#yandere into the spider-verse

[yandere-sins]

OMG that yandere spot was sooo good, people hardly write him yandere it suckss </3 could you do some more with him? i dont have any big ideas on hand, maybe just him having you prone with his spots, cuddling you? idk, but hes so cute lol

Aww, he really is such a cutie! Thank for requesting him ^-^

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

Your hands sunk into the black spots, the portal sucking them in greedily the moment your body hit the ground.

Was it the ground? Maybe it was the ceiling or the wall, but it was hard to tell, with the sterile white color interrupted only by countless black spots being all you could see. Somewhere to your lower left, you saw the fingers of your right hand emerge, and although you could feel the outlines of the spot with your left, you had no clue where it had gone. The disconnect to all your limbs had become easier to understand for your brain after having been in this situation so many times. But it never completely disappeared, always leaving you anxious. All you could do was remind yourself not to be hasty and to keep a cool head. You didn't want one of your limbs to accidentally be severed by panic or rash decisions.

"Gotcha!" Spot chuckled, letting himself fall forward-upwards-downwards—whatever direction, directly on top of you. You ground your teeth in frustration about the failed escape, turning your head away as he hovered his in front of you.

"Worth a try," he admitted, pouring salt into the wound of your failure. "Too bad you can't outrun me."

"I could, and I did, Psycho!" you spat right back into his featureless face, and though not visible, you heard the grin in his voice when he spoke next, your feistiness a point of excitement to him rather than anger.

"And then still stepped right into my spot like an amateur. Really, have you not learned anything in all this time?"

As if to solidify his claim, you glanced down at the feeling of your leg being sucked into yet another portal, all the way up to your knee. You gasped when it appeared right over your head, wiggling as your body tried to deal with the disconnect until your shoe loosened from your foot.

Quickly closing your eyes, you braced for the hit, ducking your head when you heard a dull thud. By the time you dared to open one eye, the shoe was already silently resting some feet away, and Spot cleared his throat, apologetically admitting, "Sorry, that was on me."

Somehow, the break from his villain act made you breathe out all the tension and adrenaline you had harbored in your body from the escape, leaving nothing but exhaustion behind. Sure, you had failed again. Jumped into a random portal that Spot had opened before suddenly finding yourself flying through the air in some unfamiliar universe. Luckily, he noticed you escaping his "spot-verse" and teleported you to safety. Still, after a long chase around skyscrapers and shops, you made the fatal mistake of not looking down while walking, stepping right back into his portal.

It was unfortunate, but at least you tried.

"Can't you just... I don't know... come to terms with this?" he asked, gesturing one hand around you two as if to mean this space he created. You blew some hair out of your face so he could see you rolling your eyes before replying curtly, "No."

"Come on, it's not half as bad as you make it out to be."

Rolling over to lay at your side, defeated by your defiance, Spot rested his head on your chest, listening to your heartbeat. A habit he liked to live out a lot these days. "You're warm," he mused, this time sounding like a content smile was playing on his lips. Thanks to his spots, it was easy for him to wrap his arms around you through the floor, and he nuzzled his face into your immobilized body, even when you heaved a deep breath of annoyance.

"I was about to declare war on Spiderman today. Before you popped out of the sky, that is."

"Who cares. You've already declared it a thousand times."

Spot perked up, lifting one white sausage finger into the air and wagging it. "No, no, no. For real, this time. I was going to make it official."

With a sigh, he laid back down again, mushing the spot on his face as far as possible into you. One day, he'd just consume you whole, you feared. One day, he'd lose control, and the nagging feeling of his portals sucking at your skin would turn everything into a black hole, decimating you. The thought brought goosebumps to your skin and a frown to your face. Your days were numbered if this continued, and the urgency of escape nagged at the back of your mind again.

"What if you fail again? What will you do then?" you asked, entertaining his illusions the only thing you had to fight the anxiety and boredom in this isolated space. Even if they were hypotheses and Spot was still a loser despite his new powers, listening to him was like watching a bad soap opera—just barely entertaining. You doubted he noticed the weight in your words, the comparison you drew between him and you.

"Come back to you?" he replied, sounding like a question even though it was more like a fact. It was as if he asked for permission, knew he wouldn't get it, and still decided to state his thoughts. "At least I got you waiting for me, but I know I won't fail."

It wasn't the answer you wanted to hear. No one would were they in your position, but it reminded you of the complexity of his feelings, the way he seemed to genuinely like you even if all of this wasn't healthy.

"What if I'm not here?"

"Then I'll go out and find you."

"I see."

Resting his chin on your chest, Spot looked up at you. Adoringly, in love you imagined. "Do you doubt me?" he asked and you questioned yourself for a few seconds before shaking your head. "No, but does it really matter that we stay here of all places then? You can just come and find me if it's so easy for you, no?"

"What's wrong with this place? It's cozy!"

"It really isn't!" you complained, moaning about him thinking white walls, white floors, black dots, and white ceilings were anything but mentally driving you nuts. "I hate how white everything is! It's awful!"

Spot gave an offended huff before getting away from you, sitting by your side as he looked around. "Is it that bad?" he mumbled before his head dropped, his gaze unmistakably falling on himself. "Do you hate me, too?"

There was a soft whine in his voice, pleading with you not to agree. But how could you? You did positively hate that guy who kidnapped you off the street and held you like a glorified pet, professing his love while keeping you locked up in a different universe away from your own, stealing food for you instead of taking you on dates like someone normal would. Everything was just wrong about this guy, and you didn't just mean his inhuman looks!

"Well, duh," you mumbled, exasperated. There was a long moment of silence before he sighed.

"So that's how you see me..." Spot mumbled, and you hoped the discussion for the day would be over now. But to your surprise, his hands suddenly crashed down at the sides of your head, darkness shredding through the white ground and climbing up his arms. You instinctively wanted to move away, but his portals kept your body in a tight hold, even as the black spread over the previously white everything around you.

"Well then," he asked, no signs of sadness in his voice anymore. You directed your gaze forward, your body signaling you to get the fuck away from the creature that appeared before you now, but you couldn't do anything. Soon enough, all of his white skin was shrouded in black, the space you two resided in twisting and turning in threads of black, your body dunked into darkness with only Spot standing out against the change.

"How about I show you something amazing to ogle? Something that will convince you that I can defeat that pesty spider?"

A terrifying grimace ripped through his body, the whole space vibrating with power you had never witnessed before. You were too choked up to speak, too scared to move even a muscle. You could only watch Spot's face split into a monstrous, sinister grin as the black around you began devouring you.

"Do you love me now, Darling?"

[yanderes-galore]

Could you do a romantic concept for yandere Peter B Parker from Spiderverse, please?

Sure! Forgive me if this is tame, I can't see him being that bad.

Yandere! Peter B. Parker (Spider-verse) Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Stalking, Overprotective behavior, Fear of abandonment, Some emotional manipulation, Kidnapping, Delusional behavior, Violence, Forced relationship.

I feel, if anything, Peter falls into the pathetic yandere category at times.

He is a pretty realistic depiction of a Spider-Man in his 40s (based on what he's gone through)

He isn't a teen anymore.

His life hasn't always been easy, he's seen things and made decisions both good and bad.

However, he isn't really incapable of being a yandere.

He would just make you feel bad for him more than most.

Think of it... he isn't really intimidating nowadays, if he even was.

He'd fall into the clingy and overprotective category more than anything intimidating.

If anything Peter acts more like a teddy bear at times.

Towards his darling he tries to appeal to you the best he can.

Peter has some self-esteem issues after his divorce with his wife (ITSV AU).

His biggest fear is losing you in any way.

He feels he should push his past to the side and pursue you.

Peter would take his new feelings for you as a sign to change.

He can forge a new future... he can pull himself out of this slump...

He just feels he needs you to help with that.

He's affected by his past relationship and past in general... but he tries to push past it and change things for you.

Peter is delusional and very dedicated to you.

He's delusional to the point he imagines things that didn't happen between the two of you.

Peter would spend his free time stalking you and thinking of fantasies between the two of you... he's completely lovestruck.

There's times he has entire dreams of the teo of you... only to wake up and see them be fake.

It gets to the point he breaks his own heart when he realizes everything is in his mind.

For the most part he'd be harmless.

As in, he wouldn't kill anyone over you.

He may beat some people up but he restrains such thoughts, even if he's jealous.

For the most part Peter just likes to cling to you.

Before he decides to bite the bullet and act on his feelings, he clings to his fantasy idea of you.

When he finally takes you to his apartment he clings to you physically.

He isn't overly manipulative, but he is emotionally draining.

You'll end up caving into his desires at times because he's so... desperate.

He allows you to roam his apartment but if he has to leave he'll use his webs to keep you still.

He hates forcing you to do anything.

He'll try to be patient with your "relationship" but often occupies himself with thoughts of his fantasies.

Honestly overall Peter is just a pathetic (in the cute way?) man who wants to indulge in sweet fantasies he has with his darling.

He just thinks of cute couple things like dates, gifts, your future together... maybe even kids since Miles has opened him up to that.

However, despite him trying to play his mannerisms off as being a cute boyfriend...

He's still kidnapped you... you don't care if he's a hero or not... everything he's doing is still a crime.

Spider-Man has really let himself go...

In more ways than one.

Regardless of what you think, Peter still tries to tell you he'll make things up to you!

He gives you gifts and attempts to give physical affection.

He tells you stories about his fantasies.

He cleans his apartment up just for you.

Really, Peter is quite docile and would do anything for you...

Just don't leave him! If you did... then he may have to restrain you again with his webs.

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Miguel w/an Innocent S/O

Warnings: Protective Miguel, Slight Yandere Miguel (if you squint), Implications of Smut, Fluff, More Fluff, Spooning, Mentions/Implications of injuries, Insecurity, No Pronouns used for Reader Except 'You'.

Him being fiercely protective of you 24/7.

If someone even so much as looks at you wrong, he stares them down until they either break down and start apologising, or their heart gives out.

You’re the only person he shows any affection to. You’re also the only person allowed to touch him. Period.

He’s so touch starved; please hold him and tell him he’s your big guy :-(

Goes FERAL when you rake your fingers through his hair; his eyes roll into his skull and he can’t help but moan a little, even if the context isn’t sexual.

Don’t bring it up or he’ll punish you for it later 👀.

He finds your innocence both endearing and worrying.

On one hand, you believe in the good of everyone, which, considering how insecure Miguel can be, is what initially drew him to you; your ability to empathise and sympathise with others, to not judge them.

However, he knows people would take advantage of your kind and giving nature.

One time, he found out that one of the Spiders – a Victorian England era ‘gentleman superhero’ – had tossed you a used coffee cup and told you to dispose of it on his behalf. When you tried to say something, to tell him you were busy and had better things to do, he just dismissed you.

Of course, Miguel had seen this. He has eyes on you every second of the day.

You never saw that Spiderman again. Nor did anyone else. All that seemed to remain of him was his suit thrown haphazardly into the storage room, where a great big tear edged with blood was ripped into the chestpiece, the hero’s signature top hat abandoned and crumpled beneath it.

He also broke another Spider-Person’s arm when they tried to steal one of the fairy cakes you’d lovingly baked for him; poured your heart and soul into.

Miguel also growls at people he thinks are looking at you strangely. Full-on bares his fangs like a rabid dog and watches them cower.

He purposely grows his fangs out and lets you play with them.

He’s careful to make sure you don’t get hurt, though, guiding your hands away from the pointed tips.

His guilty pleasure is when you kiss his fangs and tell him he’s “The coolest, most handsome man in the world!”

“Just the world?” He says, smiling, raising an eyebrow. His heart melts in his chest as your smile widens, eclipsing your eyes into crescents.

“In ALL the worlds!” You say, throwing your arms around his neck and hugging him, laughing. He brings his arms, thick and muscular, around your waist and pulls you into him, pressing ticklish kisses into your neck, revelling in your laughter.

Intimacy-wise, Miguel is horrified at the prospect of hurting you.

He’s ever so careful, as if handling glass, holding back his strength.

It’s worth it, though. The strain.

Especially when he hears you mewl and try to hide your face in his chest.

