they were wrong. He might keep torturing them for a couple days before he’s done with them.

Whether it be a stranger, acquaintance, sibling(s), best friend, or parent(s)… Doesn’t matter who they are, they have no right to voice their opinions because his relationship with you is golden, perfect.

Even more when he finds the discarded pregnancy test, all his hard work and he’s finally getting rewarded. A dream he wished for, a family he desired for.

He finally has you where he wants you to be. Alone, scared, and confused. You swear that you were taking your birth control. He switched it out. Even with a plan B he gave. It wasn’t a plan B.

He has you scared, worrying about how you were going to take care of a baby without him, but of course, here comes his facade. He’s comforting you, letting you know that he’s happy with the result, and he knows that you didn’t mean to trap him. He trapped you.

He’s got his wish, and he ain’t letting that go.

Everything is supposed to be.

Yet there always has to be something screwing up his plans.

Even if you do run away and think that there’s no way for him to find you, he’s already at the hotel. Did you forget? How could you?

Like before, Miguel has connections and not only that, he’s Spider-Man. He’s going to convince you that it’s best to return because the baby needs both parents, no matter how shitty the relationship the parents have with each other.

What else should you do? Get married! Better now than later. Invite friends and family, who aren’t dead yet, to come join you and your husband on your happiest day of your life.

Locked down to a man who controls every aspect of your life. A man who will kill anyone who dares to say otherwise because they have no brain, until like him.

He knows what’s best for you, no matter what anyone else says.

© 2023 Intoxicated-Chan, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without permission.

[multifariousqueer]

Can you write Miles 42 being like really super duper protective and like controls her, he doesn’t let her go out by herself and stuff like that and is like always watching her. They argue about his over protectiveness but he could care less

Ofc babes!!!

warnings: toxic behaivor, miles being annoying, angst, references to robbery and murder, strong language, INCREDIBLY TOXIC BEHAVIOR!!!!!!, brief mention of drinking, lmk if I missed one or two

A/n: Send more miles 42 reqs pls

730 days. Thats how long you were with this man. Thats how long it's been since you got leave the house alone. Miles was very overprotective since his dad died and he saw the world for what it was. Evil and it was filled with nothing but scum. Miles determined that this world wasn't good enough for you and you needed to be "protected" and kept away from this disgraceful universe. So, he took it upon himself to protect the only two things that mattered to him, you and his mom and he did a good job at it.

Miles would walk you to school, work, home and if you needed something, he would be the one to get it for you:

"Miles baby, I can get it myself; its right outside." you pleaded.

"Nah, Mami. I don't want you outside by yourself. People are fucked up and they will hurt you." He said stoically.

"But-" you started

"Cállate, Y/n. Before I make you” he said, stepping closer

You knew Miles well and you knew to stop pressing because he would just shut down and you hated when he shut down. Miles would just put his hand on his braids and kick something before giving you the same speech:

“Y/n you saw what they did to my father, do you want that to happen to you too? Because if I let you go out by yourself, you’re at risk for that to happen and if it does or if anything or anyone touches you, I will kill them; and that’s a promise, Mami. I will kill anyone that lays a finger on you and not bat an eye. Don’t fuck with me, y/n. Stay close. Let me protect you and we will be good. Aight?"

“okay.” you would say. Miles had a way of making you seem two inches tall in these situations.

You never left his side. For two years, he would watch your every move(he put small cameras in your home. You didn’t notice until three months ago); he would take you shopping but never posted about you just in case a villain would use try to use you as his weakness(because lets face it, you’re his weakness), he would kiss you and be sweet in private but he would act hard when anyone else was around.

It was a cold winter’s day when you decided you had had enough. Your friend y/f/n(your friends name) had invited you out to a party. You had never been to one because of Miles but you decided enough was enough and you were gonna go. So you slipped on a small dress, cute heels and a jacket that made your tits look nice and left:

“I’ll be home soon!” You told your parent

“Okay, y/n. Tell Miles I said hi” they exclaimed

“Okay!” You shouted back. They knew how overprotective Miles was but they knew he was a good person overall so they left it alone.

As you walked to hail a taxi, you felt your phone vibrate:

Miles: Wanna go out?

You: No it’s okay, imma just stay in for tonight

Miles: Nah fr. Let me take you out

You looked down and debated answering the text, but ultimately decided not to. You got in the taxi and went to the party when you saw a shadow dash across the roof.

You walked into the party and greeted your friend:

“GIRL OMG YOU LOOK SO GOOD. WHERE’S MILES?” They shouted over the loud music

“He’s not here, it’s just me. Let’s go grab a drink!” You replied

“Oh Okay!!” Your friend said

As you were walking over, you could’ve sworn you saw a man that looked exactly like your boyfriend but he vanished when a man walked past. You brushed it off and grabbed a cup of jungle juice and went to dance. You grinded against your friend who caught it during the beat drop. You were having the time of your life until you checked your phone:

Miles: I know where you are, y/n. Come home or I’m coming there.

Miles: I should’ve known you’d lie to me. You’ve been acting real shady lately, wanting to go out and shit. Just wait till you get home, we’re gonna address this shit immediately.

Miles: I see you

Miles: Stop ignoring me, y/n. You know you fucked up

Miles: Imagine wearing the chrome heart necklace I got you while dancing like a slut on your friend

Your stomach dropped as you surveyed your surroundings, looking for a sign of him. When you couldn’t see him, you hailed a taxi and went home.

You fidgeted and fiddled the whole way home. The driver looked in his rear view mirror at you:

“You good, Mami?"

The name sent shivers up your spine as it was your boyfriends name for you.

“Oh! I’m fine, just cold haha” you laughed it off

The driver turned on the heat and sooner or later you were home.

You approached your doorstep and went to your room. Your parent was asleep and you walked in your room, thinking his threat was empty, until you went to shower and saw him behind the door:

“MILES” you screamed both in shock and horror

“Y/n.” he said, closing the door, encapsulating you both in the small room together

“I’m so sorry-“ you started

“you should be. What did I tell you, y/n? I do all of this shit for your safety but you continue to fight me and pull these stunts” Miles lectured as he closed in on you. Your height difference becoming more and more apparent

“Stunts? Fight? Miles I have been nothing but obedient to you which I shouldn’t even have to do if you treated me like a person instead of an object. That’s all I am to you isn’t it? An object. A doll. Just something you don’t want other people to have or see?” you argued

But your pleas and your confessions meant nothing to the man. He simply looked at you and said:

“yeah, actually.”

“what?” you said

“You are an object to me, you’re something I have to protect otherwise the world will take you from me like they did him.” Miles said, as stoic as ever

“STOP USING YOUR DAD AS LEVERAGE IN THIS, MILES. THIS ISN’T ABOUT HIM, ITS ABOUT YOU AND ME AND IF YOURE JUST GONNA KEEP TREATING ME THIS WAY, I’LL FIND SOMEONE ELSE.” You shouted, exasperated and on the verge of tears.

“do it, y/n. I dare you to find someone who will care for you and spoil you as much as I do.” Miles said, briefly breaking his nonchalant nature

“Fine I will!” you said reaching for the doorknob.

You left and put on clothes as you made him leave.

“You’ll be back.” Miles said, nonchalantly

“Fuck you, Miles Morales.” you said

It had been a week and you were sulking and debating getting back with the man when your family and friends told you were doing the right thing:

“I’m glad you left him, y/n. I heard he’s the prowler.” Your parent said

“Yeah I’m glad I left too.” you mumbled

As you were enjoying your fifth night of freedom, you saw a woman get mugged on the street:

“GIVE ME YOUR PURSE NOW LADY” The masked man shouted

The woman did as told and the man escaped but not before looking at you and running in your direction. With Miles, that man would’ve never even had the though to look at you.

You ran as fast as you could until you lost him in an alley behind your apartment. You decided you missed him too much and he was right so you pulled out your phone:

You: Miles you were right. I’m so sorry

Miles: typing...

Miles: its okay, I knew you’d find out soon enough; so what happened, Mami?

You: Some mugger saw me and charged at me and he had a knife

Miles: What did he look like

You: Beanie, knife, blue shirt and black pants

seen

You went home and went to sleep. The next morning you heard the news blaring in the house, along with the smell of bacon wafting through the house

“What happened?” you asked

“some mugger got killed.” your parent said

You had a stinging sensation in your gut and prayed that it wasn’t what it looked like when you heard the woman on the TV:

“It seemed like there were claw marks In his chest and he had been blasted with a ray gun."

Oh God...

You went to text Miles when you saw his text:

“You don’t gotta worry about that guy anymore, Mami. I’ll be at your house at 10.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mad Season 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, social anxiety, chronic illness, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes, Peter Parker

Summary: a class project gets messy. (short!reader)

Note: you can't stop me from giving a tiny reader to these two and I will not listen to anything ever.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You can't focus on one thing. Your eyes flit around. Shining tables, floating screens, metal tools and gadgets, cabinets with glass doors house endless supplies, Stark-branded emblems from wall to wall...

The lab is extraordinary, well above the shared spaces at the university. A dream come true for any but especially for a student used to ramen and a used single mattress. 

"You... you really get to come here whenever you want?" You rasp as your throat tickles. 

"Yup!" Peter answers at twice your volume. You wince. You tend to mumble and you're just not good with loud noises. He pauses to measure his voice, "uh, yeah, so I figured we could do our project here, study buddy." 

"Oh, mhmm," you hum as you fold your hands over your chest and sway. As awesome as it will be, that usual dread comes over you. What if you break something? What if you get in the way? 

"Pretty cool, right? Mr. Stark is so awesome." 

"Mr. Stark? Yeah, yeah..." you cough and lower your hands over stomach. "Thought it was a rumour..." 

"Yeah, he helped me out in high school after I won a robotics tournament. He's chill." 

