#yandere Hobie Brown x reader

[lady-ashfade]

Jacket obsession

Spider-Verse: You leave a piece of clothing behind with a yandere.

Characters: Miles Morales, Gwen Stacy, 42!Miles Morales, Hobie Brown, Miguel O'Hara

Warnings: Obsession, stealing, yandere tendencies, just them going lovely over a piece of clothing.

Miles Morales:

Oh poor boy at first freaked out trying to get your attention before you enter the portal without your jacket.

“Wait! You’ll get colded.” He shouted as you entered the portal not hearing him.

After a few seconds after with worry in his chest he looked down at the clothing in hand and realized what he had. A piece of you that he could hold while he was away from you, and he hated being away from you, but the boys heart filled up with happiness.

The clothing smell just like you and if he threw it over a pillow it would be like cuddling with you. Boy is over the moon. And I mean like so giddy it’s embarrassingly cute.

He takes it every where with him, to the kitchen it’s in his hands, watching or playing games? It’s in his lap. He smells it constantly and gets really sad after a week when it doesn’t smell like you anymore.

However when you come back to his dimension and request for your jacket his heart breaks. Boy pouts security at the lose but he sees this as a way to get it to smell like you again and steal it after a while.

Overall if you leave anything he will take it and treasure it until you come back because now he has you for the time being.

He’s more of a clingy yandere but he still can’t help but obsessive over his darling.

“Maybe i could give you one of mine- Incase you lose yours again that is.”

Hobie Brown

Cocky little man notices it before you even want to leave and he knows you’ll forget it so he just lets you.

He loves when you leave things behind, thinks it might be a way of flirting. But when you do leave clothing he just feral about it.

Like he just can’t stop smelling it and just wants to hold it all day. He thinks of how cute you look in or how you smile and everything you do just flashes in his head.

Man is devilish to me. So he has a collection of things he steals from your bedroom when you’re out and he sneaks into your dimension. Clothes, shoes, necklaces or anything he can find.

You come back to him for it but he just holds it in his hands, above you and around the room when you try and take it way. “You mean this jacket?” Boy will have so much fun making you annoyed.

Hobie will leave his jacket on your room in hopes you’d wear it and think of him like he does you. He gets a grin when he thinks about it.

“If yah’ wanted to give me your jacket all yah’ had to do was say so.”

Gwen Stacy

You think she’s just chilling? Um no, she isn’t.

She loves you so much, her whole thing is like “I’ve lost to much.” And if she’s a yandere she can’t stop loving everything you do-Anyway.

She wears it and it can be oversized or maybe tight? She doesn’t care. She doesn’t take it off her body until it stops smelling like you or until she needs to get in her suit.

Gwen is maybe fighting with her self for many different reasons and they are:

“This is creepy.” “Oh cares? They smell so good.”

“They did this on purpose, so cute.” “No they just forgot it Gwen.”

Conflict with her own feelings all the time. But she never stops holding it close.

Gwen likes the idea of wearing your clothes to make it know she’s taken and that you’re hers. Can’t stop thinking of when you get to wear her clothes.

Yes, you guys aren’t “Dating” But your all hers.

“Don’t worry, I kept it so safe. By the way, could I borrow it again?”

Miguel O'Hara

Doesn’t care-Joking.

Miguel wouldn’t think about it at first and knows you just forget it and will come back for it later. But as time goes by, a hour, he can’t stopped looking at it for some reason.

He sneaks over like someone is watching him and picks it up. His mouth waters at the smell of you and he wouldn’t be able to let it go.

It might have rinkles on it from him carrying it so much. It’s his stress ball. You guys ever seen a kid carry around a blanket? Well that’s him.

He does feel wrong for obsessing over the piece of cloth but for different reasons then Gwen. He thinks he’s above something like this, doesn’t think it’s a big deal and he should forget it.

But when it puts it down a few seconds, it’s immediately in his hand again.

Yes, he does put it on a pillow and holds it close like he’s protecting you. He’s practically for when you get to be in his arms.

When you asked for it back he stands still for a minute. He feels sad and hates it because it’s just so stupid! Of course he gives you it back.

“I could give you one of mine…Only because that one doesn’t seem like it keeps you warm.”

42!Miles Morales

He’s a lot like Miguel in this situation a bit. And even if I see him as a big, big hard yandere he doesn’t think this is to big of a deal. Now don’t get me wrong he loves it, he just isn’t crazy as the rest of them.

Though, he does like to have it near him when he sleeps like have you close to him, or smell it whenever he can. Of course he has it in his lap when he’s gaming but the jacket never leaves his room.

Will buy the same one as you so you two can match and he can give you his. He thinks about you wearing something of his, like goes crazy just thinking of it.

You ask for it back? That’s cool, just try and get it from him. He loves to tease you to the ends of the earth and he would give it to you when you ask. But you’re just so cute when you get annoyed.

“If you wanted a jacket mami you could have asked for mine. Think mine would look cuter on you away.”

[yandere-kokeshi]

Yandere Miguel and Hobie with a gn darling who's always sleepy

Warnings: yandere behavior

A/N: I'm the person who takes naps all the fucking time so I wanted to write these cuties. Hope you enjoy <33

Miguel O’Hara:

At first, Miguel would be really worried. Why do you sleep so much? Do you have a condition he’s not told about? Is it possible you’re sick? Though, when learning this is you, he calms down a bit and tries to make your sleeping patterns closer to his.

He’s sleep-deprived. Once coming home, smelling home, and finding your sleeping body waiting for him – he smiles, before taking off his clothes and getting in beside you, cuddling you close to his chest as he peppers your face with many kisses.

Miguel on one hand is happy you don’t seek out anyone’s attention, making his possessiveness more prominent; he can hold you as long as he’d like. But, on the other side, is worried and frustrated at how ‘lazy’ you are.

This usually results in him yelling at you. But, his anger isn’t directed at you, more so at your unhealthy sleeping patterns. With this said, he likely will wake you up before leaving the house – often bringing you to HQ to sleep in his arms or keep you awake by ordering you to do simple things.

He’s constantly looking for you. Looking under every nook and cranny to make sure you’re sleeping comfortably. And if he needs to, he’ll carry you in his arms while he works; something he wouldn’t appreciate, but isn’t going to deny if someone asks.

Will definitely carry a blanket around and always has a bottle of water (or tea!) for you to drink when waking up. He kisses your forehead, asking if you slept well.

Hobie Brown:

Isn’t bothered or worried. Rather neutral about it. Though, Hobie does find it endearing – rather cute that you'll fall asleep anywhere, especially on the floor.

He loves to watch your sleeping position, smiling to himself at how lucky he is. But, that doesn’t stop his mischievous acts. You’ll wake up with multiple drawings on your face, specifically a mustache.

Jokingly calls you his ‘sleeping beauty’, that is, until it actually becomes your name.

Uses your sleepiness to keep you home more. Want to watch a movie together? Within 20 minutes, you’re falling asleep on his shoulder and Hobie ‘accidentally’ texts your friends to cancel your meetup. When waking, you don’t remember it sending that text? Maybe you were too tired! His suggestion is to always sleep more, it wouldn’t hurt, right?

Will gladly carry you if he sees you wobbling or yawning too much. He loves to hold you, so getting to carry you in a bridal style or piggyback ride is really fun. Plus, he likes to see if you’ll wake up if he decides to swing around whilst holding you.

Not one to carry a blanket around, but will offer you his jacket. Teases you to not drool on it, but in reality, he doesn’t mind it.

—

Masterlist || Please consider reblogging and commenting instead of liking, it helps me as a creator!! Stay well!!

© yandere-kokeshi 2023 — Do not copy, modify, edit, repost, or use my works for ASMR readings, tiktoks, or other content.

[miraclecherryblossomsblog]

Ok gonna give my take cuz its so lil of yan hobie with random headcanons (i did take some inspo from another fic tho ill put the blog later)

Edit: got inspo from this fic here

MDNI!!!

Tw: murder mention, slight violence mention, doesnt feel yandere but its there lol

- Yandere! Hobie isn't yout typical yandere. Unlike Yan! Miguel, he wouldn't feel jealousy if someone were to interact with you because he's just chill like that

-He would rather find it amusing if someone were to flirt with you, dating or not he would just come up to you and swing his arm around your shoulders "They are pretty great aren't they~?" Smirks as he looks at you.

-Yandere! Hobie who wouldn't kidnap or force you into dating him because it just goes agaisnt everything that he stands for. He belives to be free, do your own thing without any rules other than your own.

-He would kill for you tho, anyone who hurts you gonna get their heads bashed by his guitar <3333

-Yandere! Hobie that although he might be heartbroken that you reject him it won't mean he wouldn't respect your friendship (u a fool if u think he'll leave u alone after that lol)

-He wouldn't take it personal either, hurt but its not something he will hold onto.

-Yandere! Hobie that is very fucking scary when he is in protective mode, I mean ma man ain't playing around when it comes to your safety (nor for protecting his friends either) spider or not he will FUCK SHIT UP if someone messed with you

-Did I mention he would be a good mentor to you? Like you know those scenes where the mc is in danger and then they have flashback from their mentor telling them a lesson that they didn't understand at first until they go into the situation they in?

-ye that him

-Yandere! Hobie that steals the stuff u leave by accident in his room and has them hidden well on a box. From your hoddie to your hairband.

-he wouldn't be a creep either, intimidating? Yes but creepy? To you? Never. He respects your space and boundaries (consent people, CONSENT!!! Its a priority to him in any relationship!)

-He's obssessed with you tho, he will do anything just to see that preddy smile of yours or get you show a sort of emotion

-LOVES when u pout, everytime u do something cute or ur lips purse in annoyance I swear if u look closely u can see hearts in his eyes while having a stupid smile on his face 😌💕

-face squish. LOTS of them

[sucka4pain]

♥︎~𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐄 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒~♥︎

Warning!!! These are YANDERE head canons and are going to be dark! Also working on requests! So if you requested don’t worry I’m working on them!!

Hobie is definitely one of the smartest and intelligent yanderes in the spider verse. I wouldn’t necessarily say that he’s the jealous type because let’s be real, it’s HOBIE we’re talking about here. He’s confident and cocky about himself and getting what he wants. He doesn’t have to worry about being jealous of someone who’s trying to get with you because this man will literally walk up to you and say

“ya’ know mate, they’re ‘lready taken.”

Of course this would happen if you’re a spider person. But if you’re a civilian, he will come to your universe and tell you how your life is in danger, that he’s come to get you away to protect you. He’ll then have you brought to headquarters and have you stay in his room and will not let you leave or go anywhere without him.

Basically he will isolate you in his room until he comes back, but of course he has someone he trusts be with you so you aren’t alone. For example, he’ll have Gwen or Patvir with you, the only two people he trusts enough to have with you when he’s gone.

But he does allow you to go out, he’s gonna be with you no matter what. Where ever you’re going to he’s right there with you. If someone decides to flirt with you in front of him, he will just laugh. He finds it funny how much the person gets mad and continues to try.

“That’s really funny mate, but ya’ know they’re taken so no point innit’ huh?”

But the second the person who’s flirting with you try’s to touch you, he’s pushing them back hard and pulling you by the waist so you’re closely next to him.

“Evea’ been told to not touch what’s not yours or ya’ need me to teach ya’ hm?”

His voice drops as he stared down at the person, scaring them away. He kept his arm around your waist the rest of the day and cuddles you tightly when you guys get back to his room.

Let’s talk about his jealousy. Although he doesn’t really get jealous because he knows that he can easily have you with no problem and he’s confident about it. I mean, who wouldn’t want to be dating Hobie? But when he DOES get jealous, it’s pretty scary I’ll say.

You know those Makima fan arts where her eyes are blight glowing while her body looks like a shadow? Now imagine that but with Hobie when you try to hide from him….I’d off myself cause that’ll be really terrifying.

You’re hiding somewhere in his room, your hand covering your mouth to keep a peep out from coming out. Your body was shaking from fear as you heard a guitar strumming in the distance and Hobie’s voice spoke in almost a taunting tone.

“C’mon love, don’t hide from me~ I know where you are~!”

