#yandere spiderman 2099

[huicitawrites]

The Hunt

Yandere! Miguel O' Hara x Fem! Spider! Reader

T/W: yandere (slow-burn(?)), dark fic, violence, assault, spoilers for across the spiderverse.

Status: rewritten.

Next Chapter

Word Count: 2,4k

"Y/N! Get. Back. Here. NOW", swinging away from an infuriated Miguel O'Hara wasn't something you had planned or ever thought would occur, never entertained the thought of it. At least not until now, as you desperately attempted to get away from him and somehow escape him- for your dimension-travel watch (as wild as the concept of it sounded) had been snatched by the same man that was madly hunting you down.

How did it even all come to this? Let's rewind, back to the beginning.

Part I

After being bitten by a radioactive spider in a school trip to Alchemax at the young age of 15, you obtained enhanced spider-like abilities: a sixth sense for perceiving danger, incredible reflexes, amazing parkour skills, extraordinary strentgh and flexibility.

And for the past ten years, you have been New York's one and only Spider-Woman.

Learning to use your powers was a whole trip on itself. They awakened rather clumsily -nothing a leap of faith could not fix- as you began to grasp the ropes of being a masked hero in your teenage years [it's safe to say that your teenage years were truly a heck of a rollercoaster].

Handling a double-life was not easy, that is something you have learned with your ten years experience. You saved a bunch of people and thus many lives, you won many times and saved the city countless more. Yet you also earned a bunch of dangerous criminals and villains tailing behind your back that would want to kill you without hesitation and harm you in any way possible.

In spite of the times you were beaten down, left made a mess in the ground, or at the brink of death- you would always get back up because you were Spider-Woman.

Sometimes, getting back up was hard.

The weight of the sake of the city was on your shoulders. And sometimes, that weight crushed you. When you lost your parents it was devastating, because not only had you failed as a hero, but as a daughter.

[Your dad perished in an attempt to save you from an attack of one of many enemies- the Green Goblin . You two happened to be on a ‘father and daughter’ outing in a nice dinner when the Green Goblin tried to draw out Spider-Woman from her hiding place in Brooklyn (unbeknownst of your true identity and much to your own misery and guilt.) After battling the Green Goblin and imprisoning him, you rose with your dead father in your arms, and an huge crack in your heart that would leave a deep scar.

Months later, your mother's followed suit. That day was chaotic, panic filled the streets of New York as The Rhino, a veteran soldier with super human strentgh and a high-techno advanced armor resembling a rhinoceros, laid waste to the city. You were evacuating all civilians nearby, swinging across and into buildings, picking up and scooping anyone you could encounter and putting them out of danger.

It happened as you held falling debris with your arms. You picked up wailing in between the many cries of people, and your spider-sense guided your eyes up from the ground.

A child, no older than five, was crying. He was glued to the floor, too overwhelmed by the calamity surrounding him. A wall from a building was falling on him and your heart beat raced. You still had people below you that were crawling out and the child was a or two block away. Your thoughts raced in your head, you had to save everyone, down to the last live.

"Come on, come on, come on" you muttered in between gritted teeth as you gathered power and lifted the debris into the air. With the help of your web shooter, you pulled all the remaining civilians out and casted aside the courtesy of double-checking as you swinged toward the child.

You could see how the wall fell over him, and you reached out your arm with your forearm out desperately, attempted to pull him out with your web but the wall was already about to touch his head and-

She pushed the child out of the danger, motherly instincts impulsing her feet at the cost of her own life. The child was pushed onto you and you brought him flush against you with your web, arms encasing him as you witnessed the wall collapse on her.

In shock and disbelief, you gently lowered the child to the ground and ran to the fallen wall. Once again in despair, you clawed through the debris and searched for your mother’s body.

You found her bruised and crushed, her face deformed. You brushed the dust off it. Her pained groan was faint, and you begged her right there and then not to leave you. Not to leave you alone, again.

“Is the kid al…?”

“Yes! Don’t, don’t talk. Help, help is coming. You have to stay, you have to.” But her eyes were already fading, and her limbs growing weak. Your disguised hand snatched up hers and you cried,

“Mom!”

She recognized your voice, the one she cherished the most. Her fading eyes gathered all the warmth they could muster and she reached out a quivering hand to your cheek. Her fingers slid into your mask, and she felt your tear stained skin.

“Ah my baby…[Y/n]…I’m so proud... Your father would be so proud... keep it up”. Her last words were voiced with strain, but you would always remember them.]

They became the fuel for your mission, and no matter how many times you were beaten to the ground and wounded to no end, you stood back up. You would save everyone else, no more deaths, you swore upon your parents' last moments.

Now in your adult life, you found yourself in a stable life besides the implications your side hustle not-so-side -hustle brought. You had an adequate job as a writer for small titles in a decent newspaper, and you had a department you shared with your childhood best friend, Peter Parker [who eventually became your tech-desk guy. Hiding your true identity from your best friend and roommate would have never lasted long anyway. You remember clearly the day you climbed into the living's window, beat up, bruised and tired, when the lights suddenly turned on and a Peter with crossed arms and an eyebrow raised was waiting for you like a parent whose child was past curfew. You were without your mask on. Nonetheless, after stuttering uncontrollably and failing to explain and just simply breaking down in front of him. Without saying any words, he took out the first aid kit and reassured you with a smile. You were so grateful to him.]

So now here you were, crouching on the top of The Clock Tower, the moonlight casting its light on your back and darkening your silhouette. Earlier in the day you dealt with some thugs and minor crimes, but since the sun fell nothing happened. That was odd, NYC was never quite, least of all times at night.

But your spider-sense was running, not rampant, but definetely there like annoying itch on the nape. Something had to be off, you knew it.

"Um, I'm not picking up anything, (Y/n). Maybe you should be calling it a night, you've been doing good work so far. You did lower the crime rate, after all."

"You sure Pete? There's this feeling in my gut and-"

"Your 'spidey- thingy' ?".

"Spider-sense, spidey-thingy sounds dumb" you answered with a small groan, rolling your eyes although he could not see the.

He chuckled, "Yeah, yeah, whatever," he turned serious " but I'm not getting anything from anywhere. From police radios and stations to our own hidden cameras"

"Nothing? Sure?"

"I mean everything is awfully quiet now that I think about it... All I can pick up is glitching, let's see... let me do my thing and-" you could hear frantic typing through the comms of your suit within the mask, you could even picture Peter hunching and fixing his eyeglasses.

What he said left you pondering. Glitching? It couldn't be a coincidence that all the radio signals he could pick up were glitching.

"Aha! Here it is, your spidey-thingy was right." this time, you chuckled as if saying 'see?'. He continued, "-this should be a very hidden signal from the special forces team. Seems classified, man they should really put a little more money into whatever software they use to protect their privacy" and he pushed on one final 'enter', the glitching and static got louder almost startling you to which your friend apologized softly, but it evened out.

"Report the situation, Lieutenant Stacy"

"Requesting back-up right now, suspect is armed with advanced equipment, we are at the Port, South East, many of my men and women have been wounded and- oh, shit, shit" The man's words died down with the sound of something big crashing and breaking.

Well, that's your cue. You stood up on your toes and balanced you body weight forward, diving to the ground. With your limbs extended, you stretched your forearm and extended your wrist, web shooting out from the slick web shooter Peter designed.

Swinging from building to building under the night sky, you jumped across billboards and slid past tight spaces as you were heading to the location of the conflict, and the closer you swinged, the wilder your spider sense got.

When you arrived at the port, you saw a SWAT truck that was flipped over, it had a huge dent in the form of a what seemed to be a claw mark, and the windows had been broken. There were a few members on the floor, and you noticed there were two trying to lift the heavy vehicle.

"Let me help," you announced your presence and they whipped their heads. Their faces were glistening with sweat and dirt, and you could notice their equipment was damaged. You crouched and lifted the truck, there was one member there below, and his leg was twisted the other way, but he was breathing- well, panting.

Without further a do, the soldiers went and dragged out their friend. A soldier's face lit up, though they seemed hesitant [after all, your line of work was kind of controversial among the government and its forces] but they were thankful. "Thank you, Spider-Woman", their voice was genuine and you smiled below the mask.

"Your welcome, leave it to me" winking at them through your lense, you nodded and propelled yourself to the ceiling of the warehouse. You noticed a roof canopy at the center, lucky you, and brought the palm of your hand to it. Utilizing your sticky finger pads, you carefully removed a pane of glass and entered the building without making a sound.

"Be careful, please" Peter voiced with worry.

You hanged the web from it's strongest point at the peak, and slowly lowered yourself down until your hand gently brushed the cold floor . You got off the web and crawled in direction of the tingling of the spider-sense. You found some warehouse crates, pressed your back onto them, slowly leaning your head out to take a peak.

A man stood there, a middle aged man by the looks of him. He had a round pair of black sunglasses on and a large leather coat on, but the most outstanding feature was apparently behind him. Four metal tentacle-like arms sprouting from his back, with threatening looking claws. That had to be the thing that put such a dent in a SWAT vehicle, the advanced equipment you heard of in the interception.

He was ranting about something, speaking to himself. "The power of the sun at the palm of my hand, only to be ruined by that fucking-"

‘What is this man even talking about…’

His words died down in your ears as it took a few seconds for your spider-sense to peak, and you scrunched your face features. Your eyebrows furrowed and your eyes squinted, cheeks squeezing up and causing the lenses of the mask to stretch and flatten.

"(Y/n)? Found anything yet?" Peter inquired.

"This man... I think I know him... but also not..." At this point, your spider-sense was rampant. Your gaze still confused as you tried to decipher him. Your spider sense was alerting you of this oddly familiar feeling. It was someone you had dealt with before, but also someone new. Simply off-putting.

Then the realization fell on you, his tentacle-like arms.

"Is that Doc Ock!?" Without getting a hold of your reaction, you accidentally raised your voice and revealed your location. Your spider-sense tingled again, this time, sensing imminent danger as you backflipped and dodged the incoming attack. The crate you were hiding behind of was broken into splinters.

"Come on out, Spider-Man!" he shouted, his voice in pure anger.

Spider-Man? As long as you remember, you never referred to your disguised self as Spider-Man...

"It's Spider-Woman, mind you" You revealed yourself off the shadows, and the light basked in your costume, revealing its signature colors and design. "Do I know you by chance?" you tited your head, inquisitive in your tone as you were trying to figure things out.

The man's expression fell, and his rage was replaced by annoyance.

"Is this some kind of sick joke, Spider-Man? Have you forgotten the name of the man whose work of life you ruined, Otto Octavius." His tongue rolled of his name with spite and you widened your eyes.

"Doc Ock? But, you are different. You are totally human". Last time you checked, Doc Ock was a mad scientist that turned himself half-octopus by bioengineering his genetics in the name of some sort of sick evolution idea. He had tried to turn the city into mutants like himself for 'the sake of humanity's future' and you managed to stop his plans. Furthermore, he had been sent to a high-security prison for villains, where an anti-serum is being developed to turn him back and halt his aggression.

"Are you pulling my leg Spider-Man?" He said with disbelief, and he began to appear more and more angry by the second. He muttered something below his breath, and you swore you saw one of his tentacles turn toward his face as if it were sentient and listening...

"I've told you it's Spider-Woman." You huffed out, chest puffing out. You had a bad feeling about this...

The man's hand ran down his own face and he groaned, visibly tired. "Well, whatever, but you do appear to be an ally of Peter Parker's, your costume and your name leave little room for further speculation". The mention of your friend raised up your guard, how did he know Pete? Any doubts and hesitation erased themselves of your mind, for your friend could be in lethal danger.

"Oh? What's the matter, 'Spider-Woman'," he sneered.

"Picked right on the web, hmm?" He edged on, a dangerous smirk dancing on his face and two claws raising up in the air, ready to pounce.

There was not much to it, as you jumped sideways to dodge whatever that clawed-tentacle-armor was. You found yourself right back at the gig, fighting a villain as the one and only Spider-Woman.

Or so you thought.

A/n: Hi! So when I first saw this fictional man I KNEW I had to write about him, originally, it was going to be a long one shot, but I decided to break it into parts. I expect this story to be up to 3 parts or 4 as most. Anyhow, I hope you come to like it!, and sorry for the long- ass intro, I really wanted to dwelve deeper into reader as a spider person. Next is the real thing. I have seen some people have asked me to tag them, so don’t be shy to ask too!

[yanderestarangel]

☆𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎'𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐁 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ♡

TW: Yandere themes, manipulation, daddy issues lightly considered, rough sex, non con, dub con, Daddykink, manipulation,age gap, reader is of legal age, nsfw, smut, blood, death citation, bites, bloodkink, Dark!Miguel O'Hara, vaginal sex, creampie, AFAB READER, Pet names, DILF! Miguel O'Hara.

You really didn't know how you ended up in that situation, your life turned upside down overnight.

You were a normal person, you had a best friend, a monotonous and routine life, always doing the same things over and over, repeating the days every week or month, but you liked it, it was your pattern. until Miguel O'Hara came into your life.

Miguel met you through an unfortunate coincidence, he was the father of Briella, the little girl you were hired to take care of and give tutoring in literature and grammar after college classes, you accepted because you needed money and enjoyed teaching the little girl but I had never seen her father's face, Miguel always left early for work which no one knew exactly what it was, he always tried to be punctual, not wanting to leave his daughter in your hands more than necessary so as not to bother you, but he had been late that day, and that's when it all started.

You taught Briella peacefully, a few books spread across the white marble table while you recited some tale by 'Edgar Allan Poe' requested by Briella herself, Miguel was an hour late that day, having been trapped on a mission in the Spider Society, fighting against another anomaly, but it took off running and throwing red webs home quickly.

Miguel composed himself as he entered the house, soon encountering you, your aura light and angelic even, your features, your body covered by the soft fabrics of your clothes, the world of O'Hara stopped there, he felt the heat in his chest, such warmth that he had not known that his Briella's mother and his late wife had died, but now you were there, before him, like a graceful and beautiful angel.

You could have sworn you saw two red hearts in the older man's irises, and it was strangely disturbing, Miguel's lower lip trembled with anticipation and desire, a desire to make you his, physically and emotionally, body and soul, every particle and The atom of his being, wholly O'Hara's, was his new life goal and he would do anything to get what he wanted.

You two spoke quickly and he apologized, trying to keep his composure and not do anything stupid in front of his daughter or scare you, but from that day on, your monotonous life wasn't so monotonous anymore, you felt someone watching over you, someone was around, you could feel it and it was awful.

Miguel also strangely increased the time you were supposed to teach Briella, the problem is that every time you went, the little girl wasn't there but her father, Miguel, always with a warm smile but masked by something darker, something that slowly surface of the "Good single dad" facade, and soon you fell into his Perfect facade, to your bad luck.

Miguel started giving you very expensive gifts or extra money, even if you denied it, he always said the same sentence.

"-Don't worry mi carinõ, that's nothing, you are an angel in my life and my daughter's." - Miguel would speak with a smile of white teeth and a little shaky as he watched your body and face.

𝑯𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒊𝒄𝒌

𝑴𝒊𝒈𝒖𝒆𝒍 𝑶'𝑯𝒂𝒓𝒂 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒊𝒄𝒌

𝑯𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒂 𝒕𝒐𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒔𝒊𝒄𝒌 𝒎𝒂𝒏

𝑨 𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒔𝒊𝒄𝒌 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖<3

Soon the manifestations of possession would start, mainly manipulation, he would talk like a "concerned father" because you are younger than him, but in reality he would just use some of his mental and family instability to bring you into the web of possession it, especially if you have Daddy issues.

He will love to know that.

He'll be everything you want him to be, he'll start taking care of you, calling you "My good boy/girl" every time you do something nice or warm to him and Briella, complimenting you on how you look, asking if you ate or remembering how important you are, even if they are Miguel's genuine concerns, he will also use this to manipulate you and keep you close, you are his after all, even if you don't know it yet.

Bonus: he would force you to call him "Daddy", "Papi", "Papito" or "Sir" as a form of respect (But he knew it was for his own satisfaction, as a title that marked that you were his to him do whatever he wanted, you were his to own and keep, you are the love of his life whether you like it or not.)

Miguel will also push any love interest out of his life, regardless of sex or gender, he is an influential man in the multiverse and powerful, both physically and in status.

He will manipulate you so much that you will find yourself locked in his mansion with a luxurious and comfortable room, with no access to the outside world, just him and Briella, Miguel will manipulate Briella into believing that you are going to be her new Dad/Mom, while smiling little girl believed tall mexican's lies.

"-Oh that was your boyfriend? I'm sorry dear/sweetheart, his muscles were no use after all."

-Miguel would speak with a malicious and psychotic smile with fangs dirty with human blood. You will never leave there and if you try Miguel will punish you severely, either with poison bites, paralyzing you for a few minutes.

Leaving sexual pheromones and making you writhe with pain and lust and you won't be able to touch yourself, with Miguel watching you with a malicious and cruel smile.

Or worst case scenario, fuck you mercilessly, he'll thrust his cock inside you without warning after lubricating it with a little saliva and his fingers, with all his strength, trapping your body underneath him easily, while you listened to the older man moan and growl words of possession as he felt his cock hit your uterus and rise in your womb, while Miguel growled.

"-You are... Fuck so tight... (Y/N) you should have just stayed quiet, why did you try to run away from me? Don't you like your Daddy Miguel anymore? Hm?" - Miguel would speak in a mocking tone as he struck harder, holding your hips and leaving painful marks on your flesh with the tip of his claws.

"-I'll fuck your fucking brains out if you keep being a shitty brat, just obey me and everything will be fine."

- Miguel would speak with a sadistic and cruel voice, while he played with your clitoris with strength and anger, while he continued to stick his dick in your tight pussy, a painful and delicious mixture, you couldn't take it anymore, it was the fifth orgasm of the night, but Miguel wasn't going to stop, he never was.

"-I would destroy everything for you and build everything again from the ashes if you asked me to, and you still say I don't love you?" - Miguel O'Hara would speak with a few tears of pleasure in his eyes as he came inside you, painting your pussy with hot, thick cum, biting your neck hard and leaving a painful trail of blood and vicious bites.

♡Some quotes from Yandere Miguel O'Hara♡:

"-I really don't think you should try to get rid of me. If you try again I swear I'll make them all suffer in front of you."

"I really would hate to hurt you but you don't give me any choice darling/dear."

"I finally found you. You are so silly aren't you? You really need a punishment."

"You can't run away from me my love. If you leave my side I swear I will kill anyone who tries to help you leave my side and I would kill myself in front of you."

"I adore you so much, I would literally rip my heart out and give it to you, kneel at your feet and kiss the ground you walk on."