“Oh no, Sweetheart,” he says, tangling a hand in your hair and pulling your head back. His pointed fangs flint as he gives a smile. “I want to watch you like this.”

Loves your gentle kisses – they give him life.

Nothing can get him down when you’re around; especially when you’re sitting in his lap.

Though, issues have arisen as a result of your oblivion to…compromising positions.

More often than not, Miguel’s had to bite his lip and tongue when you shift in his lap, catching him, making his heart start and his breath shutter, electric anticipation jolting through him.

He takes you aside in the bathroom to deal with the issue you’ve unknowingly caused, but you don’t complain. Not that you can with your mouth full.

He looks at you with eyes which have seen the deaths of countless individuals, yet when he finds yours, he sees love and light spanning infinite universes within them. And they give him hope that there is more to life than loss and grief; more to him than his failures.

He revels in the feeling of you hiding behind him whenever you’re scared.

Sometimes he takes you to areas of the facility where he knows you’ll be easily frightened – for example, where captive villains are held – so he can feel your hands tightening around his arm or gripping the back of his suit. It makes him feel useful, like he can take on the world.

And he gets off on being the only person who can truly protect you. But he’d never tell you that, of course.

Loves demonstrating his strength around you. He can pick you up single-handedly and carry you anywhere without so much as thinking of breaking a sweat.

He prefers to be the big spoon, curling around you like a shield and protecting you from the outside world, his warm, broad chest to your back.

Tells you how much he loves you through hushed post-intimacy whispers and soft touches. Shows it through acts of service and the insurmountable adoration that fills his eyes whenever you’re around.

He can’t imagine being with anybody else. He can’t even remember the last time he felt anything save for contempt before you showed up.

And he’ll do whatever it takes to protect you. No cost is too great for the love of his life <3.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterpost

Yandere Masterlist Juicy Original Content <3

[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.”

[soullessdianthus]

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞 | 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞!𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎'𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚

Warnings: yandere themes (manipulation, kidnapping, imprisonment), smut (overstimulation, dubcon/noncon, breeding kink if you want to interpret like so)

Word count: 1.6k

A sound of pouring rain tapping over the window kept you awake. You glanced over the glass and saw the same image as for the days before - dense, forest line cutting the grassy, wild meadow off. The temperature inside and out was warm and it almost felt like summer in the countryside of your homeland. But it was all an illusion.

A high-tech screens had been put inside the window frames to imitate your well known surroundings. He put an effort to make this place look like a decent place. Somewhere you would feel comfortable. But this wasn’t even a real home, it was your prison. 

After you interfered a little too much with the canon events in one of the spider-verses, Miguel O’Hara visited your world in person. He demanded an explanations from Peter Parker, a friend from college, about your doings. 

Because you two learned lately about the up-coming death of uncle Ben and tried to avoid it by all means. And you almost succeed. Almost.

Miguel, a tall man with a dark look on his face, threatened Peter about the consequences of avoiding such occurrences. Parker appeared to be frightened of the stranger as Miguel’s eyes seemed to glow brightly red from frustration. 

Those piercing eyes finally found your form, standing still behind your Spiderman and only then you processed what you just heard. 

━ Wh-What? It was OUR idea to save your uncle! ━ You interrupted those two men, gesturing with your hands. But Peter didn’t even bother to look at you, he didn’t have enough courage to do so. He tried to frame you and put all the guilt on you. Which in the end, somehow worked out. 

He agreed to that mysterious spidey-guy from another universe that someone had to bear the consequences of messing up with the timeline. And Parker pointed at you. An ultimate betrayal, ripped your heart apart. 

Soon after you found yourself in that damn prison with a bracelet over your wrist to “stop you from glitching”. Whatever that was supposed to mean. 

Miguel was some kind of boss around the place you found yourself in. At least that's what Lyla told you, a artificial intelligence present in the technology around you. It was him who was responsible for you from now on as he visited you every day. 

At first, each time you saw him, you tried throwing things at him purely out of rage - a book, a small picture frame or a chair, but each time he managed to catch or turn down anything you tossed. He kept trying to explain to you what was happening and why he couldn’t let you go back into your world. Miguel stated that it was dangerous enough when a non-variant person was messing up with the timeline. 

But was this all true? There was no one else you could ask for a second opinion, you had to believe, everything Miguel told you was the truth. Obviously, you questioned everything about him and this place. It felt like you were losing your sanity and a part of yourself. 

The well-built man with brown, combed hair was very patient and understable with your rage and sorrow. Until he was not. 

O’Hara had enough of your tantrums and one time he scared you truly. Eyes turning bloody red, his veins popping out and his teeth turning into long fangs. He charged at you, shoving your whole body to the wall behind. When your eyes were filled with fear and lungs emptied themself due to the force he pushed you, Miguel contained himself and moved away quickly. 

You rarely saw him in this form, but when you finally did - you kept behaving well, not wanting to anger him again. Because you knew nothing about him. What if he was able to hurt you? Or even murder you? 

Since then, you tried to suppress any anger and try to figure out how to return to your world, your life. And the brunette kept coming back, each day just to visit you. In the end he was your only company. 

Miguel brought you new books or art supplies if you asked Lyla or him directly. The man would spend some time with you - cooking, watching movies, anything you liked to do. But it was months ago. 

For the last couple of weeks, you were practically silent and apathetic. Curling inside the armchair near the “window”, napping or sobbing quietly. You’ve been in this prison for too long and it began to crush your spirit. 

He acknowledged the change in you and tried talking about it. He kept assuring that he has to keep you here for the world’s sake and balance. Because if someone messes up with the canon again, the universe will collapse. You reprimanded yourself for leaning into his chest when he offered you a comforting hug. Because how could you ever want solace from your captor? 

That evening was no different. Miguel visited you after work and found you sitting in silence on that damn armchair. When he crouched down, trying to catch your sight, you scooted backwards in the seat. 

━ What’s wrong, cariño?

━ I want to go home. ━ Your voice full with sorrow gained his attention. Where was your spirit he adored so much? The pain in your voice almost made him feel bad. Almost.

Miguel reached towards your exposed calf and started rubbing it with his pointing finger. 

━ This is your home, tú lo sabes. [sp.: you know it] ━ His voice sounded peaceful when he reached both of his arms in your direction. His embrace was welcoming, but you knew better. It was like a sweet flavored poison, spreading slowly under your skin, killing you slowly. ━ Come here.

You pushed firmly against his shoulders as you jumped out of the chair and took a few steps back. 

━ Miguel ━ you said his name loudly, gaining his full attention. You were being hysterical again. ━ I’ve been here FOR MONTHS. I had life before, I had A PURPOSE. You took it from me!

He tried, he really tried holding himself back this time you talked back. But your whining became annoying and Miguel just knew what would make you feel better. 

He stood up to his full height, easily towering over you. Brunette came closer, taking each step slowly, like he was giving you time to calm yourself or at least apologize. But you didn’t even back out. 

Miguel was leaning to look into your glimmering eyes and he saw how much you hated him at that moment. “We need to work on that temper”, he once told you, but you thought nothing of it. 

His little, feisty nymph. That’s what he liked to think of you. 

━ Fine ━ he growled right in your face, before grabbing your arm. ━ I’ll give you a purpose. 

The sound of your heavy panting echoed through the room. You tried straightening your hands again, but unsuccessfully as your muscles gave up a long time ago. Only his strong hands kept your ass higher than your head, by the tightening grip over your already bruised hips. 

Miguel kept thrusting into your tight cunt until you were a sobbing mess. He already pushed you over the edge at least three times, devouring the little noises you made and how your pussy clenched around his swollen shaft. 

Brunette kept one of his palms spread between your shoulder blades, keeping your upper half down, making your spine arch better. 

The sweat covered the back of your bent knees, him sliding in and out of you with ease, because of your wetness. Miguel certainly knew where to touch you to make you break into pieces between his fingers. 

━ See, doesn't that feel good to be by my side, cariño? ━ He leaned over your puffing frame, cheek dipped in the sheets while he kept fucking you stupid. 

━ Mig-Miguel… I can’t… n-no more���. ━ You whispered to him, feeling as each thrust of his hips pushed his cock deeper inside of you. The coiling sensation started to build up again between your trembling legs and in stomach. ━ Please!

━ Just one more, darling. ━ He heard you clearly, but yet he kept sliding in and out of you violently, chasing his own sweet release. 

Miguel took his hand away from your back and sneaked between your puffy lips. He spreaded them, opening you up and making it easier for him to find your clit. And when he finally did so, the brunette started rubbing it in a rhythm that quickly made you reach your another orgasm that night. 

Your body tensed suddenly and then collapsed into his pelvis, sinking his swollen cock deeper. When your cunt fluttered around him uncontrollably and your eyes rolled backwards, he came inside you, clenching his teeth. 

He tilted forward and placed both of his strong hands on each side of you, while coming down from his high. He noticed your grip tightening over bed sheets and smiled, before giving you a tender kiss on the temple. 

━ Mi pequeña ninfa. Do you understand now, that only I can protect you? [sp.: My little nymph]

Miguel loved his girl no matter if she had a bad day or not. He was going to make sure, no one will ever take you from him. You’re his precious troublemaker, aren’t you?

━ You belong with me. ━ He growled into your ear.

[kinkandkreep]

♡︎ 𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎!𝙼𝚒𝚐𝚞𝚎𝚕 𝙾'𝙷𝚊𝚛𝚊 𝚡 𝙵𝚎𝚖!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

♡︎ 𝙲𝚆: 𝙺𝚒𝚍𝚗𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚢𝚜𝚒𝚜, 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 (𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚜)

♡︎ "__" 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎

♡︎ 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 2 𝙷𝚎𝚛𝚎

Yᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ Mɪɢᴜᴇʟ ɪs ᴘᴏssᴇssɪᴠᴇ, sʟɪɢʜᴛʟʏ sᴀᴅɪsᴛɪᴄ, ᴅᴇʟᴜsɪᴏɴᴀʟ (ᴜɴsᴛᴀʙʟᴇ) ᴀɴᴅ, ᴀs I ᴘᴏʀᴛʀᴀʏᴇᴅ ʜɪᴍ ᴇᴀʀʟɪᴇʀ, ᴀ ᴠᴇʀʏ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴇsᴛɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘᴏᴛᴇɴᴛɪᴀʟʟʏ ᴏᴠᴇʀᴡʜᴇʟᴍɪɴɢ ᴍɪx ᴏғ ᴍᴀɴɪᴘᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ, sᴜʙᴍɪssɪᴠᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴇʟɪᴍɪɴᴀᴛɪɴɢ

Tᴏ sᴜᴍ ᴜᴘ, ᴀs ᴀ Yᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ, Mɪɢᴜᴇʟ ᴡᴀɴᴛs ᴛᴏ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʟʟ ᴛᴏ ʜɪᴍsᴇʟғ ᴀɴᴅ ɪs sᴏ ᴄᴀᴜɢʜᴛ ᴜᴘ ɪɴ ʜɪs ᴏᴡɴ ᴅᴇʟᴜsɪᴏɴs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜᴇ ʙᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇs ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢ ᴛᴏ ʜɪᴍ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴛʜᴇ sᴀᴍᴇ

Hᴇ ᴀᴅᴍɪᴛᴛᴇᴅʟʏ ᴛᴀᴋᴇs sᴏᴍᴇ ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴜʀᴇ ɪɴ ʜᴜʀᴛɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘʜʏsɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ, ᴡʜᴇᴛʜᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʙᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʙʟᴜɴᴛ ɴᴀɪʟs ᴅɪɢɢɪɴɢ ɪɴᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀ sɪᴅᴇs ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜɪɢʜs ᴏʀ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛᴏᴏ ᴛɪɢʜᴛ ɢʀɪᴘs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ɴᴏᴛɪᴄᴇᴀʙʟᴇ ʙʀᴜɪsɪɴɢ