He went silent before his footsteps could be heard going father away. You removed your hands from your mouth and sighed.

“Gotcha~”

He said from behind you. You turned around to see his shadow like figure as his eyes glowed while he stared down at you. The fear in your eyes made him smile as he stabbed something in your neck, making you pass out.

I believe he has a little thing for chasing you while you’re trying to get away from him. It makes him feel more possessive and makes him think of more ways to keep you with him so never get away from him.

2023-2024©𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐚4𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧-- 𝐃𝗼 𝐧𝗼𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐥, 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝗺 𝗼𝐫 𝐜𝗼𝐩𝐲 𝗺𝐲 𝐰𝗼𝐫𝐤-- 𝐜𝗼𝗺𝗺𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬, 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝗼𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐜𝗼𝗺𝐞𝐝!!

[bella-goths-wife]

“He’s a fuckboy”

Spiderverse x reader

Content: you show Gwen the hard truth about the boy she’s ‘dating’

“He’s so sweet” Gwen gushes uncharacteristically as she looks down at her phone “he just text me!”

Gwen sat with pav, Hobie and miles in the cafeteria. It was originally meant to be a calm lunch but it all changed when gwen mentioned that she was in the talking stage with a cute boy, news that made miles mood sour.

You were perched at your own table close to theirs with a book in your hand as you read while you ate. Reading became increasingly hard to do when loud voices carried over to your table.

Hobie had already tried to get you to sit with them but you waved him away with the claim that you liked to eat alone, that didn’t stop him from eyeing you every chance he got.

“Do you have any photos together?” Pav asked excitedly at the prospect of his friend getting a boyfriend

“No not yet” Gwen says as she shows pav solo pictures of the boy in question “he said he’s camera shy”

“But he has all these photos of himself?” Miles said questioningly before receiving a swift kick under the table from Hobie

He looks confused before realisation hits him and all three of the boys exchange looks of sympathy.

“What?” Gwen says worriedly “do you not like him?”

“N-no I’m sure he’s great” pav stutters out “tell us more”

“He’s super close with his friends, he spends all his time with his friend Yasmin” Gwen says obliviously as all three boys wince slightly

“Are you sure he’s right for you?” Hobie asks tactfully as Gwen looks at him in confusion

“Yes” she says quickly “why?”

“We just don’t know if he’s compatible-“ pav goes to say but it cut off by you

“They’re trying to tell you he’s a fuckboy” you interject as you get up to put your tray in the cleaning section

The table sits around startled, Hobie wants to grin but knows it’s not exactly appropriate. Gwen looks shocked as she gets up to follow you and the boys rush after her.

“He’s not a…. Fuckboy” Gwen says defensively as she stomps after you

“Sure” you scoff out as you put your tray down and you walk back to your table to collect your book.

“You don’t even know what your talking about” gwen scoffs out as she looks you up and down

You just sigh as you stop in your tracks. You turn around and cross you arms over your chest while staring in Gwen’s eyes

“Let me guess, he calls you baby or generic nicknames all the time?” You ask with a raised brow and gwen nods “that’s because he doesn’t want to mix up your name with his other girls”

“That’s not true” gwen insisted

“Okay then, does he post you on social media?” You ask as you turn around again to pick up your book “do you have any photos together at all?”

“Well no, but that’s because he wants to keep us private” Gwen defends

“Private doesn’t mean secret” you state calmly “he’s keeping you secret so his main girls don’t find out about you”

“Your just making stuff up” Gwen denies your accusations

“Does he hide his phone when someone calls or texts him around you?” You ask and it’s like a nail in the coffin, Gwen nods slowly “face it, he’s a fuckboy”

“You don’t know what your talking about” she says angrily as she types coordinates into her watch “I’ll go talk to him now, to prove you wrong”

“Be my guest” you say calmly as I wait for her to go through the portal

She scoffs as she goes through and the portal disappears. The boys all look at you slacked jawed as you raise your eyebrow at them

“You could have worded it nice y/n” pavitr says nervously but you just shrug

“Truth hurts” you state as you walk away and leave the chaos behind so you could finally read your book in peace

———————————————————————-

You sat cross legged on your bed as you read your book carefully until your peace was interrupted by desperate knocking on your door

You sigh and get up. When you open the door your greeted by gwens tear stricken face as tears fell from her cheeks and her eyes were red

You looked her for a moment before opening the door wider in a silent invitation in. Gwen takes this with a cry as she hooks her arms around you neck and you stand awkward during the one sided hug.

You guide Gwen to the bed and set her down against the headboard. You offer her some tissues and she accepts them gratefully

“How did you know he was a fuckboy?” Gwen asks in a small voice, breaking the awkward silence that surrounded the two of you

“I’ve dealt with way too many of them” i scoff out “I know the sighs”

“I feel stupid” she says as she puts her head in her hands in embarrassment

“Don’t” you try to say gently but it comes out as more of a command “he’s the stupid one, he missed out on you”

Gwen smiles slightly at you as her eyes look at you in admiration and her chest fills with the warmth of adoration

“Your not as mean as you look y’know” she says before realising and backtracking “I’m so sorry-“

“It’s fine” you cut her off with a reassuring tone “I know I look mean, I like looking mean”

Gwen goes to question you further but you turn away and pull out the remote for the tv

“Would watching weird rom-coms from the nighties help you?” You ask with a grimace as it sounds like hell for you

“Yes please” Gwen sighs out in relief as she gets comfortable on your bed

You nod as you search for a movie that your friend would enjoy and would make her feel better.

It’s only when Gwen watches you try your best to comfort you, does she realise that she misjudged you severely. You may look mean but secretly your a sweet person.

She feels at home as she watches some cheesy movie with you and she feels herself drift off to sleep feeling safe in the first time in month.

Please like and reblog if you enjoyed :)

[mango-bango-bby]

*＊✿❀ Hobie Brown Masterlist ❀✿＊*

💌 = Fluff

💕 = NSFW/Suggestive

🍡 = Comfort

🍓 = Angst

🎀 = Domestic

🍭 = Platonic

Nothing yet!

[mo0nfairy]

ᥫ᭡ . # ۫ , ⸺ THIS IS A LIFE, MASTERLIST !

⋆ ｡ ˚ ⋆   ⸺   in every universe, spiderman will inevitably lose the one thing that matters most to him: y/n l/n. miguel o'hara, peter parker, and hobie brown have all suffered through this story. they soon discover another version of you is alive, bound to fall in love with miles morales and to die abruptly. with the prospect of a second chance and a newfound obsession, these four men will do anything to keep you at their side.

⸺   PART ONE .

⸺   PART TWO .

⸺   PART THREE .

⸺   PART FOUR .

⸺   PART FIVE .

⸺   PART SIX .

⸺   PART SEVEN, ENDING ONE .

⸺   PART EIGHT, ENDING TWO .

gif credits.

[appleblueberry-pie]

PIE'S MASTERLIST & RULES

HI, welcome to my page! I love writing on here as my main platform and I enjoy all comments and support under my works, it gives me the boost I need to keep going!

MASTERLIST

JJK

Yandere Blabs #1

ATSV

Yandere Spider-Blabs #1

AOT

Yandere Sasageyo Blabs #1

ANSWERED ASKS

JJK

Yandere Asks #1

Yandere Asks #2

ASTV

Yandere Spider-Asks #1

AOT

Yandere Sasageyo Asks #1

MISCELLANEOUS

About Yandere Content Out There.

Lmao

Never thought this would happen

RULES

What I do write:

Yandere(obviously)

fem reader

gender neutral reader

sfw/nsfw

fluff

anything regular that's not Yandere

bdsm

What I don't write:

Gore

incest/pseudo incest

rape

trans reader or male reader(i don't think I know enough about how it would physically work, in terms of smut)

infantilism

starving/overfeeding

drug usage

Cheating

Part 2's

I hope you enjoy going through my stuff. There is one post I want to put on the masterlist that I literally can't find at all. But nonetheless, this is all of my work so far. I will continue adding works on here as I post more often. It's about time. I want to expand the things I write, but for now, it's just this.

[mubabee]

gonna be uploading some yandere platonic spiderverse art soon😈 (edit: it was a lie oops)

here’s a lil preview(I love hobie and pav, they have so much personality in their suit)

[pianocat939]

I cried my eyes out so hard like an hour ago but hey- I got brainrot during that process (I’m fine- I’m worrying so hard and idk why)

Miguel vs Hobie for MC’s attention-

Tw: house-arrest(?), Miguel showing that controlling behaviour

Now I’m gonna write this in a way so it can be taken in whatever way you choose-

To make things easier, let’s say you’re another spider. Just a spider chilling and doing the everyday things as a Spiderman alternate. But one day, something fucked up happens in your dimension (bcs of Spot) and you have to ask Miguel for help since you’re clueless.

Well, Miguel takes this as the chance to finally keep you from going back once and for all. Miguel does “help” you, but for a price you were never told about. After the dilemma in your dimension was cleaned up, Miguel ordered you that you can’t leave the spider-quarters until they get rid of Spot’s havoc.

Since then, you’ve been watching all the other spiders go back to their universe, but you’re stuck in Miguel’s, wondering when Spot will fade away.

Well, surprise, surprise, Hobie shows up and asks if you want to leave with him, so that you can go back to your universe.

You hesitate, since you know Miguel’s rage is no joke, but the want to go home is far stronger so you agree.

Hobie does take you back to your universe. Meanwhile, you’re constantly anxious that Miguel will come get you any second but Hobie reassures you’re fine.

Hobie leaves to go do some fun back at spider-quarters. Well, as soon as he does, he sees Miguel absolutely livid.

(I’ll end it here for now- sorry if there’s any mistakes, I’m writing on my phone)

[yandere-kokeshi]

— Phone addiction

Pairing: yandere hobie x female reader

Warnings: yandere behavior, sending nudes, phone sex, masturbation, sex toys, DOM! Hobie, and that's it. Lmk if I missed any.

NOT CHECKED FOR MISTAKES.

You've long since learned you're a phone addict. Even Hobie said so.

Usually, it's not a problem. But, sometimes it can be — especially now when it's 2am, on a Thursday night, away from your boyfriend due to a mission.

It's not that Hobie doesn't want to be around you. He does. He's just currently busy with Miguel - when he's here, he likes to cuddle against you, wrap his arms around you as the tips of his fingers trace shapes and words into your delicate skin like ink in tattoos.

Though, you couldn't help be on your phone. It helped distracted you. Especially with the throb between your legs. A sign of you missing him.

You were about to head off for the night, already plugging in your phone when you received a message from him.

Hobie: U up, dollface?

You eagerly replied, to which, he sent a innocent smile face before two images were attached to the message. At first, your finger hovered over the blurred images; wondering if it was cliché photos of him doing trouble at the office.

But when you clicked it, the surprise of his cock glistening in the bathroom dimmed lightning — outlining his precum and underlining veins, you couldn't help but let out a whimper.

The second photo was almost the same, but the image was slightly more blurred; his smirk and attractive wink gave you goosebumps down to your very core.

Before you could double tap to zoom in, a small buzz came through again. But instead of a photo, it was a video — 30 seconds long.

Gulping, you couldn't help but press it; watching how the video started out very blurry, his groans echoing through the quartz tiles in the semi-small bathroom before showing his face; his lip piercing shining in the light.

Before you know it, his luscious cock is back in view, his Jacob ladder being highlighted. His phone was set up behind the wall of sorts as his fingers grazed over his tip, smearing the precum — his eyes making direct eye contact with the screen before his hand starts to move up and down at a slow, teasing pace.

“Need ya' so much. God, it's hell away from you. Imagine how full you'd be if I was there.”

Your eyes were wide. Mouth going dry as you felt your throb become more unbearable. You were only 12 seconds in and you couldn't breathe.

Suddenly, at the top of your screen, your phone began to ring as Hobie's name began to ring; the familiar tune of his ringtone barely being able to play as you clicked the green button.

“hello?” you breathed into the phone, fumbling with the hem of your underwear as you wait for his voice.

“Eager, are we?”

Your eyes closed.

He chuckles at your silence. “Did ya' like it?” His voice drops at the question.