You nod, almost frantically, as your eyes skitter around without focus. Your chest starts to tighten and you blink big. Peter shifts away from you. 

"Hey, you need a minute?" He asks. 

You look at him and keep nodding. It's why your happy you got him as your partner. He checks in. Not to mention, he's never annoyed by you. 

"I'll be here, wanna take a breath in the hall?"  

You squeak but don't quite get out a yes please. You spin and scurry to the door. You flinch and jump back as it slides open on it's own. Peter laughs and a small smile curves your lips but you're too nervous to laugh. 

The hall is empty. You bask in the solace, calming yourself against the wall. You just get a little worked up in new places. Or loud places. Or crowded places. Then it makes it so you can't breathe and then... 

You pull out your reliever inhaler and take a careful puff. You close your eyes and lean your head back as you wait for your heart to slow. In, out, in, out. 

You grip your inhaler as you stay unmoving against the wall. Your ears prick, listening for any sign of life, as you retreat behind your eyelids. Another breath and you'll be okay. 

"Um, miss?" A rocky voice jars you away from the wall and your eyes snap open. You nearly collide with the man before you. How did you not hear him coming? "Are you alright?" 

You bat your lashes and reach to play with plastic bow clip in your hair. He watches the motion as you nod, "yes, sir. Sorry. I..." Your mouth is sticky and parched, your surprise balls on your tongue. You clear away the lump, "you're... the Winter Soldier." 

His brow twitches, "Bucky." 

"Sorry, sorry, er... Buck...y," you trail off. You swing back and forth, "sorry... again, I..." 

You're embarrassed and lost. You give a sheepish look and turn away. You hurry back to the door and hit the keypad. It blares back at you in rejection. You don't know the code and you don't think your fingerprint will work. You stare at it helplessly. 

"Here," Bucky approaches and presses his thumb to the pad. "You new here?" 

You shake your head. Your chest wracks. You bring your puffer up and suck without thinking.  

The door slides open and you flit through. Peter leans on a table over his phone. He looks over as you enter and stands straight, tapping his fingers on the metal. 

"Hey, you found Bucky!" He grins. 

"Kid," the man follows you inside. Wait, why? Is he going to tell Peter on you? You didn't mean to call him that. You didn't know he wouldn't like it. 

"We're just having a look around," Peter explains, "we're both in engineering. Classmates." He introduces you by name, "Mr. Stark won't care too much if I'm doing homework." 

"Mm," Bucky grumbles as he goes to a far table. 

Peter shrugs and faces you again. "He can be a bit grumpy. We can get outta here." 

He comes forward as you hear metal tinking behind him. You glance over as Bucky works on his metal forearm with a thin tool. His vibranium fingers seems to work on their own as he wiggles the tip in a groove.  

"Grumpy and has super hearing," Bucky snipes as he keeps his attention on his arm. 

Peter's brows pop up and he rolls his eyes, "come on, let's get outta here before he gets his arm calibrated." 

You turn and go back through to the hallway. The door shuts behind Peter and he sighs. He points you down the hall as you shuffle aimlessly. 

"This place is sweet but you know, some of the regulars can be a bit much," he jokes. "You'll get used to Buck. He's never in a good mood. Better when Sam's around but... well, he's grown. Shouldn't need a chaperone, right?" 

You tilt your head but don't say anything. You don't know much about them. You learned about Captain America and The Winter Soldier in history back in high school. Your knowledge of the Avengers and their current roster is extremely lacking. Other than the Spidery one. Everyone on campus talks about him. 

"Mmhmm." You drone. 

"Gee, sorry, I know it's a lot, huh? Didn't mean to overload you!" He chimes. 

You shake your head, "I'm okay." 

"I know, I know. Kinda nice having someone quiet around. Ned is a chatterbox and the worst project partner. He just wants to talk about girls or lego." 

You dip your head to show you're listening. You glance at your inhaler and yuck is away in your crossbody bag. You drop your arms straight and continue next to Peter to the elevator. 

"Wanna get a slice? I'm starving," he says. "My treat." 

"Oh... you don't..." 

"Nah, don't worry about it. I just want pizza without May telling me not too," he chuckles. "Trust, I know a great place." 

You purse your lips and push your shoulders up again. You give a silent surrender with a tilt of your head. Even if you feel a bit guilty, you won't say no to free food. 

[oharabunny]

The Grass is Greener on the Other Side

Description: It's Miguel's birthday and you want to surprise him with his childhood favorite foods. With you living in his home, he has rules, and you broke the most important one.

Story is connected to my yandere!caretaker!Miguel fic.

Word Count: 5170

Warning: 18+, mdni, yandere!caretaker!Miguel, fem!afab!Reader, spanking, manipulation, slut-shaming, Stockholm Syndrome, infantilization, physical pain, non-con, not beta read

Please read warnings before proceeding. The following behaviors are abusive and I do not condone them.

You wake up one morning from Lyla’s alarm and see Miguel isn’t next to you in bed. That is typical of him because he has to go to work early or the rare times he stays there overnight (which he will always give you a heads up on). 

He will almost always come home every night so it doesn’t particularly bother you. (But it definitely bothers him because he just wants to spend an eternity in every waking hour caring for you, but alas the multiverse isn’t going to take care of itself. It’s not like he can entrust the fate and balance of it all to the other Spiders.)

You slowly begin to wake up and slide yourself out of bed. Another day without Miguel as your only friend and husband to keep you entertained. 

That is until you realize what day it is.

You memorize this specific date because it is one of the few things that Miguel will tell you about himself (you pestered him a long time to tell you).

Today is his birthday.

You feel saddened by the fact he is not home to celebrate, but that gives you the chance to surprise him if he comes back home tonight.

You ask Lyla what Miguel’s favorite cakes and birthday food are. 

Lyla says he really likes the pan dulce sold at this specific bakery downtown. Unfortunately they’re a prideful business that does not do delivery. 

That is a problem.

Ever since he took you under his wing to live in his apartment, he has many, many rules for you to follow. They only get stricter after marriage and childbirth. 

Rule number one is you do not leave the apartment for any reason (unless it’s for safety and Miguel is not there to save the day).

Lyla, his AI assistant, is also sure as hell not going to let you go either.

You have a child now, a daughter of 9 years, so there is even less incentive to let you go outside.

You think to yourself, wouldn’t your daughter also want to help set up his birthday surprise?

You immediately wash up and dress in one of Miguel’s favorite dresses that he likes on you. You even put on the style of makeup and hairdo the way he likes them.

You go to your daughter’s room and softly knock on her door. “Hey, Y/D/N, can I come in?”

She swings the door open, and says while yawning, “Hey mama, good morning.”

You step into her room and sit on her bed. You pat the bed to gesture to her to sit down next to you.

“It’s your papa’s birthday today. And I think we should surprise him with his favorite foods when he gets back.”

Her face lights up in excitement and bounces up to her toes. “It is?! Oh can we, mama?”

She pauses, “But wait, you can’t cook.”

It was another one of those rules Miguel set for you: you are not allowed to cook. You can at most use the microwave, with Lyla’s supervision. 

“I know, sweetie, but I know a few places we can stop by to pick up his favorite foods.” You counter.

“But papa says you’re not allowed to go outside, it’s too dangerous for you.” Your daughter looks to the side with uncertainty while playing with her fingers. She does this whenever she feels pressured.

You sigh, “I know…that papa can be protective of me. But sometimes…he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I’m not as weak as he thinks. Besides, I want to spend time with you outside! I’ll promise to take you to your favorite ice cream spot, if you’ll show me.”

With just that, her face lights up again in glee. She has always wanted to bring you to her favorite places in the city that she usually goes with her papa. You never got the chance to see the outside world beyond that brief time in Spider Society and when he brought you to the hospital for her birth. 

You lean into your daughter’s ear, “But we’ll need to trick the alarm system and Lyla if we want to make it happen.”

You have to convince Lyla into disabling the alarm system without her alerting Miguel.

You also have to make your trip super quick because he likes to video call you randomly. 

There are very few ways to convince or even trick Lyla. None of which would pop up in your head if you aren’t particularly tech savvy. 

And you aren’t.

“Lyla.” You called her.

“Hey there sweetie. What’s up?” The small yellow woman appears on your shoulder and tilts her head in question.

You pause to gather your words and organize your mind. It doesn’t really work.

“It’s Miguel’s birthday today and I want to surprise him.” You start slowly to gauge her response.

“Ah, yes it is, and oh dear…” Lyla pauses, “He doesn’t particularly like his birthday, much less surprises.”

“Well, I still think he should have a little something. Maybe not like a party if he doesn’t like those, but something like getting his favorite foods. And before you tell me I’m not allowed to cook, I know. And… I need to go outside to pick them up.” You clasp your hands together and look down to help with your words.

You can see Lyla is already about to cut in.

“I KNOW, I know, rule number one. But, it’s close by. I’ll make it quick. Y/D/N will be with me.” 

Lyla sighs and readjusts her pink heart-shaped glasses, “You know Miguel is still not going to be happy about that.”

“You don’t have to tell him! I mean, you’ll be with me and if anything happens you can call him. But, I swear, nothing will happen to me!” 

“I’m sorry gal, I just can’t let you do that.” Lyla could only give you a sympathetic look.

“He deserves something special for a special day. Even setting aside his whole birthday, I just want to show him how much I appreciate him for everything he’s done for me.” You could feel yourself becoming dejected.

“You can paint him a picture.” Lyla suggests.

“I painted him a thousand.” You counter.

“You can crochet.”

“I do that every day.” You are getting frustrated and sigh, “And don’t you think it’s a little ridiculous that I’m not allowed outside. I can walk just fine. You can take your diagnostics. Even I need a change of scenery every now and then.”

“Girlie, you know you two have talked about this. Miguel set that rule in stone. I can’t do anything about it.” Lyla is still on the fence.