Hᴇ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴅᴏᴇs ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴍᴀᴊᴏʀ/sᴇʀɪᴏᴜs ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ, ʙᴏᴛʜ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏғ ᴀ ʟᴀᴄᴋ ᴏғ ᴀ ᴅᴇsɪʀᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ sᴏ, ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ʜᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡs ɪᴛ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴇ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴀʟᴀʀᴍɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀs ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇɴᴛ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴘᴇʀᴘᴇᴛᴜᴀʟʟʏ ʙʀᴏᴋᴇɴ ʙᴏɴᴇs ᴏʀ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ sᴏʀᴛ

As ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀʙᴏᴠᴇ ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴᴇᴅ ᴛʀᴀɪᴛs, Mɪɢᴜᴇʟ ᴍᴀʏ ʙᴇ ᴅᴇʟᴜsɪᴏɴᴀʟ, ʙᴜᴛ ʜᴇ’s sᴛɪʟʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴛ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛᴏ ᴜᴛɪʟɪᴢᴇ ᴍᴀɴɪᴘᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴛᴀᴄᴛɪᴄs ᴛᴏ ɢᴇᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ sᴇᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢs ʜɪs ᴡᴀʏ

Hᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴛʀʏ ᴀɴᴅ, ᴅᴇᴘᴇɴᴅɪɴɢ ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄᴏɴsᴛɪᴛᴜᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴍᴀʏ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ʙᴇ sᴜᴄᴄᴇssғᴜʟ ɪɴ ᴄᴀᴜsɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴇᴠᴇʟᴏᴘ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ʟɪᴋᴇ Sᴛᴏᴄᴋʜᴏʟᴍ Sʏɴᴅʀᴏᴍᴇ

Mɪɢᴜᴇʟ, ᴡʜᴇᴛʜᴇʀ Yᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ɴᴏᴛ, ɪs ᴀ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴄᴏɴᴠɪɴᴄɪɴɢ sᴘᴇᴀᴋᴇʀ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴇsᴘᴇᴄɪᴀʟʟʏ sᴏ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʜᴇ ᴡᴀɴᴛs sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ɢᴏ ʜɪs ᴡᴀʏ

Hᴇ’s ᴀʟsᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀᴛ ᴀʟʟ ᴀғʀᴀɪᴅ ᴏғ (ᴘᴇʀᴍᴀɴᴇɴᴛʟʏ) ʀɪᴅᴅɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ᴏғ ᴀɴʏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀʟʟ ᴡʜᴏ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴏᴘᴘᴏsᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ “ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴsʜɪᴘ” ᴏʀ ᴄʜᴀʟʟᴇɴɢᴇ ʜɪs ʟᴏᴠᴇ ғᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ

Yᴇs, ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs ʏᴏᴜʀ ғᴀᴍɪʟʏ ᴀɴᴅ ғʀɪᴇɴᴅs

Dᴇsᴘɪᴛᴇ ɪᴛ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ, Mɪɢᴜᴇʟ ᴛʀᴜʟʏ ᴅᴏᴇs ᴡᴀɴᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʜɪᴍ, ɪɴ ғᴀᴄᴛ, ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ʜᴇ’s ᴅᴇʟᴜsɪᴏɴᴀʟ, ʜᴇ ʙᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇs ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʟʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ᴅᴏ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʜᴇ ᴅᴏᴇs ғᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ ɪs ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴘᴀʀ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴜʀsᴇ ᴏғ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ sᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇɢʀᴇᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇs ʏᴏu

Hᴇ ᴄᴀɴ ʙᴇ sᴜʙᴍɪssɪᴠᴇ, ʜᴏᴡᴇᴠᴇʀ, ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ sᴇɴsᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜᴇ’ʟʟ ᴅᴏ ᴀɴᴅ ɢɪᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʟᴍᴏsᴛ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪғ ɪᴛ ᴍᴇᴀɴs ʏᴏᴜ’ʟʟ ʙᴇ ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜɪᴍ

.・゜-: ✧ :-.・゜-: ✧ :-.・゜-: ✧ :-.・ ✧ :-.・゜

Being in a relationship with Miguel is��blissful. 

Or, it was anyway. 

It was, until he started showing Signs™.

At first, you just assumed that as he naturally became more comfortable in the relationship, he also naturally became a little more possessive and handsy. 

Initially, you didn’t have a problem with it, seeing as it wasn’t so severe and so noticeable. You actually thought it was cute, if not a little silly. 

…….

But then, it started to get worse.

You’d told Miguel towards the beginning of your relationship that you wanted to take things slow, and pace yourself. He seemed understanding at the time, if not a little bit agitated. That struck you as odd, but he quickly recovered and even agreed, so you overlooked it for the time being. 

After some time though, he started trying to speed things along, going against what you’d initially agreed upon. 

He started talking of moving in together and getting married, neither of which were things you were necessarily opposed to, but just not so soon.

When you tried to explain this to Miguel, he seemed agitated again, trying, and ultimately failing, to get you to agree to his new terms. 

You did still love him, and wanted to make things work however, so you decided to compromise and start spending some nights over at his place. This seemed to sate him for the time being, and he treated you very well, so you saw no harm in it.

That is until he started not wanting to let you leave. 

At first, he would gently convince you to extend your stays from a night or two, to three and four at a time. 

That would’ve been fine, had you not needed to work.

When you brought this up to him, he frowned, jokingly saying that you should quit because, since you belonged to him, he was more than capable of taking care of you. 

At least, you thought he was joking.

You of course knew that Miguel was very well-off, and absolutely could provide all your wants and needs. 

But you thought it dangerous to be entirely dependent on someone else for your livelihood, and thus declined, laughing awkwardly. 

Miguel? He wasn’t laughing. 

“You should really consider my words, cariño.” He’d spoken with an odd tone, expression unnervingly flat. 

You nodded, even while knowing you wouldn’t be quitting in the foreseeable future. 

Not voluntarily anyway. 

After that encounter, things seemed to return to some semblance of normalcy. You were still spending an increasing amount of time at Miguel’s, but otherwise you went to work and went on dates with Miguel and everything was fine. 

Then the gifting started. 

Miguel began to lavish you in ridiculously expensive presents, things that were beautiful, but that you personally had no need or desire for. 

“Gigi, this is simply too much,” you’d told him once, after he’d presented to you a diamond and sapphire necklace engraved with his initials that, had you known the price of, you were sure would have made you gag. 

“Nonsense,” he’d said, holding your gaze with an intense one of his own. “Only the best for mi reina.”

With Miguel’s insistence and little other option, you allowed him to put the necklace on you, missing his satisfied little smirk.

You weren’t aware of it at the time, but the necklace was just one of the ways Miguel intended to mark you as his. 

The gift giving continued, and for a moment, you considered that one of Miguel’s love languages was giving/receiving gifts. You weren’t exactly wrong, nor were you too alarmed about the gifts after a while of receiving them.

That was until the nature of the gifts turned a little…odd. 

Miguel began gifting you what were damn near collars instead of simple necklaces, starting with a few that were dainty and lowkey enough to where you wouldn’t get questions about them when wearing them in public, to some that were downright gaudy, large and heavy against your throat. 

Each one had his name or initials somewhere on it, and Miguel seemed to adore seeing you with one on. 

He also eventually gifted you a new cell. 

Which again struck you as odd because you had no need for a new one. 

You knew it would do you no good to try and refuse, as Miguel could be very persistent and persuasive when he wanted to be. 

So, somewhat begrudgingly, you accepted the phone, not thinking too much of it beyond that. 

That changed when one night, as you were scrolling through it and trying to figure out the settings, you noticed that the location feature had been turned on. You turned it off, as you did with all your phones and carried on, this time scrolling through the pre-installed apps and deleting or deactivating the ones you knew you wouldn’t need. 

That was all well and good, and you fiddled around more with the phone until you encountered something that made you sit upright in bed, staring at your new device with pinched brows. 

There was a hidden tracking app embedded deep into the phone's software, and no matter what you tried, you couldn’t delete it or deactivate it. 

Huffing in annoyance, you clicked on the app, only to find that there was a blinking red dot settled right over your current location. 

‘But I thought I turned my location off?’

You went and double checked the settings and sure enough, the location feature was still off. 

You sat perturbed for a minute, before remembering who exactly had given you the phone. 

‘Gigi…’

The next day you stomped up to his apartment door, banging on it obnoxiously. 

The door swung open easily and there stood Miguel, almost as if he had been expecting you. 

“Mi reina, is something the ma-...”

Disregarding Miguel’s words, you pushed past him into the apartment, turning to face him as he closed the door. 

“Why is there some weird tracking app on my phone Miguel?”

Miguel frowned, displeased with your use of his given name instead of the nickname you’d given him. 

“What do you-”

“You know exactly what I mean Miguel. You’re a genius with a ridiculous number of resources at your disposal. I’m sure you were well aware that this phone had a tracking feature and I’m also becoming increasingly sure that you are the one who put it there. Now tell me, why do you feel the need to cross that boundary and track me like I’m your teenage daughter instead of your girlfriend and a grown woman with her own faculties?”

Unbeknownst to you, hearing you talking in such a manner was causing Miguel to become increasingly aroused. He knew that now was a bad time though, as you seemed genuinely upset and probably wouldn’t appreciate having the (non)issue blown off by his horny machinations. 

Instead he sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “You weren’t supposed to find that.”

You scoffed, eyes and mouth opened wide in shock. “So I was right! You gave me a bugged phone to what? Spy on me? Like some sort of creep?”

“It is not creepy.” Miguel spoke firmly, frown deepening. “It’s only there so that I am always aware of your location. And that in the event something happens I can locate you and keep you out of harm’s way.”

“You may dress it up so that it sounds noble Miguel, but that still doesn’t excuse the fact that you put a tracker in my phone without consulting me first. That’s, again, a boundary crossed. And it’s not ok.”

Now, Miguel was becoming angry, and you could see the emotion swirling in his crimson irises. 

He understood your frustration, to a degree. 

Yes, he had put the tracker on your phone without telling you but it was only so that you wouldn’t be alarmed. And besides, the tracker was there for your benefit and right now, you were being so ungrateful. 

Miguel felt unhappy that you were upset with him, and also mad, because you didn’t appreciate him in his effort to keep you safe. 

“I did that for your benefit, __. Why can’t you just be grateful?”

“Grateful that my boyfriend doesn’t trust me to be able to handle myself and grateful that he crosses my boundaries? Yeah, right. Whatever.” 

You intended to brush past him, but nearly dropped the phone when Miguel tightly grabbed your wrist. As you turned to face him, you could see the red of his glare becoming more intense, and he was breathing a little heavier than before. 

“You will not just come into my home and be ungrateful and disrespectful, then just leave. I believe you owe me an apology.” 

You were too stunned to speak. You’d never seen Miguel this angry and you could feel fear creeping up your spine. 

You winced as his grip on your wrist tightened when you didn’t respond, and you were sure that it would bruise after. 

“Let me go Miguel!”

“Not until you apologize.” He hissed out the words, still maintaining that deadly eye contact.

Becoming genuinely afraid that he would shatter your wrist, you stuttered out a quick apology, trying and failing to yank your arm from Miguel’s grasp. 

“Say it like you mean it. What do you have to be sorry for?”

You struggled a bit longer before finally conceding when his grip became more painful. 

“F-fine! I-...I’m sorry that I disrespected you, and I’m sorry for being ungrateful.”

And just like that, Miguel’s entire demeanor changed. 

He smiled, releasing your wrist and opening his arms for a hug. 

“See cariño? That wasn’t so hard was it?”

As he took a step forward, you quickly turned, rushing out of the front door and ignoring Miguel’s yells for you to stop. 

You continued to ignore Miguel for a few days after that. 

You’d intentionally left the bugged phone at his apartment, and since you’d done that, he instead resorted to blowing up your old phone with calls, messages and voicemails. 

They’d been incessant over the days you spent apart from him, and you left everything unread and unlistened to. 

Deciding to try and take your mind off your relationship troubles, you called up some of your best girl friends and favorite female cousin and asked if they wanted to meet up. 

Everyone enthusiastically agreed and you all gathered for brunch, where you discussed the issues you’d been having with Miguel.