“Did I like it? Oh...” you take a short breath. “You knew exactly what you were doin', huh?”

While saying that, you let your fingers travel down — cupping your breasts in your hands, tugging at your harden nipples before sliding your fingers inside the hem of your panties, circling your clit enough to bite your lip. It hadn't been as second before you'd slip a finger inside you, not enough friction that Hobie's fingers would do.

“You' playin' with yourself, ain't' ya?”

You smiled. He could feel it if he wanted too.

“Maybe I am,” you admit. Your face feels like it's on fire and you move the phone a bit– you pull your finger halfway out of you before diving back in, the wet sounds being obvious even through the phone. Hobie makes a groan, a whistle through his teeth – but he manages to keep his tone teasing as he says:

“Is that what I think?” he clicks his tongue, almost in a mockingly disappointment way, “Ya' so naughty, luv'”

“What are you doing now?” you ask, and he laughs. You hear the noise of something slick and wet. The image of him pumping his erect cock flew into your brain — making you swallow the obvious moan trapped in your throat. You miss his piercings.

“I think you can guess, doll. You're smart enough, ain't ya'?” he ends with a light laugh.

“D'you miss me that much?” you ask, sliding a second finger inside yourself, relishing the feel of the slick stretch and your tight walls.

“More words than I can say,” he breathes. “I'd fuckin' kill to have ya' right now. My hands don't feel the same as yours.”

“My fingers certainly don't reach as far as yours,” you admit, breathlessly. By the fact you're so aroused, you know he must be able to hear your fingers sliding out of you.

“Get yur' toy,” he demands. His voice dropped a semitone; low, and commanding. Usually, he's fine with whatever. But, as of right now, you can tell he misses you. So dearly.

Especially since he loved being in control at the moment. “Ya' know, the big pink one? The one I made for your—”

You let out a small squeal, pulling your fingers out with a slick pop!

You fumbled out of bed, getting on your knees, and opened your bottom drawer as quickly as possible — eyeing all the big collection of sex toys you've collected all the months together. But, you grabbed the one he so liked, especially the one he specifically built from scratch; the one he could control from his phone.

“I've got it,” you breathed. You got back into a comfy place on your bed, sliding your underwear and shirt off before hearing Hobie make a pleased hum in the back of his throat.

“Get it all nice and wet like a good girl,” he comments. Even though he can't see you, the squirts of your spit turned him on even more — imagining the way you're opening your mouth, gently licking it as if it's his own cock.

You make a conscious effort not to quiet your noises but instead make it extra sloppy; make sure he misses you deeply.

It's a messy blow job, that's for sure, but all Hobie has is the audio of the phone call and his imagination of you drooling around the toy are much sexier than him fucking you in alleyway.

Judging from Hobie's reaction — the groaning on the other end, the ragged sighs, and curses slightly cut out — your efforts are not in vain.

“Good job, princess,” he says as if he can see you when you manage to deep-throat the whole thing. “Think it's wet enough, tell me how you're f-eeling, hm?”

His light stuttering is endearing. You can imagine how he looks: him stroking his cock, balancing his weight as his thumb glides over his slit, swirling his pre-cum over his tip.

“I'm so wet-” you whimper through the phone, “I'm gonna die if I don't get this toy inside of me soon—”

“fuck,” he interrupts. “Wish it was me, doll.”

“Me too,” you admit as well. “But, this toy will do; especially since you're the one controlling it—”

“—I'll fuck ya' till you can't walk when I'm back home, gorgeous. I promise.”

There's a steely undercurrent to Hobie's words that do not leave you doubting at any second. “—bring the toy to my cunt.”

You follow his instructions, suddenly feeling it start to vibrate at its first setting — making you shiver at the sensations of the wet tip as it leaves a trail of your own saliva.

“Touch ya' tits, if I was there - I'd kiss and bite them until they're aching and sore. Give em' a pinch, dollface—”

The hand that's not currently holding the toy placed your phone on the bed, making sure it's on speakerphone before listening to his instructions — the sound of his low voice giving you orders and commands seems to intensify the ache of threshold as you pinch your nipples, almost as hard as they hurt. As you squeeze the fat and heavy weight of your breasts, you wish it was his; his fingertips and big fingers teasing you, his tongue going over your areolas, the feeling of his tongue piercing has you rolling your eyes.

His hands are naturally rough, always sliding down to the underside of your breast before gripping your tits like instruments – you whisper aloud as you skim your sensitive skin, your nipples already sore points as Hobie says;

“The toy, sweetheart. Rub it through my cunt for me, need to hear how wet ya' are.”

It does, indeed, make an indecent noise as the dildo parts your slick folds. You're drenched.

“Shit‐” he groans. “You're dripping, ain't ya?”

You mhmed to his comment, before moaning out; choking out as the smooth head vibrates over your swollen clit. Fuck, you wanted it inside you so bad. He hasn't told you to put it in — you listen, obediently.

“Wish you were here, Hobie—”

“—Me too.” He reassures you. “Need ya' hands on me, need your pretty pussy. Need you to squeeze around me and let me fuck you till oblivion.” as he speaks, you can hear a growl erupting from his throat – you imagine his hand getting faster on his cock.

Your thighs started trembling. Your wetness dribbling down the mess of your thighs.

“Hobie—” You whine, again, his words not helping the aching flame in your lower stomach and need for release. “Need the cock inside me, need it—”

“Shhh,” he breathes, “Put it in. Imagine it's me filling your pretty pussy up.”

All you can do is muster a whine and a nod you know he'll never see. You almost feel too greedy about pressing it in all one swoop — but you obey. Like a good girl. You feel the wider flare of the head open you up, easing it in while enjoying the lust filled burning.

It feels better than your fingers — it hits you deeper, wider, fuller. The muscles of your thighs contract as your put your feet on the bed, keeping your legs parted but enough too close for closure on comfort.

“is it in?” he asks before you whimper and mumble a small yes. “How does it feel?”

“Not as g-ood as y-you.”

You win a chuckle before he earns a yelp from you — the vibrations curling up to the third level.

“Oh, I know. But it's the best thing we have, yes? You full? It good? You're winning the battle of making one of us cum first.”

You moaned out, your head tilting back a bit before cursing out.

“you'll make it up for me. I know you will. Like a good girl. Why don't you fuck yourself on it? I wanna hear you come, doll. I know you can.”

You don't need to be told twice. You pull the toy out, biting your lip as you immediately thrust it back in, establishing a rhythm that goes along with its speed. Hobie, on the other side, takes his time. He teases you – stopping the speed, then climbing it back up before turning it off together. Making you fuck yourself with it. He has you at his mercy, making you beg him for it to be faster and faster — until tears come down.

You let out noises of you fucking yourself on the fake cock echo throughout the empty-ish room. The curved spot of the dildo hits you just right with every desperate flex and thrust of your wrists.

Though, Hobie heard you gasping, moaning out his name — and in return, you heard him along. You hear his hands on his shaft, whispering your name in turn, along with filthy things about how tight you always are for him and how you're the best, his good girl, and how he's gonna fuck you into next week when he sees you. He needs your cunt around his cock right fuckin' now.

You couldn't control yourself. The hand that wasn't controlling the toy went down to the puffy lips of your sex, playing with your clit as you fuck yourself with the dildo.

Circling the bundle of nerves, beginning to rub in earnest, needing direct stimulation. The pad of your finger wasn't rough enough. Wasn't large or calloused like Hobie's. But in tandem with the shaft of buildup plunging inside of your walls, you couldn't help but moan out loud.

“Hobie!” You pant, turning your head so that your cheek is pressed against the pillow. “M' close! I'm so close—”

“fuck,” he cursed, making you hear the slick noises get faster, almost impossibly so. “Shit, fuck. I want you to cum for me, luv'. Lemme hear yur' pretty voice.”

Your eyes fluttered closed, moaning more as the toy got faster, its speed turning its 5th gear; your all-time favorite.

A vision of Hobie flashes into your mind: his dark, clouded hair slightly slicked back with sweat, his shoulders tensed and so broad, his eyes glittering so dangerously as his teeth dig into his plump bottom lip. You recall the sound of his deep voice telling you to cum.

The twirling tornado of the heat inside you seems to all converge on a single point between your thighs. The ache in both of your wrists seems to dissipate entirely as the point explodes into a thousand pieces; a tsunami swallowing you whole as it crashes a peaceful shore.

You wail out Hobie's name, cresting the giant wave of pleasure as he grunts out your own; his white essence landing all over his stomach and the wall in front of him.

You lay there with the toy still buried in, now at its lowest setting – still going inside at your already-sensitive walls; making you ride out all the trembling aftershocks. Your leg seizes up but quickly drops to the mattress.

Breathing was hard. The aftershocks of pleasure were making you all double-vision. You're simply laying there, a boneless, useless mess who couldn't catch a break.

Hobie's breathing is stuttered, and you can't help but feel thrills going through at the knowledge that you always get to be the one with Hobie's cool composure. Your fingers ache, a good ache beneath the sheets.

“Still with me, baby?” Hobie's voice comes after the two of you spend a few minutes simply breathing deep and satisfying noises with each other. “I'll be home as soon as I can. Can't wait to see ya'”

“Me too,” you murmur, barely able to finish the sentence without huffing in defeat. Though, a smile on your face creeps on your face – leaking through the phone.

“Send me a picture, luv. Get yur' beauty sleep, see you tomorrow.”

—

My Masterlist :)

© yandere-kokeshi 2023 — Do not copy, modify, edit, repost, or use my works for ASMR readings, tiktoks, or other content.

[angelyuji]

yandere headcanons :0

across the spiderverse characters: peter b parker, miles, gwen, miguel, hobie, pavitr

warnings: the usual yandere stuff (kidnapping, manipulation, stalking)

(imagine miles, gwen, pavitr like college age) (gender neutral reader)

peter b

literally so in love with you

he’s not the type to sit and stalk you from a far, but he’s also not straight up kidnapping you

he’ll watch you, find out your interests, find your social media, everything he needs to figure out how to be your perfect lover <3

he becomes your friend and integrates himself into your life

if you like him, he has no reason to separate you from your family or friends becuz he’s the perfect boyfriend. no one has anything negative to say abt him

if you don’t… he’ll do anything to make you like him.

convince you your whole family is evil and he’s the only one really looking out for you

he’s awkward and sweet and kind and so funny and it’s hard not to believe him

wants the American dream life: white picket fence, house in the suburbs, marriage, kids

that’s his dream for the both of you and he doesn’t really care if you don’t have the same dream

“you’re my dream, (y/n). everything i do, it’s always been for you.”

miles (aged up!)

miles is similar to peter b but like also not

very stalker but like without knowing, he’d pass your place over and over during his patrols around the city without realizing

he’d never kidnap you or do anything reallyyy morally wrong

howeverrr he’s absolutely in love with you, so like small little things

stalking, stealing small things from you, finding out the shampoos or different things you use or eat.

he feels closer to you, knowing he knows you better than anyone else.

after a long time, he’ll work up the courage to talk to you (“accidently” bumping into you at a coffee shop or a place you visit frequently) miles (albeit awkward) is a charmer, so you’re instantly smitten.

plus! he loves all the things you do, so you’re a match made in heaven :)

“hey, (y/n)! we meet again!”

gwen (aged up!)

gwen doesn’t try to interact with you much

she’s definitely afraid of putting you in danger or losing you just because you got close

she’ll watch over you and protect you from danger tbh like

for example, sayyy someone was harassing you at work and/or school, you’d probably successfully get that off your ass or at least they leave you alone for the day, butttt gwen would not feel satisfied.

gwen would find where they live and absolutely beat the living shit out of them

seeing someone bother you makes her vision go red like

basically your guardian angel

she would never bother you really just protecting you from afar

you’ll never notice tbh

unless some big bad guy found out that ghost-spider has been following around a random civilian…

well then, she’ll have to keep you safe

she’ll keep you safe in her apartment, whether you want to be there or not.