“I just… I just want to get him something that reminds him of home. I haven’t seen him have that pan dulce at all before. He deserves it for all his hard work. Don’t you think?” You plead and plead in hopes to appeal somewhere in her algorithm for Miguel’s sympathy.

“Well, I can ask one of our Spiders to fetch it for you.” Damn you Lyla.

“I can’t trouble the Spider people for this!” You quickly said.

And then you remembered something.

“Hey Lyla, don’t you have customization mods that you’ve been bugging Miguel to let you have?” Your eyes look devious.

“...no?” Lyla narrows her eyes in suspicion.

“Well… if I can get him the pan dulce, he’ll be very happy. And you know with happy Miguel, I can convince him to let you have your customization mods.” You wink. 

Lyla doesn’t immediately answer and looks up in thought. “Hmmm… Well, as long as you make it quick…”

“And he cannot know!”

“Deal. At least he won’t berate me about it.” Lyla twirls her hand. “But you have to make it quick!” She emphasizes and points at you.

You smile and nod. 

You quickly go and grab your laptop to order the pan dulce for pickup. You also map out a couple other stops to pick up his favorite empanadas, tamales, sopapillas, etc and your daughter’s ice cream spot as you promised. Nothing can go wrong. 

You tell her to get ready to go and Lyla to disable the alarm system.

“Hey Lyla, could you also temporarily disable the live tracking on my watch?” 

She gives you a bored look. “He quite literally checks every 30 minutes. Sometimes 5. Oh and including the camera feed in the apartment as well. He’s gonna notice.” 

“Could you, like, distract him at work? Maybe another anomaly case or what not.”

“Fortunately for you, he’s out in another universe catching an anomaly right now. But it’s an easy one. I can try and distract him a little, but he’s going to finish up pretty fast with this one.” Lyla conjures up her own digital screen to analyze all her possibilities. “I can probably shoot another case for him to do.”

Honestly anything is fine as long he’s distracted long enough for you to go to all of your stops. 

“I’ll try and be fast.” You promise her. “Oh and Lyla-”

“Hm?”

“Thank you.” You smile at her genuinely.

“Aw shucks.” Lyla smiles back.

–

On Miguel’s end, he is finishing up his capture on several anomalies and heading back to HQ. He just can’t wait to go home soon since today is slow and nothing else should be happening. All projects are being handled by the other Spiders, so he can take it easy and go see you.

That is until Lyla pops up on his shoulder and screams, “HELLO MIGUEL–!”

He flinches and covers his ears from the banshee levels of frequency. “What the shock Lyla! Don’t scream into my ear!”

“Haha sorry, sorry. I just wanted to let you know that there’s another case on Earth-2348 that needs your attention.”

“Send another Spider for that. I need to go home and check on Y/N.” Miguel raises his brow at her through his mask.

“You have a point, but this one requires your special attention.” Lyla shows him the data.

Miguel gives a gruff sigh and rolls his eyes, “Fine. Let’s get this over quick.”

–

You and your daughter are making your way downtown. Walking fast, faces pass and you’re… at Miguel’s childhood bakery!

The walk with your daughter has been a breath of fresh air. You’ve been trapped in that godforsaken apartment for the last 9 years, basically ever since your daughter was born. But even before then, Miguel wouldn’t let you go outside unless it was a date or state of an emergency. He hasn’t taken you out on a date since your daughter’s existence. And emergencies rarely ever do arise, if ever. 

But now, you get to have your own time with your daughter without being shackled to him and the shared apartment. It’s not like you hate him; you just wish he lets you have the freedom to choose and make your own decisions. 

Why can’t he see that?

Picking up the goods is quick and easy, even if there is a bit of a wait in some shops. You know you don’t have time to stall and admire your surroundings. 

You still take your daughter to the ice cream spot that she boasts about going with papa. You’re happy that you get to also share this moment with her as well.

“What flavor does papa get with you?” You ask your daughter. Maybe you can pick up a pint for him.

“He usually gets cinnamon-basil.” Your daughter scrunches up her face in disgust. “I usually get the peanut butter fudgesicle.”

Noted. 

You turn toward the male worker to place your order, “Um, hi there, I would like the peanut butter fudgesicle…”

You turn to your daughter, “On a cone?” She nods. 

“On a cone.”

You continue, “As for me, I would like the [your fav ice cream flavor] on a cone as well. Oh! And one pint each for the peanut butter fudgesicle and the cinnamon-basil.” 

The transaction goes smoothly and he hands you your order. He decides to add, “You are very pretty ma’am. I hope you and your daughter have a nice day.”

You blush at the compliment. Miguel is usually the one feeding you compliments, but it’s nice seeing someone else other than your husband acknowledging you. 

You smile back cheerfully, “Thank you!”

��

Miguel quickly finishes up on this “special” case that Lyla claims to be. Strange, she usually isn’t wrong with her calculations and data processing. Did something happen to her programming?

He fidgets his gizmo to check up on you since he hasn’t planned on taking on an extra case today. The camera feed of the apartment shows no signs of you or your daughter. Then, he pulls up his map of his Earth to find your pinpoint, but it’s not there. He searches for your ping frantically and it’s not there.

“Lyla.” He calls in a low tone.

She pops up and tries not to look guilty, mentally cursing you for not being fast enough.

“Why did you give me such an easy anomaly to take care of?” His voice is threatening. 

Lyla can’t take it anymore. “I’m sorry! Y/N wanted to surprise you for your birthday. She didn’t want you to find out because you know…you’d freak out.”

“You know the rules. You’re not programmed to respond to her commands.” He crosses his arms as he gives her a heated look.

“Well, you deserve a little something, and she really wants to show her appreciation for you. You can’t fault me for that!” Lyla protests.

He just glares at her in the most deadpan expression.

“Okaaaaay. It’s mostly because she promised me that she’ll help get me those mods you never let me get.” She rolls her eyes.

“Where. Is. She. Now.” He emphasizes each word, barely holding on to his anger and state of panic from breaking loose. He notes to himself to reprogram her, thoroughly.

“She should be on her way back to her apartment right now! She went to that bakery you grew up with and the ice cream spot you take Y/D/N with.”

And with that, he heads out.

–

You beeline towards your apartment as you check for the time. Luckily Miguel hasn’t called you all day or else you wouldn’t know what to say or how to react.

You and your daughter reach the second to last block of the apartment when suddenly you get approached by some shady, hooded figure.

“Hey there, pretty lady! Hope you can spare a few minutes with me~” He steps up towards you, a little too close for comfort.

You kind of freeze up in place, and are unsure of how to respond. You are too polite to tell him off. “U-Um, excuse me.” 

You take your daughter’s hand tightly, who is shooting daggers at him, and try to move past the stranger. 

He stops you by grabbing your shoulder and shoving you back into the alleyway behind you, causing you to lose your grip on both your daughter and bag of food. 

You hit against the brick wall aggressively, with your head smacking against it. You start to feel lightheaded and the area of impact pulsating.

He tries to reach for your purse, but is soon met with a loud, booming punch against the gut from your daughter. He is sent flying 50 feet away and smacks against the wall causing him to pass out. (She might have killed him.)

“Mama! Mama! Are you okay?!” Your daughter frantically rushes to your side, gripping the skirt of your dress.

“I-I’m fine. I just need a moment to collect myself.” You hold your head from the impending headache.

Not a second later, you are suddenly hoisted up like a potato sack causing you to scream and flail until you recognize whose back you’re seeing belongs to.

It’s your husband, and he wastes no time to leap to the top floor of the apartment building with not just you but your daughter also, one on each hand, without breaking a sweat. 

“Lyla, open the door.” He sternly commands.

The door opens on its own, and he gently sets both you and your daughter down. You are still shaken from the whole ordeal that your knees give out. He swiftly catches you, almost as if he expects you to. 

He carries you bridal style, and walks you to the living room to set you down on the couch. He takes off his mask, and you can see the tension contorting his face, stabbing you with guilt.

He grabs your chin to scan for any signs of obvious injury, and a quick visual across your body. 

“Lyla, scan her for vitals.”

Quickly, she does and concludes, “All vitals seem normal. Heart rate is 120, likely due to panic and stress. Increased blood flow to the back of her head due to external impact, but no signs of head trauma.”

He drops his head and leans in. He runs his fingers through your hair in the area of impact and massages your scalp. You can feel your headache already melting away, and you lean into his touch.

“Just why…” He whispers into your ear. “Why would you go outside?”

“I just wanted to surprise you for your birthday.” You put your hands on his wide shoulders and give him a light squeeze, trying to placate him.

It does nothing to sooth him. He shifts himself to sit beside you and pulls you into his embrace. You are led to sit on his lap with your face laying on the crook of his neck as he continues to massage your head. His other hand rests around your waist.

“Y/D/N, come here.” He doesn’t stop his ministrations.

She has been standing near the door fidgeting her fingers anxiously. She walks over to you two, and with the smallest voice she says, “Am I in trouble, papa?”

He sits up a little, but assures you that he won’t drop you by tightening his embrace. 

“No, but tell me what happened. Every last detail.” He says firmly, yet tactfully.

She tells him everything, including the part where the ice cream guy complimenting you. You can feel his grip getting harder and tighter as he grinds his jaw. His jealousy is apparent. 

“Thank you for being honest with me. You’re a very good girl for protecting your mother. You take after me which is why you are strong. You are also a smart girl. You must understand that your mother is in no shape to go outside without me. Never let her persuade you again.” He emphasizes “never” to drive home the point. “If she tries to go outside again, tell me.”

And at that, you pull yourself away from him. His arm around your waist doesn’t budge, still straddling you to his lap. The hand that was on your head now rests on your neck.

“That’s not fair, Miguel! I am a grown woman! Your wife, her mother! You can’t keep trapping me here in this apartment.” You protest.

“I’ll…I’ll go crazy.” You barely whisper whilst choking back a sob.