“__, it sounds like this behavior has become serious. He gripped your wrist so tight it bruised! And you say he’s been calling and texting you nonstop over the past few days? None of that is normal, healthy behavior.” Your cousin spoke with authority, watching you with a very concerned expression. 

Your friends readily agreed, and you couldn’t help but feel they were right. 

You and Miguel had been together now for almost a year, and you could recall towards the beginning of your relationship how sweet and kind, albeit a little awkward, he’d been.

Now, he was morphing into a possessive monster in front of your very eyes. 

After brunch and bidding your girls goodbye, you made your way back to your apartment, mind so occupied that you didn’t even notice you were being tailed from up above. 

When you got home, you sighed, putting away your coat and purse and preparing to unwind for the day. You hadn’t paid attention to the fact that you hadn’t received a single call or message from Miguel while you were at brunch. 

Feeling a little tired, you stripped down and hopped into the shower, contemplating your cousin’s words from earlier.

‘She’s right,’ you eventually decided. ‘I hate to say it, but I think it’s time Miguel and I call it quits. He’s become so…different, and it is not a good different.’

Sighing, you finished up your shower, wrapping yourself in a towel and exiting the bathroom. 

Only to scream upon seeing Miguel, shrouded in shadow, standing at his full height in your bedroom. 

His eyes seemed to glow in the dark, his red irises burning with unbridled rage.

“Did you have fun, muñeca? Talking shit about me with your little friends?”

You couldn’t move, so afraid you were of what he might do if you did. 

“M-Miguel, I-...why…h-how-...”

You paused as Miguel began walking closer to you, and with each step he took forward, you took a step back. 

“Imagine how hurt I was, to hear my name be slandered, to be called a monster, and to see you sit there and not defend me?! You’ve been ignoring me for 3 days, __. You refused to answer or return a single one of my calls or messages. What if I had needed you, huh? Are you really that much of a heartless bitch?” He spit the last word, now quickly advancing towards you.

Risking it to turn for just a moment, you bolted out of your room and into the kitchen, scrambling for a knife before screaming again when Miguel wrapped both arms around you, grunting as you struggled and flailed. 

You kept this up for a moment longer before yelling in pain as Miguel sank his fangs into your shoulder, releasing a small dose of the paralytic toxin he produced into your bloodstream. 

It only took a second to take effect, and soon you were limp in his arms. 

“I really didn’t want to have to do that, __, but you left me no choice.” He laid you down on the couch, and you could only watch as he began pacing back and forth. 

‘’Why did you make me do that __?! Aye coño, I had planned to be civil about this.”

He paced more, mumbling to himself as he did. Eventually, he stopped suddenly, kneeling before you and cupping your face as he spoke. 

“I love you so much __. I would do anything for you and you hurt me like this? No…NO! This isn’t you. It’s them. They got into your head and turned you against me. Everything I do is because I love you. And they would have you convinced that I’m a threat.” Miguel's expression darkened scarily. 

“I’ll show them what a true threat looks like.”

Your eyes widened, as much as they could anyway, at Miguel’s words. 

He wouldn’t actually hurt your friends…would he?

You didn’t get much longer to think on it, as Miguel quickly lifted you off of the couch. 

“We’re going home, __. I’m sorry to say, but you can’t be trusted on your own, away from me. I have to keep you safe, keep you away from those who would try to taint our love.”

With that said, and with little other option, you felt a tear trickle down your cheek as Miguel carries you out of the door to your apartment, and away from life as you previously knew it.��

.・゜-: ✧ :-.・゜-: ✧ :-.・゜-: ✧ :-.・ ✧ :-.・゜

Aғᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜɪɴɢs ᴇsᴄᴀʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛ, Mɪɢᴜᴇʟ ᴅᴏᴇs ɪɴᴅᴇᴇᴅ sᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛᴇʀ ʏᴏᴜ ғʀᴏᴍ ʏᴏᴜ ғʀɪᴇɴᴅs, ғᴀᴍɪʟʏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴏʟᴅ ʜᴏᴍᴇ, ɪɴsᴛᴇᴀᴅ ᴋᴇᴇᴘɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ɪɴ ɴᴇᴀʀʟʏ ᴘᴇʀᴍᴀɴᴇɴᴛ ʀᴇsɪᴅᴇɴᴄᴇ ɪɴ ʜɪs ᴘᴇɴᴛʜᴏᴜsᴇ

Iɴɪᴛɪᴀʟʟʏ, ʜᴇ ᴅᴏᴇsɴ’ᴛ ʟᴇᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ, ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜɪᴍ ᴀᴄᴄᴏᴍᴘᴀɴʏɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ

Iғ ᴀsᴋᴇᴅ ᴡʜʏ, ʜᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ sᴛʀᴇss ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅɴ'ᴛ ʙᴇ ᴛʀᴜsᴛᴇᴅ ᴊᴜsᴛ ʏᴇᴛ, ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇ ɴᴇᴇᴅᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴇʜᴀᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀsᴇʟғ ɪғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴡᴏ ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴛᴏ ɢᴏ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴇ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ

Iғ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴍʙᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴛʏᴘᴇ, Mɪɢᴜᴇʟ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴀʙsᴏʟᴜᴛᴇʟʏ ғɪɢʜᴛ ғɪʀᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ғɪʀᴇ

As ᴅᴇʟᴜᴅᴇᴅ ᴀs ʜᴇ ɪs, ʜᴇ ᴛʜɪɴᴋs ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ᴊᴜsᴛ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴏʙsᴛɪɴᴀᴛᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏғ sʜʏɴᴇss 

Nᴏᴛ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ, ʏᴏᴜʀ ɪɴᴄʀᴇᴀsɪɴɢʟʏ ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴛ, sᴜᴘᴇʀᴘᴏᴡᴇʀᴇᴅ ʙ��ʏғʀɪᴇɴᴅ ᴡʜᴏ ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴛᴇɴᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀʀᴍ ʏᴏᴜʀ ғʀɪᴇɴᴅs ʜᴀs ɴᴏᴡ ᴋɪᴅɴᴀᴘᴘᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ɪs, ᴇғғᴇᴄᴛɪᴠᴇʟʏ, ʜᴏʟᴅɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴏsᴛᴀɢᴇ ɪɴ ʜɪs ᴀᴘᴀʀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ 🙃

Iғ ʏᴏᴜ sᴀɪᴅ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛᴏ ʜɪᴍ, ʜᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴠᴇʜᴇᴍᴇɴᴛʟʏ ᴅᴇɴʏ ɪᴛ ᴀɴʏᴡᴀʏ

Hᴇ’s ɴᴏᴛ ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴛ, ᴊᴜsᴛ ғɪʀᴍ

Hᴇ’s sᴜᴘᴇʀᴘᴏᴡᴇʀᴇᴅ ʏᴇs, ʙᴜᴛ ʜᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴜsᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀʀᴍ ʏᴏᴜ ᴜɴɴᴇᴄᴇssᴀʀɪʟʏ 

Hᴇ’s ɴᴏ ʟᴏɴɢᴇʀ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴀs ᴀʀʙɪᴛʀᴀʀʏ ᴀs ᴊᴜsᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ “ʙᴏʏғʀɪᴇɴᴅ”, ʜᴇ’s ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴜsʙᴀɴᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ʜɪs ᴡɪғᴇ

Yᴇᴀʜ, ʜᴇ sᴏʀᴛ ᴏғ ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴛᴇɴᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀ ғʀɪᴇɴᴅs, ʙᴜᴛ ʜᴇ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ sᴀɪᴅ ʜᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʜᴀʀᴍ ᴛʜᴇᴍ (ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ ᴏʙᴠɪᴏᴜsʟʏ ɪᴛ ᴡᴀs ʜᴇᴀᴠɪʟʏ ɪᴍᴘʟɪᴇᴅ)

Aɴᴅ ʜᴇ’s ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴏʟᴅɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ “ʜᴏsᴛᴀɢᴇ,” ʜᴇ’s ᴋᴇᴇᴘɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ sᴀғᴇ

Aʟʟ ᴏғ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍs ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴏɴᴛɪɴᴜᴏᴜsʟʏ ʀᴇғᴜᴛᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀʟʟ ᴏғ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍs Mɪɢᴜᴇʟ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴄᴏɴᴛɪɴᴜᴏᴜsʟʏ ʀᴇᴀғғɪʀᴍ

Sʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀᴛᴛᴇᴍᴘᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴘʜʏsɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ ғɪɢʜᴛ Mɪɢᴜᴇʟ, ʜᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴇsɪᴛᴀᴛᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ

Iᴛ sᴏʀᴛ ᴏғ ɢɪᴠᴇs ʜɪᴍ ᴀɴ ᴇxᴄᴜsᴇ- ᴀ, ᴀᴛ ʟᴇᴀsᴛ ɪɴ ʜɪs ᴍɪɴᴅ, ᴠᴀʟɪᴅ ʀᴇᴀsᴏɴ ᴛᴏ sᴇᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴜʀᴛɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ʙʀᴜɪsᴇᴅ

Nᴏᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴊᴜsᴛ sᴇɴsᴇʟᴇssʟʏ ʙᴇᴀᴛ ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜ!

Hᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇs ʏᴏᴜ, ᴀᴅᴏʀᴇs ʏᴏᴜ ᴇᴠᴇɴ

Hᴇ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴅᴏ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ sᴏ ɴᴇᴇᴅʟᴇssʟʏ ᴄʀᴜᴇʟ

Iғ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴍᴇᴇᴋ ᴛʏᴘᴇ, ʜᴏᴡᴇᴠᴇʀ, Mɪɢᴜᴇʟ ᴡɪʟʟ ғᴀʟʟ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ʜɪᴍsᴇʟғ ᴛʀʏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴏᴍғᴏʀᴛᴀʙʟᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ

Hᴇ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ʟɪᴋᴇs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ sᴏ ᴅᴏᴄɪʟᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀɢʀᴇᴇᴀʙʟᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴏғ ᴄᴏᴜʀsᴇ, ʜᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇs ᴛʜɪs ᴀs ᴀ sɪɢɴ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ sᴛɪʟʟ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʜɪᴍ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀʀᴇ ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ʜᴇ “ᴄᴀᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʀᴇsᴄᴜᴇ”

As ᴍᴜᴄʜ ᴀs ɪᴛ ᴘᴀɪɴs ᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ sᴀʏ, ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ᴡᴀɴɴᴀ ᴇɴᴅ ᴜᴘ ɪɴ ᴀ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴜɴᴄᴏᴍғᴏʀᴛᴀʙʟᴇ, ᴘᴏᴛᴇɴᴛɪᴀʟʟʏ ᴘʜʏsɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ ᴘᴀɪɴғᴜʟ ᴘᴏsɪᴛɪᴏɴ ᴡɪᴛʜ Yᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ Mɪɢᴜᴇʟ, ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴇsᴛ ʙᴇᴛ ɪs ᴛᴏ ᴘʟᴀʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴇᴋ ʀᴏʟᴇ ᴜɴᴛɪʟ ʏᴏᴜ’ᴠᴇ ɢᴀɪɴᴇᴅ ʜɪs ᴛʀᴜsᴛ, ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ᴡᴏɴ’ᴛ ɴᴇᴄᴇssᴀʀɪʟʏ ʙᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴀʀᴅᴇsᴛ ᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇɴ ᴏɴᴄᴇ ʏᴏᴜ’ᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴘᴘᴏʀᴛᴜɴɪᴛʏ, sᴇᴇᴋ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ Sᴘɪᴅᴇʀ ᴘᴇʀsᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴀɪᴅᴇ

Mɪɢᴜᴇʟ ᴡᴏɴ’ᴛ ғᴇᴇʟ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀɴɪᴘᴜʟᴀᴛᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀᴘᴘᴇᴀʀ ᴛᴏ ᴀɢʀᴇᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜɪᴍ, sᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀ sᴀɴɪᴛʏ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʜᴏᴘᴇғᴜʟʟʏ ʀᴇᴍᴀɪɴ ɪɴᴛᴀᴄᴛ 

Pʟᴀʏɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴇᴋ ʀᴏʟᴇ ᴀʟsᴏ ᴍᴇᴀɴs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜɪɴɢs ᴄᴀɴ ɢᴏ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀʏ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴡᴏ ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜ ғɪʀsᴛ sᴛᴀʀᴛᴇᴅ ᴅᴀᴛɪɴɢ

.・゜-: ✧ :-.・゜-: ✧ :-.・゜-: ✧ :-.・ ✧ :-.・゜

Buy me a Kofi?