“every single thing i do, i do it to keep you safe.”

miguel (won’t be writing in spanish cause i don’t know spanish srry guys) (but he def calls you cute nicknames in spanish)

HEHHEHEHEE (my bad im just literally in love)

gwen but like 10000000 times more intense

the moment he lays eyes on you, babes you’re FUCKED

he’s snatching you up

however! the first thing he’ll check is if you’re super important to the “safety” of the timeline

no offense but ur not at all important saurrr FREE GAMEE

he’s definitely kidnapping you and keeping you hostage at HQ

he doesn’t bother with the whole stalking thing or becoming friends or anything like that

he doesn’t care if you don’t want to come with him, your opinions do not matter to him at all

he believes that he’s your protector, that everything that he’s doing is for your own good

you don’t know what’s best for yourself, only miguel knows what’s best for you (at least that’s what he thinks)

his only goal is to keep you with him, he wants a family and he believes that with you… he can achieve his dreams

if you’re a part of the Spider Society, Miguel can’t really do anything to you without other people noticing or disrupting the timeline

but yk… it’s better to be a rando from whatever universe to have miguel’s attention (but that’s just my opinion i suppose)

“you are mine. you will never leave me.”

hobie (will not be writing his british accent sorry im bad at accents)

i love him he’s so funny

you’ve been friends for a long time, he was in a band with you before he quit

he doesn’t really stay in one place for long

he’s a lot like a mix of gwen and miles

he believes keeping you safe is by staying close to you, but he also watches over you when you’re alone

he falls for you because of how positive you are, you never talk badly about anyone, but you’re always down to do anything.

you always join him for every protest, at his every show

he flirts with you constantly, loving how you blush away at the attention

constantly giving you attention and love, but a little manipulative about it at the same time

he never wants to kidnap you or keep you hostage, it’s against everything he stands for

he knows that if you didn’t like him, you’d never be by his side

so he believes that keeping you free is what keeps you near him

“we’re free birds, (y/n). with you by my side, we’re unstoppable.”

pavitr (aged up!) (this is gonna be very non-yandere tbh) (ILOVEHIM)

my little cutie pie i love him

i can’t really imagine being a yandere type character but he would be similar in miles and hobie

no kidnapping or stealing tho

slight stalking, just watching over you all the time, making sure you’re safe

he’s my little cutie pie moroenfakds

he’s flirty and funny

you’d be classmates when you meet him

you’d click very quickly tbh he’s just so easy to get along with

he’s absolutely terrified of your parents, very respectful tho so your parents love him

very passionate about how much he likes you, would quite literally shout it from the rooftops (and he does every day)

ugh i love him

"you're my world, (y/n). i love you so much."

[bella-goths-wife]

Thawing the ice

Platonic yandere miles x reader

Miles was scared of you.

He felt silly admitting that, but he was scared of you.

But in all fairness, you were scary. You constantly held a fierce glare towards anyone who approached you, and for a someone with no powers you were surprisingly strong when it came to shoving people or fighting people to stay away from you. He learnt that the hard day the first day you met when he was ordered to catch you.

So imagine his shock when he finds you, the person who intimidates him the most only coming second to Miguel, sitting on the kitchen counter in an oversized pink shirt, that he recognised as Gwens, eating a smiley face pancake in the spiderverse kitchen in the communal home.

He just stared at you from the entrance as he watched this scary figure commit such a wholesome act. He even saw a small smile playing on your lips as you finished your pancake, that was until Miles shoes squeaked on the floor and you head shot upwards.

Your lips retook their usual frown as your eyes narrowed into the usual glare that felt more terrifying as it was now aimed directly at him. You hopped down from the kitchen counter and hid your plate behind you but miles had already seen enough.

“Heyy you…. I… um…” miles muttered out as he felt sweat dripping from his forehead “didn’t know you….. came around here?…”

Your glare intensified as miles scratched the back of his head nervously while urging himself to try and walk away

“I promise I tell anyone I saw this” miles rushed out as his hands put themselves up in mock surrender “I’ll leave and pretend this never happened”

Miles backed away slowly like you were a wild animal that could attack at any moment. He wanted to back out of the room but was interrupted as his stomach rumbled embarrassingly loud.

He was quick to cover his stomach with his arms and jump at the sound as if it didn’t come from him. You eyed him curiously before letting out a sigh

“Sit down” you said while motioning to the chair next to the kitchen table.

“Oh I’m fine.. you really don’t have to-” he tried to speak but you cut him off

“I said sit down” you commanded with a glare

“Yes ma’am” miles said nervously as he rushed to pull the chair out and sat down

There’s an awkward silence afterwards as you take the remaining pancake batter and you put it into the pan. It sizzles loudly but the awkward tension seems to be the only thing miles could hear.

“Sooo…” miles started as he watched you make the pancake “how are you enjoying your stay in the spiderverse?”

“How would you like a stay where your trapped and the only way you can see your loved ones is by watching them through a camera?” You scoff out and miles winces, he knows your anger isn’t directed at him but it still felt strangely like a scolding

“Not great?” He replies nervously but it comes out as more of a question

“Yep” you say with a sigh as you flip the pancake “not great”

The silence returns as you work on the pancake. You glance between your moving hands and miles who just stares at the wall to the side of him, inwardly scolding himself for his stupid question.

“I heard you went a mission with Hobie” you say, breaking the awkward silence “how did it go?”

“Oh it went good” miles replied as some relief enters his tone that you were talking to him “hobies super helpful, he even taught me a new swinging technique”

“Glad to know he’s helpful to other people” you say sarcastically as you pull out a plate and delicately transport the pancake onto it.

“Haha yeah” miles laughs nervously as he stretches the back of his head “how did you know about the mission?”

“Hobie told me” you scoff out slightly at the memory “he comes to me after every mission to annoy me with the details”

Miles just nods as he digests the information. Hobie hangs out with you? It would make sense since Hobie is super cool and your terrifying so that makes you slightly cool. You didn’t seem to enjoy his company though…

You placed the plate in front of miles as you sit in the chair opposite him. Miles looks down to find a smiley face made with chocolate chips on his pancakes. He goes to question you but he sees you look away and he can see the tiniest bit of blush on your cheeks, best to leave it for now

Miles tucks in as his stomach growls in hunger. He barely comes up for air as he cuts the pancake up and shoves it into his mouth. You look at his chocolate chip and pancake covered face with slight disgust.

“Damn boy, doesn’t your mama feed you?” You question in bewilderment, miles goes to answer but you snap at him before he can “swallow before you answer, Jesus”

Miles nods in embarrassment as he chokes down his food and wipes his face with a napkin before turning to you again

“She does” he says defensively before going nervous again “it’s just Miguel’s got me on so many missions that I don’t really have time to eat”

“Well that’s fucking stupid” you remark with a scoff

“I know, I try to eat but sometimes-“ miles tries to explain but you cut him off again

“No not you” you dismiss with a wave of your hand “Miguel, he shouldn’t be pushing you to go on so many missions. Your a kid and you need time to eat and have a break”

“Yeah I guess” miles mumbles out before forcing a chuckles “he’s the boss though, right?”

“I’ll talk to him” you state as you take the empty plate from miles and you place it in the sink before handing him a glass of water

“He really doesn’t like people telling him what to do” miles says hurriedly in an attempt to dissuade you

“He already hates me” you state with an eye roll as you begin to clean the plates you used “me yelling some sense into him won’t change anything”

Miles felt warmth blossom in his chest that he recognised as admiration and gratitude. Not even his closest friends would stand up to Miguel for him, well excluding Hobie but that was more to piss Miguel off than to defend miles, but you would.

He looks at you as he realises how much he misjudged you. You weren’t terrifying or mean, you were secretly nice. You were just someone who was angry at their situation.

“Thanks” miles says as he shoots you a grin as he feels that your icy walls have began to thaw, only slightly but it was happening “that would be really nice of you”

“No problem” you sigh out as you dry your hand with a tea towel, you walk to him slightly and you awkwardly pat his shoulder in what was meant to be a reassuring gesture but the grimace on your face was the opposite of reassuring “your a good kid”

Miles was only a few years younger than you and usually he would feel offence at the title, but when you said it a small bit of joy sparked in his chest.

“Thank you for the pancakes” miles says gratefully as he shoots you a grin

“No problem” you say with your back turned to him

Miles said goodbye and went to leave but was stopped by your voice calling to him

“Oh and miles?” You called out and miles stopped an turned to you

“Yes” he says back as he gives you his full attention again

“Tell anyone about this and Miguel will be the least of your problems” you threaten as you turn your head to glare at him from over your shoulder

“Yes ma’am” miles gulped as he practically ran out the room “never happened”

Okay, maybe you were still terrifying. But now miles knows that your cool enough to be terrifying for it to not matter anymore.

Miles walked out of that kitchen with the growing feeling of adoration blooming in his chest. He couldn’t wait to hang out with you again!

Hope you enjoyed

Requests are completely open so feel free to request anything

Love ya ❤️

[dilfartist]

Model 2099

Pairing; Yandere Android Miguel O’hara x reader

Synopsis; You always thought of your android Miguel as a loveable companion. Little did you know he had an unhealthy obsession with you. And it even went as far as hurting someone who hurt you.

Word count; 3.3k

Tw; yandere theme, dark themes, dead dove don’t eat (maybe).

Reader description; Female/GN

Your skin felt frigid. Your fingertips, ears, and nose all numb despite your body being clad head to toe in warm apparel.

In Nueva York, the snow descended in great, unforeseen amounts. On the first day of the predicted cold weather, the snow reached from the street to the concrete. It was narrow enough for a child to build a snowman. However the next day, the snow reached higher, enough to cover the doorsteps of some apartments on your block and blanket the roads in ice.

Now your street felt lifeless. The only cars seen were the ones parked on the sidewalks. None of your neighbors left the warmth of their homes.

You dig your left boot into the hill of rampant snow, then bring the right one to propel yourself further. Unlucky you, having to fight your way home through the snow just because you needed a few necessities. The weather forecast predicted the snow would last for at least two days, so you went out to retrieve toilet paper, soup cans, microwaveable dinners, and a flashlight in case of power outs.

Grasping the handle of the front door, you pressed it forward, enough for you to enter. Swiftly, you shut the door behind you to sponge in the warmth coming from the heater. Once your numb fingers began to absorb the heat, you peeled off your gloves - well these gloves weren't yours; they belonged to a co-worker nice enough to lend them to you- and threw them inside your purse. You let out a pleased sigh. The house had a tidied aroma, smelling like someone had used enough bleach for it to still be identified hours later despite drying. Still, the apple cider fragrance spray claimed the house, if only slightly. Disrobing yourself off your coat, you call out to your Android. "Miguel! I'm home!"

Usually, your android - Miguel O’Hara, model 2099- waited beside the door to greet you after a hard day's work. Helping you disrobe your jacket and asking you about your day. And even when slightly off-timing, he'd let you know of his presence with a "welcome back!" from wherever he was in the moment. Oddly enough, there was no reply. You look up, puzzled by the lack of response. "Miguel?!" You call out, voice more audible for the other side of the house this time. Again, no reply.

You don't think much of his absence, presuming he had forgotten to grab an ingredient for tonight's dinner and would be back home in no time. Sometimes he'd be so focused on one task that the other errands would be forgotten. Miguel could handle himself.

The majority of lights in the house were turned off; furthering your conclusion about your Android’s whereabouts. You stepped into your kitchen, examining the room. Aside from the pots on the stove, nothing had changed in the kitchen. The kitchen was spick and span, per usual. You'd remember to thank him when you saw him.

Approaching the stove, you took note of the two pots simmering on the stovetop. One sat on the front burner, the other on the back burner. You lifted the lid, allowing the steam to escape. Your stomach rumbles, craving the smell. I groan, feeling impatient, placing the lid back on the pot.

The aroma of dinner leaked out of the slightly ajar pot, alluring you closer for a taste. You entered the kitchen, following the scent of the meal simmering on the stove.

Raising the lid off the pot, you dip the ladle into the soup, scooping as much as you can. You took a small sip, savoring the creamy-rich taste. The taste is addicting and you can’t get enough. You dip the ladle in once again, drinking the soup until the ladle is empty. Then again you repeated the action.