[yandere-kokeshi]

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

Warnings: yandere behavior

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

Miguel O’Hara:

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hobie Brown:

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

[kiame-sama]

Tender Love and Care- (Yandere!Miguel x sick!reader)

Warnings; reader is bed bound by illness, helplessness, obsessive miguel, mention of kidnapping, yandere behavior, yandere tendencies, lovesick yandere, semi-soft miguel, scolding, confusion, fever, mention of death, possessive behavior, slight objectification,

~~~~~~~~

"Reckless and stupid, that's all it was! Do you not understand how stupid it was? Truly? You could have caused the multiverse to completely collapse!"

Miguel hissed as he paced in front of the three most recent spider-people to let him down. He thought that they would be able to handle a simple mission, but it was clear that he put far too much faith in those standing before him. Keeping the multiverse from collapsing was no easy feat, but so far it seemed like Miguel was the only one holding things together.

"But, Sir, the parameters of the mission were to deal with the anomalies."

"And did you deal with them? No! Ay, madre de Dios, now Noir and Spider-punk have to deal with the extras you all missed. If I have to step in again on another botched mission-"

The soft sound of coughing made Miguel fall silent, his head turning to the door at the back of his office where his most treasured possession lay. A soft whimper and croaking noise made his brow furrow in worry. The other spider-people standing at attention exchanged a look of confusion before his attention snapped back to them.

"Do better next time or there won't be a next time. Dismissed."

He held his stony demeanor for a moment longer as they shuffled out of his office with their heads bowed low, red eyes trailing the group with precision. The coughing sound came again, this time closer than before. Low ragged breaths were being gasped down as the raspy sound of labored lungs fought to inflate.

"Miguel..?"

"(Y/n)," the dark haired man turned on his heel and approached the now open back door, "you should be in bed resting."

Despite their sallow and sunken features, he still found his dearest to be the most beautiful person he had ever seen. It didn't matter how many universes he had to look through before he found them again, he was going to keep this version alive. Of course, the constant canon events were trying rather hard to take them away, but he wouldn't let that happen.

The current problem was a rather debilitating illness that wracked the body and lungs of his beloved, leaving them gasping for every breath. Each cough struck his heart with pain as Miguel heard the following whimpers that came with any fit. If he could only lift away the illness that plagued his dearest, he would happily do so. However, all he could do for them at this point was keep them comfortable and hope their immune system could fight off the worst of the virus they were plagued with.

"Come on, you need your rest."

They didn't argue or fight against his gentle touch as he herded them back towards the large bed in the room. Though the room had once been for Miguel alone, it was now less sparsely decorated and seemed to have a bit more life to it thanks to the new life he felt he received from his darling. Miguel was careful to keep an eye out for any sign of stumbling or struggling so he could catch his darling before they had a chance to fall.

As their foot caught on the corner of a carpet, he quickly caught them in his arms. He may not have the spider sense like many others did, but he was no less observant of his surroundings. His muscled arms were hardened after years of training and fighting, so lifting his darling the rest of the way into the bed was an easy task for Miguel.

The other spider people knew Miguel had someone in his room, though they didn't know the true origin of how that person came to reside in the room. Not that Miguel would tell them, but he had scoured the many universes for any incarnation of his beloved and only found them after months of searching. They were laying in bed, rendered helpless by the pandemic illness that consumed that universe. He couldn't just leave them laying there without any help or defense.

His universe had already mostly eradicated the virus in question, so he knew they would be better off with him instead of in their dying universe riddled with the aggressive virus. Sure, he hadn't exactly asked if he could take them away, but in their delirium they weren't exactly able to deny thier savior anyway.

Once he got them back to his home, he endeavored to keep them safe and sequestered until the virus passed. Lyla was both supportive and judgemental of Miguel taking and keeping his beloved from their universe, she also knew how it would destroy Miguel to lose them again. She brushed off any questions the other spider-people asked her and simply said Miguel was allowed to keep his personal life away from his work life.

"Miguel..."

The hoarse whine of his dearest drew him back to the present as he finished tucking them into bed, resting a cool cloth over their forehead. They rest their cheek against his hand, nuzzling into his touch affectionately as they stared up at him with a kind of feverish delusion. He let the small smile tug at the corner of his lips as he stared lovingly at his darling.

"Rest, I'll wake you up later with food, alright?"

"M'kay..."

"Te amo, (y/n)."

[yanderes-galore]

A romantic concept of Miguel O'Hara if you can please????

I can try... I'm kinda worried I won't write him how he's meant to be- But we'll see! Sorry if this sounds similar to other fics, I've read some to get motivation but I also did my own research so similarities are unintentional if not a reference. Enjoy :D I hope I got things right.

Yandere! Miguel O'Hara Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Violence, Paranoia, Overprotective behavior, Trauma, Fear of abandonment/loss, Isolation, Kidnapping, Dubious relationship, Possessive behavior, Biting/Marking, Drugging (venom).

I understand that some people see Miguel as a sadistic yandere.

However, I have to disagree.

I will admit Miguel can have some intimidating moments, yandere or not.

Yet you've got to remember his origins.

Miguel is a broken man who puts up walls to prevent more hurt.

He mad the Spider Society to protect and defend the Multiverse.

He doesn't always like what he has to do but he does it as he feels someone has to.

He's a perfectionist, obsessing over every little detail to make sure he protects others.

He has trauma and may try not to get attached to others to prevent hurt.

Again, however, I will admit Miguel has devious moments.

He replaced a version of himself just to be happy.

That's desperation, that's a disturbing thought process to go through.

Miguel is a broken man...and it shows in many ways it seems.

Based on my research, I think this is my take on Miguel.

In terms of how he meets you, there's many possibilities.

That's the great thing about the Multiverse.

You could be part of the Spider Society, you could be someone he's with in another universe, and that's just the most popular ones I've seen.

They feel like the most plausible ones too.

To keep this a general overview I won't go into much detail about your origins.

Miguel, when he first meets you, most likely does not want to get attached.

If you look at his backstory it's clear why he'd be like this.

He fears losing anyone he's close with and is incredibly stressed about the whole anomaly situation.

He feels he's no longer deserving of having romantic connections, he should dedicate himself to being a defender.

Yet when it comes to his darling I imagine with time you'd crack his protective walls.

Just know, as soon as Miguel warms up to you, you're in too deep.

Due to all of his emotional trauma, Miguel finds himself clinging to your presence.

Regardless on if you accept or not he feels you're his only other chance to feel loved.

As a result... he makes a promise that he's never losing you.

No matter what it takes.

Miguel isn't a yandere who would want to hurt you.

Any "hurt" he gives you is usually emotional and "for your own good".

He'd never intentionally hurt you physically.

He has outbursts at times and is frustrated when he feels you're threatened, but he calms himself so he doesn't hurt you.

He views kidnapping/isolation as a necessary evil to keep you safe.

Most likely keeps you somewhere out of the way in HQ if something like that happens.

Last thing he needs is questions from the other Spiders.

He always tells you he doesn't like isolating you, that he just wants you safe, yet sometimes you wonder if he does like you alone.

Miguel is shown to be more "beast/spider-like" than more Spiders.

In this case, along with the fear of losing you, Miguel probably displays possessive behavior.

He likes feeling you in his grasp as reassurance you're still with him.

He may also like to leave marks on you due to this, but soothes your pain immediately after.

When Miguel feels he has to isolate you he doesn't expect you to follow willingly.

Which is why he plans on using venom to make you compliant.

His venom is said to paralyze victims for a short time according to his wiki.

If you fight him on protecting you he'll make it clear that he's doing anything and everything to protect you.

Miguel is certainly a yandere who thinks what he's doing is right for you.

He's not delusional, he knows what he's doing isn't necessarily "right".

Yet the fear of losing you is strong in him.

Locking you away with just him is the best way to go in his eyes.

Miguel is an extremely stressed man, he's normally cold and stoic due to the walls he puts up.

But he can prove to be a mess of paranoid emotions once he's attached.

If you express anger at his actions, he understands.

He most likely won't change but acknowledges you're right.

When you're sad about his actions instead, hd has a similar reaction.

Except this time he makes an effort to comfort you.

Miguel isn't cold.

He still loves you and just decides to prioritize your safety due to his trauma and obsession.

He makes an effort to show you he loves you.

In anyway he can he tries to make you look past the fact he most likely kidnapped you.

This is how he cares.

Why don't you understand? He's tired of worrying.

Keeping you at HQ for his eyes only puts him at ease.

Leaving Miguel isn't easy, either.

Escape attempts always end in failure.

First of all, leaving HQ alone is a struggle.

With the amount of Spiders in HQ? Yeah... good luck.

Even if you manage to steal a watch, Miguel is still going to track you.

He's skilled at investigating.

Sooner or later he'll find you, track you, and hunt you down.

Miguel's physical capabilities are the best of the best, too.

He's faster, stronger, and skilled in dimensional travel.

There's strength in numbers and he has the Spider Society.

Miguel isn't afraid to drag you back kicking and screaming.

He's incredibly irritated that you won't see his way on things.

What's so hard to understand?

Are you even aware of the dangers in other dimensions? THIS is what he's PROTECTING you from!

I have a feeling no one can talk Miguel out of what he's doing.

Be it when he's first showing signs of possession/paranoia or sometime after he's given in... he doesn't listen to others.

Not Peter B. Parker, not Jessica, no one.

In his eyes it should be his decision to care for you.

Even if there's hardships and disagreements, he'll try and find the warmth he felt near the start of his life through you.

He drowns himself in every kiss, he feels euphoric with every touch.

Miguel didn't want you to be close with him for this reason.

He didn't want pain for both you and him.

Yet now you've broken down his restraint... you've made your home in his mind and heart...

So he's no longer holding back anymore, you're going to be his and he'll have his happy ending.

[dearest-kibble]

Atlas

A part one (the second is in the works and I'm going insane because i have a lotta ideas) Read on A03 here!

Tw: Stalking, (kind of?) suggestive content, general yandere-ness. It is slow to get to but very much there. Kinda goes from 1-100. Miguel is so sane he swears. I'm back to my dialogue loving ways. (If you think I've forgotten any tags please let me know!)

“Are — Are you okay?” There is a man bleeding in the alley behind your apartment. Profusely might you add. He doesn’t speak, just grunts at you and you notice — Spider-man. That’s Spider-man. He’s bleeding out in the alley. Without a single other thought you make your way towards him and rid yourself of your jacket. Spiderman cocks his head at you. “It’s not much. I know-” You tie it as tightly as you can around the wound. “But until I can get something better-” He shakes his head. “No?” He coughs. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yes.” He painfully rasps and starts to push himself off the damp pavement. Immediately your hands are outstretched and willing to help support. A large shaky hand takes them and you try your best to pull him gently from the ground.

He doesn’t offer any thanks as he staggers out of the alleyway, just a small nod but you feel compelled - “Thank you Spider-Man.” You think he turns at that.

———————————-

“I’m sorry I’m late!”

“What, had a good night?” You don't have to look to see Phil's stupid smug face.

“Interesting night maybe.” You were still tired, worried and a little high on meeting Spider-man.

“Now what’s that supposed to mean?” You love your co-worker, he's nice. Really truly he is. But what you wouldn't do to give him a good punch.

“I had an interesting night, take it as you will.” No way in hell you're ever telling him about Spider-Man.

“So you totally fu-” You've never been more relieved for a potential rush.

“Hello! We’ve got a menu on the wall above the counter whenever you’re ready to order just let one of us up here know!” You turn around to smile at your customer only to realize you have to look up. And up and up, until you finally meet his gaze. His eyes meet yours and he quickly turns his gaze up towards the menu.

“Just let us know whenever you’re ready to order.” Your co-worker tacks on. He stands with posture that cannot be comfortable, not speaking a word. He’s the only customer and both you and your coworker share a glance. He has this undeniably defeated look in his eye, but he still stands tall - as if he’s forced to.

“-ato.” He finally mumbles

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t quite hear that.” You give him a smile as best you can and wait while he just… stands there,

“I said macchiato.” It is then that he stares you down. You can see so much so clearly. His piercing brown eyes, you’d thought they were defeated before but maybe that was just the bags around them. Now that he’s looking at you he seems… much less sad. Though placing that emotion is not something you’re up to the challenge of. They seem to lighten a little as he asks, “Are you going to ring me up?” He speaks flatly, not a single hint of inflection and his teeth seem to glint in the light strangely. Briefly you wonder if maybe it’s some sort of body modification that he got, you don’t see a terrible amount of fangs. He clears his throat and suddenly you realize you’ve just been standing there.

“Oh gosh - yes yes. Let me just-” You move to the POS “Right over here!” You chirp. “One final question, do you mean a traditional macchiato? Or one of the Stellarbucks ones?” He huffs a small chuckle from his nose and his lips twitch upwards, not quite into a smile but a ghost of one.

“Those aren’t macchiatos. Traditional.” You should've figured, he seems like a straight espresso, black coffee kinda guy.

“Alright we’ll bring it out when it’s ready.” He goes to sit in the corner, away from any windows and from a bag pulls a computer.

“Did he tip?” A whisper as your co-worker grabs one of the macchiato cups from atop the espresso machine.

“Don’t think so.” You whisper back.

“Asshole.” You can’t help but giggle a little.

“Oh c'mon, he doesn’t seem completely awful, He just seems a little awkward is all.”

“You’re just saying that cause you think he’s hot.”

“Where do you get your ideas? First it’s my ‘fun night’ and then it’s this.”

“And where do you find the time to flirt so much?” Phil smirks.

“I absolutely was not flirting.” You make sure to say it with authority.

“I mean he is hot.” Phil says this rather loudly, and gives you the shittiest grin to ever eat. “You seemed to be staring at him.”

“Eye contact is common courtesy!!” You hiss.

“And his macchiato is done and I’m not dealing with him, go get him, lovebird.” You roll your eyes and take a doily and the cup. You make it quickly to his seat where he is comically large compared to the table and chair. He’s spilling over the edges of his seat and his arms are so large they take up what little space his computer doesn’t.

“Alright, I’ve got your traditional macchiato, let me just…” You look for a spot to place it, and find nothing with everything on his table. “I don’t want to throw a wrench in your work. Where would you like for me to place it?”

“Here is fine.” He shifts awkwardly, shoving his arm to his side so you have space. He watches you place the doily first and as you gently set down his cup. Before you can turn and tell him to “enjoy!” he exhales and mumbles softly, “You’re good at your job. No one knows what a real macchiato is these days.”

“Thank you.” You say politely. “We serve both, enjoy!”

“Can I ask your name?” You turn, just to see his eyes on you, a little softer, just as sunken and he’s got that same smile, almost knowing. He takes a sip of his coffee. “You don’t need to answer.” His mouth opens again as if he’s about to speak and you see it again, his elongated canines scraping against the edge of his cup when he downs his macchiato. He gulps it down quickly and takes your wrist, placing the cup in your palm and curls your fingers around it. Eyes so fixated on your hand in his that when he finally looks up, they widen and he pulls away quicker than you’d’ve thought possible. He sits down immediately and focuses pointedly onto his screen. He mumbles again - a quick, “Thank you again. Good espresso.” He can’t bring himself to look at you anymore, but you nod as if he’s looking anyway.

“Thanks, it's Peruvian!” He stares ahead just at his screen. Nods. “Just let us know if you need anything else.” He nods again and you walk back to the counter.

“So, how was it?”

“He’s-”

“You like him don’t you?”

“Would you stop with that? He’s strange,” You think back to his hand under yours, take a deep breath because even he was clearly surprised by his behavior. “But that’s all.”

“F’you say so.” Phil shrugs.

The rest of the day is painfully slow. Just an occasional latte or cappuccino. Nothing interesting. It’s as you’re closing that you see him again. Just as tall, just as weighed down. He still cannot bring himself to look at you when he murmurs “My name is Miguel. Have a good evening.” And he briskly walks out the door, bell ringing behind him. When you clean his table you find five dollars cash and a note in neat handwriting. “Best espresso I’ve had in a while. Will be back.” You pocket the money with a small smile, and take a second - you should split it with Phil, shouldn’t you. You sigh when you walk back and put it in the tip jar, and smile when you tuck it into the envelope labeled “tips”. You finish cleaning quickly, and start your trek back to your apartment. It’s a quick, brisk walk - chilly in the fall. You’d’ve thought after Spider-Man’s visit last night that maybe, your block would’ve been quieter. But the outskirts of Nueva York are never really quiet as you near your building, petty thieves run out of the grocers’ and it’s all you can do to pass by - who knows what could happen if you got involved. They scurry away with their money and goods and you come face to face with your door.

Held tightly to the metal with faint red webs and a note that reads “thanks again, S. M.”, is your jacket. You tug at the webbing, noting the slight warmth and strange pulse that it seems to have. Thrumming softly as you pull it away. Your jacket has clearly been cleaned, impressively might you add as for the amount of blood that seemed to be on it, there isn’t a single stain. You press your palm to your door and put your jacket on as it verifies your identity. You catch a glimpse of the blue and red suit from your kitchen window, he must’ve caught those thieves too!

The next day is bright and early, you put on your jacket for a brisk morning walk, spending your time before work amongst the carefully manicured trees with a sandwich for breakfast. Phil isn’t there when you clock in, and a quick check of your schedule tells you he won’t be there - you’re on your own today (and apparently the rest of the week). So you buckle down, set up the portafilters and check the espresso for the day - (light almond flavoring, all natural - the bean is kind).The morning is steady, different drinks, no terrible customers. Midday slows, no lunch rush today. Your evening is interesting. It gets busy around three o’clock, an entire line that on a Thursday, isn’t common. They’re asking for cortados, specialty drinks, modified with oat, soy and coconut - a never ending onslaught of everything you serve. The pastries you had set out that morning were all gone not even fifteen minutes after three and the line only grew and grew and grew. But you keep your composure. Deep breaths and glances to the tip jar have gotten you through rushes before, it’ll get you through one now. The line starts to dwindle around four thirty. Slowly, slowly thinning and exiting the shop. You are almost completely sold out of pastries and your coffee supply is running a little higher than your energy; not very. That’s when he finally enters again. Miguel(?), from yesterday. With the macchiato.

“Welcome back in,” You try your best to sound enthusiastic for a returning customer but you can’t help the exasperation seeping through. “What can we get you today?”

“Black-eye.” His eyes flit to you. “Please.” And back to the ground as they had been when he entered.

“That’s easy enough, we’ve got good espresso today.” You give him a nod.

“It was good yesterday.”

“But it’s better today, trust me.” You punch his order into the POS, “Oh, preference on single origin?” You smile at him again.

“What’s your lightest roast?” He tilts his head and the corners of his mouth twitch.

“Oh you need caffeine that badly? It’s our Ethiopia.” He shakes his head in amusement.

“No I,” He catches himself, “Yes I need the caffeine.” You start setting up the pour over, 21 grams and a gooseneck.

“What, you have late shifts or something?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.”

“Think I can imagine. I have to deal with Phil half the time. Love that kid but god-” He exhales out his nose again, “So anyway, what do you do? Miguel, right?” You're halfway through, one eye on the coffee another on him. At the mention of his name his face drops. His face goes blank, eyes closed and he starts to turn.

“Same place as yesterday.”

“Alright.” Well so much for conversation. You turn as you make your last pour, and switch the espresso machine on, pour the shots and then the coffee. You take the mug and start over to the same table he was hunched over yesterday.

“Your black-eye.” He takes the cup from you this time, pulls it from your hand and doesn’t place it down.

“Do you…” His eyes dart to the side as he trails off, seems to stop himself.

“Oh?”

“Was just going to ask about coffee cake.”

“Oh yes! There is a single one left in the back, would you like it?”

“No.”

“Well, let me know if you need anything else.” He hums in response, sipping at his coffee and turning to his screen. You walk back to continue cleaning up the shop - with the rush of the day it’ll take longer to have it all cleaned and fixed. Your boss was born in 2037, and liked to do things the old fashioned way. No automated cleaning, no voice activated espresso, everything you did was done by hand in this shop. You supposed that maybe that’s what makes your cafe unique or popular, the antiquity of it. You knock the remaining pucks, cringing at the sound as you do, mop the floor, restock just about everything in the shop and even then you still have more to do it seems.

“What time do you close?” He puts a hand on your shoulder, stopping you on your way to check the table and chair positions.

“We close in,” You look to your shoulder, and immediately his hand is merely hovering, no longer resting on your shoulder. You continue slowly. “About ten minutes.”

“You’re an incredibly hard worker.” He stands, collecting his screens and pushing in his chair.

“Thanks,”

“It’s -” He cuts himself off again, wincing to himself and pinching his nose. “Nevermind.”

“Have a nice evening!” He bobs his head and doesn’t look back. The next day is slow. Rainy, dreary, cloudy - all of it. And the people willing to come out in this weather… well they all live in the undercity. Y’know - where the weather never changes. It’s a good day for the old jazz music on “Bluetooth” speakers, cozying up with some tea or coffee and setting up to do some computer work yourself. It’s cozy, you alone in the shop at seven in the morning, pastries put on display, coffee by your side and non-work related work set up on the counter. Eventually after sorting your affairs, you turn to check the state of the shop - maybe that Miguel guy would come again today, you might’ve gained a painfully awkward customer these past two days. Maybe it’ll be a different regular, someone seeking shelter from the pouring rain that refuses to drizzle. Maybe you won’t have any customers and you’re forced to go home and catch up on all the things you’ve been meaning to - ever since Spider-Man returned your jacket your door seems to have had some slight issues. You suppose the lock being a kind of genetics based lock (or something? Your landlady would know,) had some strange reaction to Spider-Man’s webs. Which makes perfect sense if you’re honest, if they’re any kind of biological creation they’d have to be a little strange to a door meant to scan a palm. Make it malfunction maybe. So yeah, if it’s a slow day you’d love to make it back and make sure your door isn’t going haywire and that you haven’t been robbed. The rain continues to pound against the windows, showing no sign of stopping. You decide to make yourself a drink and watch the day. The jazz is soft and the rain is loud, the view out the windows is limited, only showing the faint glow of signs reflected in puddles and the occasional passerby.