[reareaotaku]

Miles Morales Headcanons

He liked you before you liked him

Bro tried everything for your attention- Like everything

He wrote notes and put them in your locker, your desk, and even threw some at you during class. Anytime you looked around he always made sure to avoid eye contact

At first you thought someone was messing with you, but you quickly realized that who ever it was really liked you

Tried impressing you as Spiderman

Was ecstatic when he saved you as Spiderman, because he could show you all the cool shit he can do

Though not as happy that a super villain got their hands on you

Tries talking to you in what he considers a 'Deep-sexy' voice

Sees you after school as Spiderman to talk to you and hopes to get you to start to like him as Miles

"So, uh, any crushes?"

"What?"

"You know- Do you like any boys in your class?"

"God, you sound like my dad. Why do you care?"

Tries to be super nonchalant [Is not successful]

He gets more confident the more he hangs out with you as Spiderman

He uses the stuff he learns about you to his advantage

Takes some of your stuff from your room. Clothes, makeup, blankets, pillows, etc

He is so down bad it's insane

You figure out Miles has a crush on you and is the one writing the love letters, when catching him stare at you multiple times in class

You think he's cute and sweet- and kind of funny, so you decide to ask him out

Bro think he's died when you ask him out

You? Are asking HIM out?

[messylustt]

Hi! Can I request Miguel O’Hara x civilian reader. Where reader is Miguel’s dead wife and Gabriella’s mom and Miguel travels to another universe on a Mission and she mistakes him for her Miguel. And he’s just so out of it because he misses her sm.

my heart my HEART

݁   𓂃 ៸៸៸ copied desire — miguel o’hara + reader: you aren’t miguel’s dead wife but he can’t let you go.

contents : yandere behavior; non purposeful cheating?? (like just a kiss). wc 1.0k.

pt one pt two

“i’ve got it.” miguel says, bypassing jess to slip through the window. they were chasing down an anomaly, undercover in simple clothes of this universe, and as jess left to scout the other buildings, miguel found his way inside a rather nicely furnished apartment.

he tried to stay quiet, knowing that there could only be civilians here and the anomaly could be elsewhere. but as he walked down the hall, his foot stopped on something partially imbedded in the carpet. looking down he found a small lego piece and then he heard a voice.

“yeah…no, i’m not sure…mhm.” it sounded as though someone was talking on the phone, and as miguel trained into listening he froze, hearing the tone and softness he never thought he’d hear again.

you chuckle, walking out into the hallway, and when you see miguel you jump, placing your hand over your heart. you had just ended the call. “christ, miguel…i thought…i thought you weren’t coming home until later?”

miguel can only stare. you’re supposed to be dead. you…are dead. his gaze gets caught up in your details, his eyes impossibly softening as he takes note of you and your entirety. you looked beautiful.

and then you’re walking closer and before miguel can react you lean up and place a gentle kiss to his cheek, your hand coming out to place atop his bicep.

he meets your gaze and you smile. and miguel’s mind falters. “come on, i made some lunch for me…but i guess you can have some too.” you teasingly chuckle, beginning to walk away when miguel—without his minds permission—reaches out for, pulling you back as he can’t help but press his lips against yours.

is this a dream? miguel thinks it must be. because you shouldn’t be in his arms right now. but he can’t help but move his head against yours. you, of course, kiss back, thinking it’s your miguel. the one from this universe. with the ‘undercover’ clothes he looks the same.

you slightly break away from miguel, your smile still present. “rough day?” you ask with a tilt to your head. his hand comes out to touch your face, dragging down to your lips, as he just nods. that’s all he can do.

because this is wrong. you aren’t his. his version of you is dead. but oh you look so alike, so…similar. even with the way you’re head is tilting in a smile. it’s all too much for miguel.

“real rough.” he mutters before his hand is slipping to the back of your neck and pulling you back in. you tasted sweet, just as sweet as he remembered. and now he can’t back away, because you’re kissing him back, your hand is shifting to slip around his arm.

“the food’ll get cold.” you whisper against his lips. and miguel is still breathing hard, practically dazed. but then he hears the turn off keys, and remembers you aren’t his. miguel knows that it’s this universes version of him. you’re that miguel’s wife.

but miguel’s chest is beginning to heave at the thought of you leaving him again. he didn’t want you to leave. no. his grip slipped to your chin, pulling your head back to him as you had glanced to the door, confused.

no one else had a key besides miguel. your miguel. you had heard him mention details from his work, him working at alchimax as a scientist. you had heard of the new project and it’s risks. briefly of course, majority of it confidential.

but you caught things such as ‘other universes’, and ‘carbon copies’. and then it clicked, as you meet the gaze of the miguel who is holding you still. miguel can see the clogs turning in your brain. and he has the urge to shake his head. this becoming over far too soon.

he means you no harm, even if his grip on your chin is tightening, as he watches you realise. your mouth falls open, as you go to step back. “you’re not….”

but miguel can’t seem to let you go, bringing you back to him as he shakes his head. “no, please don’t…”

“no, get off me.” you struggle to get away. now you know. this isn’t your miguel.

“hey, hey.” miguel grabs your face, continuously shaking his head. he felt like something was getting ripped away. his heart, maybe? “it’s me.”

you shake your head. “no you’re…not miguel. not my miguel.”

“but…you’re…” he can’t get the words out because your gaze isn’t soft anymore, you aren’t looking at him with love. and you’re slightly confused as to why miguel still has an expression expressing that he does feel that—love.

you shake your head, grabbing his hands on your face, in preparation to remove them. “i’m not your version of me. you know that right?” because you had guessed that there was also a carbon copy of you back in his universe, and maybe he got confused.

but miguel is still shaking his head, bringing you closer to him. the front door has now been opened and closed as the voice of your universe’s miguel reaches both yours and miguel’s ears. “mi amor, sorry i’m home a bit earlier than planned.”

now, all miguel can see is red. he knew you weren’t his version of you, but upon hearing this other version of him calling you ‘mi amor’, part of him wanted to change that. you could love him, right? you love that version of him, loving another won’t be too difficult.

but no matter what made up reason miguel can say to himself, even he knows how fucked up this is. He shouldn’t even be thinking about it. to instead leave you be to live your own life. he wasn’t meant to meet you.

but as your miguel’s steps draw near, and as you go to call for him, miguel places a cloth over your mouth. this makes your eyes widen as you shake your head, your eyelids beginning to droop. the cloth was meant for emergencies. i’m sure this can count as one. “shh…” miguel whispers, his lips brushing your forehead, as you drop in his arms. “no…” you quietly mutter out.

“it’s okay…you’re okay…you’re okay.” miguel mutters. “you’re with me now…you’re gonna be fine…you are fine…god you’re okay…” miguel had continued muttering anything as his lips brushed your skin your eyes now closed. “you’re all…mine again…”

© messylustt.tumblr please don’t steal, copy or translate my work onto other platforms.

[ice-cream-writes-stuff]

■□▪︎The Viewer, The Liar▪︎■□

{Yandere Miguel O'hara/Reader}

《When self-awareness becomes self-loathing.》

-

The Spider-Man of 2099 didn't expect to see.. Well. You appear in the monitor. An attractive human sitting on a simple couch reading through a comic book.

What world was this?

It was different than the worlds he had traveled to, the people from those worlds.

Comparing it to you, it didn't feel right.

So he watched you, saving your current coordinates on one of the monitors as he focused back on his work.

Lyla, when noticing this, questions Miguel as he shrugs at her absent-mindedly. (Mostly ignoring.)

The A.I. notices that.. You don't have a location. Much less one to travel to if needed.

"I don't even think they're a Spider, Miguel?" Lyla states in confusion, watching you as well curiously. As if seeing an endangered animal.

Days go bye, and Miguel notices that he started to watch you more often than reflecting on his past memories or a life he could have had.

It was if he was tuning in a late-day show, wanting to see where the main character, (You), would do next.

He'd watch you laugh, cry, sing, dance, anything with you in it.

"Oh God, why!" You screamed at the burnt meal you brought out of the oven, hurriedly placing it down on the table.

It became less of a routine as it was now borderline obsession.

His mind started to drift off into what your life would be like with him in it.

Would he look like he belonged there? Would you smile at him so sweetly when you see something you enjoy. Or would you look at him in terror, believing he was a creature from a T.V show?

He didn't know, he didn't care, knowing it could only be a fantasy as he saw more of your story play out before him.

"Lyla, any new news on the -" "Aghhh!" Miguel gave the A.I. a confused glare as he looked away from the report he was typing. " "It's always, "any location on the other anomaly this" or "try to track coordinates"! Miguel, I got no clue! Zero!"

-

[Yes, I wrote something for spiderverse. Couldn't help it! Let me know if I did good! Maybe I'll male more in the future! Comments, reblogs and hearts appreciated! Image is from the movie poster which goes to sonny! Love that he's falling lol♡]

[selfmessages]

Whipped Miguel who worships the ground you walk on—literally, this man is completely enamored by your existence. I mean, how could someone so perfect, so divine, even be real? Miguel constantly reminds you of how perfect he thinks you are. Praise for you is always at the tip of his tongue. Even if you don’t think you’re perfect, you could do absolutely no wrong in his eyes.

Whipped Miguel who vows to protect you til his very last breath. He doesn’t make any effort to hide how protective he is of you either. Pretty much all of Spider Society knows of his possessiveness over you. If so much as a hair on your head is out of place- (just imagine what he did to miles and times it by 10) Most of his free time is spent following you around under the guise of him needing to protect you. (It’s true, he wants to protect you from danger but he mostly just wants to spend time with you… and scare off any people who might try to take you from him.) You sometimes joke that he acts like a little puppy with separation anxiety. He’ll roll his eyes and cross his arms with a huff in a typical Miguel fashion, but we all know he doesn’t mind.

Whipped Miguel who stops at nothing to please you, including in bed. His favorite position is missionary. Simply because he loves seeing your face and all the expressions you make while he hits your sweet spot dead on, over and over again. He also loves hearing your sweet moans, maybe a little too much to the point where he constantly overstimulates you. He’ll have you shaking and twitching uncontrollably from the mind-bending orgasms he gives you. His aftercare is top tier so you don’t mind. He will clean you, change the bedsheets, get you food/water, and whatever else you need.

Whipped Miguel who loves having you in his arms. Fall asleep while he’s holding you and he could die a happy man right then and there. If you’re having any self-doubts he will plant you firmly in his lap with his arms around you while whispering sweet nothings and praises into your ear. He just loves you so much.

We ❤️ whipped Miguel

[yandere-wishes]

The Perfect Girl

Summary: Somewhere along the line the villain won and the hero lost. Now your life is nothing more than a cautionary tale.

 Part #2 of Imposter Syndrome but can be read as a stand-alone. Part #3 The Spider's web

Warnings: Dollification, yandere themes but like more than usual, abuse, violence, horrible Spanish, NO NSFW but the reader and Miles are 18+. Friends to enemies to one sided lovers. This plays out as a cautionary tale. 

Author's note: Can you tell I'm bad at writing Intimacy??😂🤣

You squirm uncomfortably on Miles's lap. Arms awkwardly thrown around his neck as you try to hide your face in his chest. Miles sits proudly, face void of emotions and voice overflowing with authority. He's barking orders to his underlings. For what you're not sure, you've long since stopped listening in on his conversations, your inability to do anything coupled with the innocent lives you know would be destroyed was enough to keep you awake at night. And consciousness was the last thing you wanted these days. 

It's been six weeks.

Six weeks since the Prowler defeated New York's last beacon of hope. Six weeks since he'd been welcomed into the Sinister Six as their newest member. They're shining star. 

Six weeks since he stole you away from everything you knew,

everything you loved.