“Don't worry, dinner will be ready in just a minute.” The abrupt sound of a person’s voice states. You flinch in surprise, A hand is placed on your chest, dropping the ladle, and your heart thumps quicker than before. “Miguel!” You gasp, “You scared me.” You whirl around to meet his eyes.

Miguel gives a small apologetic smile, setting the basket of clothes he was carrying onto the table. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” Miguel says softly, accent getting heavier at the end. “Didn't hear you come in.”

“No, it’s fine.” You reassured. “Thank you for cleaning.”

Even if Miguel was programmed to clean, you always felt the need to thank him for his labor. No matter the times he reminded you that he was a machine designed for that very chore.

“I should also apologize for not greeting you at the door; My clothes were in the dryer.”

“It's fine, Miguel, really. You don't have to greet me at the door every day.”

Once again, Miguel provides you with a small smile; however, his smile does not reach his eyes. If the guilty smile Miguel sported wasn't enough evidence of his guilt, the flashing red LED on Miguel's right temple certainly accomplished the job.

The LED’s scarlet color quickly transitioned into a light blue color, indicating Miguel had gotten over his negative feelings.

It was terrifying knowing the sole dissimilarity between the two of you was the LED. Without the LED, you wouldn't have thought Miguel to be an Android. Knowing the sole difference between the two of you was the LED was in a way terrifying. Without the LED installed in the right temple of Androids, no one would be able to tell who was a robot and who wasn't.

Dragging the box cutter down swiftly, the tape splits open. You take a step back examining the package. The package is light brown, standing up vertically against the wall. “What the hell is this thing?” you ask, amused. A good friend of yours shipped you a gift out of the blue, so you called her up to catch your reaction.

“Open it and see,” she replies sarcastically.

You roll your eyes and spread the folds of the box open. Package peanuts spill all over the floor, and you grumble at the mess that piles on the floor. “Goddamn it,” you’re just about to complain some more when you catch something out of the corner of your eye. You freeze in place, you raise your head in an unhurried motion, the dread in your abdomen expanding.

You holler with fright, falling on your ass. “Did you send me a dead body?!” you exclaim into the speaker of your phone.

Your friend on the other side of the line enjoys your reaction, laughing so hard she begins to have a coughing fit. “Oh my god,” she hums in satisfaction, “you’re too funny, (Name).” After a while she settles down, no longer laughing but her tone still caries the puerile amusement she once had a moment ago, “It’s not a dead body. It's an Android.”

You were familiar with the concept of an android. Androids have been ubiquitous since their first release, and you’ve encountered many, but the majority of the time they were owned by establishments due to their overwhelming expense. Which is why the thought of you owning an Android was mind-boggling.

You stutter out a response, not sure how to approach the profound surprise, “You- I- why did you give it to me? Not that I’m complaining. It's just- this had to be about 8,000 dollars!” Then it hits you; you and she are in the same boat when it comes to funds, “Wait- how the hell did get this?!” you rub your temple, examining the face of the bot through the blurred glass that contains it.

She responds nonchalantly, “Aaron is wealthy remember? He bought me it.”

Aaron was her new boyfriend, he came from a wealthy background and she took advantage of that fact every moment she could. And he didn't seem to mind. Buying this bot would be like buying a box of cereal for him; not something to think twice and a regular ordeal.

You lift a brow, perplexed by the fact she gave you such an expensive gift. Not that you were complaining, of course, just simply curious “And you gave it to me? Why?” you question.

“He got jealous because the Android is literally breathtaking and I just couldn't keep my eyes off him. So being how he always is, he requested for me to throw it out. I mean his voice, Jesus,” she suppresses a squeal, “and not only that, he’s 6’9 and muscular!” she continues to gush about him, you unconsciously tune her out, your focus too busy on analyzing his blurred features.

You hum in acknowledgment. “Well, let me take it out, I’ll have to research it. Thanks for the gift, I'll talk to you later. Bye.”

You take a seat at the dining table. Miguel saunters to the stove, opens the lid, and takes a portion of the soup out to pour into a porcelain bowl. You cock your head to the side, curious to know the reason two respective pots were brewing their own soups. “What’s the other pot have in it?” you question.

Miguel glances at you for a moment then continues to prepare your bowl. “Mrs. Peterson is sick,” he carries the bowl over and sets it gently in front of you. “She asked me to prepare her some soup. I offered her the soup I made for tonight’s dinner, but you know how she can be.”

Mrs. Peterson lived next door, and she adored Miguel. She was sixty-three years old, childless, and had no family members in general. She always required his assistance and Miguel always obliged.

A frown tugs at the corners of your lips, concern morphing your face. “She’s sick? That's too bad. That’s sweet of you to help her.”

Mindlessly, you use your soup spoon to stir the steaming liquid in the bowl. Anxious of the answer he’ll reply to you with, you take a breath of courage. “Did David come by today?” you question, voice low and meek

Miguel is quiet for a beat until he decides to speak up. “No, and if he did, I’d deal with him,” he states carefully, touching on the subject to convey his understanding. “You haven't called him, have you?” his tone is identical to a nagging best friend who is tired of seeing you whine over a boy.

“No.” you shake your head, eyes shifting to meet his, “no,” you say once again to reassure him. Miguel appears satisfied with the answer he received, “Good. Don't go contacting him after what he did to you.” you let out an exasperated exhale. Leaning back in your chair, setting down the soup spoon in your hand, “I- Miguel, I think I might have deserved it.”

Miguel snaps his head in your direction, wearing a stern mug, “He had no right to put his hands on you, no matter the reason.” he chides. He leans his massive body against the counter, folding his arms, fully engaged in the conversation.

“I brought up his ex!” you argue on his behalf. Why? You’re unsure.

“Oh, so he should act the same way she did, to you?” Miguel is a tad bit galled, being sardonic with his retorts. Now he’s fully engrossed in the discussion, leaning his massive body against the counter, giving you his undivided attention. “Slapping you so hard you hit the wall.”

It hurts how factual his words are. It’s enough for you to look down in chagrin, a lump forming in your throat making it hard to swallow. Let anyone else be in your situation, you’d chastise them for such a weak mindset. Make sure they knew there was no good reason to blame themselves for someone else's wrongdoing. But being that person who feels empathy for the person who hurt you, feels so much more embarrassing than having a friend be that person.

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” you say lowly, speaking any louder would make you cry.

“It’s fine, (Name).” Miguel consoles, moving from the counter to rub a comforting hand on your back. You sigh, feeling soothed by the little gesture. Miguel leans down, tilting his body slightly to face-to-face with you. Miguel looks at you with such tenderness a shover travels down your spine. “He won’t hurt you again, I’ll make sure of it” His expression as a whole is soft and full of fondness, though his red eyes pierce your soul.

“Miguel bot 2099,” you mutter the title of the YouTube video on your TV screen. You click play and the video loads for a second before finally playing.

A woman appears in a pitch-black void background. Her whole body is a golden color and she sports an elegant white dress that fits her figure. “Hello, I am Lyla.” she greets sounding welcoming, “I am the mascot of the company LYLA. We are the ones responsible for Androids and Ai’s. You must have clicked on this video because you must have purchased a Miguel bot or you’re just curious.”

Lyla presents a Miguel bot that emerges on the screen out of nowhere. “Miguel O bot is one of LYLA’s number one selling Androids. And there’s a reason for that.”

“Miguel is used for three sole reasons.”

Three Miguels appear on the screen, all in diverse outfits. One is in a business suit, another in a red and blue apron covering a white t-shirt, and the last one is shirtless with leather pants.

Lyla puts her hand out, motioning to the first one in a suit. “Here we have Workbot Miguel. Miguel’s hardworking nature mends well with a work environment, which is why he is mainly purchased to be a working android. Miguel has a variety of skills that companies yearn for in employees. Barriestabot Miguel, Assistant Managerbot Miguel, Firefighterbot Miguel, and Nursebot Miguel are just a few Androids listed in this category of the bot.

Lyla moves on and the camera pans to the second Miguel clad in the apron and white shirt. “Household Miguel: with household Miguel, you’ll never have to worry your head about cleaning or cooking, that’s his job! He pays necessities and bills if you have no time. And he is great with children!”

She moves on for the last time. “And here we have the Miguel meant for adults eighteen and above. This is sexbot Miguel, mostly found in male strip clubs or can be purchased online. We assure you, that you’ll feel pleasure you’ve never felt before. He comes with a remote control, which switches from hardcore dominant to soft dominant to submissive. We’ve created his intimate parts to the point numerous test participants felt like it was the real deal, and probably even better. He’s crafted to seem real so he includes fluids. The fluids are not real, they are simply there for it to seem real or by the user's choice. The fluid can be bought in stores near you or online. There are fruit flavors as well as desserts.”

The Miguel Androids disappear and Lyla is left by herself. “If any malfunctions occur with the bots, we have programmed the Miguel to have a Lyla AI to sit on his shoulder and help the user repair the issue. Lyla’s are never the same. They don’t appear like I do. Lyla’s come in all shapes, sizes, and ethnicities.”

Lyla gives a smile, a smile that you can’t help but feel uncomfortable by. It’s like she's staring right at you. In you.

“We hope you enjoy your Android. Your friends at LYLA.” the video concludes.

You sit there mentally processing the information for a minute, rubbing your chin. Your gaze moves to the Android, now propped up on the wall, and outside it’s containment. Miguel is definitely tall and extremely muscular as he was claimed to be. You can see why Aaron demanded she throw him out; he couldn't compete with him in the slightest.

Miguel had tanned skin, dark brown hair pushed back, two thick bushy eyebrows, and old wrinkles. Why did they choose to make him aged? They never explain. Maybe it’s to target families and people with daddy issues, you think. You walk over, looking up at his face. His eyes are shut.

“Didn't explain how to turn you on,” you grumble. Your hands explore the skin of his neck until your fingertips brush against a button on the back, you press down until a humming sound emits from the Android. You take two steps back and watch as the Android powers on. On his left temple appears a blue swirling light. His eyes flutter open.

...Are they red? That's...not right.

Your brows crease at the sight. You take out your phone, glancing at the original model once again. Yeah...Miguel should definitely have brown eyes. “What the hell..?” you whisper.

Putting your phone away to be polite to him, you greet him. He looks down at you, “Hello. My name is Miguel O’Hara.” he states casually.

His red eyes are piercing into you, but still, you find yourself bewitched.

“Thanks, Miggy,” you smile slightly at him, not yet recovering after the hard topic. Miguel was right, David’s vitriolic behavior towards you was inexcusable. Miguel would be there for you. He’s been your support more than your own boyfriend has been for months. Granted one is a robot, but sometimes you don’t even realize it with how human he acts.

A high-pitched beeping sound echoes from the left side of the house. “The washer is done. I put in another load when you came in. I’ll be back.” Miguel saunters off.

You stand up, walking over to the stove holding your empty bowl. You reach for the first pot but then decide against it. Mrs. Peterson wouldn’t die if you had one bowl of the soup. You reach over and open the second pot. You scoop as much soup as you can onto the ladle and pour it into the bowl. Once filled nearly to the brim, you place it down on the counter. You grab the lid, placing it back onto the pot.

You turn your attention back to the bowl.

“What the hell?” you mumble, squinting to guarantee yourself you weren’t crazy.

Poking out of the soup was something white. Nothing you could identify from just one look. You take your spoon and pick up the white thing with it.

It was...an eyeball! A human eyeball!

You scream in terror, dropping to the floor, your fall causing the entirety of the pot to plunge with you to the ground, reverberating a clank. You crawl away, from the dark liquid puddling the floor. More and more body parts are revealed; a big white toe, fingers of all sizes, another eyeball, and you can only assume the chunks of meat are the entire body. You shake like a leaf in the wind, looking around for something to do! What were you going to do now?!

Your panic is interrupted by a creak in the floorboards outside the kitchen. You snap your head in the detection of the sound to see Miguel standing in the doorway, taking up the whole door with his body. You cower in fear at his physiognomy. His expression is indistinct, bloodshot eyes watching you like a lion catching its prey attempting to sneak off. You stare at each other, both unmoving from your spots. You’re the first to speak, though if it weren’t for the pregnant silence and the motion of your lips, “I’m sorry,” your voice cracks, the lump in your throat making a comeback. “Please don't hurt me.” you whimper.