About two hours in you settle into working on your own thing. The rule is three hours no customers, and you can close. Just one more to go. You’re doing your fourth patrol of the shop when you look out the window again. It’s too rainy to tell exactly who it is, but from a distance you see a silhouette. They seem to be facing the shop, but it is a silhouette, maybe their back is facing the shop. They aren’t holding an umbrella, though maybe it was one of those less affordable nanotechnology devices to keep rain off, and they stand as you watch them (really this is the most interesting thing in hours, the fact that the rain has cleared enough to see the outline). The sign across the street flickers slightly and they flinch at the burst of light amidst the gloom. Eventually you realize how creepy it is of you to stare at someone who’s probably got their back turned to the shop and you go back to pacing. You can’t help but look on your fifth round though, to see if they’re still there.

They stay there for an hour in fact, get a little closer too, so you can tell that the body is masculine. He absolutely is facing the shop, looming closer and closer to the window. He lingers for not even a minute before you see him shake his head, finally take a step to the left and continue away from the shop. You’re left standing and still staring out the window, already possessing the idea to call and report the strange occurrence. You’re stalking your way over even, towards the counter to make a call when the bell finally rings.

“Hello good mornin-” You’re interrupted by a tiny little laugh and take a closer look at the customer in front of you. “And good morning to you too!” You give his daughter a smile and wave gently. She opens and closes her fist in response.

“Hey hey! Would you mind,” Her father gives you a nod and digs around in a large pocket of a pink bathrobe and pulls out some outdated cell phone. “Getting just a few pictures of us? It’s her first time in a coffee shop and I wanna capture the moment.” He holds the brick out to you over the counter and gives you a lazy - but winning, smile. “Thank you, thank you - oh her mother is gonna love this,”

“What’s her name?” You snap a picture.

“Oh this little angel? Mayday!” She coos adorably at her name. “Yep that’s you kid!” He ruffles her hair and you snap another picture.

“Isn’t she just the cutest little baby you’ve ever seen?”

“She’s adorable! You, her father and Mayday all agree with a round of laughter.

“Names Peter, by the way!” He holds his daughter up like that ancient, animated classic with lions and you grab another photo.

“Nice to meet you.”

“My good friend has been stopping in the past few days, mumbling about a good cup of coffee.” The man sets down a drenched umbrella in the stand you keep near the door as he speaks.

“Good friend, do you mea-'' It's right then that the bell rings again. Mayday coos gently at the noise and a sopping wet regular of three days stands on your welcome mat.

“There you are! Miguel, buddy!” Peter claps a hand on his back and Mayday reaches her chubby hand forward.

“I don’t recall telling you about this place.”

“Didn’t have to, s’nice little joint.” He gives you a smile to ignore Miguel’s glare. “And I mean, buddy! You gotta admit you’ve been a little happier these past few days. Wanted to check and see how good this coffee is myself.”

“Do you even drink coffee?” Miguel raises an eyebrow at the man and looks at his very evident lack of coffee.

“Ah,” the man sighs good-naturedly, “Right uh… cappuccino?” You pass back his old phone as you nod.

“Yep, can do! For you?” You turn to Miguel to discover he’s already looking at you.

“Macchiato.” He looks at the child who found her way onto his shoulders and scowls lightly; clearly with no real malice.

“Sure!” Their drinks are simple and Peter wrangles his daughter away from Miguel and they make their way to a slightly larger table. When you bring their drinks, they are mid conversation and you notice that either the man is oblivious or just doesn’t care because Miguel obviously isn’t very interested in what he has to say.

“I’m a geneticist.” He says exasperatedly as you place down each cup. Peter nods at you as you place his coffee and pats a third chair with another winning smile that Mayday echoes. You take a look at the door and then the window. The rain has only gotten worse. You sit and hope for riveting conversation. Miguel gives you a hum of acknowledgement and you join the tables’ conversation and Peter jumps to include you.

“You’re a — see isn’t that great? You know someone for so long and you just,” He gives Miguel a hearty clap on the back and Mayday giggles at the scoff that the larger man gives. “You keep learning things about ‘em. Isn’t that amazing? You can know someone for so long and never know enough huh.” Peter takes a sip of his cappuccino. “Oh my, oh that - that really is fantastic. Miguel buddy, you really know your coffee.” Miguel rolls his eyes and looks towards you. “See he’s always like this! Always this deep broody guy with the weight of the world on his shoulders and he just keeps piling more and more on — that’s why they’re so big y’know — and he just keeps pushing away any relief.” Mayday babbles a little at this as if she’s very wisely agreeing and no one at the table seems to notice the chord that appears to have struck Miguel. “Mhm yep that’s right Daddy’s right about that one, isn’t he!” He presses a kiss to his daughter’s head and Miguel seems to cheer up a little at the laughter that rises. “See if he just took some time for himself-”

“That’s why I’m at a coffee shop.” He mutters to himself, and you know enough Spanish to catch ‘idiot’ “This was time for myself.” He looks to you like he can’t believe he has to put up with this man.

“Yes but you’re always working!” And you think about that for a second because if Miguel is always working, how didn’t Peter know that he was a geneticist. They were close friends after all.

“So Peter, what do you do?”

“Oh I’m a house husband.” He stretches his arms and postures himself proudly. “Yep.” He elongates the word, pops the p for emphasis. “That’s all I ever do. Nothin else.”

“That is all you do. Yes.” Miguel deadpans.

“If you’re a geneticist, mind if I ask?” You speak up and less ill tempered than you thought he might be, Miguel turns to you. “My apartment door has been having a few issues, it’s one of those genetic locks, put a hand on it and it’ll open for you.”

“A little outdated.” He comments.

“Don’t live in a very new apartment, but anyway - very recently it seems to be having some issues?” He seems to sit up as you say this, Peter is playing with Mayday and half paying attention.

“What kinds of issues?” There’s a hard edge to his voice that it almost seems he had tried to shave off. “If you are,” he coughs.

“Comfortable sharing.” You look at him for a bit, both Mayday and Peter have stopped to pay attention.

“Well, recently my door has been malfunctioning a little. I think my neighbor’s kid is getting in because my chairs or tables have moved.”

“M’not gonna have to worry about that with you will I?” Peter pokes his daughter’s cheek gently and smiles. “No I'm not! No I’m not!” Miguel seems to contemplate his response deeply before,

“Are you sure it’s not just old?” He raises a stern eyebrow at you.

“I mean it is, but this is the only issue I've ever had with it; only issue anyone in the building has reported. And we’ve got a classic elevator.” Miguel grumbles at this and doesn’t say anymore. You sit in silence for a little bit, the only sound being the rain and Mayday’s warbles.

“Well, thank you for allowing me to sit-” You almost excuse yourself before Miguel speaks again. There’s something in the way that his hands seem to scrabble at the table and how his eyes seem to widen as you stand from your chair.

“I want to,” Peter and you both turn to look at him as he stares at the cup in front of him. Peter’s eyes widen very unsubtly, “I want to ask you your favorite kind of coffee.” His fingers tap against his biceps.

“Working here made me try a lot of it, and made me realize I like all of it. So I don’t really have a favorite.”

“That’s a good outlook! What’s not to like?” Peter stops abruptly to check his phone. He looks back up frantically. “I gotta get goin though, it’s Miss May’s nap time and she gets real cranky when she misses it. See you later Miguel,” he raises his cup towards you, “Excellent coffee. Really, just exquisite.” He sets his cup down on the table, looks between you and Miguel and puts Mayday back into her little carrier before pulling his umbrella from the holder by the door and exiting into the pouring rain. You see him dash into the street away and dart to the right.

“I,” Miguel starts but the words seem to catch in his throat like they always do.

“You,” You give him a smile “C’mon, talk to me! You’re a regular now,” You take a second to formulate your thoughts. What Peter said explains a lot about his more awkward behaviors. “And probably need someone to talk to if Peter’s right. Don’t keep depriving yourself of joy.” Unlike the previous days where he had avoided your eyes, suddenly he stares into them. You have to wonder, were they always tinged with that red? You had thought they were brown when he first came in, now they're flecked with a ring of maroon. He takes a small sip of his previously untouched coffee and takes a second before responding.

“I was going to ask if you think you’ll be open all day today.” He keeps a straight face, you’re pretty sure there's a hint of warmth in his voice though. “The rain.” He taps the window pane with a large finger.

“Well Miguel,” You don’t notice the way his hand clutches the table, the tense of his shoulders or the lurch in his seat at his name. “I think I’ll be closing early today. Gonna get home, see if I can get that door issue fixed.” You grab Peter’s empty cup and hold it with both hands, offering Miguel a polite smile and nod.

“You’re a hard worker.” He smiles and stands, placing his tiny cup on the table. “It’s refreshing to see. Also very kind.” He pauses before taking a breath and continuing to mutter, “Stupidly kind.” He approaches you slowly. Hands on his hips looking down at you with red eyes. He reaches a hand out, close enough to your cheek that you can feel the warmth radiating from it. He leans down so that your foreheads almost touch, and gently speaks, “Are you sure you’re safe by yourself?” You take a second to process that. Blink as he still looks into your eyes. “You smell good, by the way. Noticed it when I first came in, better than I imagined.” And everything seems to speed up, the rain is louder, your heartbeat palpitates uncomfortably and you hear the blood rushing through your body. He’s been a regular for three days. He’s taken your hand, pat your shoulder and asked your name. He stood outside your shop for an hour this very morning.

“I’m sorry sir, we closed ten minutes ago.” You blink away the tears in your eyes, and try to compose yourself as you say the words.

“What happened to Miguel?” He whispers the words so gently, so strangely vulnerable. His hand lingers by your cheek, fingers twitching. He groans. He shakes his head violently as if it'll make him stop whatever he’s doing. He turns and stands to his full height, eyes leaving yours again. He doesn’t say a word to you as he leaves the shop. You watch him walk slowly into the rain as he leaves and you make sure he doesn’t turn. Immediately you lock the door to the shop, flip the sign to ‘closed’ and pull the blinds. You contact your boss telling them you're closing early and set your sights on getting in touch with law enforcement. The hurdles you have to jump just to get a safe ride home are astounding. Calling the local P.D proves to be useless as all you have are ‘Miguel’ with no last name and ‘abnormally tall’ and those two descriptors don’t get you anywhere. But your distress does seem to affect the other end of the line with some amount of pity, as they dispatch a vehicle to take you home. All it took was a stalker, sobbing your eyes out to a cop and bang, safe ride home with someone comforting you and a shock blanket. Simple really. Oh the joys of being stalked.

“This is where Spider-Man has been hanging out these last few days!” The cop says as you reach your complex. It’s clearly meant to comfort you. “That guy makes the whole city safer, but I don’t gotta tell you that,” They sound like they’re giving you a smile. “Well best be on your way, stay safe and contact us if anything happens, okay?” They point towards the lapel of your jacket, to the Spider-Man pin you got just last week. “Tell ya what, we’ll put in a word with him when we see him next, have him look out for ya.” The cop will probably forget about this in the next few hours and it’ll probably never get back to him, but it’s a kind gesture.

“Thank you.” You exit the vehicle, looking every which way in the rain, checking for shadows along the walls of your complex. You all but run to your apartment and look desperately around for anything taken or misplaced, when you find nothing you turn to your chairs. You’re careful when you stack them against the door. You forgo food and drink in favor of grabbing the emergency metal pipe and decide to sit on your bed to wait for the other shoe to drop. It doesn’t. For hours and hours and hours. The stormy weather never lets up even as it grows darker.

Absolutely nothing seems to happen, save the loud cacophony from outside as Neuva York wakes for the second time of the day, nightlife not being stopped even for the rainstorm. You hear the shouting, the screeches, the loud music that you’ve grown accustomed to sleeping through and like that old classically conditioned dog, it makes you yawn. You look at your malfunctioning door and the small — hopefully effective — barricade and clench your fist tighter around the pipe. Falling asleep now would mean missing if anything were to happen, you try to drill this into your mind, bash it in like it’s a window. No glass shatters to keep you awake however and uneasily you’re lulled to sleep by the sounds of the city.

You wake up to Spider-Man (suddenly you’re able to identify that broad frame, the shocking height and burdened shoulders of Spider-Man who you’d seen three days ago.) leering over your sleeping body. Even if you can’t see his eyes he’s clearly staring at you. For a second you don’t move, try not to breathe as your heart hammers against your ribs. He doesn’t move for what feels like hours as he stares, he must know by now that you’re awake. The neon glow from the window is dull in the night and the rain has finally stopped, no more clubs blast their music. It’s just you and Spider-Man - Miguel.

You take a deep breath and your heart races and suddenly you can feel the metal pipe in your hand. You tighten your grip and immediately swing your wrist as hard as you can.

He stops it with a hand and tears it from your hand. He gives a disappointed growl, and bends the pipe with ease between his two hands.

“I was,” He sighs deeply. “Impulsive today. I had meant to be slow about it. Meant to be patient.” You cannot bring yourself to move as he continues to speak. “Because I am,” His voice spikes suddenly and he sees you flinch. Spider-Man softens his voice, “Patient.” He groans, turns away from staring at you - finally you can breathe again - and bashes his hand against your wall. “It was going to be weeks,” He cannot seem to help himself now, voice raising slowly as he sweeps back to where you are unable to move on your bed. “Until I would talk to you,” You cannot see him from behind the mask. You imagine him with the same stern eyes, haggard and a sneer if his tone is anything to go on. “But you,” His body heaves and before you can throw yourself from the bed and make a break for the door, a monstrous hand finds the back of your head. Fingers card tenderly through your hair before another hand appears on your hip and wrenches your entire body up, face forcibly made to look at his mask as it gives way to blindingly red eyes, iris sclera and pupil all flooded with the sickening red that blood often starts as. “You wanted this.” He softens, as he looks at you, “You wanted my impatience, didn’t you?” His eyes dart to your Spider-Man pin and he gently moves the hand on your hip so that it’s his forearm beneath your thighs and presses you closer to his chest so that you feel his lips drag on the top of your head. “If I had known I would’ve just taken you with me three nights ago.” He releases your grasp on your hair, and you pull away to see the red of his eyes recede like the beach before a tsunami. “See what you do?” He pats your cheek softly, “I’ll make it up to you. You’ve been nothing but foolish and kind. I’ll make this easier, stay still for me.” He offers you that same small smile, and pushes your head upwards to his cheek. You can feel his erratic heartbeat against your chest as Miguel nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck once more before taking a deep whiff of you and while you’re too busy trying to hold back the bile in your throat, he crumples into you and sighs as if this was the happiest he'd been in years. You feel his lips part against your skin and it feels like bugs crawling on you when he rumbles against your neck. You try your best to block out the tender mutterings of “You’re sweeter than….” and “Made for me,” before you feel his fangs sink delicately into your skin.

You pass out from the shock and pain before you feel the warmth of his venom.

[howdoesagrapewrites]

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙂𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙔𝙤𝙪

Cw: sexual, lovesick!Miguel O'Hara x afab!genderfluid!hispanic!reader, stalking, low-key workplace harassment, insecurity, implied age gap but reader is an adult, vouyerism, jealousy, Hobie Brown is not a minor!!!, slight corruption kink, manipulation, mention of noncon (it doesn't actually happen), masturbation

Notes: someone requested a part 2, though I'm sure they expected the reader and Miguel to fuck already

Part two to "He knows"

Miguel O'Hara made you uncomfortable. Not only did he talked to you like he loathed your very existence, but sometimes it looked like he was making a point to keep you close, like he enjoyed to see you squirm in discomfort, like thrived on your shame. And maybe it was just you, or he was keeping an eye on you because you were the new guy in HQ, but it didn't change the fact you'd rather be away from him.

One of the things that made Miguel so awkward to be around, was how attractive he was. You could say you had a "thing" for many people at the spider society, you found yourself being harmlessly attracted to many spiders, but didn't plan to do anything about it, it was part of your nature, to enjoy beauty as an observer. However, Miguel made it so hard to just keep calm when he showed you his fangs as he was talking, when he sat down showing you the space on his lap, when his eyes shimmered like crystals on his dark office. You averted your gaze from him as much as you could, dreading any kind of eye contact (or well, any kind of contact) with him.

For the lack of spidey senses, Miguel made up with many other abilities, like the superhuman smell, the superhuman smell that could always tell him what you were feeling. He could smell your nervousness, your fear, but most importantly, your arousal. He loved showing you his attributes, and then giving the air a nice whiff, tasting the sweet and metallic smell of your excitement, hidden away your shy looks, and "professional" facade.

What Miguel did not like, was smelling it so much when you were away from him. He felt the ugly feeling of jealousy crawling in his spine when Hobie Brown put on a show and showing you his hands, long fingers covered in metal jewelry that made you horny, he could smell it did; just like when Jessica called you a good girl and patted your head, you just laughed and said you weren't a pet, but he could practically picture what you really were thinking.

He hated having everyone flocking to his husband like he was some shiny new toy, or some bunny at a pet zoo, he knew you weren't the type to accept a one night stand just because the person was attractive, but the sole idea of them thinking they had a shot, and enjoying your reactions was infuriating.

Miguel would fist himself to his jealous fantasies, thinking about taking you without any kind of explanation and fucking you inside of a closet, or against a desk, your confused face, your trembling figure, your embarrassed expressions as you found yourself too loud. And then he'd parade you in his strong arms, wobbly legs and covered in his teeth and claw marks, showing to everyone that the playful office flirting with you was over for good, unless you had a bone to pick with Miguel O'Hara.

He wondered if you were a virgin in this universe too, just like when you first met him all those years ago, of course time was a funny subject in his position, not only because of the literal space-time disruption necessary when you connect all these universes, but because he'd seen and done so much since he last saw you, he had done horrible things, lived a lifetime of misery without you. He wondered if he'd get the chance to live it all again, giving you gentle guidance as he takes your first time, kissing your tears as he hears your loving words, telling him how much you love him and trust him, and slowly losing the fear, the insecurity, letting go of every bad thing people have said about you, regaining your power.

But Miguel also wondered if you could love him the same way you did before, the Miguel O'Hara that belonged to "you" is long gone, burrowed in grief, guilt, self loathing and obsession. Every time he'd pin you to the ground and fuck you, or watched you undress, or jerked off to your sleeping form, it was all sane, all previously consented and talked about, all part of a kink, you always knew that after the session was over, you'd get your loving husband back, the one that would run a nice bath and tell you he was so lucky to have you, the one that was a gentleman and would never meddle in your personal affairs, or steal your underwear, or stalk you, not without your enthusiastic consent in fulfilling these fantasies. Well, he's not that Miguel anymore, he has already violated so many boundaries, starting by the fact he's watching you through a security camera right now, he knows he won't be able to stop when you tell him you reached your limit, when you pass out still impaled on his cock. He knows there's only vestiges of the Miguel that your variant once loved. His feelings now are nothing short of monstrous, disgusting, and dangerous.

And in case you forgot, Miguel O'Hara still knows everything about you, about your deepest wounds, your fears, your trauma, and he's not hesitant to use it against you, he'll do anything to have you back in his arms, anything. Miguel knows what your deepest desires are, to have someone so obsessed with you, that they'll be unable to ever leave, to have absolute power and control over your life and the people around you, to be loved no matter how hard you are to love. And he knows you're ashamed of those feelings, in his previous life he helped you overcome it in a healthy way, but now? Fuck that, he craves your love more than you could ever begin to understand, he doesn't give a shit about being the good guy, that ship sailed eternities ago.

He looks at you with such impious adoration. He might not be able to go back to the normal, happy man he once was, but he can shape you to love him like he is now; there's still no lie when he says he'd do anything for you, it's still like that, just that now he needs a little less incentives and is going to be a lot more brutal.

You're so naïve, so easily gullible to a beast like him.

So he praises you for your performance, you remain uncomfortable, but it's still an ego boost, people whisper about you being the favorite, until he turns around and gives his full attention to someone else. He was never that understanding with you, was it? He praised you, but not that much, right? Why does he think they're better than you? And just like he predicted, now you're practically begging for his validation, now you clearly aren't that uncomfortable being by ol' Miguel's side, are you? And he uses your insecurity against you in every way he can, he puts you on a mission with Jessica where the fight was near a wedding venue, so she inevitably talks about her husband, the father of her child, you see how you were just a flirt? Just a cute distraction? He also lets you see Hobie flirting with others, he does this with anyone you think you may have a shot with. Poor little Y/N, no one loves you in the way you want, everyone thinks of you as a diversion.

And if he finds someone who actually loves you? Well, casualties are so much more common than you would think being a hero, accidents happen.

But after knowing how emotionally taxing this job is, you are thankful for having Miguel around, your relationship may have started off with the wrong foot, but you misjudged him, he's strict and stuck-up, sure, but he's considerate and understanding, and you find yourself making eye contact with him more often, and enjoying the lingering touches he gives you. You enjoy his company, talking to him in spanish, you've missed the intimacy of your first language, hanging around his office while he vents to you about how stressed he is, bringing each other snacks and reminding the other to take care, normal things. However, recently, you found yourself having flashes of Miguel's face, and his name slipping off your lips in your private sessions late at night.

You'd pick a piece of media, and start slowly getting in the mood, you saw images of Miguel's flexed muscles, sharp fangs and claws, furrowed brows and clenched jaw, you tried to stop and start touching yourself to something else, your favorite character from the show you saw last week, or the classic masked slasher, but all you could see was Miguel O'Hara. You finally surrended, and you couldn't say the thought of looking at Miguel in the eye after cumming to the thought of him imprinting his dick shape in your guts the previous night wasn't exciting.