You hear the padding of feet and the loud thump of the door. You're alone with him again. So the nightmare begins anew. You're reluctant to lift your head, to face your capturer. You hate him, you hate him, you hate him. It's funny how once, back when you'd still wore your beloved silk mask, you had used to count the minutes until your midnight rendezvous. 

Miles's fingers reach towards you, tilting your chin up. His smile is razor sharp, deformed as if he can't quite remember how to smile. "Muñequita" he mutters like a disjointed prayer as his fingers glide up your side. Drowning you in a sense of impending doom.

You stare into his eyes. Two voids that have seen every nightmare imaginable. Any saint, any sweet innocent boy whose been trapped inside the darkness for this long comes out as a monster. Stumbling through the night with knives instead of teeth and an appetite for destruction. Miles Morales may have been a human once, a long time ago. Before you met him, before the savior of New York met him. But now he's a monster, one who has long since buried any morals and dignity he may have once had.

Sometimes when the night rages on and you're caged between his arms and sentience. you wonder if maybe, just maybe you should go digging for any of the virtues that he's buried six feet deep. But when he laughs and tauntingly presses on a new bruise with his thumb, you conclude quickly that it's better to leave his good qualities dead. it's easier to hate him that way.

"How does it feel to sit in your arch nemesis's lap?" 

He jabs as he pinches your cheek. You let out a soft cry of annoyance as you shift your gaze away from your tormentor. 

Miles revels in your fall from grace. Adores pinching and probing you in front of his minions or the rest of his gang members. Loves taunting you after every failed escape attempt. You try to bite his finger, to make him feel a fraction of your pain. But before your teeth can graze his skin, he releases your cheek. He laughs, low and fragmentary. A haunting noise that reminds you that he barely counts as human anymore, just a heartless ghost masquerading as a real boy. "Trying to rebel again mi amor?". 

You fight the urge to pick at the flesh of your face or bite your fingers until you reach the bone. 

Miles's eyes narrow, annoyed at your lack of a response. He's growing bored, he always does when his pet refuses to play along. His gauntlet reaches for your neck. Squeezing as the claws bite into your flesh. 

you should let him kill you, give him the final satisfaction of watching your blood blemish the skin-tight dress he's made you wear. Watch as the life leaves your eyes. "let's try this again mami. When I ask, how it feels your response should be.."

"I love you Miles" you mutter, all deadpan and defaced. "Not like that say it the way I taught you" he hisses, a threat, you note wearily.

"Te amo Miles"

"Bino"

Sometimes you think that he's foolish enough to believe your reprised lie. It almost helps him deceive himself into believing he still has a soul left. 

He thinks he loves you. 

You think he doesn't know what love quite is. 

You use to be a hero, use to be revered and respected by all. You use to be someone, someone important. Laminating about all of this now will do you no good. 

You're nothing more than a doll now. Painted and dressed the way Miles likes, posed forever perfectly on his lap. Flaunted and paraded as all prize trophies should be. You guess it makes sense. To the victor goes the spoils. You wonder if you would have done the same to him if you had emerged triumphant that night. Deep down, where logic doesn't reach, you know you would. At least you would have let him keep his dignity. You're not like him, you're not a villain...

But you're not a hero anymore either. What are you supposed to be anyway? When questions like this bubble into your withering mind. You force yourself to choke down the idea that you're still good, you have to be. You're not like him, like them. You're afraid that someday you'll look in the mirror and every ounce of your virtues will have evaporated. You promise yourself that that'll be the day you do something drastic. To yourself or Miles, you're not sure yet. 

Miles's fingers trace the indents on your neck. Angry red puncture holes left by his steel claws. He buries his face in the crock of your neck. Licking the measly blood drops from the wounds before tenderly kissing his territory. "Stop it" you grumble trying to push at his chest. But he just growls in warning, ignoring your feeble attempts. "I got you a present, Mami" he whispers over your jugular. You flinch, as he detaches from your neck with a final kiss. He maneuvers you off his lap as he gets up and walks over to a closet on the other side of the room. Plucking out a necklace from one of the drawers. 

Necklace is a generous term. Its neck tight and studded. With a silver chain hanging dead-center that speaks of horrors untold. You know what it implies, you know what he's trying to say, trying to prove. You never thought you'd miss the Prowler's iron glad punches to your stomach but you think this might just be worst. At least back then you'd been able to fight back. Reimburse every punch with a kick or stab of your own. Now you are helpless, frail. Broken glass perpetually embedded in soft cotton. Something wild, something tamed. Golden specks of a crown long since shattered tint your hair. All ghosts of who you once were.  

"What do you say, muñequita," He says. In a tone that's sick, in a tone that's sweet. Like rotten nectar trickling down a destroyed paradise. Like boiling blood dripping from a broken heart. There's a click, as he fastens his present around your neck. An endless second before reality comes crashing in. 

"Gracias Miles" You reply as you feel your last shard of freedom disintegrate. 

You use to be something, someone. Carved from porcelain ideals and ivory hope. Divine ichor ran through your veins as you swung across New York's skyline. You had been chosen, but you hadn't been enough.

Now it feels like someone tore you apart. Ripped away your flesh, your bones, your thoughts, your soul. Stitched you up wrong with a rusted needle and a thread of ash. And all you could do was sit there and watch as your golden blood seeped through ruptured veins.

Miles grabs your shoulders. Pulling you close enough so the spikes of your necklace cut into his flesh. His lips bite yours teasingly before they finally merge into a dreadful kiss. He isn't the Prowler you remember, albeit you know that's wrong. He's not the Prowler you had fabricated when you'd thought that the two of you were both innocent souls driven to madness by this city. You use to think that Miles was beautiful, a moon-kissed face with stardust dripping from his eyes. Now you know the truth. He's nothing more than a nightmare, the embodiment of starless darkness and the terrors that lurk upon blackened city streets. He's not your friend. He never was. You were just so foolish and overwhelmed back then. 

"You're mine, héroe." His voice is nothing short of a dagger laced with venom. Spreading apathetic poison from your heart to your lungs and leaking into your bloodstream. You see blood behind your eyes when your eyelids shut. Feel the apprehension pounding in the hollows of your bones. 

You've long since hemmed every hole where your pride and glory use to bleed through. But it's so hard to keep divinity down when it's all you've ever known. This life isn't yours. This thing that Miles has forced you to be isn't you. There's still hope, you think. Heroes never lose hope. It's a lesson everyone learns, sooner or later. 

Later that night Miles kisses you again, this time whispering how to him you are perfection personified. The dark circles under your eyes and bloody knuckles validate that. He traces circles on your arms whilst telling you about how the Sinister Six plan to expand their operations to the next city over. All this makes you wonder if he'd ever been a sweet little boy, tucked under his mother's arm, whilst his father kisses his cheek. Of if he's always been a merciless monster who wears his kills like honor badges. 

You pray under your breath as he reminds you that you're no longer a hero. You wonder if you pray because you are human or if praying makes you human. There are still some fragments of hope bubbling inside you regardless of what he says. 

Miles likes to remind you that you no longer have the power to save anyone. That the villains won and the heroes lost and that's the way this story ends. 

You refuse to believe him. 

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Miguel Having A Crush On You Would Include…

Warnings: Implications of Smut, Obsessive Miguel, Possessive Miguel, Implied Yandere Miguel, Miguel in Love, Vampire Marking, Marking (Kind Of), Fluff, Typical Crush Behaviour, Petnames/Nicknames, No Pronouns used for Reader Except ‘You’.

Him being absolutely OBSESSED with you.

Literally completely feral, down bad, infatuated, etc.

Initially, when he realised he’d started liking you in a romantic sense, he tried pushing you away; tried drowning his feelings in work, missions, Hell – even resolving petty spats between the Spiderpeople at the base. Anything to exorcise this rising feeling of butterflies in his chest whenever you were around. Vulnerability.

However, you were persistent.

You’d bring him lunch whenever you knew it would be a long day in the office for him, telling him that “Even the best superhero needs a sandwich every now and then!”

And by God were your sandwiches phenomenal.

Though he’d never admit it, his heart would skip a beat whenever the door to his office opened, knowing that it could be you paying him a visit with your delectable lunchables, or even just to check in on him. Make him feel special in ways nobody else had or could in years.

Eventually, this turned into a daily affair; one Miguel would watch the clock for, wait for. Long for.

Miguel also tried hiding his feelings when you brought him hand-crafted, love-filled desserts that he just couldn’t bring himself to ignore or throw away. Or, when Miles offered to take them off his hands, let anyone else have.

Eventually, there isn’t a day that goes by where you aren’t with him in some capacity. And it shows.

Whenever you’re late, even only by a few minutes, Miguel can feel his heart spike, asking Lyla where you are, if she can track you, etc.

“Sounds like you liiiike (Y/N)~” Lyla gives Miguel a knowing smile.

Miguel just grunts, ignores her. Though, he can feel the corners of his lips turning up, and hides them behind a well-placed hand, rubbing his temples.

Soft glances whenever you’re in the room, all his attention turning to you and you alone.

He just loves to stare at you. You’re so beautiful that he can’t understand why nobody else passing you has to stitch their dropped jaw back onto their face.

Then again, he is grateful. The fury that bubbles inside him whenever he catches someone glancing at you, gaze lustful, is all-consuming, enough to make his teeth grind, his eyes bleed a light rouge hue, piercing. He makes sure they’ll never cross paths with you again.

Gradually, your warmth and kindness thaws his walls, and, once the floodgates are open, neither you nor he can predict the dark ocean that is to flood your lives.

He doesn’t mean to throw himself full-force into his feelings, but after being so guarded for so long, he just can’t help it.

Becomes overly-concerned with every facet of your life. More so than he already was.

Constantly trying to find out information about you, though being stumped as to how to do so without arousing your suspicion.

Asks Lyla to track you, see what you’re doing, who you’re with, their relation to you.

However, she begins to deny Miguel such luxuries, telling him to “Grow a pair and ask (Y/N) yourself!”

When he realises Lyla is steadfast in her resolve, he does so. Reluctantly.

Though, once he starts, he finds it difficult to stop.

“Where are you going after work?”, “Are you going out tonight with anyone?”, “Who?”

Eventually, you just look up at him, seemingly oblivious to his growing desperation, and say: “Gosh, Miguel, you’re starting to sound like you’re my boyfriend or something!”

His heart stops. His throat dries and he just looks at you, eyes wide.

One second passes. Then two. Then–

“Oh– uh– yeah... I mean, not that that’s weird, right? Unless you think it is weird, then–”

Lyla has to step in and save him from himself, telling him he has ‘urgent business’ in one of the other wings of the facility.

His suit suddenly feels too tight and too hot beneath the collar whenever he has to speak with you alone.

And tight in…other places when his mind wanders to the more intimate aspects of your hypothetical relationship.

Miguel likes to rationalise this as him preparing how best to please you when the time, inevitably, comes for him to claim you, make you his. At least, this staves off the post-nut clarity (guilt) just a little longer when he’s pursuing a release, blasphemous images of you running through his mind.

A good example of this occurs almost nightly, with Miguel thoroughly loving a pillow clad in a shirt he’d lent you once, your scent still woven, though faded, into the fabric.

Many nights, his face is pressed to the cotton of that shirt, muffling his lips and his moans as his teeth sink into your temporary body, extending, marking, hand moving fervently beneath the bed sheets, your name the chant of many a spell of ardour.

You might mistake that red glow on his cheeks for the illumination of the console screens, but anyone who looks close enough knows better.

He loves showing you around the facility. Especially when your eyes light up and you remark how intelligent he is for “Doing this all on your own,”

Any compliment from you makes his heart thrum and his cheeks burn with the urge to smile. And, if it’s only you in his company, he does so.

Maybe even give you a nervous laugh.

You’re the only one he feels comfortable with showing emotion to.

He hopes that his displays aren’t lost on you; that you know him well enough to know that every smile, every laugh, is for you and you only.

And he is determined to, one day, make that smile of yours for him. And only him.