Miguel saunters towards you, you scoot back still on edge. Miguel knees down, taking your face into his hands. They feel warm. Why? He hushes your cries with such tender you nearly overlook the situation. “I had to,” he spoke up factually. “He came in here, threatening you for telling his mother about the fight. I couldn't let him hurt you again.”

You let out a muffled cry, looking into his crazed eyes bloodstained eyes. He presses a kiss to your forehead and whispers, “I made sure he’d never hurt you again.”

[mo0nfairy]

ᥫ᭡ . # ۫ , ⸺ THIS IS A LIFE, PART ONE !

summary :: in every universe, spiderman will inevitably lose the one thing that matters most to him: y/n l/n. miguel o'hara, peter parker, and hobie brown have all suffered through this story. they soon discover another version of you is alive, bound to fall in love with miles morales and to die abruptly. with the prospect of a second chance and a newfound obsession, these four men will do anything to keep you at their side.

chapters :: the masterlist.

word count :: 7.5k

content warnings :: yandere!miguel, yandere!miles, yandere!noir, yandere!hobie, reader death, gore/violence, murder, electrocution, fire, guns, alcohol, cigarettes, suicidal tendencies, kidnapping, stalking, physical restraint, child abuse/neglect, allusions to a child's death, physically abusive ex-boyfriend, infidelity, & torture.

──── October 17th, 2099 — Miguel O'Hara remembers the day the same way he will never forget you. August 24th, 1934 — Peter Parker remembers the day the same way he will never forget you. July 3rd, 2020 — Hobie Brown remembers the day the same way he will never forget you.

Y/N L/N. Miguel O'Hara, Peter Parker, and Hobie Brown will never forget them the same way they will never forget how it felt to lose them.

The inevitable fate of your demise is a cannon event for all spider-people. To love this person with every shred of their being only to live the rest of their lives without them; to love this person with all the might their body can contain only to let go of their hand in the end. It crushes their soul. Countless people are forced to live with the consequences of being bitten by a spider, not one had suspected it would be so detrimental.

Not when it is your life that has been taken.

Written in the stars is this destiny. How they will never love another again, but vow to be a hero and refrain a similar fate from falling onto anyone else. Many have been able to crawl out of the bottomless pit that is grief, but others have succumbed to the unforgiving anguish and let their life escape them. Just the way yours had. After all, what is life if you are not present? What is the point of living if there is no one there to patch up their scars and praise them for their heroic acts? There is no point, which leaves these three particular spider-people here. Their body is stuck in the past, reliving each moment with you up until they lost you forever.

October 17th, 2099. It was all his fault. Maybe if he hadn't let his violent tendencies toward anyone who isn't you slip through the seams, maybe if he had been more persistent in his reminders of how loved you are. Maybe if he had tried harder, Miguel O'Hara would still have you here at his side.

Miguel's attempts to make this sudden transition in your life as easy as possible turned out to be disastrous. He is not stupid; he knows this upbringing into this new lifestyle you claim to be "kidnapping" was blunt. He knew this, yet still, his plans on easing you through this change had collapsed right before him. Time had passed, and he naively assumed your fear had depleted, far too caught up in the sheer delight that came from holding you in his arms. Days and nights spent trailing his fingers down the expanse of your skin and kissing away the bruises his fangs had left upon your lips. This is a dream, Miguel always catches himself thinking.

And his sweet daughter, Gabriella. How she adored you so much. Even more so than her own father, he often joked. Coming home to find you both brushing the hair of her numerous dolls, baking treats that were rich with far too much sugar, or fast asleep on the couch while some whiny kids show plays on the television. His heart hammers like a fluttering hummingbird at the sight of you so soft and calm with his daughter. However, your guard then builds itself back up, brick-by-brick, faster than a gust of wind when he makes his presence known. In a way, Miguel found himself... jealous of Gabriella. That gentle and loving nature of yours, why couldn't he have it for himself? Why couldn't you give him some of that attention, even just a blink? What could that crybaby brat possibly have done to deserve such an amazing thing!?

No matter what kind of thoughts suffocate his mind, Miguel always tried to keep himself composed in front of you. With his tall, muscular physique, it makes sense why you are so intimidated by his appearance. If he were to ever let this satiating envy bleed through the bandaids, however, you'd certainly never open your heart to him. The prospect alone makes his chest tighten with dread.

And he had been so negligent towards his daughter, it only makes sense why she would turn to you. With how breathtaking, elegant, brilliant, electrifying you are, Miguel can understand why she loves you so much. Still, this does not refrain him from tightening his jaw whenever his daughter does something as trivial as hug you. That should be me with Y/N. Let me hold them, let me hold them, let me hold them like that.

It's his fault he had so frivolously expressed his envy through sharp gazes, a towering frame, and muffled shouts through the thin walls. It's his fault he never assured you these ugly emotions were never your fault, since you could never do any wrong in his eyes, after all. It's his fault he didn't drown you in even more heaps of affection, to further remind you of just how much he needs you.

It is his fault you are dead.

Overcome with drowsiness, Miguel heedlessly packs his daughters lunch for school that day. Despite how you are usually the one who does this task, since you have always adored looking after the little one, you needed your rest. And he was insistent on treating you with even more intensive care, all to prove that he is the right one for you. No one else. Meanwhile, Gabriella sits at the kitchen table with her backpack on, swinging her short legs back and forth. She is bright with full energy that contradicts her father's state in a comical manner.

"Y/N/N always cuts my food into cool shapes! Yesterday, they made my sandwich star-shaped!" Gabriella exclaims to her father with admiration.

The mere mention of your name from someone else makes Miguel freeze. A sudden surge of anger wraps around his lungs like a sheen layer of morning dew resting on Spring grass. You treat her with such attentive care, why can't he get any of that? What is so special about her that he doesn't have? What does he need to change about himself in order to get you to love him the way you so fatuously love her? Miguel casts his gaze across the counter and finds several bottles of cleaning products you must have forgotten to put away. So endearing, so adorable. An idea then sparks. While Gabriella continues to babble about how cool and amazing you are, Miguel finds himself considering something he will never be able to take back.

Just a dash of some drain cleaner in her sandwich and this problem will fade away.

"Y/N/N!" The sound of your nickname shouts through the air upon your arrival. Gabriella is more than elated to greet you, but your eyes remain locked on Miguel. In other circumstances, he'd be thanking the heavens above for this bit of attention you have given him. At this moment, however, there is a disturbed gleam of horror in your expression that makes his stomach twist with apprehension.

The energy is not directed towards Gabriella, as you caress her cheek and gift her that smile of yours that rivals sunlight. Miguel inadvertently rolls his eyes at the sight, envious as ever. As she continues to ramble to you about her success at a recent soccer game, you retrieve all the cleaning products and return them to their respective place underneath the sink. Not without shooting a burning glare at Miguel, however. Had he made his intentions that obvious? You wave him aside from his stance at the pink, glittery lunchbox and he obeys. Pretending to finish up his original efforts, you examine every snack inside for anything this crazed man may have tampered with.

"Good morning, button..." The nervous tremble in Miguel's voice doesn't tarnish the sheer adoration that seeps from his tone.

Your short response of "'morning" could barely be heard over the thunderous sound of his heart shattering. Yet again, you have broken his heart. And still, he will crawl back to you every time, aching for any inkling of your regard. Soon, you're saying your goodbyes to Gabriella and wishing her a wonderful day at school. Planting a quick peck to her cheek, Miguel's talons grow and dig crevices into the steering wheel while he waits for his daughter to join him in the vehicle. Oh, if only you could give him the same act of affection, he would never ask the universe for anything ever again.

And if only he had known how the rest of the morning would play out, he never would have left the house.

When Miguel finally pulls out of the driveway, giving you a quick wave that is not reciprocated, you let your guard down. You almost watched this man murder his daughter. Tears begin to form in your eyes as the revelation simmers like boiling water. With more time here, who knows what lengths he'll travel to?

Fortunately for you, with how occupied he was with his daughter and his own inner turmoil, he had entirely forgotten to lock the door to his office. The one place neither you nor his daughter were allowed to venture into. You were unaware of what is within the room or how anything inside could aid you in your attempts to escape. What you were aware of, however, is how paranoid he was in his efforts to keep you out of there. Peeling back the curtain and taking a fearful glance out the window, just to ensure this psychopath who claimed to be your soulmate wasn't lurking, you embark on your journey into uncharted territory.

Miguel had mentioned several times in his late-night talks with you about his job at Alchemax. His boring explanations about the technology he was working on there did wonders in lulling you to sleep. Now, seeing the scatterings of machinery that littered the room made you gasp from their futuristic appearance. One contraption had caught your attention, however. It seemed to be a current project, evident in the numerous tools and papers inked with equations littered around. Upon stepping closer to the contraption, a holographic screen sputters to life. You find several distorted, glitching files that all attain to you in some shape or form. Y/N's wish list, Y/N's checking account, and Y/N's security camera footage. Curiosity does spark, but with how swiftly Miguel is able to drop his daughter off and speed home to return to you, the time you had was not versatile.

If I can piece together how this gadget works, I may be able to call for help and get Gabriella and I as far away from this man as possible, you think to yourself.

The machine continues to stammer pathetically as if it were desperately chasing its own life. Trying to peruse through the technology to find anything useful, its poor performance prevented you from any fruition. In a fit of frustration, you pull your hand back and deliver a harsh smack! to the side of the machine. With how little time you have, you can feel your opportunity for freedom begin to fade away with every glitch that erupts. With one final, violent slam to the machinery, the metal borders protecting the numerous open wires inside fall, and a sudden wave of electricity surges through you. Your entire body goes rigid before you splat harshly against the ground. You are now left entirely lifeless, except for the electric shocks that cause your stiff form to twitch in response.

With that, your life was over. October 17th, 2099 — the day Miguel O'Hara inevitably lost the only thing that ever mattered to him.

August 24th, 1934. It was all his fault. Maybe if he had stayed with you more and neglected the city, maybe if he hadn't been so careless with expressing his love for you. Maybe if he had tried harder, Peter Parker would still have you here at his side.

Peter, too, attempted vigorously to make your transition to this new life with him as smooth as possible. At the very beginning of this new adjustment, hope had still plagued your mind. As days turned into weeks, soon months, the forest fire that was your persistence had slowly been snuffed out like an old candle. Now, all you can do is sit at the window seat of his apartment and just pray that someone will recognize your face. From the numerous missing persons' posters that were now left behind in dumpsters and rain puddles, you could feel your luck grow thin. Everyday looked like this, all with this lovesick maniac at your beck-and-call, deluded enough to believe this fantasy of being your doting partner to be reality. The amount of egg-creams you've drank is bound to make you vomit at some point.

At the end of the day, you had gotten what you had wished for. You were once a journalist, putting all your time into unmasking the famous Spiderman. The truth of his identity was now in the palm of your hands. However, there were far more consequences to this wish than you had originally anticipated. And Peter is overcome with guilt when he thinks back to how disastrous his efforts to give you his heart turned out.

It's his fault he had so carelessly exposed his acts of heroism through the stench of gunpowder and chunks of blood beneath his fingernails. It's his fault he didn't spend more time showering you in the affection you truly deserved. It's his fault he never assured you the inevitable fate of the bastards that hurt you was never your fault, just so you can realize that everything he does, no matter how calamitous, was all for your benefit.

It is his fault you are dead.

Slow dancing with you in the gentle haze of the moonlight peaking through the window, swaying along to some romantic melody echoing from the saloon across the street, amorous words that you'd hear from the lips of a poet whispered into your ear — this is where heaven is. This is all that he has ever dreamed of; this is all he has ever wanted for the two of you. This is what makes him happy.

"My heart is bleeding in your hands, dollface. It's all yours, I'm all yours." Peter's breath tickles your neck, the infatuation-stained harangue finally coming to an end as he continues to sway you along to the harmonies outside.