Took your pajama bottoms off, and started rubbing your clit, you kept the panties to feel the friction of the fabric, Miguel spread his legs on his chair, letting space for the erection that started building up, you use your dildo to rub at your clothed cunt, finally taking them off when the slick was bleeding through the fabric, you let out small whines as you hump the dildo and rub the lubed tip against you hole, teasing yourself. You mumble words along with the shaky sounds, Miguel takes his cock out and starts teasing the tip with his thumb, at the same time he sees you doing that to the silicone toy, he is leaking from your sounds alone, little pleas of "need it", "please", "don't be mean", you clearly had a scenario in mind, you had his full attention, and he almost came when he heard his name on your mouth.

"M-Miguel, ple- ah~ please"

His fist tightened in his cock, and he let out a whimper, he drooled as he saw the dildo enter you with a single thrust, was that what you wanted him to do to you? Tease you, make you beg, stick his shaft into you without any concern for your well being? Oh, because if you wanted to, he'd deliver, he still doesn't fully forgive you for all the smiles you threw his friend's way.

"Don't- don't- por favor don't be so rough~"

He chuckled as he continued to fist his shaft at a brutal pace, it was so cute seeing you beg "him" to slow down when you could do it whenever you wanted, yet still chose to overstimulate yourself, intoxicating yourself to the thought of him, he wanted to know what situation you imagined led to this, were you two working late in his office? Were you in your house, fucking after an argument, or a long day? What else was he saying to you? Was he calling you a cum dump? Or telling you how pretty you looked under him?

You were moaning and whimpering loudly, you lived alone and walls were thick, no need to restrain yourself, and he was so grateful you thought you were alone

You changed positions, ass up, burying your face in the pillow, and continuing to abuse your poor hole with the dildo. Miguel hoped you were as close as he was, he couldn't take any more of your pretty sounds and begging for him. Even though your whines were mostly muffled by the pillow, he could still make up your words, asking him to fill you up, cum deep inside you. You let out a high pitched whine and finally cum all over the toy, Miguel does the same, thick ropes of hot semen landing on his abs, when it should've been filling up your tight hole.

"Aghhh- ah~ ah~ p-putamadre"

Miguel mutters clenching his teeth so hard they might break, he can't wait much longer to have you. He has been patient with all this manipulation game, he has spent way too much time grooming you into his perfect lover, and so you better be ready for when he whisks you away. He really doesn't want to hurt you more than what he already did, so please accept him quickly or he'll have to fuck some sense into you, and this time no safe word will make him stop.

[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

[intoxicated-chan]

Oooh how about Yandere Miguel who locks his s/o away in an apartment like place (it's actually really nice) that's hidden somewhere in the spider society headquarters that only he knows about because he's extremely possessive and he's afraid of them getting hurt. Since they are just a regular human being, there's not much they can do about it. When he checks on them he's all loving and sweet but he's still very controlling. Maybe Miles or Gwen accidentally finds them and attempts to rescue them and Miguel gets PISSED.

Don’t Think You Can Escape

✿ฺ Paring ➳❥ Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader

✿ฺ Summary ➳❥ Miles and Gwen continue to run from the Spiders, but at a dead end, they come across something neither of them knew.

✿ฺ (A/n) ➳❥ Inspired by “Love Taste feat. Jamie Paige & Shiki” by Moe Shop. I’ve got an announcement! Celebrating the movie’s release, I will be releasing my own Miguel O’Hara book! Be on the lookout. Anyways, requests will remain open for a few more days before I close them. You guys have the best ideas!

✿ฺ Word Count ➳❥ 2.6k

✿ฺ Content Warnings ➳❥ Female reader, angst, pet names (Amor, baby), blood, bruising, branding, violence, talk of marriage, threats, death, choking…

“This way!” Gwen shouted, dodging the incoming webbing from the other Spider members.

Miles followed her closely, following her and taking turns that she thought she was familiar with but it led them to a dead end. His head snapped in the direction of their shouts.

Gwen’s gizmo was tossed a while ago, realizing that there may be a chance of a tracker, she didn’t want to take any chances.

“What now?” MIles heavily panted, their voices getting louder by the second.

She takes a second to think, she places her hand on the wall as support but it lights up. She could hear rumbling on the other side, like something turning. She pounded her fist against the metal wall and it was clear that it was hollow.

“Miles, help me open this.” She said.

“Are you sure?”

“We don’t have any other option.”

“Alright then.”

Miles stood on one side and Gwen on the other, they both used their webbing to force the hidden, metal doors open. Both of them loudly grunt as the doors slowly opened.

“One three.” Miles nodded, “One… Two… THREE!”

The two simultaneously jump in at the same time, practically tackling each other. The doors slammed shut with a loud bang and soon, they could hear other voices up against the door. It made his heart drop, yet he relaxed when the voices dispersed.

Gwen stood up first, taking off her hood and mask to take a good look around, “What is this place?” Miles asked her.

She hesitated in shrugging, “I’m… I’m not sure. I don’t think I saw this place on the map.”

“Didn’t think the gizmo had a map.” He stood as well, “Could it be another sector?”

This time, she shrugged, “It clearly wasn’t labeled, otherwise we’d be caught by now.”

“Okay then, what now?”

Gwen looked forward and into the dark but barely lit tunnel, “We keep moving forward.” She walked into it.

“I’ll follow your lead.” Knowing that Gwen knew the headquarters better than him.

The two walk through the long, narrow hallway. It made Gwen shiver and keep her guard up. But she kept her sights forward, following a light that seemed to be peeking out from under the door.

Their footsteps rang and Miles swears he could hear his heart racing. As much as he enjoyed a break from being chased, he began to worry. What happens now? How will he get out? What about Gwen?

All kinds of questions raced through his head… Was either of them going to get out of here?

“Miles!” Gwen looked back at him, worried, “I know that you’re panicking but I need you to focus, everything will be alright.”

“Will it?” Miles huffed, arms crossed, “You saw how freaked Miguel was. There’s no way out of this, I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”

“Hey, we’re in this together. Okay?”

Miles takes a deep breath, “Okay.”

“Besides, we can think of something when we’re inside.”

Miles stopped in his tracks, “Insid-?” A door. Windows, a few feet from the door, pitch black and barred.

“I think this might be the place Peter was talking about.” Gwen smiled, walking up to the door.

“He knew about this?”

“It’s more like suspected. He saw Miguel disappear a couple of times and believed he had a secret place to get away, this must be it.” Slowly she twisted the doorknob.

Miles reached out and grabbed her wrist, “Then are you sure we should be sneaking into a place where Miguel visits.”

“I said suspected. It’s a chance this may now be it and besides, he’s too busy running around the base looking for us.” She ignored Miles’ protest and opened the door, it was unlocked, “Now that’s suspicious.” She mumbled.

The two enter the room. Both of them were awed.

It was like a normal home, furnished well, like any other home. The home smelled freshly cleaned, but plates and cups were set on the table, like someone was expecting guests. While Gwen looked around the rooms, Miles’ attention was to the photos.

It was Miguel, along with a woman. He followed the array of photos. At first, the woman seemed to be happy but as the photos went on and on, he could see it in her eyes… Fear, fear and more fear.

“I always knew Miguel was crazy but-”

“No.” Gwen immediately retorted.

“Didn’t you see the photos, he’s obviously obsessed with this woman.”

“It can’t be him.”

Miles sighed, “Gwen it’s him. This is probably the home to bring her to the base.”

“That’s the thing, she’s already here.” Gwen pointed to a room, “I saw her when looking around, sleeping soundly, too soundly.” It remained silent between the two.

His head snapped to the direction of the door opening, “Hide!” She harshly whispered, pushing Miles into what seemed to be a guest room, and shoving him into the closet.

Miguel entered the home with a heavy huff, slipping off his mask and his hair puffed up a little. He runs his hand through his hair a couple of times before calling out, “(Y/n)! I’m home!” But all he is met with is silence.

But that’s when he hears the slow footsteps, “Miguel?” You groggily spoke, “You’re home early.”

“Actually, I’m home on time. Did you sleep?” You tiredly nod, “Did you just wake up?” You nod again, “Awe, my poor baby.” He cooed, welcoming you in his arms.

But you’re too tired to push him away, the house was freezing and you needed something warm. You felt one hand come to your neck and his claws lightly dragged over where used to be your-

“Where’s your necklace?” He demanded the second he felt the open skin, “Where is it?” He growled.

“I-I took it off.” You managed to say, scared that he may dig his claws into you.

“Why?” His voice was like a growl, dark and deep.

“Because it was hurting my neck, it left a bruise.” You cowered. Your necklace was more like a choker. It was mainly black but it had red and blue stripes, along with gold ornaments.

It wasn’t because of the pain you took it off, it was because his last name was engraved on it. It made you feel worthless, like someone’s property. Before you took it off, you began pulling off the small gold pieces and then when he wasn’t home, you tore it into pieces. Hopefully telling Miguel that you didn’t need it or that there was no need.

“You should’ve told me sooner.” His voice returned to normal as he released you from his arms.

“But I did.” You mumbled.

“Where is it?”

“One the dresser.” You watch him enter the bedroom and come back a few moments later, the choker in hand.

“Must’ve been hurting you a lot.” Miguel can see little droplets of blood left behind, “Don’t worry about it.”

You let out a sigh of relief.

“I’ll get a new one.” Your heart dropped, “I was thinking about it for a while.”

“Do you think I could go with you?” Your hurriedly asked, “If I can chose a-”

“No.” He sighed, “I said it before and I’ll say it again. You stay here, why can’t you understand that?”

“I’ll stay with you-”

“No!” He shouted, “I’ve given you everything! A home, food, clean clothes! Aren’t you grateful for everything I did for you?!”

Your eyes begin to water, “O-Of course I am!”

“Then why don’t you just listen to why I say no?!”

You jump, “Miguel…” You whimper, “You’re scaring me.”

His blood red eyes soon turned to his beautiful brown ones, they softened, “Perdóname, amor.” (Forgive me, love.) One hand comes to cup your face, “It’s just… It’s dangerous out there, you saw it yourself. Remember?”

“I do…”

“I wouldn’t want to hurt you.”

“...Why would you hurt me?” You begin to panic, “I-I thought you said-!”

“That I wouldn’t hurt you. I mean it, but when it comes to breaking the rules I set, I must do what needs to be done. I’ll just have to cut off your beautiful legs. Breaking them wouldn’t be enough.” He kissed your forehead, “I’ll be back in a couple of hours. I love you.”

His grip on your face tightens when he doesn’t hear the words, “I-I love you too, Miguel.”

It made him smile widely, “Be patient for me, amor. I’ve got a surprise for you.”

And with that, he’s out of the door. Hearing the doors lock, you’re left alone in the empty and freezing house.

You cry on the spot, finally breaking in fear. Your body felt uncomfortably hot, your breathing became staggered and it felt like you were gonna vomit. Your arms wrapped around your body tightly that your nails dug into your sides. Your chest grew right as you fell to the tile floor. Shaking and hyperventilating, your stomach churned as you remembered his words.

“I’ll just have to cut off your beautiful legs… Breaking them wouldn’t be enough.”

Who knows how long you remained on the ground, all you could do was shake. Your chest stung and your heart raced, you were in pain all over again.

“Um, (Y/n)? Was it?” You let out an audible gasp as you saw the two teens in the room.

You pushed yourself off the ground and hurried away from them, “Wait!” Gwen put her hands up, “We’re just here to help. I’m Gwen and this is Miles.”

“Who are you- How did you get in here?!” You choke on your words, wiping the tears from your red eyes.

“We’re just running from the same man.”

You quickly shake your head, “You guys can’t be here!”

“We would’ve left sooner but… We can’t just leave you here.” Miles kneeled in front of you, “Let us help you.”

“Y-You can’t!”

“Yes we can.” Gwen agreed, “We just gotta pack up and get on out of here. I can get that started. Miles, watch her in case Miguel comes back.”

“How did get like this?” Miles asked, “I saw the photos.”

“...I met him after he lost his daughter and I didn’t think it was right for him to try to get into dating so soon but people grieve in different ways. We were supposed to take things slow but… But he talked about marriage and it made me scared. I tried taking a break but he found me. From then on, it went downhill.”

“I always knew he was crazy.” Miles mumbled.

“He’s great at manipulating people, he owns a business.” You responded. Then you heard a thud outside, “Miles, hide.” You push him away, not knowing where he went.

The door opened and in comes Miguel who doesn’t look pleased, “I heard them.” He starts, “No, I heard him.” He stepped closer, the choker nowhere to be seen, “Where is he?”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You clear your throat.

“¡No me mientas!” (Do not lie to me!)

“I’m not lying!” You moved back when he reached out to you, “Please, believe me Miguel!”

“Last time I did, you ran out on me! I have every nerve to not believe you.” He pushed you up against the wall, “Where is he?!”

“Leave her alone!” Miles comes around and lands a clean kick, knocking Miguel off of you, “Are you alright?”

“Miles…”

Miles puts on his mask, “Gwen will be right behind you-!” He dodged Miguel’s webbing, “Just run!” Then he charged at Miguel, taking him head on, “Go!”

You got up and rushed out the door, “(Y/n)!” You heard Miguel, “Get back here!”

You run faster. Your bare feet are padding quickly across the cold, metal floor. Then faster and faster until you nearly run into the wall. Whatever hopes you had are nearly gone when you realize that it’s just a dead end.

“(Y/n)!” You heard Gwen, she lands next to you, “I need you to listen to every word. I’m going to open the door and let you out, but it’s impossible for me to go with you. But! There are others out there, they are willing to help you. Just run and I promise you that someone will come for you.”

“What about Miles?” She hands you to the bag she quickly packed.

“I’m heading there once I know you’re out of there.” Using her webbing, she does the same as before, forcing one side of the door open. She grunts loudly, “Go!”

You jump, tumbling on your feet as you hear the door shut. The sound rang through the base and all that was left was silence. Even on the other side of the door. Nothing could be heard.

You stand, looking around. There was not a single person in sight. But you continued walking, walking, and walking… You continued to replay Gwen’s words in your head, not wanting to give up hope. But slowly it died as you continued wandering aimlessly around the base.

“Lonely isn’t it?” You gasp, freezing in place. You didn’t have to turn around to know who it belonged to, “Just like how it’s going to be when you leave. All alone and there is no one to turn to.”

You scoff, keeping your back to him, “I’d rather be alone for the rest of my life than spend one more minute with you.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Yes I do!”

“Come with me and I’ll forget this ever happened, we’ll have a fresh start. Or you can continue with these foolish games. You know that you’re better with me than without me.” Miguel sticks his hand out for you to take.

For every step you take back, he takes on towards you, “How will I know things would be different?”

“You gotta trust me to know.”

You breath hitched when you felt your back hit the wall. Miguel towered over you with ease, and you hated the look in his eyes. Sorry… You hated how soft and apologetic his eyes looked. It also terrified you.

“Where’s Miles and Gwen?” You ask him now that he’s in front of you, “Where are they?”

“You have the nerve to ask me that right now?”

“I do!” You retorted, “Now where are they?” You demanded.

Miguel sighs, “They are in a place where they won’t bother us nor say anything.”

“You didn’t!”

“It had to be done!”

“You bastard! They were kids!” You dropped the bag and pushed him as hard as you could which had no effect on him, “They’ve done nothing wrong!”

“You weren’t there!”

“So?! That doesn’t give you the right to kill innocent children-!”

Miguel’s hands came around your neck in an instant, you felt the heavy pressure. Panic sets in, trying to breathe, doing anything you could do to get his hands off and breathe. Your eyes rolled back as your vision darkened. Your attempts to kick or push Miguel off fail.

Then he throws you at another wall, the pressure knocks whatever air was left and he watches you have a coughing fit. You’re too weak to even crawl away from him when he kneels down, “Why must you be so difficult? Why don’t you understand? After all these years, you still don’t understand that I am the only person who will ever love you.”

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

[gulnarsultan]

🤭🤗😉

[huicitawrites]

The Hunt

Yandere! Miguel O’Hara x Fem! Spider! Reader

tw: yandere (slow-burn(?)), dark-fic, violence, assault, spoilers for across the spider-verse.

word count: 6,1 k

status: in revision

Prev chapter

taglist: @zeniiin @aikoiya @caramelcandescence @adamsloverboy @slowlymax @reapersimps @jenniferdixon05207 @superduckmilkshake @ceeesxy-blog @wotterblue

Part II

“Stay still and let me squash you like the spider you are!" 

"I think I'll pass on that one, thanks" you retorted as you moved out of yet another attack which could have pierced through you. You were jumping around, feet and arms in sync as you balanced your body to dodge the snapping metal claws. 

The flow of your body conveyed an effortless image, but the fight was far from over. As hard as it was to admit, you were having a tough time figuring it out. 

"Be wary of those, (Y/n)" 

"Yep" 

The foe before you was good at maintaining his distance and using the range of the metal limbs to his advantage. The claws snapped any web you shot at him and easily dodged and covered from your attacks as well. This metal exoskeleton he had was really bothering you- whereas you were used to the fleshy feeling of the mutant tentacles of the mad bio-engineering scientist you knew, this self-proclaimed Otto Octavius’ tentacles were purely made of metal. And it was quite metal, because your fist hurt like hell when you came into contact with it despite your super-strength. In addition, the metal exoskeleton was purely coordinated with his movements. They were calculated and clean, unlike the brash and wild nature of 'your' Doc Ock. [Thank God this copycat came in with a discount, it would have been worse if you had to deal with eight metal octopi-limbs.] 

In the battle's agitation, something odd occurred. Just when you thought it could not get any weirder, his frame shook violently, and he fell to the ground in a flash of strange colors and shapes. His voice quivered, his shout of pain came out distorted and chopped. 

"What the-? Peter, is he...?" 

"Glitching?” he said with doubt, “but how..." immediately, he began to tap away on the keyboard. 

You did not want to waste your time observing the phenomenon, instead deeming this man dangerous, you took the opportunity to confine him in your webs. The webs surrounded his torso and tied extra-tight around the metal limbs. 

The glitching stopped and you neared him. 

"So… Otto Octavius, right? Mind telling me more about Spider-Man?" You asked, but there was no answer. His head was hanging, and his shoulders were too lax, he seemed unconscious. 

"Um, sir?" You closed the distance between you and touched him briefly. "Sir? Other Dock Ock?" You continued, and just as you were about to check if he was breathing, something cool clamped down on your wrist. 

Immediately you redirected your sight and saw a metal claw on your wrist, it was viciously gripping you. Then you heard laughing, making you turn your attention at a now perfectly conscious man with scraps of web around him on the floor. 

"Ah, shit". In cue with the curse that left your lips, you were thrown at full force against the building. Your head impacted first and your body slumped to the ground, a loud ringing sounded off in your ears, and your sight turned terribly foggy. 

You groaned in pain and attempted to get up, but the metal limb got to you first and lifted you off the ground once more. It pulled you near as you thrashed. To escape from the vice grip, you focused the muscles of your arm and began to open apart the metal claw. The metal screeched and folded, yet your efforts dwindled when another claw came at you. 

This time, it wrapped itself around your throat, cutting the airflow into your system. He hoisted you up to admire your writhing form. 

"I just love killing spiders," he grinned wickedly, "after this, Peter Parker is next".  

The mention of your friend sent the adrenaline in your body rushing and your heart strained against your chest. Your body was urging you to move, muscles tightening to contract and exert force- but your eyes began to fail you. Your vision slowly turned opaque due to the lack of oxygen. 

A final metal claw appeared, and you vaguely made out a glimmering edge at the center of it- a sharp blade. 

"Die."  

You heard the words laced with venom and your friend frankly calling out to you, his voice drowned by the fading consciousness of your body. Was this the end? Is this the way it all ends?  

'C'mon girl, keep it up!' 

Just when the point-end of the blade was about to pierce you, an orange glow painted the scene. An engine roared— the blade never came.  

You were dropped on the ground unceremoniously when the vice grip let go of you. Lips parted for a large gasp for that sweet, sweet air. Still, its sudden intrusion made you cough, and as your back shook furiously you felt a soothing sensation on it. Somebody was rubbing your back. 

"You alright?" Another masculine voice, but this time, it was friendly and caring. There were no traces of animosity in it. 

Even before your sight could clear, your spider-sense was running. It was running even more wild than before, and when you opened your eyes to see your savior, you were left astonished. 

Your spider-sense tingled and evened out, synchronizing up with another spider-sense. 

This man was just like you. 

The web-patterned mask, his lenses, the arachnid symbol on his chest. It was all too familiar. 

"You...are me?" 

"No, and yes. I mean, no, I am not you, but I am like you." He hoisted you up by the elbow and put you on your feet. "Anyway, explanations later, now we have to deal with this guy and put him back in his dimension."  

"In his dimension? What-" 

"Explanations later", a female voice interrupted and reiterated. You glanced at the direction of the voice and your spider-sense picked up the same feeling.  

It was a woman with big, dense curly hair, in a stylish leather tracksuit with a matching headband, and she rode on a motorcycle. She did not wear a mask, revealing part of her brown skin, but she had large, yellow-tinted sunglasses in a shape and proportion you knew all too well. 

The woman flashed you a sweet smile, showing her gapped-pearly whites. 

"Now, let's kick ass" and she roared the engine once more and rode straight at Octavius. She crashed the vehicle into him, pushing him back, and stood up on it. As she balanced her weight forwards on the vehicle, she reached out her hand- five web strings much like your own sprouted from the pads of her fingers. She brought the villain flush against the tire of the running motorbike, and he clutched his face in pain. The man who patted you followed suit, and he too shot web, although out from his wrist, and launched himself against him. He delivered a couple of blows, punches, and kicks, as he used his 'web-shooter' -you guessed- to propel back and forth. 

You just stood there, eyes wide and lenses as big as round plates. 

"Peter, are you seeing this?" 

"Yes, and I'm already coming up with some theories" you heard the fast-clicking sound of a keypad going on. "I can't have anything for sure and it's not like I can track back to any tabs on these guys... The best thing I can produce is for you to stick around and find out, but do not lower your guard" 

"I guess so" you said, simply taking in and accepting what was going on as you took speed and jumped, your legs pulling back and your arms stretching at a sharp angle behind your back. 

Your body flew, and you looked down to see Octavius struggling to stand up as the two new heroes faced him. 

Octavius stood up on all metal fours and he growled in rage, "Spider-Man!" his sights now focused on the blue and red hero. 

"You might want to look behind you, Doc"  

The smirk of the lady on the motorcycle and the cheekiness of the disguised man said it all. The dark silhouette of a shadow cast upon him was growing bigger, and Doc Ock turned his head. 

Your wrists extended and web shot from both. The silk rope attached itself to the upper shoulders of the metal limbs and you grasped the webs to pull yourself. With the help of force and acceleration, you delivered a powerful kick on the man’s back.  

Your attack was not meaningless, for your aim was set on the bright spot at the top near his nape. The power source, the connection of the exoskeleton with Octavius’ nervous system. 