“We already had this discussion before. It’s just not safe. Look at what happened today! Do you really think you’re in any position to be demanding to go outside?!” He glares at you.

You don’t listen. You try to tear yourself from him but his grip is relentless. You push and kick with all your might, but you’re like a mouse fighting against a lion.

You turn your head to your daughter, “Y/D/N, I am your mother, please don’t listen to him.” You plead in hopes that she won’t bar you from ever going outside again too. 

Alas, Miguel is the one with authority here.

“Don’t drag her to your impulse. You also endangered her by taking her with you.” He chastises, and forces your head back down to lean into his, to look him in the eyes. “You may be her mother, but you can’t protect her.”

Somewhere in your heart breaks. You slump as all the energy in your muscles give out. 

Yes, considering today, you never would have been able to protect your child. Yes, it is in fact your own child, who hasn’t even reached puberty, that saved your life. What would have happened if she was taken while you were distracted? You have no survival skills.

“Y/D/N, go to your room. I need to talk to your mother in private.” He orders and watches as she scurries off.

With her bedroom door shut, he calls for Lyla, “Activate soundproofing.”

Your heart begins to race in anticipation for what’s about to happen. He gets up from the couch while holding you (causing you to koala hug him) with one hand on your bum and the other your back.

He carries you to your shared bedroom, and unceremoniously plops you to the bed. He flips you over so that you face down to the bed, and slides you towards the edge so your ass hangs off.

“I’m going to punish you now. This is your lesson for disobeying my most important rule.” He says in a cold tone. 

Goosebumps form and your body shivers in fear. You never would have expected to be here. He has always been so gentle, forceful at times, but gentle nonetheless. 

You fucked up big time.

“P-Please wait…!” You hold your arm out to stop him.

He swats it away and simply says, “Stop moving.”

He hikes up the skirt of your dress over your ass revealing your pretty lace panties, and grips the skirt in place on your lower back.

“You didn’t wear safety shorts under the dress? You’re either a slut or an idiot.”

Before you can answer, he gives you a hard smack on your left ass cheek. You yelp from the sudden impact. It stings and burns.

You squirm, but you don't move out of place from the heavy weight pressing you down your abdomen.

He gives you another smack, this time on the right cheek. His touch is not kind, not tender like you’ve been used to for all these years. Your heart races so intensely; you can feel it beating against the mattress. 

“P-Please…” You attempt to get the words out through your heavy pants. “I…just want to…give you a birthday present.”

He kneads your cheek harshly, and you instinctively hiss from the contrast of earlier hits and round your back to escape his hand. He pushes your abdomen back down.

“And yet, instead, you had not only made me worry, but you endangered yourself unnecessarily and for what? A couple baked goods? I can get them any time.” He hard smacks your cheeks a couple times earning him a scream. “Not very considerate of you on my birthday.”

You sob from his words and the pain from his strikes. He doesn’t loosen his hold and continues to strike your ass in rapid succession. 

You groan into the sheets while you grip them tightly to hold yourself in some form of leverage. 

He spreads your cheeks apart and pulls your panties up. The cloth wedging itself into your cunt.

“You’re getting wet.” He scoffs. “You’re getting off on this.”

He rubs the inner side of your ass near your cunt with his thumb. He pulls on it to spread your cunt out for him to see. He glides his pointer finger across your glistening hole.

“You’re very wet.” His husky voice is low and you can sense he’s beginning to feel aroused. 

He pulls your right leg up and anchors your foot down to the mattress. “Keep your ass up.”

You do as you’re ordered and he smacks the area close to your dripping pussy. He smacks again and again. You can barely hold on. That area is far too sensitive.

Especially when you’re becoming impossibly wet. 

Your cunt is clenching around nothing and you try to push down the neediness that’s building up in the pit of your stomach. Your clit won’t stop pulsating. 

He pushes your hiked up leg back down to focus the assault on just your ass. He forcefully pulls down your panties and inspects your pussy again. While it’s not the first time he’s ever seen it, for some reason, you’re so much more embarrassed being presented in this way. 

“I-I’m sorry Miguel. I w-won’t do it again.” You want to be out of this demeaning hold as soon as possible. You can’t contain your tears and sobs flowing into your bed.

He again kneads your ass, but in thought. As if considering your apology, “If you’re truly sorry, then you’ll continue to ride out your punishment.”

Your eyes widen as his hand crashes down on your ass again. 

Your skin is fiery hot and raw. Your mind is blanking out. Strings of saliva fly out of your mouth. 

He stops for a moment after minutes of nonstop assault on your poor ass to knead and console your sensitive skin and muscles. (If your skin is pale, your ass is beet red, almost glowing like his webs.) 

You make a guttural throat sound in response; the shock shooting your brain awake. 

“Forgive me! Please, forgive me. I didn’t know. I didn’t know. Please stop.” 

He stops but his hand does not leave your ass as he gives you a quizzical look. “You didn’t know? Like you didn’t know this would happen?” 

You make a poor attempt at a nod. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think someone would attack me.”

He lets go of your dress and grabs you by the bodice pulling you off of the mattress. He drags you to the front of the full size body mirror where you can clearly see the dramatic height difference between the two of you. 

He grabs your waist while holding your face out. “Look at yourself!” He yells.

You take a good look at yourself. You’re a mess. The tears streaming down your face ruined your makeup. Streams of black from your mascara stain your cheeks while your lipstick is smeared all over your mouth. Your hair is disheveled. Your eyes are red. Your dress is wrinkled.

You don’t quite understand what he’s looking for. All you see is a mess.

“Do you have any idea how captivating you are? Why do you think I love this specific dress on you? And your makeup? You can tempt any man around you. You can’t possibly think no one would try to take you?” He says while pressing his hard-on on your back.

Sure, the dress hugs your body in all the right places. It shows your cleavage. But still, nothing overly liberal and out of place for a casual stroll in the city. Not when other more scantily clad women are a dime a dozen. Especially in Nueva York, in a time that’s far more advanced and liberal than your own.

“I d-don’t understand what you’re saying. I’m not that pretty.” You struggle to stand, but his grip on your waist keeps you from falling.

“Don’t act like you don’t know.” He grips your jaw harder as he glares at you through the mirror.

“I’m really not. I don’t even know why you married me!” You sob. “I’m weak. I’m useless. There are tons of girls who are better and prettier than I am. Why did you choose me? All I do is give you reasons to do more work at home than you already have.” You can’t help but sulk and spill all your insecurities.

His gaze softens and drops his grip from your jaw. He spins you around and brings you close to his chest. He strokes your head like how he used to comfort you. Your gentle Miguel is back.

“Shhh, I know that you can’t do a lot of things like other people, but it doesn’t make me love you any less. Isn’t that enough?” 

You pull your face away from his chest and look up at him. “But I want to be your equal. I want to be worthy.”

“But you are worthy. You don’t have to be my ‘equal’ for me to love you.” He counters. Good point. He cups your cheek and you lean into his touch. He lightly wipes away your tears. 

You have nothing more to say. Perhaps you’ll never understand why he chose you, why he loves you. 

“I love you more than you can know.” He brushes your hair behind your ear. “We have a beautiful family now. I can’t risk losing you, any of you. I hope you understand that.”

His eyes darken. You can see that his words mean more than what he tells you. You don’t know what he really means.

You have no choice but to accept him anyway. He is your rock in this world. Your entire fiber of being and existence completely and solely hinges upon him and his will. Without him, you have nothing, you are nothing. 

He is your savior as much as he is your captor. He is your caretaker as much as he is your jailor. 

He is your God.

You two linger in each other’s hold as if time stood still. His scent calms you down, and you begin to relax more and more in each breath you take as you sink into his embrace. 

Until your stomach growls.

He chuckles as he lets you go slowly. “Looks like someone’s hungry. I’ll go whip up some dinner for us.”

He walks away for a second to grab a box of tissues. He wipes away all of your tears, makeup smears, and dripping nose (which he tells you to blow out while holding up the tissue for you). 

“B-But the pastries and the ice cream I got for you. They got left behind.” You sniffle. 

“Don’t worry about it.” He pauses to think. “How about this? I’ll take the next weekend off and we can go together, as a family.”

You smile up at him; you couldn’t be more happy. “Thank you, Miguel. Thank you.”

He softly smiles back and kisses your forehead, “Now, go rest, I’ll come back to get you when dinner is ready. I’ll wash you up after.”

You nod to that. You make your way to your bed and plop face down. Your ass is still stinging and burning so you can’t lay on your back. Your eyes flutter shut and begin to drift off.

Good grief is what he thought watching you pass out on the bed. You’re going to catch a cold. He lifts you up to untuck the blanket and covers you with it. He carefully tucks the blanket in every crevice around your neck, ensuring no part of you is bare to feel the cool air. 

He stays for a second to look at you and brush away the strands of hair from your face before walking out and closing the door behind him. 

A/N: Well...that was intense. The second part will be fluffier and smuttier. (づ￣ 3￣)づ I spent like at least 12 hours just on part 1 in both writing and proofreading, only to not even get to part 2 yet. Feedback is welcomed. This is not a comfortable read.

Also I want to thank @wreakingmarveloushavok for giving me the idea of what Mexican pastry that's eaten on birthdays! Everything else I googled, including any inaccurate health related mentions.

[keys-hellscape-1020]

Yeet.

A/N: this is just pure word vomit. I’m so sorry. The title is SO bad but I was giggling so hard when I wrote it. Also this is literally so fucking self-indulgent.

Summary: Spider-People have a sixth sense. This is common knowledge to anyone who intimately knows one. What you didn’t know however was that it can occasionally misinterpret intentions, leading to disastrous results.