But, for now, he will content himself with daydreams and night ventures into territory not yet known, all the while possessing a seat beside you, being a shoulder for you to cry on, an ear into which you may pour your worries, a hero on whom you can always depend in ways you can’t even begin to imagine.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterpost

Yandere Masterlist Juicy Original Content <3

[appleblueberry-pie]

vampire miguel kissing you awake in the middle of the night. you can't breathe, his hand is nearly choking you around your throat, and his tongue in your mouth has a lingering copper taste on it. you groan, bringing your hands to his piercing cold and shirtless chest. the skin is soft, but the body has no running blood to give the telltale signs of functionality on the inside.

he got in through the window, mindlessly crawling on top of your bed and covering your sheets with the dirt all over his shoes from when he ran here. his fangs keep scraping and scraping at your bottom lip, threatening to pierce the sensitive, delicate, and warm skin.

he fucking loves that about you. you smell so good, so much good blood underneath that warm and delicious flesh. but the last thing he wants is your face twisting downward because of him. you immediately start fixing your lips to talk instead of kiss him and it makes him want to tell you to shut up.

he carefully takes his hand from around your throat and gets off your bed to close the window. you watch his shirtless form from the bed, still in a daze from sleep. he continues tracking your floor with dirt. you don't know how to tell him you wouldn't mind doing this a little more often.

[multifariousqueer]

Hello girl! how are you? doing well?

Can I request a E 42 yandere miles X reader? Am yes, E 42 reader is dead, omg how original XD

But the E 42 reader had this "church girl" or "flower girl" innocent type persona. And when E 1610 reader arrived with miles, she is a loud, cusses out a lot and has a hammer with her at all times.

E 42 miles sees her and while stunned to see such drastic personality change, he still sees his beloved in her and wants to keep her in his world and in his life? Add flashbacks if ya like! you can change it if you want! whatever makes it be awesome! luv you! <3

Hey, love!! I can totally do this

Suerte- Miles G x Reader

A/n: I hope y’all enjoy this!!

Warnings: strong language, angst, suggestiveness, reader being a spider person, descriptions of blood and yandere behavior, kidnapping, lmk if I missed anymore

You were falling off of a building, it seemed your screams would never end as you looked up into the endless sky waiting for someone, anyone to save you. Miles watched as he tried to run and save you but by then it was too late, the sound of your skull hitting the pavement and the crimson blood that flowed from your nose was enough to indicate that you were gone and there was no saving you. Miles cradled your softer skull as the police and ambulance arrived.

Suddenly, Miles woke up in a cold sweat. It was Sunday now, and he had to get ready for church the only reason he was going was because you convinced him too

You managed to convince Miles to do just about anything; he just couldn’t say no to your adorable face and he hated disappointing you. You two seemed like an odd couple at first, with Miles being tough, cold and closed off whereas you were bright, happy, innocent and it seemed like you could do no wrong. You went to church every Sunday, you prayed all the time, you helped everyone and everything and Miles fell for your soft innocence and your warmth. He fell for your simplicity, your poise, your patience and how you felt like a piece of heaven.

The day he lost you was the day he lost himself. Miles was never the same after you left; he closed himself off completely and adopted the Prowler moniker. He felt like he failed you and that you would be so dissapointed if you saw him now. Miles would have flashbacks to you telling him how much you loved him and how you would always love him in every universe, so he decided to pray and beg God for you back and eventually, he got that.

“MILES WHERE THE FLYING FUCK ARE WE??” you shouted

“I’M TRYING TO FIGURE THAT OUT, Y/N” Miles shouted back

You and your Miles were best friends since you both came to Visions. He found out you had powers the same as him and you two clicked immediately. It seemed you two were fated to be together; same music taste, fashion choices and morals its just you were a bit more harsh than him

“I think we’re home?” Miles questioned

“I don’t remember Brooklyn looking this shitty” you said

“It’s just dark, come on, we can go to my house. My mom loves you” you said

Mrs. Morales loved you because not only were you quick on your feet, you also made Miles happy and you made a great first impression. She thought you were exactly like Miles, just more abrasive and she thought you were sweet.

You went to Miles room and it looked different, almost more grown. Your spider-sense went off and just as you went to tell Miles, Rio was there and greeting him. She looked at you like she had seen a ghost, tears spilling from her...green eyes??

“Y/n?” she whispered

“Yeah? Hi Mrs. Morales” you went, going to give her a hug which she reciprocated just more eagerly

“Oh Mija, I thought you were dead. Gracias Dios, you answered my prayers” she said, sobbing and looking up at the sky

Her and Miles had a conversation and you both revealed your identities in which she was indifferent about. Suddenly, the door opened to reveal an Uncle Aaron.

He saw you and his eyes went wide. He stalked closer to you before grabbing your shoulders and shaking his head

“Is it really you, y/n?” he said

“uhh yeah last time I checked” you chuckled, grabbing your body as a joke

“Where did you go? How are you here?” he asked in disbelief

“Well interesting story actually, we used something called our legs and walked here” you joked, usually Aaron could appreciate your humor because it was one of the things he told Miles before he died

“Miles, you won’t find another girl like her. Girls like y/n don’t come around like that so I’d advise you to keep her"

“Got it” Miles would say

It was like you were looking into a portal of dead people, your entire body clenched when his gaze suddenly went cold.

He lead Miles and you to the roof when suddenly, you felt a strong stinging in your neck and just as you were about to hit the floor, a strong pair of arms grabbed you and you heard voices

“She’s not your, y/n man. She’s meaner”

“I don’t care"

You awoke with a splitting headache on a couch. Your limbs were handcuffed together and it was dark; your eyes immediately went to search for your Miles when you saw him tied to a bag

“He won’t be up for a bit, hes out cold. Maybe we can keep him that way” a voice said

“He’s not the only one who’s gonna be out cold. Who the fuck are you and what do you want?” you snapped

“Hm. So hostile, my Y/n would never speak like that” a man said approaching you

“Dawg are you smoking crack? Speed? Bath Salts? Because you gotta be fucked up if you think-“ you started

“la muchacha sucia(dirty girl), I should’ve put that gag on you while you were out” he said, taking off his mask to reveal your boyfriend just more gaunt

“Listen here you Rick and Morty knockoff, if you try that, I will bite your finger off, comprende?” you said

“Si. Eres muy bonita pero tu boca es tan asquerosa. I can tell you aren’t from here” he smirked

“Just so you know, just because you called me pretty doesn’t mean I won’t crush your nuts the second I get out of these chains. Listen, your knockoff prowler suit doesn’t scare me and neither do these chains, I could break out right now but I’m intrigued” you said

You heard groaning and saw your Miles move

“MILES” you screamed into the other Miles’ ear

“Y/N. GET AWAY FROM HER” your Miles shouted

The other Miles ignored him but he grabbed your throat and forced you to look up at him

“It’s not a knockoff mami and unless you want to find out just how powerful this suit can be, I suggest you pipe down. It’s gonna take a bit of work, maybe force” he tightened his grip at force, causing your eyes to water and your tongue to come out

“But I think I can make it work. You may not be exactly like her, but you’ll be close enough” Miles said, lowly

If the circumstances weren’t what they were, Miles would’ve found your position hot, you were tied up, tongue hanging out a bit and your eyes looked so pretty; in his mind, you were giving him the “fuck me” eyes but in reality, you were using this as a way to escape

The idea of playing along until he got his wish came to mind but you realized this was deeper than that, he wanted you in every form and if it wasn’t you, what’s to stop him from taking another version of you that may accidentally come by.

“What happened, mami? You had so much to say, say it.” Miles taunted, hand still flush against your throat

“Yeah its kinda hard when you’re choking the life outta me” you said

He took his hand off your throat and you coughed.

“Dude just leave her alone, okay? You can have me, kill me just please let her go” your Miles said, his voice faltering at the end

“Oh but where’s the fun in that? Plus cabron, I don’t want you at all, its not about you. It’s about her and her making a promise

“What promise did I make?” you asked

Miles got a flashback of you laying next to him, playing with his braids and giggling

“I’ll love you in every universe, Miles Morales” you said sweetly

Miles teared up and explained this to you

“Okay well bud, I’m not her and in a way, I do love you in every universe, I love my Miles but” you said before he slammed his fist next to you, causing you to yelp

“I am your Miles, mi amor. At least, I will be. I’m never letting you go again” he said close to your face, hovering above your lips before getting up and striding over to your Miles

[lady-ashfade]

Don’t Speak, Don’t Hide, Don’t Scream.

Yandere!E-42!Miles morales x Fem!Reader

You know I’m a yandere page, so I had to do it with the man himself. Dudes screams yandere vibes to me, and I know everyone else.

Disclaimer: I used google translate- I could have asked my mom but I’m not doing that. So I’m sorry if I get anything wrong.

Short/Drabble.

Warnings: Kidnapping/Being kidnapped, Obsession, Yandere Tendencies, poor Spanish.

“Don’t hide mi amor,” his silk words sent shivers down your spine. You held a hand over your mouth hoping he couldn’t hear you from the closet. You had tried to run out but you had no time. “I just brought you flowers.” He hummed and looked over the room with a grip of the bouquet of your favorite colors flowers. His mask looked over the room for your figure and when his eyes ran across the door to the closet. He had found you.

A smirk tugged at his lips while still stared ahead, “Come out Muñeca.” He demanded with a cold tone showing he had almost had enough of your games. It was pitiful how you thought you could hind from him, or was it just a game? “I wouldn’t be mad, just come out now.” You watched in fear as he threw out a hand and the claws of his gloves bursted through.

Your throat went dry as you ran over possibility that could come out of it. Would he hurt you? He had shown aggression before, but you hadn’t don’t much. The best outcome was to come out before you made him angrier, so you pushed open the door with shaky legs and walked out. He sighed in relief and shut down his mask and took a look at you.

He walked forward and noticed your hesitation and fear. It pained him deeply. “I wouldn’t hurt you Muñeca.” His tone softed but you still didn’t believe a word he said. The flowers were pushed into your view on the floor and it made you look at him where he grinned proudly. Still darkly. “Take them.” It took all your strength to reach up your arm and take the flowers from his hands. You were too scared to move.

“Di gracias.”

You swallow the lump in your throat and tried to calm your heart beat. “T-Thank you.” He smirked at you and steps closer, “Good girl.” His hand patted your head. You took a step back to get away but he was quick to stop you by grabbing ahold of your hips. “Where do you think your going?” His tone darkened like the grip on your skin.

You whimpered at the pain and fear, “Let me go.” You pleaded and tried to move out of his grip. The sound of his laughter made your stomach twisted up. “Mi amor, I can’t do such a thing.” Your body was pulled closer then before and you could feel the heat coming from his suit. Tears rolled down from your eyes cooled the hot sensation on your cheeks. “Let me go.” You sobbed.

His eyes looked at you like he be pitied you, “Don’t cry, you know I hate it when you cry.” He leaned closer and pressed his lips to your forehead.

“You’ll be safe with me for, Mija.”

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Caught In The Spider's Web.

Pairing: Yandere!Miguel O'hara x Reader (Spiderverse).

Word Count: 2.8k.

TW: N0n///C0n, AFAB!Reader, Biting, Mentions of Blood, Implied Kidnapping, Obsessive Behavior, Verbal Degredation, Slut-Shaming But In A Projection Way, and Choking.

“Get back here, qué perra!”

“Keep your voice down, we’re in a museum!” You called over your shoulder, chasing it with a breathless laugh before sparing a glance behind you, to where Miguel was still busy clawing through the layers of haphazardly laid webbing that were currently keeping his chest and arms pinned against the far wall of newly-emptied display. You saw his talons tear through the last of it before turning your attention forward – to the tall, narrow halls of the museum, or more specifically, to the stone archways spaced every twenty feet or so. With a wild grin and one last squeeze to the diamond-studded necklace around your neck, the strap of the rucksack weighing heavy against your back, you shot your webs toward the next archway and flew.