A few sparks blew off, signaling your success in delivering the final blow. Well, that, and how the tentacles trembled before collapsing- dropping the mad man on the ground. 

“You!” he whipped his head, “You little- “his words were cut short by web sticking on his lips, sealing them shut. 

“Not a word more from you, please. I kinda had enough,” you exasperated and slumped your shoulders. Your hand rubbed on your head, a little bit of pain still lingering on the impacted area. 

You were about to web him up, this time making sure he would stay put, but the curly-haired woman halted you with her hand. With the other, she slid a disk across the floor which stopped in front of Octavius. Then, laser-like hexagons formed, one by one until the villain was encased fully. 

“Oh, well that’s nice. What is that?” 

“A portable prison we use to capture anomalies.” 

“Anomalies?” 

“People that stray from their original dimensions and pose a threat to the cannon.” 

“The cannon?” 'Geez, keeping up with this new information is hard'. Amid your confusion, the woman laughed. She was not laughing out in mockery, more like she had found your confusion endearing.  

She stretched out her hand for you to shake it, and hesitantly you did.  

“I am Jessica Drew, Spider-Woman, Earth-404.” 

“And I’m Peter B. Parker, the one and only Spiderman from Earth-616B” The man took off his mask, showing excited eyes and a warm smile as he stretched out his hand. The physical resemblance he had to your best friend was uncanny, well, he was him from another dimension, of course. The brown eyes and hazelnut hair, but he was much taller, certainly older and you could distinguish the outline of worked muscles below his spandex suit. 

“(Y/n), this is unbelievable...” but you ignored your friend through the comms as you were just as surprised as him, or even more. 

“Spider-Woman, I mean, (Y/n) (L/n), Earth… 

“Earth-699” Peter B Parker filled in for you, and you repeated his words, taking them in your mind. 

“Wait, wait… So, you are Spider-Women,” you glanced at Peter B. Parker, “Spider…people… sorry, from other dimensions?” you asked in disbelief. 

“Yeah, that’s pretty much it,” and Jessica Drew hummed in approval of Peter B’s words. 

“And, and you! I know you! Well, I know you in this world. He’s my best friend, and my back-up” the other Peter chuckled. 

“Ooh, the classic back-at-the-chair guy?” his eyebrow twitched in curiosity. “Feels like a demotion though…” 

“Hey!" 

You giggled at his antics, "Trust me, you are very cool in this dimension too. Without him, I would not be Spider-Woman". Your warm smile and noble words caught the brown eyes of Jessica, and for a moment, she stared right at your own not long after her and the other Peter -you will call him Peter. B- shared silent eye contact which spoke volumes between them. Then they both smiled, and Jessica Drew giggled, "This one is yours; I have already recruited a lot. Miguel will bite my head off if I bring in one more" 

"Right, right, you just want to make me be the one to ask him" 

Confused about what they were talking about and who, you were about to ask them before Peter B spoke first.  

"So, we like you- my spider-sense can already tell me you are an amazing hero, (Y/n). Do you want to join us? And the rest of Spiders, a spider-society of our own if you are interested." 

People just like you? Your heart began to beat fast with joy and excitement, this, this was amazing. If there is a whole society of other people, of other You's, Peter B's, and Jessica's, with their own hero journeys, spider-suits, spider-abilities, and voices to be heard- you wanted all in. 

"I'm in!" you exclaimed, physically jumping at the opportunity. The afro spider-woman hopped back on her motorbike, you saw her fiddle with a bracelet on her wrist, a slick white-metal watch of sorts, and the same orange glow from before emerged. This time, you took a closer look- it was a portal, a hexagonal electric-orange portal made of rings.  

Peter B. hopped on behind Jessica, and he looked back behind at you and beckoned you closer with his hand, patting the space left on the leather seat. You smiled wide below the mask and rushed your feet to the vehicle, hopping on. 

"You know it's almost two in the morning and we have work tomorrow, right?" Your Peter's voice sounded. You groaned, "Yes, don't wait for me. Also, didn't take my keys so leave the window open please" 

"Again? Girl, I-" but Peter heard the roaring of an engine and the sound of screeching tires before the loud beep signaling the end of the intercommunication device and he cursed under his breath. He shut down the three-screen PC and kicked his feet to distance the chair from the desk, drawing a large sigh from his lips. He stood up, revealing his pajama set and house coat, and very fluffy set of Spider-Woman slippers you had gifted him jokingly, [wearing unofficial merch of your vigilante best-friend was weirdly hilarious, but they were too comfortable and soft to pass]. He walked toward the living rooms' window, thank God you two were on the seventh floor, and pulled off the lock.  

"One of these days I swear I will lock her out, so she begins taking her goddamn keys", he grunted in between teeth. He dragged the palm of his hand down his features, squeezing down his cheeks and wrinkling them. He glanced at the dreadful hour, led bright numbers making out 1:50 AM.  

'As long as I get in bed before two...' Despite the petty annoyance this occurrence caused, he could not help but crack a smile.  

He looked out the window and observed the city lights, contemplating the night. 

You were incredible to Peter, your best friend. Sometimes he wished NYC were more grateful for the protection your courageous and self-risking services lent. Although he was aware they were out of your heart.  

Peter took a long, loud sip of his mug of tea. It was halfway cold. As he drank and emptied the contents of his cup, Peter wondered. 

"Who is going to protect you when you are too busy protecting others, (Y/n)", his worrisome thoughts were vocalized. Part of why Peter helped you back to the chair was because of this because he was worried about you. Of course, it felt nice and gratifying to put his own grains of sand in the jar of NYC's safety, protecting citizens and loved ones alike, but deep-down Peter felt powerless. 

What if one day someone manages to best you, or you mess with the worst of people? Someone you will not be able to defeat, someone like you? The possibilities, the enemies, could be endless. After what tonight's events revealed the existence stirred something within him, call it his Parker-Sense [turns out there is a Peter Parker who is a Spider-Man as well in another universe- he will have to ask you more about it, tomorrow.]. 

He placed the cup down on the coffee table beside the heater, casting aside his worries along it. Peter knew he could do nothing but help from back of the front lines- he could only hope the gadgets and suits he designed for you would help you in your quest and help you make it back home every night. 

You raised your arms as if you were on the best rollercoaster ride in the world whilst you travelled through the fabric of time and space. It was fast and short, but breathtaking. There was not enough time to process what you had just experienced as you crossed through a flash of light. 

As the flash dispersed, you noticed your surroundings. You found yourself inside a big, big building. Although the design was minimalistic, and the color grey was dominating, you made out figures of diverse colors. 

Not figures, people. 

And not regular people, people like you- spider people. 

Hundreds of them, walking, chatting, hanging around. On the floor, on the ceiling, on the walls, all around the unorganized columns that stretched everywhere in every direction. 

Your spider-sense had already caught up with the gig, because your mind has surprisingly not fallen apart.  

"Welcome to HQ, this is the lobby" Peter B. announced. 

A simple 'woah' was all you could muster as your lenses widened. Jessica hopped off her motorbike and stored it in a pocket-size gadget, somehow but it does not surprise you, and she tapped on your wrist. She handed you a purple bracelet, "It's a one-day pass, it allows you to stay here without glitching. You may have seen it happen to that stray Doc Ock". 

‘So, he was glitching, huh.’ 

You hung the bracelet around your wrist and secured it tight, you guessed glitching was not very comfortable and you did not really want to find out for yourself. Once you put it on, she smiled and turned on her heels, gesturing to you with her head to follow her. 

"We got to go girl, can't keep Miguel waiting." 

"Miguel?" you enquired.  

"Miguel O' Hara" Peter B answered for her as he began to walk beside you "the man behind this society. This-", he twirled around and raised his hands in contemplation as the three of you walked, "-was all his idea. He is the leader, it's thanks to him that we are all able to protect and maintain every dimension stable".  

'Well, he sounds like a cool guy- I should probably meet him if I'm around here, want to make a good first impression’ 

"He can also come off as intimidating and harsh, but he's got no bite. He just has a little bit of fang to show, no more. So don't be scared or feel intimidated".  

'Or not', you gulped.  

Something about the sweet tone in Peter B’s voice, like he had given this disclaimer a couple of times before, slightly unsettled you- but you hid your nervousness behind a small chuckle. 

As Jessica lead the way, or Jess as she insisted you call her, you 'toured' the facilities- a cafeteria with spider-themed food, a gym fit for training the super-strengthen, a villain-confinement area in which you found yourself mesmerized by the different versions of villains you had faced [which was a slightly awkward experience as you tried to ignore the daggers that were coming out from that Doc Ock's eyes and threatened to destroy the barrier that imprisoned him]. You even got to know of a therapy room, which could always come in handy later, who knows. You must make sure to swing by the cafeteria later and try out that Spider-Burger, and certainly try out the super/human equipment in the training center [it is not your usual friendly-neighborhood gym that has a leg press machine loaded with the weight of a train]. 

It was crazy- Peter B. and Jess told you everything about this place. They talked about the multiverse, and how everyone is connected through key moments in their lives as 'Spiders' through cannon events- which were more or less significant events that would shape their paths as heroes, some good, some bad, and some very bad- but all of them necessary. 

The death of your parents. Although you would never get over it, and the belief that you could have done something if you hadn’t been so powerless at that time was still rooted deep within your heart- but the fact that it was destined to happen as part of your life as Spider-Woman brought you some relief, because you felt as if it was not entirely your fault alone. They were cannon events in your life as Spider-Woman, and nothing was supposed to prevent them. 

It was bittersweet- it made you feel understood. Even though you had your own best friend who you could rely on, and you knew you could tell him everything, you also knew he would not understand. There is a great responsibility that comes with this power, and with its burdens, and inner battles that make you feel alone in the struggle, but not anymore. 

You are not alone, you are not the one and only Spider-Woman, and that made you feel you could find other people to bare this struggle with. 

The 'Spider' Peter continued with the explanation, "-- and that's why anomalies are so dangerous, and we have to deal with them, because they can break the cannon and thus destroy the fabric of the dimension that has been disturbed, and with it, millions of lives." 

In cue with the end of his talk, Jess and Peter B. halted their steps. "We're here" she said and pointed with her gaze to move forward. So, you did, you took a step forward. 

Your eyes took in the room, it was dark, and the ceiling was tall. There was a platform in the middle of it, and the orange light was abundant. Atop the platform was a man standing, his wide back facing and disheveled strands of hair facing you- he seemed busy, and too concentrated on the dozens of holographic screens surrounding him. 

There was a loud silence in the room, until Jess nudged Peter B with her elbow, and he blurted, "Okay, okay, lemme’ just" he adjusted the collar of his suit, as if it were too tight on him. He breathed in, calming down his nerves, which made you more nervous because why would he be?  

"Hey! Miguel!" his voice echoed through the room, and he waved eagerly at the man above. It was a slight movement, but you noticed how this 'Miguel' threw his head back and sighed loudly- it was clear that he was annoyed by the interruption. 

"Que ganas de molestar... What is it?!" The first part of his sentence was barely audible, but he made sure to raise his voice for the words that came out in English. His body was now facing the three of you, hands rested on his hips, and body weight slumped on his right leg. 

From that height, he seemed as if he was looking down on you... 

"Give me a minute, (Y/n), you see he looks tough, but he is really easy to crack" Peter B attempted to reassure you, earning a roll of the eyes of Jess which you barely dismissed, and he webbed a corner of the platform and pulled himself up to it. 

Peter B's physical gestures were funny and full of movement, while the man remained stiff and stoic. You could not hear the conversation well, they were meters above you, but you guessed they were talking about you-- 

"C'mon Miguel, she's amazing really, we could use a helping hand and-" 

"There's lots of helping hands already" 

"Yes, but the more the merrier right? I am serious, you're not going to regret it, I've seen her, and Jess too" 

Their talk continued for a few minutes, but then you saw Peter B clinging on to the man's shoulder and you saw him turn his head, mouthing the words 'all right.' 

Proving your guess to be true, you saw Peter B smile widely and he walked towards the edge of the platform, "Y/N! Climb up here!" He called out to you and gestured with his hand, and you did just as he did a few minutes ago. Before you could pull yourself, however, Jess tugged lightly at your mask. 

"You should probably take that off, you don't want to be rude in your first day before the boss, right?" she chuckled. "You're right," you nodded and proceeded with her advice. Your fingers slid under the mask and hooked at its hem, you tugged upwards. Your (h/c) strands cascaded down and bounced on your shoulders, and you revealed a curious set of (e/c) eyes and (s/c) skin. 

Jess ran her hands through your hair, quickly fixing it- after being pressed down by the mask it had a little bit of frizz to it, "You're looking great, now go get that job girl" and she turned you around by the shoulders and patted your back in support. 

You smiled and blushed, a little bit of confidence surging within you, you were nervous. 

[His gaze, something about it, it made you uncomfortable. You did not think much of it, putting the blame on the towering height the platform provided.] 

You twisted your fist around the web, and swung yourself and pulled down with strength, propelling yourself upwards. You made sure to land with grace on the platform, you really wanted to land yourself that good first impression. 

"Here she is," Peter B dragged on the sound of the vowels, as if presenting some grand entrance, he walked behind you and placed his hands on your shoulders. Quickly, Peter B hunched and whispered encouraging words in your ear- 

"You'll do great," he said softly against your ear. You offered a small smile and walked out of his hold, facing the man before you two. 

'Well, damn' you said loudly in your mind. If when you were below this man seemed intimidating, now up close, it was ten times more so. He had a big build, broad shoulders and clear, lined brick muscles under his cyber-punk blue and red suit. His forearms left his hips and were flexed below his broad chest, highlighting the muscles in his arms even more. You looked up to his face and gulped. 

He had a chiseled, handsome, tanned face- his jaw was sharp and so was his wide nose, his cheekbones were high and his eyebrows thick and straight, giving him a mature look. Your guess was that he was somewhere in his 30's, and by the look in his fierce yet tired eyes evinced by the bags under them, you guessed he had also gone through a lot (not like you will pry about it now, that seemed like a death wish for sure). 

Were you staring for too long? You did not notice, at least not until the man before you grunted and shot raised his eyebrows, tilting his face to the side as if granting you the permission to speak. 

You also heard Peter B. cough, not so casually. 

"Uhm, hi! I," you smiled widely, only to earn a slight judgmental look from him, 'oh my god, this is going to be harder than it looks.' To recover from that small awkward moment, you offered you hand to shake it and rephrased, "Hello, I'm (Y/n) (L/n) and I'm Spider-Woman from Earth-699, or so I've been told." 

You recomposed your breath and stance, shoulders and back straightened, trying to come off as confident and polite. "I met Peter B. Parker and Jessica Drew on my night patrol, and it was quite a surprise, but a nice one. They told me everything about this place, and about the multiverse," unbeknownst to you, the glint in your eyes as your excitement began to slip past the professional facade caught his eyes, "and let me tell you I would be more than glad to join the team, it would be an amazing opportunity, and a responsibility I would be more than glad to take over". 

Miguel could tell you were not lying, albeit he could tell you were nervous and a bit fidgety, but your tongue rolled not honeyed words, but ones that were sincere. He genuinely appreciated that. 

Your hand was still outstretched when he called out for his trusted A.I, "Lyla", and with simply calling out her name, it appeared. 

A tiny orange holograph of a person appeared right before you, at the edge of your nose to be precise, like a playful fairy. She wore an oversize coat and fashionable boots, and distinctive pink heart-shaped glasses. 

"Hello!" She greeted, and you were slightly caught off guard. You were about to greet back, but she vanished, and reappeared on your shoulder, and then again, and she reappeared on your other shoulder, and again- this time above you. Your sight tried to follow her, but to no avail as she vanished and materialized, yet you did catch a glimpse of these round devices she had with her which bathed you, in yet again, orange light.  

"Scanning complete!" she announced and appeared for a final time on Miguel's shoulder. "Let's see... Indeed, from Earth-699, and with an excellent track record of ten years! Her cannon remains intact, and if you ask me, she seems to be an excellent candidate."  

"Oh, thanks...?" You were not sure what to say, how could she know all that? It was a heck of an artificial intelligence, nothing you had witnessed back at home, even with Pete's genius, and she even winked at you. She was sentient, that was mind blowing. 

Whatever Lyla, as you recalled, showed Miguel seemed to be some sort of CV. He was looking through a holographic tab, and you managed to see a few mirrored images of you and your New York, recognizing frames and scenes from your life and the people you had come across. As he scrolled down through the screen, he kept taking glances at you, as if corroborating the information, while you just stood there with a bright smile and relaxed features in your face- although you were panicking on the inside. 

The tanned man closed the tab and redirected his gaze on you, his dark eyes piercing right through yours, but his features relaxed and he even offered a small smile.  

"My name is Miguel O' Hara," a smooth, Spanish accent evident on his first name, "and I'm this universe's Spiderman, Earth-2099." He stretched out his own hand, offering it to you and you shook it- his grip was strong and secure, and his hand enclosed over your smaller one. 

He retrieved his hand, but he kept it open, his palm facing up while he showed it to you. A bracelet began to materialize on it. After a few seconds, the materializing process was complete, and you noticed the same device Peter B. and Jess had on their wrists. 

"It's a travelling gizmo, used for hopping to other dimensions without glitching" the A.I filled in. You took it carefully from Miguel's hands, and with the same manner, you slid it on your wrist- it was a perfect fit.  

After the click sound, you admired it for a few seconds before Miguel spoke again, "You are part of the club now."  

His features fell back to a strict, but calm, look on his face, and he continued, "You'll be called for missions through the gizmo, nothing for today but be sure to answer on time. I do not like it when people are late for work", he said harshly, and you nodded. 

"See, I told you it would work out!" the 'professional' atmosphere was cut short by Peter B, who seemed excited as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders. "She won't disappoint Miguel, I'm sure of it." He said as he smiled at Miguel, and you noticed how his features fell flat upon Peter B, however you could not help a giggle escape from your lips. 

"Yes, I'll make sure of that", you looked at Peter and smiled, and repeated the same affection with Miguel, who widened his eyes but recomposed quickly, covering for any slip-ups.  

"Well if everything is settled then, I'll be leaving." Peter B. patted your shoulders simultaneously "I have a little girl and a beautiful wife waiting for me, back home." The words that came out of the Spider' Peter made your eyes widen and your mouth dropped open,  

"You are married?! And have a child?!" 

"Yes, they are the most wonderful people on Earth!" he said giddily, then he quirked his eyebrows and put his hands on his hips, he sounded quizzical "Why do you sound so surprised though?" 

"No, no, I'm just very curious- as you are the other version of my best friend. So, who's the lucky girl?" you enquired, still not believing it.

"Mary Jane, I don't know if you know her in your dimension," he said with a warm tone in his voice, you could tell by the way he spoke about her that he was really in love with her. Of course, you knew Mary Jane, or MJ as you called her. She was a close friend of yours, and Pete, and the main subject of your teasing against him. In your dimension, Peter is so in love with MJ but has yet to gather the courage to face her and take her out on a date. 

You laughed, "My Peter would be blushing mad right now. He has yet to take her out on a date and make his move", your words made Peter B remember of the past, and he chuckled. 

"Any advice I could relay to him? I want to be the best wingman there is" 

"Just tell him to be himself, it'll work out. Ooh, but be sure to tell him he must be on time when he arranges any dates! It will save him a lot of trouble!" 

"I'll make sure to tell him", you giggled. Then Peter B proceeded to take out his cellphone and show you pictures of his baby daughter, MJ. You could not help but gush alongside him, she was adorable, with her funny faces, the pictures of her playing around and in little outfits, and as she was doing little mischiefs [you swore right there and then that when the time comes, you would be the coolest auntie ever]

You continued to fangirl over the baby photos until Miguel O'Hara interrupted the both of you, "It's getting late, the both of you. "  

His face said it all- the poker face, and flat lips, he looked tired. Hence you bid farewell, Lyla sat on your shoulder as she helped you with the interface of the gizmo. You managed to open a portal back to your home dimension and bid the corresponding farewells before jumping back home. 

"So, I get that you did like her?" 

Miguel grunted, "Como sea, el tiempo lo dira. Go home Peter, I can't stand you any longer".  

Seeing that Miguel was already switching back to his grumpy humor, Peter B raised his hands in the air. "Geez, Miguel, cut me some slack" and turned around, not before making a portal to his own dimension. With his hands still raised in the air, he teased, "You'll end up scaring the new recruit" and jumped back into the portal before he could face an even grumpier Miguel. 

"Ese insufrible hijo de-" 

"He's kinda right though" 

"Lyla!" 

"See? Geez, you're going to get even more wrinkles..." 

The A.I vanished out of Miguel's clawed swipe, and sticked out her tongue in mockery as the man growled. 

Surprisingly, instead of landing on the hard concrete floor, you landed on the soft surface of what you recognized to be your own bed, and you made a mental note to remind yourself to thank Lyla.  

"Ah, right, the window", you recalled you had told Pete to leave it open, so you went out to the living room and put on its lock. The living room was dark, it had the faint glow of NYC's night. It was a pleasant surprise for you thought you would be arriving at dawn, but it was not the case- you would get more sleep. 

"Five hours of sleep are still better than one" you mumbled and retrieved the used mug left on the coffee table, which you then rinsed in the sink- a small favor for your guy in the chair. 

At last, you took off your suit and after doing your nightly bathroom routine, you plopped on the bed. Sleep caught up with you quickly, it had been a busy and long night- you only hoped you would listen to your alarm in the morning and be able to get to work. 

You shifted in your bed and cuddled into your pillow, your lips parted and let own a drowsy yawn, "I'll have to tell everything to Pete tomorrow" and with that, you closed your eyes. 

Although tired and sleepy, you could not help the fuzzy feeling in your chest- you were so happy for what was to come, hoping for the best. You could not wait to be back at headquarters, but you guess, it will have to wait until tomorrow in the least. For now, you would have to settle for some hours of sleep. 