Hobie Brown x gn!Reader

Contents: No use of Y/N, anxiety mentions, reader gets full on thrown through a window, reader dissociates (symptoms of dissociation are described in depth), reader gets injured, angst, hurt/comfort

————

It was mid-afternoon, the sun starting to lower towards the sky-line as you hauled your bags back from the grocery store. It wasn’t a long walk, not by any means, by the bags were heavy with ingredients for dinner and the sun was at the perfect angle to shine in your eye.

As you dragged yourself through the lobby of your apartment you could feel your heart flutter at the gentle vibration of your phone in your pocket. Hobie must be telling you that he entered through the window. How you longed to see him, today had been impossibly long and he had a subtle way of making everything better.

As you shuffled your way into the elevator, smacking the button awkwardly with your elbow, you impatiently watched as you rose through the levels of your apartment building.

It felt like a century. But eventually you were met with the sweet ding of the elevator reaching the correct floor. You dragged yourself one last time out of the elevator and down the hall, however instead of the sound of sweet guitar cords you were met with silence.

You anxiously creep down the hallway. When Hobie comes over he always plays his guitar loud enough for the whole floor to hear. As annoying as it was to your neighbors you couldn’t find it in you to ask him to stop, the sweet melody melting the stress right off your bones.

You somehow manage to mangle your key out of your pocket without putting anything down, and as soon as you’re inside you’re dropping your groceries without a care in the world and pulling out your phone.

As you unlock it your worst fear is confirmed, it was Hobie texting you alright. Him not playing his guitar almost certainly meant something was horribly wrong. To make matters worst Hobie had said he had a “surprise” for you. That made the anxiety in your stomach twist even harder, the idea of one of Hobie’s many enemies capturing him, or using you to get to him sparking to life in your mind.

You leave the door to your apartment open a crack, just incase you need to run, and creep down the hallway. The door to your bedroom is open just a crack, and light is spilling out of your room, causing you to hold your breath as you creep closer.

You perch on your toes, hoping to decrease the chance of someone hearing you as you near the door, hands posed at your side, ready to fight for your life or run as fast as your legs could carry you at a moments notice.

You lean on the door frame and push the door open another few inches using the side of your foot, holding your breath as the hinges let out a loud squeak.

When you don’t hear any immediate threats coming from inside the room you carefully shift your weight forward, gripping the door frame like it would keep you from harm.

You feel your heart leap with relief as you see not one of Hobie’s enemies, but Hobie himself. He’s sitting in your desk chair, facing the closed window. He has his guitar in his hands, but that is not what stands out to you. Instead what stands out is the pair of headphones on his head, forcing his wicks out of the way in a messy way that shows he has not taken much care when placing them on his head in the first place.

You scrunch your nose in delight at the comical sight and decide that some teasing is in order, after the near heart attack he gave you.

You creep forward, your movements reminding you of a cat as a Cheshire grin grows on your face. You still completely when you’re in pouncing distance and you see Hobie’s finger still on his guitar strings. A small cue, but one that indicated you’re plan would be foiled if you didn’t attack right… Now!

You pounce forward, you barely feel your nails scrap the thread of Hobie’s shirt before a firm force is pressing on your stomach, pushing you up and over yourself.

You can barely breath, a second and an eternity pass as you crash through the air.

You don’t think you’ve ever hit anything as hard as you just did.

The top of your head and one of your shoulders feel the crunch of the impact first, but it does nothing to slow your movements as your thighs crumple downwards you, and then past you still.

It doesn’t take you long to realize that you’re falling.

Not that you had a long time to realize.

You didn’t realize that you had the instinct to face the ground. Was that something that was impeded in every human? Or were you simply privy to this trait as you saw your boyfriend leap through the air on a near daily basis?

Whatever the cause, your descent is stopped by the feeling of something pulling on your back. It reminds you of how a bully would pull on your backpack in middle school, only if the bully was a double-decker bus instead of a 12 year old.

Your internal debate on the nature of 12-year-old assholes is stopped as you feel an arm wrap around your waist, pulling you in through the cracked frame of a window.

You didn’t remember being pulled in the wrong way through the air. Traveling in reverse. But it would be impossible to forget Hobie’s face staring at you with as much concern as you’ve ever seen on it, eyes wide and almost glassy.

You can feel the tightness of his grip on your shoulders, and you’re sure his fingerprints will be imprinted in your skin. You can see his mouth moving quickly but you can’t hear his voice.

You look vaguely at the busted window frame, the wood is cracked and splintering in nearly a hundred places. You fear your landlords reaction when he sees that. How are you going to explain it?

You feel Hobie gently brushing your forehead with his thumb, pulling you from your thoughts. You look down and see small specks of glass, almost like glitter, dusting your lap. You raise a hand to your head and it comes back a deep vermilion, you swear it sparks the same as that damned glitter.

You feel Hobie’s hand on your cheek, turning your eyes towards him.

“You with me?” Hobie’s eyes are large and concerned, troubled brows peering at you.

You can barely find the strength to make eye contact, mind still far off, falling through the atmosphere, clouds catching in your throat.

You feel Hobie’s firm thumb on your cheek, consistent pressure pulling your mind back down to earth.

“Hey now. Focus on me.”

You blink a few times, and slowly feel your bones becoming solid once more. You can hear the traffic out the window, Hobie’s breathing, feel the warmth of blood on your head. You find your chest naturally matching the rhythm of Hobie’s as he breathes deeply, prompting you to copy him.

You go to reach up to your head once more, intent of seeing how bad your injury is, but Hobie grabs your wrist and pulls your hand back down.

He stares at you for an intense moment before he scoops you up bridal style, being so incredibly gentle as he stands.

“Let’s get you cleaned up Luv.” He sounds more quite and subdued then you have ever heard him. He walks oh so gently, slow and smooth so as not to bump or jostle you.

He sits you down on the counter of the bathroom gently, and pulls a first-aid kit out from under the sink. Typically it is you patching him up after patrol, looks like the tables have turned this time.

He works in utter silence. His first mission is staunching the wound on your head. It’s no where near the point of requiring stitches, it had simply bleed a lot as head wounds are prone to doing. He cleans the wound efficiently, and before you know it the wound is hidden by a thick, white bandage on your forehead.

The rest of your wounds are thankfully small, and don’t take much treatment. After a few wipes from a damp cloth and some Neosporin your wounds are treated. The only evidence that still prove the incident occurred recently is your blood stained clothing.

Hobie stays in the same spot he was in as he treated your wounds, hovering almost. His normally large presence has shrunk and if your didn’t know better you’d say he was trying to hide himself away from you.

You are staring at your hands, finding your fingers very interesting as the intense silence clouds the air, closing in around your throat you want to say something to break it, but your throat chokes in on itself as soon as you open it.

“I’m sorry.”

Hobie looks so small as he whispers those words to you. His hands are ghosts on your thighs, you can feel him, but you’ve never felt so separated from him. He eyes the tile of the bathroom and you can practically see him beating himself up, pulling away from you in a belligerent attempt to protect you.

You gently place a hand on his cheek and turn his face towards yours, forcing him to look at you. “I don’t blame you.”

“I know.”

“I still trust you.”

He glanced away from you briefly, and blinks aggressively like he’s fighting off tears. “Are you sure you should?”

Instead of a verbal response you take one of his hands from your thigh and guide it your head, setting the tips of his fingers right on the thick bandage that lays there. “This is proof that you care. That it was an accident and we both regret it. I trust you with my life.”

He suddenly lurches forward, pulling you into his body with a sob. You hold him gently as he cries into you, rubbing his back comfortingly, letting him feel his emotions and let them out.

You have no idea how long you sat there on your bathroom counter, blood stained clothing as you try to piece back together the broken pieces of your boyfriend without any words. But none were needed.

[shallyouobeyme]

Spider

Miles Morales, Hobie, Pavitr, Gwen + (mentioned) Platonic!Yandere!Miguel x child!reader (GN)

Summary: Deciding to cause some Mayhem, Hobie, Miles, Gwen and Pavitr go looking through Miguel's office in his absence, only that what they find there, isn't quite what any of them expected. Who'd have thought Miguel was the type to have a secret Apartment...only that that might not be the worst thing in there...

TW: Kidnapping, dark!content, yandere, threat of violence (not towards reader), MDNI, I do not condone this behaviour, this is just fiction

Day 2 of my Yandere Writetober

After Miles' official introduction into the Spidersociety, he’d loved spending his time there. Not only because he’d be able to hang out with Gwen, Hobie and Pavitr, but also because he felt like part of something bigger. He’d made up an after-school club to his parents and had somehow managed to keep the lie up to this day, which took a lot of studying and doing his best to actually attend class to make his parents trust him.

One afternoon the four spiders were hanging out when Hobie suggested doing something less boring, like breaking into Miguel’s office and checking out his hologram Programm. And while Miles and the others knew that there were some serious consequences if they’d get caught, the energy Hobie had was infectious and they soon found themselves sneaking through his door after making double-sure that Miguel and Jessica were on a mission.

The thrill of sneaking through his office, using his floating platform and the holographic floor to show each other nice or funny memories from their respective universes was just the thing four teenagers needed to have the time of their life’s.

About half an hour had passed and they were strewn around the room looking around. Hobie was probably dismembering and taking components from the different machinery, Gwen was trying to use the holographic floor to look at some classic concerts and Pavitr was playing around with the floating platform. Miles had taken to exploring the shelf’s in one of the corners of the room. Usually the room was so dark that you’d hardly be able to see them which is why

Miles had to use his phone's flashlight to see around. The shelves were filled with some gizmos and gadgets, some files strewn around, some boxes and blueprints. Nothing of particular interest to Miles, or at least nothing until his light hit a picture frame standing about where Miguel's eyes would be level with it.

Given that Miles was not quite as tall as Miguel, he had to rise to his tiptoes to even get an idea of what it depicted, he thought he recognized the image from the video Miguel had showed him when telling him about the dangers of ignoring canon events. It was a picture of his late daughter.