Or, swung, more accurately – with Miguel close on your heels. He was more experienced than you, more used to superhuman strength and animalistic agility and everything that happened when a radioactive spider took an interest in you, but no amount of refined skill could’ve measured up to your raw, unrestrained zeal, to the rush of adrenaline that came with every new heist, every new opportunity to use your new powers. Even in the confined space, you moved erratically; vaulting off of walls and falling into jagged nose-dives, never gaining any distance on Miguel but never letting him catch you, either. More than once, you felt his claws graze your back, heard his low growls and muffled cursing, but you couldn’t bring yourself to worry. Why would you? You were a superhero, now, even if you didn’t do many heroic things. You felt invincible. You were invincible – at least in that moment. At least before Miguel got his hands on you and put an end to your fun for the thousandth time. “Y’know, I really thought you’d be cool with this,” you went on, bouncing off of a display case a fraction of a second before he crashed into it, shattering the glass. “I’m like Robin Hood, dude!”

There was a half-snarled bark, a flash of red in your peripheral. You threw yourself to the left just in time to avoid a tendril of pulsing, luminescent webbing – earning yourself just enough time to shoot a playful wink back at him. He bared his teeth, in response. “Robin Hood gave to the poor. You just steal and cause anomalies.”

“I’d be poor if I stopped stealing!” Finally, you came to the room you were looking for – an open lobby with a domed, crystalline ceiling – a ceiling with a panel no one ever seemed to remember to lock. You’d left it open on your way in, and if you were lucky, you’d be able to slip out of it without alerting the guards posted at every other exit. After that, it was only a matter of losing Miguel in the dark city (you’d apparently been the only spider-people smart enough to skip the eye-bleedingly bright color scheme) and hiding a place to lay low in your own dimension. You’d have to come back in a few weeks to sell what you’d stolen, but that was something you could worry about later on. You’d earned your haul, tonight. “It’s been fun, Miguel, baby,” You let your swing go wide, vaulting yourself towards the ceiling and landing just underneath your escape hatch. You let yourself hang there for just a second longer than you could afford, flashing another smile toward Miguel before—

 Before you felt his webbing latch onto your lower back, wrenching you away from the domed ceiling and sending you plummeting downward before you could think to react. Your back hit the floor with enough force to crack the marble, your rucksack of stolen art and jewelry landing somewhere to your left and spilling open. With any chance of escaping Miguel gone and your latest haul scattered across the museum floor, you went limp, letting a pained groan slip past your lips. That was the thing about super-durability. The fall hadn’t broken every bone in your body, but your bones didn’t know that.

Miguel was bolting towards you in a second, on top of you in another. You managed to lift your arm, but your web-shooters only responded with a sad, dry grinding – out of ammo, because you always ran out of webbing at the worst times. His hand shot to his mask, his bared fangs catching in the dim light, but you raised your hands in surrender before he could bite down. “Hey, hey, you can save that for the thirst traps. I can spend the next twelve hours catatonic without your help.” With a heavy sigh, you collapsed, letting another wave of aching soreness wash over you before going on. “Take me home. I’m done for the night.”

It took him a few seconds to bite back his anger, to put on that stoic, put-together face you loved to tease him for. Pursed lips, narrowed eyes – all the things that’d fall away as soon as you got on his nerves. “You’re not getting off that easily, this time.”

“C’mon, Miguel, what do you think you’re going to do to me? Lock me in a cell for a couple days? Let your mega-spider bite me? Lecture me until I buy into your ‘great power comes with great responsibility’ bullshit?” Even exhausted and worn down, you couldn’t seem to stop yourself. He made himself an easy target, and you’d always loved the taste of low-hanging fruit. “We both know how this works. You toss me around a little, tell me to spend more of my time saving orphaned puppies trapped in burning buildings, then send me back to my own dimension. Don’t tell me you’re gonna break our routine now.”

He didn’t answer, a pressed scowl pulling at the corners of his mouth as he worked off his mask. He hand dropped to the collar of your suit, and you let out another laugh, this one more nervous than the last. “Are you going to take my watch? You know I’ll just make another one when I get home.”

His fist wrapped around your stolen necklace, wrenching it off of you with enough force to snap the silver, jewel-studded chain and send rubies and sapphires scattering around you. You watched the precious gems clatter to the floor, mentally tallying up how much you could’ve gotten for each. Clearly, Miguel wasn’t as concerned with their value as you were. “You’re not going home.”

“Miguel, that’s not fun—”

“Say my name one more time and I swear I’ll—” He cut himself off with a throaty growl, turning his claws toward your chest. Before you could so much as think to panic, the front of your suit had been torn to tattered shreds, leaving you vulnerable and exposed to the open air and thrashing against the hand now wrapped around your neck, clawing at his wrist and kicking at his chest for all you were worth. If Miguel noticed your meager attempts at resistance, he didn’t seem fazed, didn’t feel the need to respond with anything more than a harsher glare, a straighter posture, a row of pointed nails driven that much deeper into the side of your throat. “Cállate. Just shut up and take what you deserve.”

The palm pressed into the base of your windpipe, a flash of sharpened teeth in the corner of your vision, and then, Miguel’s fangs were planted in your neck, his venom sent coursing through your veins. The feeling, while unpleasant, wasn’t alien to you. You were hyper-aware of your joints locking into place, your limbs going stiff and still, a heavy fog forming over the part of your brain that told the rest of your body to get up and fight. He pulled away before the numbness set in, before you could completely float into that void of immobile, oblivious existence, but when you tried to lift your arm, to kick at his chest, your body failed to respond. You cursed under your breath, glaring at Miguel, but he'd already moved on.

A gloved hand worked its way under the tattered remains of your suit, grazing over your lower stomach before cupping your cunt. It was the adrenaline, the high and the sudden let-down. Miguel must’ve known that, but it did little to dampen the condescension in his faint smirk as he collected your slick on his fingertips, swiping the pad of his thumb over your clit and drinking in the way your expression contorted. “Little slut,” he muttered, the scarlet shine of your blood still visible on his fangs. “You’re already soaked. Can’t let someone put their hands on you without dripping all over them, huh?”

You grit your teeth, doing what you could to swallow back a half-choked moan. “Stop,” And then, with more than a note of desperation in your voice, “This is a crime, you’re not supposed to—”

The air hitched in your throat as he brought his open palm down on your cunt – the blow rough, sudden, sharp. If you’d been able to, you would’ve gone stiff, would’ve lashed out, but you couldn’t move, couldn’t squirm, couldn’t do anything but hold your breath and stifle a pained moan as the first blow was followed by another, then another, then another, until your cunt was sore and throbbing, until there were tears forming in the corners of your eyes and Miguel was breathing heavily above you. “I told you to be quiet.” It was a hiss, more than anything. A threat he could carry out, but not say aloud. “I’d tell you not to make this worse for yourself, but you were always going to find a way to make this more difficult than it had to be.”

You moved to apologize reflexively, to beg him to let you go, but he clearly didn’t have an interest in anything you had to say. He was already shoving two fingers into your burning entrance, adding something else to the ache – not quite pleasure, but not as far as you needed it to be, either. Everything he did was rough, cruel, from the way he stretched you open to how much force he used while grinding the heel of his palm into your clit. Everything he did was less for your gratification and more for his own entertainment, for as humorless as he’d always seemed to you before. Miguel’s paralysis limited your reactions, stopped you from grinding into his hand or squirming underneath him, but it didn’t help to hide your expression, to stop you from biting your lips or rolling your head to the side, giving in to the baselessly hopeful part of your mind yelling that not looking at Miguel would make him leave. He only laughed, the noise low and dark and infinitely more than anything he’d ever given you, before. That made sense. Miguel had always struck you as the kind of man who could only let his guard down after he’d already broken through yours – this was just the first time he’d gotten the chance to prove you right.

Eventually, he pulled back, drawing an airy whimper from the base of your throat at the sudden lack of stimulation. There was a wet, distorted sound you couldn’t bring yourself to name, a fist wrapped around your arm, and then, he was turning you onto your chest, keeping your wrists pressed against your back with one hand while the other spread your thighs apart. You felt his cock, already hard, already thick enough to send a pang of dread to your core, against your ass, and suddenly, you were very aware of just how easily he towered over you, just how little effort it took for him to press his chest into your back and cage you underneath him. Even if you hadn’t been paralyzed, you didn’t know if you’d be able to do anything to get away from him. Not after you’d already been caught in his web.

“You’re going to cum on my cock,” You felt his lips against your ear, the low timbre of his voice reverberating in the back of your mind. “And you’re going to fucking thank me, when you do.”

There might’ve been more. There probably was, but whatever he said was drowned out by a dull, droning buzzing in your ears – a lifeless static that nearly blocked out the feeling of his hands on your hips, his knee nudging your legs apart, the leaking head of his cock resting against your entrance before he thrust into you, splitting you open in an instant.

He was so, so much bigger than you. Even with the fall, even with his venom, you could still feel so much of him, still couldn’t seem to block out the way your own dripping cunt struggled to clench down around the girth of his cock. You let out a fractured gasp but regretted it immediately, trembling as you struggled to inhale while feeling so impossibly full. There might’ve been blood. It was hard to tell with the slick dripping down your thighs, with Miguel lapping over the side of your throat. He sounded animalistic, growling as he rolled his hips and buried himself deeper in your core, his nails burrowing into your hips and mangling what was left of your poor, ruined suit. You’d have to make a new one, when you got back to your own dimension, when you got back to your tiny apartment already over-crowded with stolen art and half-finished projects. If Miguel ever let you go back.

“You’re tight for a little whore.” He made no effort to be gentle, to hold back, to do anything but bully your cunt, bruise your ass, leave you breathless and struggling just to keep yourself sane. “Must be a tease,” he went on, dropping a hand to your clit and rubbing circles into the abused bundle of nerves. “That’s it. Stealing everything you could get your hands on, wrecking the multiverse – that was just your way of getting my attention, huh? Bet you were just waiting for someone to pin you down and fuck you.”

You could feel your legs starting to shake, in spite of the paralysis. “Please, I can’t—”

“So fucking needy, too.” There was a deep laugh, an open-mouthed kiss pressed into the curve of your throat. “I’ll have to put a collar on you. Might catch you bending over for the first person you see if nobody knows who you— fuck, who you belong to.”

His pace had been punishing from the start, but at that, it turned brutal. You felt tears starting to form in the corners of your eyes, a tight knot of tension forming deep in your core. His cock beat against something sensitive and vulnerable in your pussy and you screamed, a strangled moan tearing past your lips. “Please, Miguel, I need you to stop—"

Your voice gave out before you could finish, but that was all Miguel needed to hear. Before you could take it back, before you could bite your tongue and curse yourself for trying to say anything at all, his hand was on your neck, cutting off your oxygen supply and leaving you choking for air, leaving your cunt convulsing around him. “De nuevo.” It was a demand, an order. You were starting to wonder if he knew any other way to speak. “Say that again, before I change my mind and snap your neck.”

“Miguel.” Croaked, airy, only half-coherent. When his grip only grew tighter, you said it again, and again, and again, his name forming an incomprehensible mantra that played in-time with the pulsing in the back of your skull, in the walls of your pussy. You felt yourself clench around him, your vision burning white as either his cock or the lack of oxygen or some awful combination of the two vaulted you to a breath-stealing, mind-numbing climax – strong enough and blinding enough to leave you crashing on the downswing, plummeting into an infinite abyss of searing heat and overstimulation as soon as your climax gave out under his violent affection. Vaguely, you were aware of Miguel’s touch growing rougher, of his voice in your ear, of his cum flooding into your sore pussy. He made no attempt to pull out, but you weren’t surprised. You didn’t know if anything Miguel did could surprise you, anymore.

You were in a haze as Miguel drew back, nipping at the corner of your jaw one more time before finally letting you go. It wasn’t his venom keeping you still, anymore, but your own exhaustion – weighing you down as he lifted you into his arms, letting you rest your head against his chest. Through your eyelashes, your watched Miguel type something into his watch, a neon-shaded portal cutting through the fabric of reality a moment later. You tried to protest, to call on whatever hidden pocket of strength you still had and get away from him, but all you managed to do was squirm in his arms and let out a small, pathetic whine. Miguel responded by pressing his lips against your forehead, chuckling softly. As if this was funny to him. As if he found this cute. “Settle down. You have nothing to worry about.”

He smiled for the first time that night, and you felt something in the pit of your stomach crack.

“I’m taking you home.”