A/n: EVERYONE THANK YOU SO MUCH! Part I is about to reach 2k notes and I can't believe I now have 1k followers, truly, thank you so much. Thank you to all the people that have reblogged and commented, I can't express how thankful I am truly. I also want to apologize for the delay, I had a hard writer's block as regards Miguel's introduction, I wanted it to be perfect, and it still not is. I also wanted to give reader a good backbone for the story. Anyway, Part III follows suit and with it the yandere! (yes! finally- I know people can get impatient for it bc it happens to me too). Anyways, I hope you like this part, and I am looking forward for your opinions!

Translations: (Btw, I am Argentinean, not Mexican, so I do speak castellano or spanish, but not mexican-slang spanish. I hope my Mexican readers are cool with the way Miguel speaks!) "Que ganas de molestar..." = So bothersome/ so annoying, or literally 'such need to bother' "Como sea, el tiempo lo dira." = Anyway/Anyhow, time will tell. "Ese insufrible hijo de-" = That insufferable son of a-

[yanderestarangel]

did u delete a fic? i swear i saw a tio!miguel fic earlier today

a/n: hi angel! thank you for asking, in fact there was an age restriction and I decided to delete it, I'll take advantage of your comment and repost it. ✧⁠*ᜊ( ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ᜊ.

"TIO" MIGUEL O'HARA X FTM READER

𝐓𝐖: dark plot, toxic relationship, power play, non con, dub con, manipulation, age gap, step!incest (non-blood uncle), invasion of privacy, stalking, threat, dead dove, dark smut, latino ftm reader, femboy reader, jealousy, aggressive sex, recorded sex, dom!miguel, v!sex, blowjob, spanish nicknames, send nudes, degradation, objectification, AU, male x male, porn plot, long fic, brain rot, creampie, blackmail.

Family parties were normal for your family, getting together some close relatives and celebrating on any weekend, always with plenty of music and laughter filling your ears, was annoying at times, but you couldn't say 'no' to a tradition.

You felt the cold of the night breeze enter your skin, each hair left its place accompanied by a strange chill ── you were being watched, and you knew very well who it was... Tio Miguel.

Miguel O'Hara was a friend of your father, a mysterious and serious man, even though your family welcomed him as if he shared the same blood, he still had the same look of rigidity and seriousness ── no one knew much about his past, if he had some relationship or family before moving to your city years ago, but it was only said that he worked as a caretaker on some local farms ── which made him earn too much money for a simple caretaker, but that matter was not touched by no one in your family.

You obeyed the strict rule of calling him "Uncle" or "Tio", since when he arrived, when his eyes met yours, it was as if something awakened in his core ── a flame lost for years, now burning in his soul, and you it was the kerosene that made this fire worse.

Your attention returned to reality, seeing the tanned man go to the place where you were, sitting next to you; muscular legs crammed into the black jeans he always wore, with a weather-beaten dress shirt that had previously been white, now appeared to be a light vanilla shade, hugging the girth of his robust muscles. He had a cold, fresh can of beer in his right hand, while his left went towards his hair, arranging some loose strands that insisted on falling on his forehead, his lips formed a thin line, the corners turned down in disapproval ── The sight of you hiding from the celebration hurt him, a pang of possessiveness invaded his chest, soon remembering the things he had seen, however, before touching on the topic of rupture the words came out softly from his throat.

"What is wrong, carinõ?"

He asked softly, hand reaching out to take yours gently. His grip was firm but not unnecessarily tight, calloused skin warm against your own.

"You should be out there, dancing and laughing with your family... You seem thoughtful mi principito"

You sighed in response, quickly explaining that you weren't in a party mood, your hands went back to the cell phone that was previously in your pocket, making the Mexican's eyes narrow in response to such an act. O'Hara took a deep breath, feeling the air fill his lungs, then crushing the drink can in his hand and turning to you, he knew exactly what he wanted to know and he wanted the truth.

"Who was that boy, mi vida?”

He questioned, pulling you closer to his frame as the music swelled around you. His fingers traced idle patterns on your back, you felt the burn of heat on his body, the smell of expensive men's perfume and cheap alcoholic drink.

"You were speaking so intimately with him..."

His voice was a low purr, tinged with warning.

"This is our moment, just us... I dropped that phone." That was a threat, making you make a quick excuse ── after all, you knew exactly what he was talking about, you were going out with "Hobbie Brown", a friend from your college, but you didn't expect your uncle to have seen the two of you together (but it wasn't very difficult, you and the boy always clung to each other even if you didn't have anything officially. )

You moved away from Miguel's heat, before the sensation was still tolerable, but now it seemed like a violent flame and about to explode like a time bomb. Your mouth opened, speaking sweet lies, trying to mask the fact that you were going out with Hobbie ── you knew that the best way was to lie, even if it didn't do anything, you had already seen how your non-sanguine uncle acted like a crazy man when you were around people other than him. Miguel's eyebrows arched in disbelief, dark brows furrowing deeply. "Tell me, corazón, is there something you wish to confess to me?"

He asked, tilting his head curiously. His gauze lingered on your lips, as if he could taste the lie on them. "I see what happens around me, my heart."

He murmured, his voice low and dangerous.

"And I do not like it... Do not lie to me, mi angel, because the next lie I hear from your sweet lips, you'll regret it." The sound of his voice was a low rumble, like thunder on the horizon. He pulled you close again, his lips brushing your ear softly.

"You play with fire... Mi pequeño."

His voice was a whisper now, his breath warm against your skin.

"And one day, that fire will burn you."

He released you then, stepping back with a harsh exhale. His eyes were stormy, his features set in a hard line. Miguel stared at you for a moment, as if he could read your thoughts, as if he could feel your fear ── Finally, he sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

"If I ever hear of another man touching you like that again... I will end him." He muttered, downing a large gulp of his drink before setting the bottle down on the table. You watched him leave, the loud footsteps on the raw cement floor were enough to tell you that he was angry. The rest of the party was strange, you felt tio Miguel's eyes on you, even though the atmosphere was pleasant for the other participants in your family, everything had gotten worse after the confrontation you had with the man ── you thought about telling about your uncle's strange behavior towards your father, but you knew it wouldn't help, they would just defend Miguel and say that you were exaggerating... But you felt like you weren't.

You went to your room, while you saw the tall man's shadow in the hallway, bumping into the walls because he was too drunk to think or stand on his feet ── you saw him leaning on your door frame, while you asked calmly if he needed some help. Miguel's eyes met his, his vision slightly blurred from the alcohol he had consumed. He licked his lips, his gaze roaming your body hungrily, but he didn't act, only a sob and a sad laugh left his lips, while he showed his white canines.

"You are mi ninõ. You always have been and always will be... There is no escaping your destiny."

He babbled, his words filled with drink, but he was serious, like he had never spoken before, you could see a mix of dark emotions that burned in his brown orbits, each word, no matter how slurred it was, carried a clear truth that could not be said aloud by several taboos.

His hands reached out, gripping your arms tightly. His fingers dug into your flesh, leaving small red marks.

"Don't forget this... You would never lie to your Uncle right? I will protect you... Incluso si es de ti mismo."

He leaned closer, his breathing heavy and laced with the smell of whiskey.

"But I will also punish you if you disobey me."

He let go of you then, frowning as he looked at the marks he had left on your arms.

"Go to bed now."

He mumbled, turning away from you and stumbling towards the door.

"Sleep well, my precious boy."

His voice was filled with alcohol, spite and a twisted desire ── the latter making his gaze linger on you for a moment longer, as he staggered out, ignoring everything and everyone around him, you tried to ignore the burning in your stomach, a mixture of fear and a bittersweet heat near your stomach, you were maybe just very tired... Right? You pushed away the thoughts that consumed your mind, trying to grab the fog of sleep that you tried to achieve, you hoped for a good day... But little did you know what fateful destiny had planned.

You woke up to your parents cleaning the house, it was a hot and irritating Sunday, you woke up sweaty and to the loud sounds of rooms being dragged from one place to another ── you really didn't want to be there, so your father told you to go to your uncle Miguel's house, even though you insisted on saying the opposite, that you could handle the chaos at home and help them, but your parent just repeated the phrase and sent you to keep O'Hara company at his house.

Everything would be better than facing him again.

You wore your most comfortable and cool dress for that sultry summer day ── your breasts bounced and you felt the coolness of the wind blowing beneath your legs, reaching your thighs and panties, an adorable boy, on the way to the wolf's house.

Walking under the sun until you saw Miguel's house in a rural area and away from the common neighborhood, you called his name, soon seeing the man come completely sweaty and shirtless, still wearing the same pants from yesterday, while drying his sweat of his brow, letting you into his comfort.

"Fine."

He grumbled, he turned around, taking you home without saying another word. The tension between the two of you was palpable, the air thick with unspoken words.

As you entered the house, you noticed a slight disorder. Miguel's usually immaculate house really needed some cleaning. He gestured for you to sit on the couch.

"Your father said you were coming..." He sighed with a hand on his hips as he looked at you steadily. "That's good, now we can continue our conversation from yesterday, okay? I want the truth my boy, give me your cell phone, unlocked... After all, you have nothing to hide from me right... You and Hobbie are just good friends... Right?" His voice carried that threatening and authoritarian tone again, you stuttered but when you saw your uncle's look you swallowed hard and accepted your fate, obviously you had spicy messages on your cell phone, but what could you do? Running unfortunately wasn't an option, neither was screaming, you were trapped in a spider's web, and in the possessive man's judgmental gaze.

"Now. Give it to me. Or else you know what I'm capable of."

He repeated as you handed him the electronic device ─ and it didn't take long for him to find what he was looking for... Miguel's eyes narrowed as he flipped through the messages on his phone. His grip tightened around the device, his knuckles turning white. A mixture of anger, jealousy and hurt crossed his face as he read the explicit messages and saw the intimate photos, you were really with that boy... You were doing everything behind his back.

"How dare you show your body to that piece of shit!"

His voice was laced with bitterness and disappointment. He threw the phone onto the table, the screen cracking on impact.

"Do you think you can send nudes to some random boy and get away with it?"

He took a step towards you, his expression darkening.

"Did he make you wet? Did he make you excited?" His words came out like venom, his hand shot out, grabbing your chin tightly, forcing you to look at him. Miguel's grip on his chin tightened, his fingers digging into his flesh. His angry eyes fixed on his, his expression filled with a mixture of possessiveness and pain.

"I expected everything... Except that, I'm tired, tired of just being seen as your fucking uncle... I can give you so much more than that boy ever could. I can make you scream, make you beg for more. But you need to understand that you are mine."

His voice was filled with a desperate need, a desire that was both warm and terrifying. He pressed his body against his, his erection evident through his jeans. You tried to protest again, in vain, you just felt O'Hara's thick lips on yours, it was strong, his tongue dominating his as he held you tightly. His hand guided your trembling hand to his hard, throbbing erection, pressing it against the fabric of his pants. He let out a low growl of pleasure, the sound vibrating against your lips.

"You always make me hard on boy... So fucking hard." He continued kissing you fiercely, your free hand moving to grip his waist, his fingers digging into your flesh. He pressed your body against his again, now the bulge of his pants rubbing against your thigh. The intensity of his touch and the raw desire in his eyes made your own body respond, despite the fear and confusion, it was so wrong, but it felt right at the same time.

"Do you think you can show yourself like that to anyone? Do you think there will be no consequences?"

He pushed you back, guiding you towards the couch again ─ his hands exploring your body with a hunger that bordered on desperation.

"Strip for me, baby boy. Show me that body you dared to share with someone else. Show me what only I should see."

His voice was commanding, his eyes burning of lust and anger. He watched as you hesitantly complied, removing your clothes piece by piece, revealing your naked form to him ── your dress was discarded somewhere in the room, your breasts bounced while your nipples became hard from contact with the air, your pussy was already wet, a simple kiss had done that to you.

He looks at you with admiration... All of that was for him, a banquet of the gods, he wasn't going to leave you in punishment, no matter how angelic you were, he was going to reduce you to a dumb and beautiful mess, totally broken for him.

"Look at you... So eager to please, so desperate for my touch. Did just one kiss from does your uncle get you this wet?"

A smile played at the corners of his lips as he took hold of his cell phone, opening the camera app with a sinister glint in his eyes.

"Well, since you were so willing to show yourself to that boy, I think it's only fair that I capture this moment. Don't you agree, my precious angelito?"

He positioned himself in front of you, his cock springing free from his pants. The sight of his naked arousal feels a mix of fear and excitement coursing through you. He pulled you down to your knees, his grip firm on the back of your head.

"Suck it," he commanded "Let the world see what a slut you've become."

You hesitated for a moment, the gravity of the situation sinking in. But the thought of defying him only fueled his anger further. With a mixture of trepidation and submission, you wrapped your lips around his throbbing length, your tongue swirling around his head. He groaned, his grip tightening in his hair as he began recording your submissive act.

"You look so fucking beautiful with my cock in your mouth. Such a good boy, taking it all in."

He continued to record, capturing each salacious moment as you eagerly pleasured him. The taste of his cock and the sound of his moans filled your senses, heightening your own pleasure. Your body responded, the tingling warmth between your legs growing more intense with each passing moment.

"No one else gets to taste you like this. You're my slutty boy, and I'm going to make sure everyone knows it."

He spoke as the fat and hot tip of his member hit your throat repeatedly, making you choke and connect your nose with his groin, the lack of air making you momentarily see stars as he let you breathe again.

As Miguel reached his climax, he grunted and released a hot jet of cum into your mouth. He groaned with satisfaction, feeling the pulsing sensation as he emptied himself into your mouth. The taste of his essence filled your senses, mixed with the bitter-sweet humiliation of the situation. Once he had finished, he withdrew his dick from your mouth, his grip firm on your face. He forced you to open your mouth wide, showing your dirty tongue, coated with his cum, to the camera. The sadistic glint in his eyes only intensified as he instructed you to swallow it all.

You obediently complied, gulping down his cum, heavy tears ran down your body, while his thumb pulled your cheek to show him even more of your oral cavity.

"Look at the camera....You look like a damn porn star... A filthy, little porn star."

You barely had time to react, then the man trapped you beneath him again ─ his thighs separated yours, while he looked at your cunt milking the air with so much excitement, making him laugh mockingly and dominantly ─ without prior warning, his thick cock entered your wet pussy, stretching you to your limits and causing a mixture of pain and pleasure to surge through your body. Your legs were draped over his shoulders, granting him unrestricted access to your most intimate parts.

As he thrust into you, Miguel focused the camera on your tear-streaked face, capturing every moment of your vulnerability and submission.

You were a mess of conflicting emotions, a beautiful sight to him as he reveled in his dominance over you, The desire makes you delirious, completely erasing your sense of right and wrong ── soon you find yourself thrusting your hips onto his cock, whimpering pathetically as you moan his name.

"Mmm, you're such a buen chico para mí.. such a good and beautiful pussy... You hid it from me for so long... But you showed it so easily to that bastard... You disappoint your uncle sometimes, boy."

His hand left the camera momentarily, his fingers finding your clit, caressing it in a way that made your moans intensify, he watched your reactions closely, moaning with lips parted, as he looked directly into your teary eyes.

"See, I knew you'd love this, aren't you? Oh, sí... Mierda- Eres tan apretado chico".

Then, with the peaks of moans and pounding of flesh on flesh, his grunts grew louder and more primal as he climaxed. With one final thrust, he released his hot sperm deep inside your pulsating pussy, filling you with his essence. When he pulled out, the camera captured the evidence of your intimate connection, showing the mixture of his cum and your own juices. Your pussy clenched and milked the air, aching for more even after he finished.

"You've taken all of my cum... Un buen chico para tu tio."

You couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction mixed with a tinge of shame as you watched your body respond to his touch.

He smiles at the video on his cell phone, while looking at you with a dangerous glare.

"Now you're going to be a good putito... After all, you don't want this to leak out to our family, do you?"

You had no choice, and maybe you didn't even want to... Miguel had broken you, as he always wanted, you were his now, only his.

© All rights reserved to @yanderestarangel on tumblr.

[yandere-kokeshi]

Yandere Miguel and Miles with a gn darling who's hosting Venom

Warnings: yandere behavior

A/N: this was requested but I accidentally deleted it. To whomever sent this on anon, please enjoy :)

Miguel O’Hara:

Miguel likely finds out pretty quickly about Venom, seeing you sweat profusely and talking to yourself was a huge giveaway.

But he also used his free time to use his tech to find out about your ‘Spiderverse’, therefore, witnessing video/and photo evidence of Venom. The minute he comes to you, he’s in your face, inquiring about the so-called symbiote, which leads to you confessing about Venom.

He’s a bit impressed by Venom’s uniqueness. Finding the black liquid wraps around your figure, transforming you into something abnormal isn’t an everyday thing you see. Which leads to him asking a bunch of questions, especially about how their voice works.

Dating you and Venom was quite hard at the beginning. Not only did his spider senses go off constantly — but the parasite teased him often; sticking out its tongue from behind your back whenever you turned around to do things.

At first, Miguel will try to find a ‘cure’ for you, wanting to get rid of the damn parasite. He viewed them as nothing but a pawn in a pack, using your body as it pleases. But the more he watched you laugh, getting comforted by the symbiote whenever Miguel wasn’t there, or getting along with it, he realized it was a part of you; just like how he’s part spider.

As much as he hates to state it, he appreciates how Venom can protect you. While Miguel would prefer to be in control, protecting the only family he has left, he’s relieved Venom can easily take over your body — directing you away from the danger or taking care of the problem itself without you being involved.

Speaking of Venom being in full form, the first time Miguel witnessed them taking over your body - its tongue and sharp teeth expanding, the dark voice shaking the ground, he was… surprised. He stared up at Venom, before cursing them out, demanding they bring you back, but due to Venom’s humor, Miguel was annoyed with their teasing.

Both of them don’t get along well, but they have times with bonding, something in common which is their protectiveness and possessiveness towards you. At some point, they may become competitive against each other but in all, they both work together when it comes to making sure you stay as theirs.

Venom loves to tease the hell out of Miguel, touching him whenever the two of you are holding hands or hugging him. Sometimes, the symbiote will pop out and try to scare the man on purpose.

Miguel often wants to strangle the damn symbiote and will angrily laugh when they get upset at him when he calls them a parasite or alien. At this point, he will purposely nickname that but will stop if you say so, but expect no apologies.

The strictest about Venom listening to the rules Miguel places out — hence the talk of: “No eating people”. This also involves getting aggressive and setting boundaries with the damn alien, going as far to threaten to take them out himself.

Isn’t afraid of using vibrations and intense heat to get the symbiote out of you if they become too bloodthirsty within a fight.

Miles Morales:

At first, Miles thought you were ‘sick’, at times taking it as one of your quirks as you constantly whispered to yourself and often bought a bunch of chocolate to a point where it was unhealthy.

Sure, he commented about the chocolate. Always suggesting you should eat something healthier. But it was you. So he took your answer and often didn't question it again.

He figures out your situation when the two of you were on a date and a band nearby was playing, making you cover your ears, Miles could see you were in pain; worry covering his face as he moved you to somewhere quietly, which leads to you telling about your buddy.

At first, he was confused at your words, worrying you’d lost it, but when a mass of black blob came out of your shoulder, revealing terrifying teeth and white eyes, he freaked out.

Getting him to calm down was a bit troubling, but soon after explaining about Venom and how you two bond, Miles… is pretty nonchalant about it surprisingly. He nods along, often looking at Venom fearfully before asking normal questions.

Miles has a sketchbook dedicated to you and Venom. Almost every page is drawn in extreme details of you being transformed, your smile, and Venom’s tentacles appearing on your body.

While dating you, he’s grown to Venom’s constant interruptions in the conversations, talking to the both of you and often ignoring their teasing. Eventually, he’s grown to be braver on comebacks to the damn symbiote, laughing and smiling cockily when they get ‘offended’.

The time Miles witnesses you being transformed into a giant abnormal figure with terrifying teeth, he fears for a second — but slightly calmed down when Venom tells him it’s them and that you’re fine. The moment you turn back into yourself, he quickly interrupts your apology with a quick hug.

Venom loves to tease Miles. Whenever they catch him staring at you, they always call him a ‘lovesick idiot’ and ‘a doofus’.

Seeing Venom get aggressive, often itching for a fight worries him like a mother hen. He’s always the one to talk it out through Venom, often making them question their behavior and see what the consequences will do if they decide to continue.

Although your interesting ‘power’ intrigues and amazes him, he gets nervous around you, stating his worries about the symbiote possibly using you or waiting for the right time to consume you and many others. But, he’s learned that Venom is quite fond of you; wrapping their wraps around your figure when you sleep to make you more comfortable.

While he does worry occasionally, he's more prone to acknowledge and be okay with Venom; seeing them as a roommate which leads to Miles likeing Venom a lot.

While he does get irritated when they tease him too much, or say awakward things in public that he has to cover up with odd answers to people, he does appreciate how protective they are over you and him — often wrapping their tentacles with you when you hug or kiss him. He likes it when they curl around into cuddle sessions, their wraps covering you both as you two asleep.

They both work together, often in protecting you. Not only does Venom likes the way of Miles thinking but, Miles appreciates the help in making sure people get what they deserve from looking at you weirdly.

—

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

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

[kiame-sama]

I can't remember if I already requested this or not, so I'm sorry if you've already received this.

It's a but dark, but I'd like to request Munchausen's syndrome by proxy with yandere Miguel. Like he finds out reader is thinking of breaking up with him, so he purposely makes her sick so she'll have to depend on him and can't leave. Maybe including a caretaker kink with it?

Thank you!

Love Sick- (Yandere!Miguel x Reader)

Warnings; Munchausen's syndrome by proxy (Miguel to Reader), unhealthy dependency, yandere behavior, yandere tendencies, caretaker kink, possessive Miguel,