Miles had to swallow hard. He tended to forget what hardship Miguel went through because of how much of a douche he was to him. Something in Miles compelled him to take a closer look at the picture so he reached out to it and tried to take it, but instead of coming down from the shelf, he was only able to pull it slightly into his direction. Then there was a quiet but noticeable ‘click’ before the shelf with the picture on it opened a gap.

"Guys? Uhm, there’s something over here,” Miles called out to his friends who all ran over to him.

“What’s up?” Pavitr asked as he looked around, without seeing anything.

“Well, I think this shelf- let me just-“ he stuttered as he took a hold of the side of the shelf where the gap had opened and pulled.

“Whoa, a secret room? Cool,” Gwen mumbled in awe and slight confusion.

“I knew that bloke had somethin’ to hide, he ain’t right kosher, y’know,” Hobie shrugged and was the first to take off into the secret passage, the other three hot on his heels.

Miles wasn’t sure what he had expected to hide in the secret room, but he was sure it had been anything but what they found there.

Behind the shelf was what seemed to be a full apartment, with a nice open concept as Pavitr noted offhandedly, which in itself wasn’t so strange, after alle, maybe Miguel just liked his privacy.

Or at least that was what the four would have thought if it wasn’t for the plushies, toys, coloring books and other children’s stuff strewn throughout the different sections of the big room.

“Maybe Miggy over here is a bit more kinky then we gave ‘im credit for,” Hobie joked as he picked up a princess coloring book from the kitchen table and leafed through it.

“I don’t know, something about this seems weird, right guys?” Gwen looked around and received nods from Miles and Pavitr, “Maybe we should leave…”

Miles wanted to agree, wanted to get out of there and act like they’d never been there, but his stupid spider-senses had to start going off the charts right that second as he heard something from behind one of the three doors leading out of the room, the only door with more locks on it then on an average New Yorker apartment door.

“You guys feeling that?” Pavitr asked, confirming Miles’ fear that he wasn’t the only one whose senses were acting up.

Not bothering to answer, Hobie and Gwen were the first ones to go towards the door, quickly followed by the other two.

Hobie had already taken hold of the door on both sides ready to take it off its hinges when Gwen stopped him.

“If we break it, there’s no denying what we did anymore, maybe we should try this differently. These locks seemed to be electric, maybe we could overload them to reset them or something.”

Miles quickly realized that with ‘we’ Gwen meant him so he pushed himself to the front and got ready to electrify the locks.

A few seconds later there was a shrill beep and a click and with high anticipation, Miles took hold of the door handle and… It opened without problem.

With bated breath, he opened the door.

“Daddy?” a soft, quiet voice, doubtlessly that of a child, called out to them and all of them stood there like frozen as they stared towards the small kid sitting on a fuzzy blue rug surrounded by dolls and plushies. The child tilted their head, looking at them in confusion.

“Hi, are you friends with Daddy?” they asked, but none of them were in the mental state to answer them, all too shocked.

Suddenly a voice called out from speakers somewhere in the room.

“Y/N go into your room immediately please,” a voice - all of them recognized it as Lydia’s - said and after a slightly disappointed ‘okay Aunt Lyd’ from the child they left through a sliding door in the wall opposite of the four spiders which immediately closed (and probably locked) after them.

“Miguel has been informed of your intrusion, I’d advise you to take your leave immediately, and if you enjoy your heart beating I’d tell you not to mutter a word of this to anyone, now leave.”

With a heavy heart and many questions the four ran out of the secret apartment, making sure to close the shelf after them, before they disbanded and returned to their original universes. All of them couldn’t get the child out of their head, but especially Miles couldn’t help but feel he’d seen them before.

Only when he was lying in bed that evening mulling over the events of that day again did he remember.

Months ago his father had taken one of his files home with him, a missing persons report, a little child had disappeared right out of their childhood bedroom without any hint as to what or who had taken them.

In the upper corner of the report was a picture of a smiling toddler with an white area below where their name was…Y/N.

[l1tw1ck]

I want to fck pregnant Miguel so bad, maybe a short aftermath of the last fic would be fine

3 Months

bottom!ftm Miguel x top!masc reader

AFAB Language Used | [Part One]

i don't normally write characters that are already pregnant nor do i take requests when they're closed but god i had to write this 😭 i was planning on adding it to the original fic but i forgot....💀 anyways, enjoy!

CW: Past Non-Con, Pregnant Miguel, Table Sex, Cunnilingus, Squirting, Lactation, Dumbification, Overstimulation, Creampie

You hug Miguel from behind as he’s grabbing a plate from the table, rubbing your boner against his ass to let him know your intentions. “Dinner was great, honey, but I think I want dessert too.” You pull his panties down and sink down to your knees. You bury your face in his cunt, indulging in your sweet and wet dessert. Miguel lets out a slutty moan and grips the edges of the table. He moans your name, voice coming out as breathy and desperate. “Fuck..” He lowers his head as your tongue enters his hole and your finger circles his clit. His whines are music to your ears and encouragement to keep going.

You don't stop until his squirts, giving you a delicious refreshment.

You sit Miguel on the table, planning to clean it up afterwards, and sink your cock into his pussy. He can't describe how good it feels when you enter him, it's almost euphoric. Almost as good as when you come inside him. He loves you so much now. He’s started to lactate and he often feels sore, it's your job to take care of that. You bring your mouth to his nipple, gently sucking on it while your hand massages his other breast. You slowly push in and out of him as you do so. Miguel leans his head back, letting out soft and sexy moans.

He whimpers your name, about to come even faster than normal. His nipples are so much more sensitive than before. You pull away and lick his nipple, getting the excess milk before moving to his other breast. Miguel’s breathing becomes labored as he gets close to an orgasm, letting out a loud whine as he comes.

Miguel moves back onto the table as per your instructions. You grab his legs and raise them in the air, using them to thrust into him. He grins, moaning even louder than before. The table shakes violently as you fuck him. Your aggressiveness is already making him lose his mind. He can't focus on anything except the pleasure he feels. He’s practically mindless. Ever since your first time together, it’s been getting progressively easier to make him get into this state. Make him come a few times and he’s gone. It made it easy to manipulate him. You lean over and kiss him. Thanks to muscle memory, he kisses you back. He feels as if a wave of electricity just ran through his body, from his chest and down to his cunt, causing him to orgasm again. Like always, you don't stop. The both of you love overstimulating him. He likes how fuzzy his brain gets and how he completely loses control, how you always have to help him after sex because he can't do anything on his own. He likes giving up his body to you.

Your thrusts eventually come to a stop as you finally fill Miguel up with your cum. “‘M gonna have twins..” He giggles. You smile at how dumb he is now. He’s so different from the Miguel you kidnapped. He’s better.

[intoxicated-chan]

𝐈 𝐋𝐔𝐕 𝐔 .ೃ࿐ 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎'𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚

© Intoxicated-Chan 2023, I do not allow my work to be copy, translated, or put my work on any other platform without my permission. All photos used belong to their rightful owners. Credits to @/cafekitsune, I love their work!

This ain’t a love story! This isn’t love! I do not condone any of the actions written, this is all fictional, it is not real. Each one of the characters are over 18!

This book contains heavy dark content! Such as… Stalking, abuse of power, blackmailing, peer pressure, threatening, forced proximity, assault, harassment, and much more! If any of the warnings bother you then please do not read.

Inspired by “I LUV U” by Mia Rodriguez

It was strange. A writer didn’t need an internship but considering how often she spends writing, (Y/n) needs money… And fast. She’s in desperate need to build a resume for work before she could even think of beginning her writing career. So when a counselor recommends Alchemax, she takes the offer with hesitation.

Miguel O’Hara sees his AI, Lyla to keep up with her work load. In order to keep everything on track, he contacts a community college that he often donated to. Of course, many internships emails flood his computer but only on interests him, (Y/n) (L/n).

CHAPTERS ↓ WATTPAD VERS.

𝟎𝟎𝟏 * *ೃ༄ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲

𝟎𝟎𝟐 * *ೃ༄ 𝐏𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤

[liz-allyn]

AO3 rec

This is by far one of the most thought-provoking and PAINFUL things I’ve ever read.

tom pick me up im scared

[chiikasevennn]

Ok now I'm kinda creeped out.

Warning: Miguel being deemed as a crazy guy like really crazy, doppelganger things, Miguel's replacing his variant to be w his desired happiness exploration

-

Okay, but isn't really insane for miguel to replace himself who was from another dimension as he tried to achieve the life he had always wanted?

I'm sorry y'all if I ever ruin your perspective of Miguel just wanting to have a good life in a good way(im sure not everyone thinks this way and im super interested in seeing oneshots or fics abt miguel being batshit insane), but wouldn't our Miguel O'hara need to hide his variant's dead body so that he would be able to replace him "properly" and so that nobody would know the truth about him taking over someone's life who was from another universe?

Like??? Isn't that just??? Crazy hot, a man desperate to live a life he'd never had, was willing to do all that. I'm sure that if his variant's friends and relatives knew that the Miguel of their world died, they would know, right?? Otherwise if they didn't and Miguel came in and just "replaced" himself, everyone would question him, be suspicious of him, especially Gabriella, so wouldn't it be necessary to properly hide or dispose of Gabriella's real dad's body so that our Miguel could have the life he'd always wanted?

LMAO THIS IS WHY HE'S MENTALLY INSANE IN MY HEADCANONS THAT I CREATED IN MY HEAD. If he wanted to be crazy, he would. Furthermore, it was incredibly irrational for Miguel to shower affection and provide care for a child that he was never responsible for and never was supposed to be responsible for. What? solely because Gabriella was the ideal remedy for his own deeply troubled state of mind?

Hehehehehehhehehehe this is why i love yandere! Miguel 🥺🥺 PEOPLE NEED TO MAKE HORROR FANFICS OF HIM UGHHHHHHHH I'm like 50/50 when it comes to him

[rmoonstoner]

18+ content. You have been warned!