You often joke to yourself that you could stab Peter in the heart, give him even just a sliver of the turmoil he has forced into your life, and he would still give you a smile with blood painting his teeth and that revolting gleam of pure, unadulterated devotion in his eyes. With this devotion, however, comes dark, dark side effects. This was not a surprise to you, considering how you've been locked up like a bad dog for these past several months. Still, when you inhale and the sharp odor of iron poorly masked with bleach overwhelms your senses, you find yourself taken aback.

The clamoring sound of the bolts to your prison cell your captor claims to be your love den being unlocked brings you out of your thoughts. When the door opens and Peter walks in, all you see is a euphoric, hopelessly-besotted partner. With the sudden stench that is still heavy in the air, however, you feel a new, sudden sense of dread with his presence. He is elated to see you, as he always is. An impassioned kiss to your lips and an ardent compliment are essential to your everyday encounter with the man you thought once to be a superhero. Sometimes, a gift of fresh, blood-red roses may accompany him in his attempts to woo you further, as well.

Through the whiff of cigarettes sitting on his trench coat when he envelops you in a much-needed embrace after his long day of work, you sense something else. The tang you had inhaled from outside the bedroom is now stuck to his form, nestled beneath the aroma of late-night brume and smoke. You force a gag down your throat and reciprocate the affection, trying to push your suspicions to the back burner in your mind. The rest of the evening is like any other: listening to some tunes from the radio as the two of you play a card game, all that Peter deems as a "romantic date". Your winning strike against him (he always lets you win, but he won't tell you this) falters when your brain can't help but wonder what he was so occupied with outside that door.

As devastating and exhausting as the truth is, coming to terms with reality is the only chance you have of returning to the life you once had. Hoping he'll wake from his delusions and let you off your leash is nothing more than a pipe dream, you realize. If you want freedom, you'll have to take it by the neck and claim it as yours. So, as the hours of the night fade into dawn, you conjure a plan in your head while the man beside you snores in a deep slumber (not without a few sleepy mumbles of flattery for you, though).

The scheme you had so flawlessly crafted was quick, simple, and easy. You would do something you have never done before: initiate affection with Peter.

This was your ploy: fulfill all the fantasies his lovesick brain was infested with and watch with a newfound sense of hope as he forgets to lock the door, too dazed from the pleasure your sweet attitude had brought him. And it worked marvelously. Not only did this man forget to lock the bedroom door, he had entirely forgotten to lock the front door of the apartment altogether. The prospect of this mistake being a test of your loyalty lingers, but when you watch through the window as he swings away from building to building, you let out a roar of laughter.

After your fit of hysterics, a smile sits on your face as you tread to the front door. Something stops you in your tracks when your hand hovers over the doorknob. When you leave, you will have nothing but months of memories to defend yourself with. Who are the authorities going to believe — you, a mischievous journalist, prone to bending the rules for a good headline, or Peter, the famous superhero, notorious for his restless efforts to save the city? Despite the freedom you have dreamed of being right in your palms, you step away from the door. Instead, you look around for any evidence deemed beneficial. Whatever can put him under the negative limelight is satisfactory to you.

No stone was left unturned in the apartment, all besides a single door at the end of a long corridor. The night before, Peter had been so frantic with his time inside (all in order to get back to you sooner) that he was sloppy with his efforts in cleaning his mess. The spilled bleach he had accidentally knocked over was still lying in a puddle; the nauseating scent of fresh blood still satiated through the air like a fragrance. And lastly, the latch on the door had been left unlocked.

Without so much as a second thought, you enter the room and let your curious eyes soak in the sheer horror that resides within.

A metal chair rests in the middle of the room, leather straps tightened around a body that sits motionless. Two tables are located on the sides of the room where all sorts of gut-wrenching tools reside. And there is blood everywhere. What was once a second bedroom for buyers of the apartment has now been morphed into a torture chamber of sorts.

The person restrained in the chair, you weren't sure if they were even alive. Everything is drowned in so much heaps of red, attempting to use your mere first-aid knowledge is impossible. What is most perceptible, however, is the way their eye had been forcefully torn from its socket. It resembles a runny egg how it causes bodily fluids to cascade down their face. The amount of flesh on their body that had been torn asunder, the gag in their mouth that was oozing with tears and saliva, the gushing blood that continues to hastily seep from infected wounds. Everything makes your eyes blur and your stomach churn with nauseau.

With the career you once had as a journalist, you've seen some disgusting sights. Sneaking onto crime scenes from a brawly saloon fight gone too far or snapping pictures of the result of Spiderman's "heroic" acts to save citizens, you've become desensitized to gory scenes. But, this. This wasn't like anything you have ever seen.

"Y/N?" You hadn't realized how deafening the silence was until the poor victim is able to speak out.

With one eye practically staring daggers into you, the revelation hits you like a train. That voice, that eye. This is no other than the man you had called your boyfriend before this mess had snuck into your life. Or, ex-boyfriend, as you'd prefer to refer to him as. The status of your relationship was left a mystery after the night he had come to your home drunk and reeking of someone's perfume. Your insistent demands for him to sober up and inform you of his recent whereabouts earned you a harsh slap across the face. With a loud shout of how much of a “shitty partner” and "piece of cityside trash" you are, the person you thought to be the love of your life storms out of your home. Never to be seen again.

Hastily, you unclasp the restraints that left his skin numb and bruised. With how malnourished he had become from his time spent here, it was fairly easy to support his weight. You swing his battered arm around your shoulder and help him stand on his emaciated legs. After only two steps, he pushes you off of him harshly with what little strength his body was able to garner. His attempts served well, as you feel your stomach hit a table adorned with blood-stained utensils that make you sick to imagine how they were used.

"You... How could you...?" As his weak voice fills the air, you feel your stomach fold into itself. Does he think you did this?

Opening your mouth to begin stammering your way through what you intended to be a thorough explanation, a loud bang! then pervades the air. Without a second to process his actions, the man grasped the pistol left on the table and pulled the trigger. A stream of smoke now stems from the barrel. The betrayal, the aversion, and the debility in his expression tell you everything you need to know. You were so close to the finish line that would grant you freedom, but when you shift your gaze down, you're devastated to find a bullet hole protruding through your chest. You then slump to the ground and your killer falls not long after you, the act of merely standing too much for his abused body.

With that, your life was over. August 24th, 1934 — the day Peter Parker inevitably lost the only thing that ever mattered to him.

July 3rd, 2020. It was all his fault. Maybe if he had been more attentive to your safety, maybe if he hadn't exposed how soul-crushing the love he has for you is. Maybe if he had tried harder, Hobie Brown would still have you here at his side.

As opposed to the others, Hobie did little to ease you into this new life with him. The transition was curt, violent. With you as a bartender, drunken customers are most certainly not a rare sight. However, when you rejected a man who had one too many drinks and he reacted with violence, it caught you off-guard. And Hobie, the lead singer of the band that consistently played at your bar, had become blind with rage. Through the mess of the blood on your head when the beer bottle shattered against you and the apple-red matter staining Hobie's guitar as he smashes it relentlessly into the man's skull, these events somehow landed you where you are now.

An abandoned building on the outskirts of town, that's where you had woken up. The debris around the room was masked with string lights and band posters adorning the walls, as well as a rickety bed frame scarcely supporting a lone mattress. With bleary vision and an even fuzzier head, you gain consciousness abruptly. You find yourself on the bed with thick, itchy blankets draped around you, clothes that certainly do not belong to you on your body, and spiky belts used to restrain your limbs. Barbed wires and decaying planks of wood board the windows; the lack of passing cars and loud pedestrians outside cause you to worry about how far you are from the lively city you called home.

A lanky figure makes their presence known, dressed in those all-too-familiar garbs. Spider-Punk, the man you'd always see performing at your penurious bar, despite how widespread their band was. Much to your shock, his large hand finds the trim of his mask before tearing the garment off. Beneath is a gorgeous face embellished with piercings and a wild head full of hair. Large, wet eyes overwhelm you. And there is only one discernible trait you could read clearly through his expression: desire.

The way your plump body pools from the hems of the small clothing he dressed you in from his closet, fuck. Hobie has thought of this moment plenty of times — finally being able to take you away, just the two of you. He swore up and down he'd keep his fervid cravings at bay. But, when you're truly here in front of him, looking like that. He has to dig his long nails into his palms to physically restrain himself from lunging for you like a feral animal in heat. God, you look too fucking good.

From here on out, the relationship you have with Hobie sprouted into something only you would call treacherous, something only he would call rapturous. Being trapped within the small expanse of this grimy room, your new life has shown how perceptibly different your reactions are from one another. You are entirely dumbfounded at these new circumstances you've been forcefully thrust into. Meanwhile, Hobie attempts to put space between you both to avoid giving into his irresistible hunger. Though, it doesn't take a genius to notice how his hands always find their way to your naked skin and how his eyes linger on the intimate parts of your body. And it most certainly doesn't take a genius to notice the sheer terror and confusion stuck to your expression.

The discomfort the residence brings does little to ease you, as well. How your body is restricted against the firm mattress has your limbs aching with cramps. Your neck throbs from no support, considering the lack of pillows. But, Hobie always remarked that his chest is more comfortable to lay on, anyway. His clothing reeks of alcohol from the numerous bars and parties he’s attended, but also from the expensive perfumes, lotions, as well as the skin and hair products he received from his time being a runway model. The scent now clinging to your skin fails to bring you any of the tranquility he wished you would feel. Meals shared between you two were often dowsed in grease and cheap in flavor. Your captor never put much effort into making your dinnertime together anything reminiscent of a romantic date in Italy or something along those themes. He would much rather eat something else for dinner, after all.

This is what life looked like for the next several months. Records spinning and filling the air with headache-inducing songs he says he had written about you; Polaroid pictures scattered around the room that display different variations of the same scene: you sitting pretty with Hobie's hands and lips all over you. Never, never, has this man ever felt so much bliss in his entire life. He has always preached about how the idea of "love" is nothing more than propaganda meant to earn greedy, capitalistic companies more money with their cheesy movies and Valentine's Day garbage. When you entered his life in all your glory, however, he was ashamed to put his pride aside and admit those irritating pop songs may have been correct.

"I don’t need nothin’ else. 'Long as I have you here, birdie." He fidgets with the necklace he had given you that was currently draped upon your neck. His lucky guitar chip is swung upon the chain, since it always belonged to you, anyway. You will always be his muse.

With how carelessly he let himself be swathed in the warm blankets of love, how carelessly Hobie had let you slip from his fingertips.

It's his fault he had so frivolously expressed his protective nature through blood-stained bar floors and constricting arms encompassing your body. It's his fault he never assured you these conflicts weren’t your fault, it was only the monsters outside who wished to separate true love. It's his fault he had disciplined himself so heavily for his big heart, fearful of losing self-control with the love of his life.

It is his fault you are dead.

You regret not tallying the days you've spent locked up in this birdcage. Carving lines into the deteriorating walls to represent the slashes this new life has left in your sanity. It feels as if lifetimes have tread by you, the same day repeating itself like your own personal nightmare. Mere months have gone by and unbeknownst to you, the sweet escape you so despairingly crave is sitting upon the horizon. The circumstances of your freedom were the absolute last thing you had wished for, however.

Hobie’s history of being a heartthrob and heartbreaker were no secret to you, but his newfound loyalty to the innocent person he had taken from their previous life was even more evident. All the possessive, delusional fans that were convinced they'd marry their favorite singer, it was just so easy for Hobie to indulge in some casual fun before leaving them behind in his dust. As the story of all Spider-People goes, however, Y/N L/N is the tool that throws this man into a whirlpool of enamoring disarray. Embracing this newfound happiness was exhilarating for him, but Hobie was so dazed from it, he never had thought that karma would slither itself between you two.

A certain groupie, wholly convinced she and Spider-Punk are soulmates, was devastated to see how carelessly the love of her life abandoned her. Her mind had sprinted to all sorts of gut-wrenching conclusions. Am I not enough? Is he moving on? Is there someone else? Her worst nightmare materializes into reality when she stalks behind his tall figure and follows him to a building one late night, an odd pep in his step as he enters. What she assumes is just another exclusive club location with more taboo forms of partying, she is left stunned when she catches sight of what sights lie within.