~~~~~~~~

"Just rest, Querida."

Miguel cooed gently to you, petting your cheek in an affectionate manner as he used the back of his hand to test your temperature. He seemed to grimace in response to how warm you must have felt to him, though you didn't feel particularly warm in any way. The way he turned to the medicine on the side table made you wonder just when this mysterious illness was going to finally fade away.

You had been thinking about returning to your timeline and universe, despite the unusual way you wound up in Miguel's universe. One of the anomalies dragged you to Miguel's universe where he came to your aid and caught you up to speed on the work he did. Apparently the way back to your universe had closed up in such a way that you wouldn't be able to return for quite some time. While you waited to return to your reality, Miguel managed to charm you and he clearly wanted to pursue a relationship with you.

The two of you were good together and all of the Spider people spoke of how good you were for Miguel. One day Jess offhandedly mentioned your universe showing back up and you had to excitedly bother Miguel about it. He acted happy but unbeknownst to you, he was thinking of how to keep you with him in a more permanent manner.

The day you were planning on returning to your own timeline, you fell suddenly ill. At first you tried to convince Miguel that you could still go, but he insisted that you remain in bed and get 'much needed' rest. Since then, you had been stuck with your ever adoring boyfriend taking care of you.

Some days you seemed to improve and could do things yourself, other days you were so weak you could barely get out of bed. There were days you felt well enough to ask Miguel to take you to your original timeline, but he would always insist you wait a day to see if you truly did feel better, and your illness would come back with full force before the next twenty-four hours.

"But... I feel like I'm being a burden."

"Not to me, you're not. I want you to be healthy and I'm not going to just abandon you because you have been ill. In sickness and in health, sí?"

"That's marriage, Miguel. We're dating."

"Ay, close enough. The point still stands, taking care of you is not a burden to me."

You smiled at this, holding his hand and lightly kissing his palm with a happy hum. Even though he risked getting ill as well, he always comforted and held you at night. Anything he could do to make your life easier seemed to be taken up in stride.

"I am so lucky you found me, Miguel."

"I'm the lucky one, (Y/n). And I consider myself lucky every day you are by my side."

You smiled when he kissed your forehead, feeling his gentle lips against your skin. You let him hold you close as he slid into the bed next to you, holding you to his chest.

"I am so lucky to have you, and I'll never let go..."

[dilfartist]

A foolish endeavor

Pairing; Yandere Miguel O’hara x reader

Synopsis; You manage to snag Miguel’s gizmo and escape to another universe. How long will it take before he, or the spider society, find you?

Word count; 2.8k

Reader description; Female/GN

TW; kidnapping, probably terrible spanish (i did use sources Spanish-speaking users suggested), non-con touching, yandere themes, dark writing.

Notes; {if i mistranslated any of the spanish please do contact me in my DMs. I wanted this fic to be better but I hope you enjoy it anyway. Did not proofread.}

Midnight coated New York in a dark blue hue. Most nights the city lights illuminate the darkness, providing the ability to see. However, the motel you find yourself ambling to is the more isolated part of the city.

Rain poured down heavily, producing cacophonous echoes of raindrops slamming against the concrete. Clad in a drenched hoodie and damp black yoga pants, you scurry to the other side of the street just in time to avoid being hit by the passing truck.

Cigarette smoke and frigid rain overwhelm your senses, mainly due to the cigarette buds scattered on the motel parking lot.

The motel is okay looking. By no means does it look nice, but it isn’t a hard no.

“Guess this is where I’ll sleep tonight,” you mumble to yourself. You take a brief glance at your surroundings. Night overcame the sky, giving the atmosphere a dark hue but the lights gave you a clear standpoint.

Numerous lights hummed irritatingly, not even a minute passed and you found yourself obtaining a headache. You navigate the main office, which is on the left side of the horseshoe-shaped building, and a blue neon sign points in the direction of the office. You started sauntering over, putting pep in your step when the cold rain declined heavier than it did the last five minutes.

Six months ago, you wouldn’t be having this problem. At least that’s what you believed. You could’ve been at your apartment, catching up on a show you’ve failed to complete thanks to your busy work schedule.

Unfortunately for you, doing a task as simple as watching your television, in your home, was truly impossible. Why? Because the earth you roam isn’t yours, to begin with. Your apartment isn’t yours. The job you work isn’t yours. You aren’t certain you even exist in this universe.

You can’t find the strength to complain. Honestly, you’re delighted to be away from the man who stole you away from society.

Miguel O’Hara.

Otherwise known as Spiderman 2099. You know, the superhero.

It must be confusing to hear that a superhero kidnaped a poor civilian. Superheros don’t normally commit unforgivable acts. Regardless, Miguel didn't care. Miguel is aware he is different from other heroes given his beliefs. Abducting you was just one of the many wrongs Miguel fulfilled.

You just wished you knew his motives at the beginning. If you did, you wouldn't have to search for sanctuary. You wouldn't have to lie low in a different universe.

Before Miguel, you lived a decent life that included a decent job. It was a Tuesday afternoon with sunny weather and clear skies. Your friends invited you to a picnic at the park and, for once having a clear schedule you agreed. You recall the sun beaming down on you, overheating your body to the point shade was a necessity. You moved from the picnic blanket to a nearby bent tree. One moment you're enjoying the shade, the next you're falling. Then something transpired. You jerked in the air, something white clinging to the front of your shirt. You felt your body floating in the air, legs thrashing in fear when your body conceded it was in mid-air.

You must have fainted because you have no recollection of what transpired next. What you do remember was watching through bleary eyes as four strangers hovered over you clearly disputing. Currently, you know them by Jessica Drew, Peter B. Parker, the iron spider, And Miguel O’Hara.

The accountability for your well-being somehow landed in the hands of Miguel. In the beginning, Miguel had such a short patience for you, not that he didn't possess an attitude with anyone else, he just happened to have a really short fuse with you.

His explosive temper with you was undeserving. You hardly gave him any reason to blow up. Your presence alone just pissed him off, at least it appeared so.

You avoided him as much as possible; Departing a room when he entered. Ensuring any errands were accomplished before he arrived home, so you didn't have to leave your room to aggravate him.

Then he began to seek you out; popping up wherever you were in his apartment. Alone watching television on the couch? Not anymore. Miguel joined you on the other side silently watching as well. Sitting silently in the dining room eating lunch? Miguel enters with a bowl of cereal, starting a conversation about the day’s news. Enjoy video games and decide to play by yourself? Miguel grabs a controller and questions the rules and certain controls.

For someone who was as snappy at you as a feral dog, he sure did like to invade your solitude.

By the second month of staying at Miguel’s, he found solace in your presence. He became relaxed. Nice even. And then by the fourth month, you became friends. You never visualized being anything other than friends, but unbeknownst to you, Miguel did.

When you first caught the news of Peter figuring out what universe you belonged to, you were ecstatic. After all, the mystery of your universe's number had been the sole reason for crashing with Miguel and not immediately returning home.

You turned to Miguel, asking when was the appropriate time to drop you off. To your astonishment, Miguel’s brows furrowed, and his lips morphed into a grimace, “you will not be returning.” he affirmed.

Miguel shocked not only you, but everyone witnessing the scene. A gauche silence conquered the atmosphere.

You and Miguel stared at each other for a beat, then you voiced your perplexity. “What do you mean “I will not be returning?” Miguel, I need to go home.” you took a step closer to Miguel.

Miguel gazed at you with an uninterested stare. “What I say goes, (Name). And I say you're staying here.” he spun around, returning to whatever he had been working on before. “We all have a busy schedule and dropping you off will only alter it.”

“It’s not worth it,” he said like he was ending the conversation.

“Okay, then Peter can take me home when he needs to drop off Mayday.” you insisted, looking over at Peter to see if he’d be alright with your plan.

No expression was needed for you to catch on to the attitude Miguel began to gain. “(Name), I won’t tell you twice. The answer is no. Now, Peter take her back to my apartment. We’ll speak about the matter later, at the moment there are more important issues happening.”

You found it laughable. To think the minute you stepped into the man's sight he wanted you gone, but now Miguel was fighting you to stay with him. Ironic, isn’t it?

That night you and Miguel, the very moment he came inside his apartment, quarreled for an hour in a half. Your argument being you did not belong to him and could do whatever you pleased. Miguel’s argument was the insignificance of the matter to him.

You detected Miguel’s temper was starting to get out of hand. The way his fists began to clench, the way his brows creased, and the frown deepened after every sentence he uttered. You’ve seen his strength. His fierceness. And you’d rather leave than have any of his tantrums directed at you. Doing what any rational person would do, you attempted to leave the room. You advised him to de-stress before speaking to you again.