Okay, so, the top 3 fics I am working on at the moment:

***

# 1 - Cream & Sugar - Complete LINK

One shot, currently sitting at 12k words. Story part done, now I need to add more nasty to it. Orgasm denial and overstimulation for Peter. P in v sex, cream pie, Peter is tied to a lawn chair and you have your way with him, breeding kink, he begs a lot, blah blah blah.

Sub!Spider-Man Noir x Dom!spider!fem!reader (I think it's soft Dom, but you decide.)

***

# 2 - Just A Taste - Part 2

Second part of Just A Taste. Peter takes you on a simple date. Yes. More sex. I was thinking public sex, maybe they get caught by someone? I dunno. Haven't decided. Story part is done, just whipping up the nasty. More creampie monster fuckery.

SPIDER-Man/Man-Spider Peter Parker x Sorceress!fem!reader

***

# 3 - Poisoned Empanadas - Chapters 5 - 10

So much more story. Real people sex! You get nothing more out of me.

Spider-Man 2099 Miguel O'Hara x fem!spider!reader

***

Runner ups:

***

# 4 - No name as of yet, might be chaptered, might not be

Tiny bit of story, monster fucker sex with a magic man that looks like a demonic tentacle demon. Much nasty.

Eldritch Horror/Watcher/Supreme Doctor Stephen Strange x Watcher's Assistant!fem!reader

***

# 5 - Decent into Madness

This is pure filth and crack for me. Written by me, for me, and I am sharing for others to enjoy. I am counting this as a size kink, breeding kink, monster fucker (because it's MOTHER FUCKING BEAST FROM THE X-MEN! I DON'T DO REGULAR HUMAN HANK, SORRY.) and it's nasty.

Dark Beast x Mutant!fem!reader

***

I am also working on other various fics and projects and requests, but they aren't as high up on my priority list at the moment. If have seen some requests, don't worry, I haven't forgotten. My muse to write is saying do these now.

❤️ 💙

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mad Season 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, social anxiety, chronic illness, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes, Peter Parker

Summary: a class project gets messy. (short!reader)

Note: yes I'm being irresponsible.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

‘So sorry I’m running behind. May forgot her wallet’. You reread Peter’s message for the fifth time and check the time under the bubble. More than forty minutes ago. He has to be close. 

You thought of checking but you don’t want to pressure him. Besides, he is doing a favour by bringing you to Stark Tower to let you use the space with him. You turn and pace along the wall, out of the way of the New York pedestrians who wouldn’t even notice if you got underfoot. 

You thought of waiting in the lobby but that’s too much. You focus on breathing. You feel alright for the moment, but a few times, you’ve reached for your inhaler just out of habit.  

“Hey,” a voice draws you out of your mounting anxiety, bringing you back down to just above neutral. “Door’s open, you know?” 

You face Bucky as he holds open of the many glass doors. 

You nod and teeter on your heels. “I know, sir. Just waiting.” 

“Bucky,” he corrects you. Like last time. Oops. “Waiting on the kid?” You gesture affirmatively again. He waves you over casually with a gloved hand, “come on. I can get ya into the lab.” 

“Mm, ahem,” you clear your throat, it’s getting tight. You get closer as the noise of the street makes it hard to hear your own thoughts. “That’s nice but I said I’d wait here.” 

“Busy,” he comments and his eyes roll around derisively. “Should be out here on the street. Let the kid know you’ll be upstairs.” 

There’s no arguing with him, not that you would ever dare. You’re not afraid of him. Maybe intimidated but who doesn’t make you feel small. No, he’s Bucky Barnes, an Avenger. You have no ground to tell him no. Besides, he’s being nice even if his tone remains mostly indifferent. 

“Thanks, s—Bucky,” you muster a tight-lipped smile. 

He holds the door and you flit in ahead of him, your wool jacket flapping and brushing against him. He follows. You hurry ahead then stop short as you realise you don’t know where you going. As you do, a man in a suit huffs and nearly knocks you over with his arm. 

“Watch it, little girl.” He sneers. 

“Hey,” Bucky catches him by his tie, “what’d you say to the lady?” 

You spin around in shock, rubbing your arm at the suddenness of it all. 

“N-nothing, I--” the man blinks in fear. “Nothing, she just got in my way.” 

“You knocked into her and you can’t say sorry?” Bucky pulls him closer, glaring at him with a furrow of his nose. 

“N-no,” the man shows his palms, “no.” 

“Look at her. She’s half your size, pal. You think she could hurt you?” 

“No, no, look, I’m sorry. I’m sorry!” The man sputters. 

“Not to me,” Bucky slides his hand down the man’s tie and pulls him like a dog on a leash toward you, “her.” 

The man blanches and gulp, “look, miss, I’m sorry. I didn’t see you. I shouldn’t have... I should look where I’m going.” 

“Good boy,” Bucky’s snarl comes close to a smirk as he lets the man go and taps his cheek lightly. “Go.” 

He shoves the man by the shoulder and you bat your eyes dumbly. You watch him go as Bucky looms close. You look at him and reach for your bag. You unzip the pouch at the end of the thin strap and pull out your inhaler. You take a puff. 

His expression softens, “oh, is that me?” 

You shake your head, “too many people.” 

“Ah, right,” he points toward the elevators. 

You follow him as he bulldozes through the bodies and pushes the button. You stop beside him and fidget with your inhaler. You peek over at him again. He looks down at you and you wince. 

“Sorry... I...” 

“People usually only stare when I got the arm out,” he shrugs. “I got something on my face? Damn beard catches.”  

Brushes his fingers over the thicket of hair across his jaw. You shake your head again. 

“S-sorry. I... I...” you sniff as the doors open and he beckons you ahead of him. You scurry on and he follows as a slow pace. He spins and jabs the buttons.  

“Thanks for... for helping.” 

“Not at all,” he says. Silence rises with the elevator. He coughs. “You know, I had a buddy with ashthma. Still my buddy but he don’t got the asthma no more.”  

He snorts. You mull his words. You think know who he means.  

“The stuff or whatever... got rid of it?” You ask meekly. 

“Yeah, the stuff. Serum. Poison,” he scoffs. 

“Oh,” you hum. 

“Guess I take it for granted. Never had to worry about much of the being sick part. Sister did. Yeah, she used to always have something,” he clicks his tongue. “Tell me when to shut up.” 

“No, no, I wouldn’t... wouldn’t ever,” you stutter. 

Another lulls fills the elevator as it opens, but the tension remains trapped inside. He points you out first and waits to trail after you. You come out onto the floor. You vaguely recognise some of the acrylic decor and the stiff looking chairs but you don’t know where to go. 

“Left,” he directs you with a gentle caress down your sleeve. “Easy to get lost when you don’t waste your life here." 

You let him guide you. You’d lose yourself without him. It’s exactly why you’d been out on the street.  

That reminds you of Peter. You reach for your bag again and pull out your phone. You check for a message. 

“Kid standing a nice gal like you up?” He asks. 

You flinch, “uh, no, his aunt... there was an emergency.” 

“More important than you, huh?” He pivots and presses his finger to the keypad. The door opens. 

“I don’t... I don’t know. It’s not a big deal.” 

He looks at you, his eyes narrowing, “you’re not a big deal?” 

“No, waiting isn’t... isn’t that bad,” you stammer. “Uh, thanks, again.” 

“Well, you know, in my day, we treated ladies with respect. Let me know if the kid needs a lesson or two,” he taps the doorframe. “I’ll check in, just in case.” 

“You don’t have to.” 

“I know I don’t,” he says. “Go on,” he nods through the door. 

You don’t hesitate. You enter the lab with another thanks, eager to have some time to yourself. You go to the table and untangle your knapsack. You look back just as the door starts to slide shut. You only get a glimpse of his eyes before he’s blocked out by the metal barrier. You can feel his gaze staining you. 

You know it must be all in your head but he is so intense. Not as angry as last time but still... a lot. 

[giorno-plays-piano]

What the Forest Gave Me

Pairing: fae!Peter Parker x reader

Warnings: threat of noncon, some very soft yandere vibes, allusion to kidnapping, minor violence, sort of fluff.

Words: 1.8k

Summary: When you are making a wish by the silver pond, the fairy wood answers to you and sends a fae your way. But why aren't you welcoming him with open arms?

P.S. Just a short drabble with an angry insecure fae boy 👀

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He hates the chase. Hates seeing your back as you run away from him like a wounded animal when he didn't as much as touch you. Why do you run? He did nothing to hurt you. You asked him to come, to embrace you, and he came.

And you ran.

His long, pointed fingers elongate further as he growls in frustration, leaving angry marks on the trees he clutches not to fall: the forest is his abode, but it loves innocent human women and guards those who ask for help like some sort of a fairytale dragon. Why are you doing this? Why making his home his enemy? He only did what you've asked of him. You called him, and he came, and you abandoned him that very minute.

Heartless human. They say fae are treacherous, but you are hardly different. You lied, didn't you? You didn't want a lover. You asked the forest to send you one, to give you a mate, but when the young fae stepped out of the woods in his shiny flower crown, his hands full of fruits and berries to appease you, you screamed and ran away. You want a lover, but you don't want him.

It makes him mad.

Abandoning sweet fairy fruit on the meadow, he bolted after you, confused, ashamed, and unhappy. What did he do wrong? Did he look hideous in that flower crown of his? Did you dislike the fruits he brought? Did you think him ugly, unlikable because of his face? His scrawny body? His too-long limbs? Perhaps he wasn't a beauty, but he was a fae. They all looked somewhat alike. Surely, you knew that! You came to a fairy forest and asked for a lover, clearly knowing it would be someone of his kind. If you wanted a human lover, you would choose one in a village nearby. No human lived in his abode.

So why the chase? Why the horrified expression? What was it that made him so unwanted in your eyes? Why did you need to hurt him when he only sought to make your wish come true?

