#n 🖤💜 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

naeverse · 14 days ago

Text

The Cat and His Spider

~Ｖｉｃｅ＃４~

𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝟒: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐔𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐞

(𝐎𝐜𝐭 𝟐𝟎-𝟑𝟏)

----

𝙂𝙧𝙚𝙚𝙙:

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

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

Ｍｕｓｉｃ：

“𝘈𝘯𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘴” - 𝘔𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘯 5

"𝘉𝘢𝘥 𝘎𝘶𝘺" - 𝘉𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘦 𝘌𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩

"𝘋𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘞𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯" - 𝘈𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘢 𝘎𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

🤍Rating: 18+ explicit I SMUT I

🐈‍⬛Word Count: 8.2k words

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

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

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

More tranquil...

Peaceful...

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

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

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

You didn’t want to miss a thing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Though, he didn’t see them as such.

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

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

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

More than you expected.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nothing was disturbed…

Your eyebrows furrowed at the revelation.

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

Something was off…

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

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

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

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

Swiftly, you followed the sound.

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

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

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

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

White hair from his mane.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Excitement.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You wouldn’t…

Never…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Even though you were.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A human making a mistake…

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

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

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

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

“Of course, bebè—”

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

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

On my deceased daughter.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I think we both know what that is.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“M-Miguel—”

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

“Well, challenge accepted…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I—I want you… Miguel.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your heart tugged at the feline’s disappearance.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you found yourself, not regretting a thing.

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

Human…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

<3 Taglist:

@oscarissac2099 @powerful-niya @szapizzapanda @mcmiracles @mreowmoreww @thedeva @jadeloverxd @lazyotakuofficial @migueloharacumslut @nattywatty @homewreckingwreck @kinkybandages @prazinos @huniedeux @impossiblebagelcowboyfreak @anniee-mr @crimin4llyins4ne @lynxslokley @rice-wife @oharafilipinawife @migueloharastruelove @rodriash002 @e1f-boi @user3732094737 @truth-dare-spin-bottles @taleiak @alurafairy @ddreabea @saturnistireddd @laysmt @reader-1290 @lazydreamer19

If you will like to be a part of the taglist in the future, just comment or send a DM!

**If you are currently a part of the taglist and didn't receive a notification, please check your settings to ensure that the tag notification button is turned on.**

25 notes · View notes

naeverse · 1 month ago

Text

Dear My Beloved (1/2)

~Ｖｉｃｅ＃３~

𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝟑: 𝐃𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐥

(𝐎𝐜𝐭. 𝟏𝟑-𝟏𝟗)

----

𝘋𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳:

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

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

Ｍｕｓｉｃ：

"𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘉𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘛𝘰 𝘔𝘦" - 𝘏𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘯 𝘍𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳

"𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘖𝘰𝘨𝘶𝘮 𝘉𝘰𝘰𝘨𝘶𝘮 𝘚𝘰𝘯𝘨" - 𝘉𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘰𝘯 𝘞𝘰𝘰𝘥

🤎staring: Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

👗preview: But then, everything seemed to stop.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

♥️Rating: 18+ explicit I ANGST I

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

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

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

Dividers and mood board was created by me.

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

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

But, in particular, you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You already knew the reason for her change in mood.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sleeping.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Papá’s birthday!!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sharp.

Sudden.

Like a spike driven into your skull.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hearing it now made everything feel right.

Perfect.

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

Everything was normal once more.

Everything was fine…

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

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

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

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

But then, everything seemed to stop.

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

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

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

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

“Nothing is what it seems…

Oh dear, nothing is what it seems...”

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

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

“Nothing is what it seems...

Oh dear, nothing is what it seems...”

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

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

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

“Cariño?”

“Is everything okay?”

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

“Qué te pasa? Talk to me, miel.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nothing is as it seems...

Oh dear, nothing is as it seems...”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But then something shifted...

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

You paused, feeling the hairs on your arms rise.

Something… felt off.

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

You were certain of it.

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

A quiet shift in the air...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No, this memory felt wrong.

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

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

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

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

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

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

OPEN YOUR EYES.

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

But the message didn’t vanish.

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

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

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

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

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

“Mi amor? Is something wrong?"

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

You blinked again, and realization struck.

Your breath hitched.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What had just happened?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The room felt normal again.

Everything looked... normal.

But you weren’t so sure.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But then it hit you…

It was your sweet husband’s birthday.

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

You can wait…

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

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

Luckily, Gabriella came to your rescue.

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

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

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

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

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

Without warning, he pulled you into a kiss. The world around you seemed to melt away as his arms wrapped around you, his lips warm and urgent. Each kiss chipped away at your worries, his touch both soothing and electric. You pressed into him, feeling his heartbeat sync with yours.

He chuckled against your lips, each kiss leaving you hungrier for more. “So that was your plan? Hmm… Mi chica traviesa, traviesa.”

You gasped as his fingers brushed the nape of your neck, holding you steady. His touch was both tender and possessive, and the taste of him—sweeter than the cake you’d abandoned—flooded your senses, leaving your body humming with need.

Before you could process it, he gently pushed you back onto the couch, his lips never straying far from yours. A breathless laugh escaped you. “Miguel—”

Your halfhearted scolding was silenced by another kiss, and then another, each one more urgent than the last, until your bodies seemed to fit together seamlessly.

Your fingers combed through his dark curls, undoing the careful styling he’d done that morning. You tugged him impossibly closer, each kiss a promise—a vow that felt as eternal as the one he’d made to you on your wedding day.

And then, the spell shattered.

The sound of Gabriella’s blood-curdling scream pierced the air, cutting through the tranquility of the room like a knife.

Your heart dropped in an instant.

“MAMA!!”

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

For once, Miguel’s expression mirrored the terror that gripped you. Rising from the couch, he reached out to steady you as both of you looked toward the stairs, your pulse pounding in your ears.

The air between you was heavy now—this wasn’t just the innocent sound of a child’s call.

Something was wrong...

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed the first part of Dear, My Beloved! What exactly is happening in the O'Hara house? Is the life inside those perfect green vintage walls as idyllic as it seems, or is there something far more sinister at play? 🤔

Also, I know I've mentioned this before, but once again, my apologies for the late posting of Despair and Greed for this event. Life became unexpectedly overwhelming toward the end of 2024 for my sister and I, and during my break, I found myself needing to take some time to recharge. The last thing I want is for writing to shift from a hobby to a chore, so I hope you all can understand! ❤️❤️

This one-shot was also in dedication to Miggy's B-day, so happy belated birthday to the handsome Spider-man himself. 💙❤️

Lastly, Part 2 of Dear, My Beloved comes with a LOT of trigger warnings—seriously, a lot. I'll include them in the warnings list when it’s posted but consider this an extra heads-up! ⚠️⚠️

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

<3 Taglist:

If you will like to be a part of the taglist in the future, just comment or send a DM!

**If you are currently a part of the taglist and didn't receive a notification, please check your settings to ensure that the tag notification button is turned on.**

22 notes · View notes