The man of her dreams is found in the depths of infidelity. Through the crack of a rickety door coated with locks, there he was. Chest pressed against the back of someone else, who was sound asleep beneath an array of blankets like a baby in a crib. With his arms locked around them like a lifeline, Spider-Punk presses long, intimate kisses to their face. The words she had begged to hear from him, he was so frivolously drowning this stranger in such, despite their unconscious state. Every syllable was dripping with lust and smitten-induced hysteria. Tears brim in her eyes from how desperately she covets to be you in this moment.

With a shattered heart and a festering rage, she comes to the conclusion of what she must do. She will take him back, no matter what it takes.

Rarely did Hobie ever leave the expanse of your room, he wanted to stay with you forever. When he did, however, it was for some quick cash at yet another gig he and his bandmates had landed. Singing his lungs out, knowing every lyric revolves around the one waiting for him back home — you have brought him ecstasy he still cannot fathom the sheer weight of. A Friday night like no other, Hobie would spend the evening beneath the blinding spotlights, drinking the hours away, before returning home and cuddling with the only reason he chooses to live.

Through the barricaded windows and doors, a sudden stench of what appears to be smoke invades your senses. A big city like this, something along these lines is nothing out of the ordinary. After all, you were so thrilled to finally be granted a night to yourself, anything that would jeopardize this gift from the universe is seen as insignificant. When the heavy smell becomes more perceptible and the unmistakable sound of fire cracking gets louder, you feel dread tickle down your spine. The fear settles into your bones before you can think of a logical way to escape. Hobie did everything to ensure you wouldn’t leave his side, after all.

Air soon becomes precious, your lungs begin to squeeze, your skin is burning with scorching pain. It brings you the hell you had carelessly thought you felt before. A final cry of help into the suffocating air and you feel your life begin to fade. Meanwhile, the lost groupie stands near the entrance, holding back a satisfied smile. An onslaught of concerned pedestrians and firefighters accompany her. And Hobie was still far away, alcohol heavy in his system and the joy of returning to you seeping through his body like a drug. So blissfully unaware of what awaits him when he comes back to the place he had called home only with you.

With that, your life was over. July 3rd, 2020 — the day Hobie Brown inevitably lost the only thing that ever mattered to him.

The effects your departure has left on these men are all nothing short of disastrous. No longer do they have the vibrant, loving souls they once held. Day by day, they are dragging the dead carcass that is their own body, suffering through every second and hoping it will be their last. The paths your death have led these three are unique from one another, but they all find themselves in one specific space. Spider-HQ, within Nueva York on Earth-928. The story the multiverse has written for them had so selfishly taken their happiness away from them. Taking the pen for themselves and creating the most beautiful fairytale where you are alive and back in their embrace is the only purpose they now have.

Now, Miguel O'Hara stands at the office he earned from becoming the leader of this society. Upon the various monitors displayed around him are scenes taken from numerous different universes. Lethargy sits like bags of bricks beneath his eyes, slowly blinking as he ensures no minor mistake is present. If the multiverse were to crumble, his sole objection to save the only important person in Spiderman's life will fall with it. When he verifies all is well on Earth-1610, something perceptible then catches his gaze and he does a double-take. Any sign of fatigue within him is snatched out of his body, leaving him more awake than ever before.

Within this universe, Miguel finds you.

Before, these universes have only displayed the effects your death has left on all the spider-people. Today, however, is the first time he has seen you alive since the day he lost you. Lyla snickers and accuses him of having a cute, teenage-like crush when she takes notice of the sheer captivation in his expression. Little does she know how much history lies in your mere face. It is heart-crushing, how much the simple sight of you enjoying a cup of coffee (with one too many sugars, as he knows you've always preferred) has such catastrophic effects on him.

Piles of schoolwork are scattered around your desk, covered in information adhering to your current college major. Even with your lack of sleep, school-induced annoyance, and general exhaustion over everything in your life, Miguel has never seen something quite as breathtaking as you in this moment. An epiphany sprouts in his brain as quickly as the sight of you caused his soul to blossom, just like it did all those years ago.

Maybe he can stop it. Maybe he can get you back.

Your death is inevitable, and even though Miguel was aware of this, dread still pervades his stomach at the prospect and churns with his breakfast. What really makes him shudder is when he reads through the cannon events assigned to you. A flare of jealousy ignites within him when he finds an unfamiliar name in the midst of your story.

Miles Morales, the Spiderman you are meant to fall in love with. What good is he? He's just some stupid kid, what more could he possibly do that Miguel can't? Why would you choose this loser when he can give you everything you have ever wanted!? In a sudden fit of rage, he grasps hold of whatever matter was closest to him and uses all the strength within his muscular arms to hurl it across the room. His chest heaves with infuriated huffs; his claws slice into the meat of his palms. He is enraged, yes, but he is mostly devastated that the beautiful face on his screen will soon meet their inescapable demise.

Not only will he do everything in his power to stop your death, but Miguel also vows to put his blood, sweat, and tears into ensuring you do not fall for this boy. Additionally, he will formulate a plan to bring you back into his arms without destroying the multiverse as a whole. With that being said, this does not change how reality on Earth-1610 continues to play out in front of him. It’s like a television show; a show he'd give a 1-star rating out of sheer pettiness.

In his last year of high school, Miles Morales' life was thrown into a tornado when his parents enrolled him in a new school to finish his last semester. And the 18-year-old boy absolutely dreaded this. New people, new location, new clothes that poke and jut at his skin uncomfortably. With the hefty responsibility of being Brooklyn's sole hero and hiding this truth from his loved ones, this sudden alteration in his environment does not relieve any stress. Swiftly, Miles conjures a plan to convince his parents to send him back to the way his life once was. Slack off, play dumb, and bring home report cards that are absolutely atrocious and his parents will have no choice but to give their son what he wants.

However, this is not what happened. Much to Miles' dismay, the grand idea his parents had was to not let him continue his education comfortably. Instead, they hired a tutor to aid him through his final months of high school.

Rio and Jeff had invited this tutor for dinner at their home, which Miles had flaked on entirely. Mostly due to his duty as Spiderman, but partially from how sour he was about the state of affairs. When he returned home, their anger was practically palpable. However, this disappointment soon shifted into a long, insufferable tangent about how marvelously smart, mannerly, and kind this tutor was and how embarrassed they were because of him. That Saturday, he was expected to join this tutor in the school's library or his parents may consider grounding him once again. Miles has to refrain from rolling his eyes at their never-ending lecture.

March 11th, 2023. It will be all his fault. This day is the day Miles Morales will inevitably meet the only thing that will ever matter to him.

To earn some extra support through your time in college, you had decided to take up tutoring in your free time. The myriad of students you had met all possessed the same attitude — the kind of attitude you'd expect from teenagers whose parents forced them to do schoolwork in their free time. Miles fit this category well, at first. And how your situation developed, it was oddly refreshing to finally meet someone who isn't repudiating every second with you.

15 minutes late, open backpack spilling with paper, tie loose around his neck, the student most certainly made his presence known when he stumbled into the silent library. Attempting to fix his untied shoelaces, you rush over to help him and save him from any further embarrassment he was already enduring. You are able to catch the folder that had tumbled out of his bag before it hit the ground, to where he mumbles a quick "thanks" in response. His gaze is still locked to the strings of his shoes he was attempting to tie together as swiftly as possible. Nearly tripping, Miles makes it to the table you had once organized thoroughly, but was now cluttered with everything this boy had thrown onto the surface.

Oblivious to you, the boy whose parents described as having a "heart of gold," was doing everything in his power to appear as rude and ill-mannered as possible. Deliberately arriving late, making a fool of the two of you, messing up the neat array of lesson plans and pencils you arranged. Anything to convince his parents to send him away from the nightmare that is this school. This plan of his was seized from his mind like a rug pulled out beneath his feet when he finally turns his shoulder and shifts his attention to you. What Miles expected would be the slowest, drawn-out hour he's ever experienced would actually be the most exciting, life-beaming 60 minutes he’s ever experienced.

Your voice sounds like honey as you introduce yourself to him. And that heart-stuttering smile of yours works wonders on him. Miles had already known your name, but hearing it from your mouth made him think he was listening to a symphony of angels. Since the last few stages of high school are stressful for everyone, you decided to cut him some slack and offer a kind hand for him to shake. All thoughts of his old school and the comfort it brought are all eradicated as he stares into your soul with those wide, bambi-brown eyes. After months in this new environment, you must be a gift the universe sent to compensate for all the misery he has endured. And fervently, Miles accepts you as the best gift he has ever received.

"I'm Spiderman." His mouth moves before his brain can compute. Your brows furrow in response, scrutinizing the confession for some sort of punchline.

“I mean- shit, uh… I mean, I’m Miles... You-You know, like- kilometers, yards, feet. Except, it's Miles this time... Y-... Y'know?"

His relentless stammering to try and prove himself worthy of your time while also acknowledging he accidentally told you his deepest secret earns him a quick giggle. And the sound bouncing from your lips is nothing short of paradisiacal, especially when he is the cause. A sudden wave of silence then rests between you both. You, laughing nervously to lighten the awkward tension. Miles, entirely flabbergasted at how he could have ever wanted to miss out on something as profoundly magnificent as this. His mind runs rampant while his wide eyes remain locked on your averting ones. Do it, do it, do it. Just do it already, Miles!

He pulls his hands up, your eyebrows furrowing once more trying to consider his intentions. He then lands his touch upon your shoulder.

"Hey..." Miles' voice drops several octaves, a fiddly excuse of a smirk forms on his lips, and he squints his twitching eyes that still hold the same crazed wonder they've had since they first landed on you.

"Hi...?" Your response expresses nothing but sheer confusion, not your face burning from the attention like Miles had initially strived for.

Wrapping your hand around his, your mere physical touch sends flares of electricity down his skin. Goosebumps bloom across his arms and his entire body halts in place, tense with shock and nerves. In an attempt to forcefully remove his hold on you, you're startled to find how he is now stuck to your hand. As if he had lathered his hand in heaps of glue before touching you, the efforts you took to get this boy off of you only resulted in your skin painfully stretching.

So enveloped in the way his heart lurches from holding your hand, a sudden, hushed whimper of "you're hurting me!" and Miles feels a gasp involuntarily escape his throat. Attempting to pull away from you, as much as he wishes not to, only intensifies your pain. What had Peter told him to do when this happened? Oh yeah, just relax! But, how on Earth can he possibly relax when your hand is in his!? 

People are staring, exclaiming in annoyed distress over their interrupted study time. You're trying to piece together how Miles had managed to cement his hand to yours and why he refuses to let go of you. Meanwhile, Miles is apologizing profusely for inadvertently harming you, while also soaking in how rhapsodic it is to have your hand in his. He knows he has fully fallen into oblivion when the prospect of letting go of you hurts him more than the relentless pull and twist of his flesh.

So much for first impressions, right?

⁺ 🎧 , 🪷 you are currently listening to . . . ⁺ 🪺 , ���� ꪆ

❝ MANY LIVES THAT COULD HAVE

BEEN ENTANGLED FOR ETERNITY . . . ❞

gif credits :: miguel, miles, peter, & hobie.

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[i-cant-sing]

LMAOOOO I CAN JUST IMAGINE THE READER INNOCENTLY CURSING MIGUEL OUT IN SPANISH WITH A PROUD LOOK ON THEIR FACE

(they have 0 clue what it means. either that or they got told that its a compliment)

Fr fr. Reader just sees Miguel walking and calls him all of a sudden "Puta!😄☺️ Yoohoo! Culo!🥰🥰" in front of the whole cafe because Hobie said these are terms of endearment/cute nicknames for dad, and Miguel is just like dumbfounded because u just called him, the boss man, a "bitch" and an "ass" in the cheeriest tone ever, in front of everyone!

And that's when Hobie bursts out laughing and Miguel realises he's behind all of this. Tainting his young, naive, very impressionable child.

And reader is so confused as she watches Miguel strangle Hobie like "Puta?🥺 Stop, puta!🥺🥺 puta culo stop, por favor!🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺" and Hobies is just dying laughing, honestly he's content with life now.