Unfair. You are unfair. Wicked. Unworthy of the forest protection. You deserve to be punished for hurting him.

The moment he thinks of it, you cry out, falling and rolling down a hill: it's in fae's nature to create magic anywhere they go, and if they aren't careful, magic seeps out of their thoughts seamlessly. Your cries are muffled as you collapse under an old oak tree, your back hitting its mighty trunk with a thud, and you curl up into a ball, wailing from pain. Your arms and legs are bruised by branches and thorns, twigs in your hair, and you are trembling like a beaten dog, shielding yourself from him with your arms.

"Please don't hurt me", you plead in a weak voice, crying, blood slowly seeping out of the little cuts along your leg the way magic drips from the pointed tips of his fingers.

He didn't want to do it. He didn't, he swears in his head as if it matters. Yes, he thought you were cruel, but he didn't want to hurt you.

Or did he?

No, no, not like that, he didn't want you hurt and crying on the cold ground. He wants you to say you were wrong when you abandoned him the moment he stepped on a meadow, but he doesn't want to hear your moans of pain or see you trembling at the sight of him, afraid he would break you.

"Please, please don't hurt me", you shake badly, your face puffy from tears, hands still up to prevent him from hurting you more.

He feels rotten. He's not a vicious fae. He doesn't hunt human women for sport. Abusing you for abandoning him was a heartless thing to do, nonetheless.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, raising his hands up so you'd see he isn't going to struck you.

You shiver when you look at him through your fingers, still crying from pain, and he swears silently at himself. Nasty creature. Why did he do it to you? You are defenseless, almost bare in front of him.

"I'm sorry I hurt you," he whispers, the sight of you, miserable, forcing a lump in his throat.

When his hands start to shine, you let out a scream, afraid he would harm you again, but the soft glow he emits gently spreads to your cuts and bruises, and your body gets warm as he works his magic, closing broken skin. He isn't the vicious sort, no. He finds no pleasure in cries and pleading. He is just a forest fae, a creature born under the moonlight to nurture the soil and everything that grows out of it, a shepherd of the fairy woods. Perhaps he is a little tricky like all fae are, but he isn't malicious. It hurts him to see you cry.

Minutes pass, and soon your body looks flawless again, your skin smooth and unmarked, your tears drying out as you stare at him, unsure to either thank him or run out of fear. He wouldn't blame you if you preferred the latter, feeling sorry one careless thought brought you so much pain. Maybe you hurt him first, but he shouldn't have held it against you.

"I'm sorry," he repeats again, careful not to make any sudden movements. "You asked me to come, and I came. And you ran."

He hates the way it sounds. Like it is your fault you fell. Why did he say it? It didn't sound like that in his head.

"But I..." you struggle to find the right words, looking at him from the ground, still a little afraid, and the fae lowers himself right onto the pile of dry leaves. "I didn't call for anyone."

"But you made a wish."

Yes, you did. You wished for a lover. A mate. You asked the forest send him to you, and it did.

He watches you slowly assembling pieces of a puzzle, dumbstruck your wish was granted in a matter of seconds. But aren't you one of a fair folk, you ask, choosing your words carefully not to upset him, but he gets frustrated, nonetheless.

"So what?" He grunts, shaking his head, and his disheveled flower wreath, finally knocked over, is falling on his lap. "Didn't you want a fae lover? No human lives in the fairy wood."

You are perplexed: you didn't think the forest would listen to your plea. It was just a silly wish, a few careless words dropped in a wrong place, you say, embarrassed he heard you. You wanted a lover, but it was a wish in a well of sorts. You didn't think the forest would hear and send you your betrothed. You thought he was a fae guardian who came to punish a mortal for breaking the fairy grounds.

"Are you... him?" You whisper, hugging your knees, staring at him so intently he suddenly blushes, his eyes on his feet.

"Yes," he says quietly when just mere minutes ago he was ready to scream it into your face. But how could he now? You were innocent. You didn't hurt him on purpose, not even thinking he was your fated lover. Surely, if he were in a strange place, meeting a strange creature out of nowhere, he would be scared, too. How could he hold it against you?

But he would if you rejected him. And he was afraid to ask you again. He hurt you badly, didn't he? He hurt and scared you. Would you take him now? No fae law prohibited him from whisking you away from mortal realm, but he thought of you, curled up under the mighty oak like a wounded animal, pleading him not to hurt you, and he couldn't make himself go with it. He dreamed of making flower wreaths and swimming in the silver pond and collecting wolfberries together, not coming home to you terrified of the sight of him, scared of his touch.

You clear your throat, abashed, your gaze directed at your feet, "Isn't it prohibited? A human and a fairy?"

His cheeks heat up as he mumbles, "After a High Lord married a human girl ages ago, nobody cares anymore."

He tries not to get his hopes up too much, but he already dreams of kissing your hands when you feed him wolfberries, making you a dress from sirenspider's web and moonlight, and teaching you how to make a wreath for every season and occasion. Bluebells for witching hours in spring, bramble and violets for early summer nights, parsley and cowslip when sleeping on the meadows...

"You asked me to come, and I came," he whispers, looking up to find you watching him. "Will you take me?"

Your silence is suffocating, and it hurts, it hurts him so much to look at you and see you twisting the fabric of your dress in your hands as if you want to refuse him but don't know how.

"Promise not to hurt me," you say, tiny droplets of sweat forming on your forehead from fear.

"I swear to never hurt you again," the fae proclaims obediently, his eyes on his feet again.

Oh, it hurts, it hurts so much to hear the hesitation in your voice. It feels like there is a burning hole in his chest, and you are adding oil to fire.

You take so long to say more. He knows he shouldn't blame you, not when he made you a prey to his anger, chasing you like a rabbit he was going to put on a skewer, but he is angry and frustrated and spiteful again, rejected by his fated lover. If you don't take him, nobody would.

When he hears your voice, he almost jumps. "I... uh... you- you scare me a little. I know you didn't mean to, but... and you're a fae. And I... uh... can I think a little more?.." your voice quivers a little as you stare at the heap of old red and brownish leaves on the ground. "What does it even mean to be a fae's lover? Would it only last a season? Or would you... well... take me to be your own?"

Unlike you, it doesn't take him long to give you an answer.

He scoops you up in his arms fervently, his almost black hair a lovely chesnut brown again, the wreath shining back on his head, his pointed fingers no longer clawed. "I take you to be mine own!" He screams at the top of his voice as you tremble in his arms, bewildered, when he lifts you up in the air above his head. "I SWEAR I TAKE YOU TO BE MINE OWN!"

His chant makes his flower crown glow, and so does the autumn foliage of an old aok. You can't see your own body starting to emit the same golden glow, but you feel warm and light, staring at the orange sunset sky as the fae holds you for the whole forest to see.

You don't know it accepts young fairy's claim.

______________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki   ​@helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @soleil-dor @stargazingfangirl18 @dillybuggg @literate-lamb @cosicas-cuquis @sarge-barnes-sir @buckybarnesplumwhore @jaysayey @megzdoodle @gotnofucks @lux-ravenwolf @biiskuitx @stupendouslovegardener @melodierin @yeolliedokai @what-is-your-wish @lou-la-lou @gachawipes133 @eralen

[i-loveoldermen]

!REQUESTS OPEN!

💗I write mostly for Marvel/DC/COD/Oscar Isaac characters/Pedro pascal characters💗

!Rules!

🌸 NO SMUT

🌸 NO RAP3

🌸 NO INSCEST/STEP-CEST

!Tropes!

🎀 any trope is welcome, recommendations for series are also a okay, I'd also love tropes relating to fantasy and creativity! Be free! 🎀

[petersoftparker]

How Flash Thompson Learned

Warnings: Yandere & Dark Peter, Manipulation

You grew up heavily sheltered. First it was your strict parent then Peter took it upon himself to overtake that role. It wasn’t that you were dumb in any way, you always did well academically but you were a bit naive when it came to certain situations. There was no need for you to be able to realize if a classmate was trying to flirt with you if they were juveniles in Peter’s eyes. 

Peter had to work harder in the beginning on steering you away, but it eventually got easier when all of the classmates were aware of exactly how far he would go to prevent it. Hurting you was of course worse than any flirting, and Flash Thompson was the first to learn what the consequences would be.

One second you were walking next to Peter to his apartment for your weekly sleepover trying to convince Peter to watch your favourite movie, and the next you were being shoved to the ground by Flash Thompson. You grunted as you barely managed to catch yourself with your hands. You repositioned yourself to be sitting, glaring up at the bully.

The fact that Flash felt comfortable laying a finger on you, let alone actually hurt you was completely unacceptable to Peter. The solution was not hard to think of, if Flash was using his hand in an inappropriate way it only seemed fair to break it. 

Once that was taken care of, he ignored the sounds of pain behind him and focused on you. Kneeling down beside you, he held your hands in his. “Oh honey, got a bit scraped huh? I’ll fix you up as soon as we get to my apartment.” You sniffed, both from the pain in your hands and the shock from what you just witnessed. 

You weren’t sure exactly how much force and strength was needed to break someone’s wrist but you were sure that with how scrawny Peter was it shouldn’t have been possible. It should’ve terrified you and the logical response would be to distance yourself from Peter but while you were scared it only worked in the opposite way. Your mind was stuck on what could happen to you if Peter ever wasn’t there to protect you. So, when Peter tried to stand up you panicked thinking he was going to leave. You clutched the end of his sleeve, pleading “No, don’t go-i. Peter-“. You didn’t have to beg for long before Peter was shushing you and lifting you to carry. He tapped your legs twice until you got the hint to wrap them around him. You felt his hand start to rub your back as he started to walk, smiling to himself when he heard you sigh with relief and practically shove your face in his neck. The two of you stayed that way for the rest of the twenty-minute walk home, your relationship shifting from that moment.