Miguel was having none of it. Not even a second passed before you were yanked back by the forearm.

You’re face-to-face with Miguel. Miguel towered over you, looking down at you with his signature red piercing stare. He bends down, momentarily staring at you until he finally speaks. “I can't allow you to leave.” The way he talks is low and if the room weren't already quiet, you wouldn’t have heard him. “I love you,” he confessed, voice cracking, closing his eyes as if it pained him to say it. He opened his eyes again. “And I won't allow myself to lose any other person I care for.”

Pulling twenty dollars out of the torn-up wallet you found on the side of the road, you slide it forward on the mahogany brown table. The fatigued receptionist glances at the money, then gazes at you with an irked expression.

“This isn’t enough.” She states matter-of-factly. She slides the twenty back to you.

You purse your lips, staring down at the cash. Twenty dollars is all you had. What were you to do now? The next nearest motel could be miles away; it was a miracle you made it to this.

Your eyes flicker back to her. You take two fingers pushing it back to her, giving her your best puppy eyes. “Please! I don't have anywhere else to go tonight. If I can’t stay here I’ll have to sleep on the streets.”

You were lying. You would’ve taken off by dawn, needing to be on the move after getting rested.

Her hardened expression softens. She takes a deep breath, eyes studying the money. Shaking her head, she takes the cash. “One night only, alright?”

You propose to her a smile, nodding with gratitude. She allotted you a key. A small golden-greenish key, with the number five engraved on the head. Tonight you’d sleep on the grounded floor of the motel.

The inside was decently prepared, having a dingy tone that gave off a haunted vibe. You hum in displeasure. Two queen-sized mattresses are positioned on the right side of the wall. They appeared stiff, and the blankets laying upon them looked thinner than a sheet of paper.

Sighing, you softly booted the door shut. Flopping down on the nearest bed, you groan at the sensation of the rough mattress.

When tomorrow comes you’d have to find a fresh location. Miguel could continually find your locale, thanks to not only Lyla but the whole Spider society. Perhaps you postponed his search this time. His watch or gizmo- whatever the hell it was- rests on your wrist.

Shifting your head to the side, pulling your hand out of your pocket, you glance at the gizmo.

Tightly clutched in Miguel’s hold, you stare quietly at the ceiling. You debate acting on your next actions. There were times Miguel slept lightly, aroused by creaks in the floorboard. Other times when the sound of glass shattering did not bother him even a little.

Glancing down at the arm wrapped securely around your midriff, you endeavor to gradually lift his arm up. He unconsciously retaliates, arms consolidating, resulting in a small gasp slipping from your lips. You’re quick to rub his arm, to offer him comfort, and to calm him.

It works. Miguel grumbles, his grasp faulting. You carefully move his arm aside, then unhurriedly get up from the bed.

Before leaving the room you observe Miguel. Miguel sleeps soundly, an angry expression inscribed on his face. But he is asleep, so you take your chance while you are able.

Tiptoeing into the kitchen, you immediately spot the gizmo on the marble counter. Compared to the technology you have at home, it was top-notched, a huge improvement. Of course, he lived in the year 2099. Obviously, there would be a difference in technology.

You grabbed the gizmo, examining the complexity. From monitoring the spider people using them, you know it’ll take you wherever universe you request. Great. However, you weren’t a spider person. If you teleported in the middle of the air, you couldn't grapple on the closest object with a web. Or claw your way down a building

Fuck it.

If dying meant escaping him, then so be it.

You didn’t really mean that. Every time you went to teleport to a different universe, you cringed retreating your hand.

“Jesus! Alright, I'm doing this!” you softly berated yourself. Bracing for the impact of the possible fall you might face, you shut your eyes tight and twisted the gizmo. “Please be on the ground, Please be on the ground, Please be on the ground!” you cried.

How long would it take them to find you? How far could you get?

God, being on the run was stressful.

Your eyes flutter closed, plush pillows luling your tired mind. ‘I should get some sleep’ you thought. Warmth spread throughout your numbing body, as you finally permitted yourself to sleep.

When you awake gasping for air, almost as if you’d been suffocating. Instantly you arise, a hand rushing to your chest confirming it still thumped with a beating heart. Your skin is sticky with cold sweat, making your clothes uncomfortably cling to your body. “What the fuck?” you barely uttered, mouth arid.

Suddenly you had a gut feeling to check the window. You stand, groggily walking toward the large window adjacent to the front door. Pinching the hem of the curtain, you haul it aside.

The night is still pristine, the stars glowing in the dark sky. Nothing seems out of place. And yet you continue to have that gut feeling. Look outside, there’s something outside. Your eyes move to the parking lot.

You see it.

Blue and red. Something blue and red is making its way toward the motel. Squinting, you can make out what it is. Miguel. It's Miguel!

“Oh, shit!” you expressed, dropping the curtain. Wasting no time you locked the bottom and top locks. You veered around, frantically searching for a place to hide. You are no fool. Locking the door was simply a distraction; Miguel would tear the door off its hinges in a second.

Hiding underneath the bed is a childish strategy. That and hiding underneath the covers. Still, you drop to your knees, squeezing underneath the bed, using the blankets to cover any spaces revealing you. Pressing the palm of your hand against both your mouth and nose, you listen closely to everything around you.

At first, all you hear is the air conditioning blowing cool air, and the people next door’s baby weeping. Then you hear it. The doorknob oscillation. Your eyes widen, fear causing your breath to hitch. When the door refuses to open, the person behind the door commences kicking in the door. One kick achieves them access to the room. The door slams against the wall, shaking the ground, sending a vibration under you.

“¿Qué carajo?” you know that voice anywhere. It’s Miguel speaking in his native language. A habit Miguel has when he’s angered or stressed. “¿Dónde está ella?” Miguel snaps, striding into the room with anger-powered steps.

You can see through the tiny slit in the blankets, Miguel turning to the table where you placed the gizmo. Miguel picks up the gizmo, putting it back on his wrist.

He shifts his concentration to finding you. He calls out your name, malice dripping from the way he shouts it. He disappears from sight, presumingly moving on to the bathroom. Many things are heard being tossed around. Miguel probably was looking for evidence of you staying here, apart from the gizmo.

You gather the courage to, oh, so carefully stretch your leg out, then proceed to quietly shuffle from under the bed. You waste no time, rushing out the door, feet bare without socks or shoes. The gravel burns the soles of your feet, scraping and imprinting on the skin.

You practically succeeded in leaving the lot until you caught a glimpse of what stalked behind you. On all fours, Miguel sprinted at you, claws scuffing the concrete, like a predator running after its prey.

“Holy shit! What the actual fuck!” you panic aloud, taking your eye off what was in front of you, your mind solely focusing on the man hunting you. Big mistake on your part. A concrete parking block is in your way, but you don’t see it. You jolt forward, tripping over the block, your other foot catching you before you hit the road.

Just when you thought you still had the chance of running away, you’re sorely mistaken. Miguel pounces on you, and the clash of your bodies colliding results in Miguel tumbling down the road, you secure in his arms.

The tumble ends; you’re struggling not to vomit, head resting on Miguel’s firm chest. The world spins. It’s easy to forget your position when the urge to throw up is fresh.

Miguel holds your head, pressing a myriad of kisses on every part of the skin visible, muttering with his eyes closed. “Gracias a Dios que estás bien.” He sounds so frantic, reciting those same words, his tongue stumbling over the utterances.

His eyelids raise, uncovering his red orbs. He presses his forehead against yours, staring deeply into your eyes. It’s a domestic stunt that makes your stomach churn. “Debería estar furioso contigo, pero no lo estoy.” he huffs, then continues, “I’m happy you’re alright. I don’t know what I'd do if I lost you, mi alma.”

Taking your hand, he places a soft kiss on the back. “Had an anomaly harmed you, I would have ripped their fucking throat out!”

————————

Translations

- “¿Qué carajo?”/ what the fuck?

- “¿Dónde está ella?”/ where is she?

- “Debería estar furioso contigo, pero no lo estoy.”/ I should be furious with you, but I'm not.

- “Gracias a Dios que estás bien.”/ thank god you’re okay.

- mi alma/ my soul

[kinkandkreep]

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

♡︎ 𝑪𝑾: 𝑰𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒅 𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒅𝒖𝒃𝒄𝒐𝒏, 𝒊𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒖𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒑𝒉𝒚𝒔𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒍 𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒎, 𝑴𝒊𝒈𝒖𝒆𝒍 𝒃𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒃𝒔𝒐𝒍𝒖𝒕𝒆 𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒑, 𝒉𝒆 𝒂𝒍𝒔𝒐 𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒐𝒖𝒕

♡︎ "__" 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞

♡︎ 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

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

You hadn’t heard from your cousin or friends in 2 weeks.

Normally, you kept in fairly regular contact, but for the past 14 days it had been radio silence. 

You were almost too afraid to think of what that could potentially mean. 

Two possibilities were most apparent to you.

A.) Miguel had made good on his word and-...harmed your friends

B.) Miguel had made good on his word and frightened your friends and cousin so badly they’d been successfully coerced into cutting off contact with you

Either way, you knew Miguel had something to do with it. 

It also probably didn’t help that after he’d kidnapped you, he forced you to begin using the bugged phone. Even if you had talked to your girls, you assumed that Miguel would just be listening in on the conversation. 

You sighed, brows turning downward in frustration. You were tempted to just throw the damn brick at the wall, but, as much as you were ashamed to admit it, you were a little terrified of how Miguel would react if you were to destroy his means of tracking you while he was away. 

He would probably see it as a means of rebellion and obstinance, and might use that as justification to hurt you. 

Your arms were still bruised from earlier, and though the bruising on your wrist had dissolved, the skin was still slightly tender to the touch, the bone creaky and sore. 

You cradled the appendage in your other hand, sighing deeply. 

You tried to be positive about the situation to the best of your ability. 

It wasn’t all bad being with Miguel. He took very good care of you, when he wasn’t hurting you. He bought you everything you wanted and more, though you didn’t really care about material things. You still had access to the internet and television, albeit very limited. He didn’t allow you to sleep in the guest room as you’d requested, saying that “husbands and wives should sleep together, it’s only natural,” but at least his bed was very comfortable, and he said he’d let you redecorate however you desired. 

You could eat pretty much whatever you wanted, though you could only order out when Miguel was home, so he could monitor the exchange between you and the delivery person. He made you breakfast every morning, and it was always delicious, but he rarely ever let you make yourself anything involving knives, for several obvious reasons. 

It wasn’t all terrible.

Except for the fact that you no longer had any real autonomy, and there was a chance your best friends and favorite cousin had been murdered, which was, admittedly, a  couple pretty major things. 

“__! I’m home!”

A few days after your incarceration, Miguel had begun insisting that you greet him when he returned home from work or other outings. 

“As a proper wife should,” he’d said, expression flat and chin tilted upward. 

At first, you completely disregarded him, not even answering when he would call out for you upon his return. 

After a little while though, Miguel’s patience ran out. 

One day, he neglected to announce his return, and instead barged into the bedroom where you were, red eyes blazing with anger. Not even giving you the chance to speak, he snatched you up from the bed, dragging you out into the living room and tossing you to the floor. 

A quiet “oomph” sounded from you as you landed on your knees, the skin covering them burning from the carpet. 

“Why is it so difficult for you to follow simple instructions, __? I only asked you to begin greeting me when I come home from working to continue providing for you. Is that so much to ask?”

You didn’t speak, unsure of what might come out of your mouth in the moment. 

Miguel had begun pacing, a signature sign of either his distress or agitation. 

He stopped suddenly, bending down to grab you tightly by the shoulders, forcing you to look up at him. 

“Well? ¡Contéstame!”

You held his stare for a moment more, before finally beginning to speak. 

“You are…delusional, Miguel. I don’t even want to be here, stuck in this house with you. You think I’d honestly begin happily rushing to the door to appease you, when you’ve hurt me, and presumably other people that are important to me?! Are you insane?!”

You shook out of his now loose grasp, scooting back til you were on the other side of the room. 

“You’re crazy, and I want nothing to do with you.”

The two of you sat in silence for quite a few moments, Miguel being oddly still, not meeting your eyes. 

“Is that so?” Miguel’s voice was low, his breathing having picked up. 

You watched with wide eyes as he quickly advanced on you, not even giving you time to move before he’d snatched you up again, a single hand wrapped tightly around your throat. 

Your feet kicked in a panic, hands clawing at Miguel’s wrist. 

You knew he was strong, though you’d never seen his strength in action like this. You weren’t the lightest person, and for him to be able to lift you almost a foot off the ground singlehandedly was alarming. 

His gaze burned into yours, and you could swear that beneath the dark spots slowly clouding your vision, there was a sick sort of satisfaction causing a dull glow to emanate from Miguel’s red irises. 

“If you don’t want anything to do with me,” he began, grip tightening further, “then perhaps I should just…make you go away.” His expression remained scarily flat, his tone even more so, though his words shook around the edges. 

You could feel the energy steadily seeping out of you, and for a moment, you were genuinely afraid that Miguel was going to kill you. 

After a few more torturous moments, your vision dimmed to almost completely black, and you felt your body go limp. 

At the same time, Miguel finally released you, and you weakly dropped to the floor, sprawled out and exhausted from your ordeal. 

The much larger man crouched down beside you, leaning forward til his lips nearly brushed yours. 

“Never forget, that the only reason you still have breath in your lungs is because I give it to you. And just as I give, I can take it all away. You don’t want anything to do with me? Without me, you’d be nothing.”

He stands, leveling you with the most dismissive, scathing look you’ve ever seen on his face. 

“I’m not crazy, __. You’re crazy for thinking you could ever leave me.”

Back in the present moment, you shivered at the memory, hand subconsciously coming up to massage your throat. 

Looking at the time, you noticed that Miguel would be returning soon. 

Begrudgingly, you stood, dragging your feet out into the living room where you took a seat on the couch. 

“Any minute now,” you spoke to no one in particular. 

You sat there waiting for just a bit longer, before you could hear the telltale beeping coming from the front door. After a second, Miguel entered, an expectant expression on his face. 

Even after the encounter from before, you hadn’t quite worked up the fortitude necessary to actually greet him at the door, but at least now you acknowledged him. 

Miguel recognized this as a small victory and decided to grant you mercy accordingly.

In the moment, he turned to you, brow raised. 

You rolled your eyes, looking away momentarily before looking back to him. “Welcome home, Mig-...”

“Ah ah, that’s not my name. Not to you anyway.”

You glared at him momentarily, though it seemed to have no effect on the man. 

“Welcome home, Gigi.”

Miguel grinned, beginning to walk into your bedroom. 

“Muy buena, __.” 

You watched him leave, huffing angrily. 

He was so…infuriating. 

He tried to be almost unbearably sweet and accommodating while at the same time being more than willing to toss you out of a window if you said anything similar to him being “crazy” or you not loving him. 

He was crazy, as you’d said before. And it drove you nearly insane that he couldn’t see that his actions were wrong. 

So caught up you were in your thoughts, that you almost didn’t hear Miguel calling your name. 

“__!”

Your head snapped up, and in a brief moment of panic, you wondered for how long he’d been calling you. Seeing as you hadn’t been doing anything and seemed annoyed when he left, he probably thought you were intentionally ignoring him. 

You both knew how much of a poor idea that was. 

Quickly, you stood, making your way into the bedroom. 

Miguel was in the middle of undress, and you were sure he’d called you on purpose, to see what you’d, since the beginning of your incarceration at least, been denying. 

So far, he hadn’t forced you, but you didn’t put it past him. 

The thought made you shiver. 

“Yes Mi-...Gigi?”

You quickly righted your mistake at the eye Miguel gave you. He relaxed after a moment, turning back to what he was doing. 

“I asked what you’d like for dinner.”

You paused, knowing it was too soon to ask to go out, but also not really being in the mood to eat anything he made.

“Uh…I was thinking we could order out.”

At that, Miguel paused, turning and giving you a critical glare. 

“You’ve been wanting to eat out a lot lately. And always from the same place.”

Miguel began approaching you, shirtless and clad in only a pair of black shorts. You kept your gaze on his face as he stopped in front of you, expression familiarly, terrifyingly flat.

“Come to think of it, that same little delivery boy seems to be quite fond of you. Would be a shame if he became unable to continue making deliveries because of you.”

“MIGUEL!” The word shot out of you before you could stop it. You were beyond appalled at the implication, and beyond sick of him harming others and/or threatening to do so indiscriminately. 

“You are supposed to be a hero! You cannot threaten to hurt people just because they speak to me! That boy is a child, Miguel. He’s done nothing wrong and he is not a threat, regardless of what you think.”

You were breathing harder now, feeling an anger you thought had been worn out of you speedily rising to the surface once more.

“You will leave him alone, you will leave the rest of my family and friends alone. Get a grip Miguel! I’m so sick of this insanity!”

You hadn’t realized you felt so strongly, and you certainly hadn’t considered saying anything like this to Miguel’s face. You knew that once the adrenaline wore down, you’d probably be in for a world of pain, but in the moment, you couldn’t care. 

All this time spent having to bend over backward and walk on eggshells just to placate the volatile man and keep his temper in check had worn you down, and you were just…tired. 

With this realization, you deflated, plopping down onto the bed and rubbing a hand down your face. Your skin was a little dry (you’d been somewhat neglecting to care for it like you normally would, what with all the stress you’d been under) and you could actually feel the puffiness beginning to form under your eyes. 

You felt like crying, but you refused to let Miguel see you in such a weakened state. 

So, you closed your eyes, and put aside your pride for just a moment to utter out an empty, “Sorry, Gigi. I don’t know where that came from.”

The silence that followed seemed to stretch on endlessly, and you took deep, even breaths, waiting for the outburst that you knew would inevitably come. 

…

Except, it never did. 

Instead, when you looked over at Miguel, you found him staring hungrily at you with lidded eyes, hands twitching with want by his sides. 

‘Oh no…’

“G-Gigi?”

He didn’t respond, hands still twitching. 

Finally, after several tense moments, he spoke. 

“Wow, __.” Miguel chuckled as he spoke, slowly beginning to stalk towards you. “I don’t know if I should be angry or turned on right now. You’ve never spoken to me with such authority, and for the fact that you no longer have any, it makes this little outburst all the more astonishing.”

You scream as Miguel pounces on you, sound muffled by his lips smashing into yours. You try to wiggle out of the unwanted kiss, but Miguel holds fast, boxing you in with his knees and arms. 

The kiss is loaded and sloppy, full of clashing teeth and tongues fighting for dominance. It’s so intense, that you can feel yourself becoming dizzy from both it and the lack of air. 

When Miguel finally decides to pull away, a thin string of saliva ties you both together, which Miguel quickly dips in to lick away before you can swat at him. A very satisfied grin plays on his lips, and as he leans back, one of his thick fingers begins trailing down the length of your torso, starting by drawing ticklish circles around where your larynx rests in your throat, down between the valley of your breasts, across the soft, cotton covered expanse of your stomach and eventually resting right atop the border of your panties. 

You hold your breath the entire time, afraid that even the slightest movement would upset the entranced Miguel.

“Muy valiente, pequeña mascota. Perhaps I should reward you.”

“Gi-...”

The word became caught in your throat when Miguel, with seemingly little effort, ripped your shirt down the middle, exposing your bra and underwear. You could see inside Miguel’s slightly agape mouth; his fangs had begun to drop, and you were very afraid in that moment that he would use them.

“Gigi, wait! Please stop. I don’t want this.” 

You couldn’t help it now, and tears had begun streaming down your cheeks. 

Miguel watched silently, his expression not really changing. 

“Oh cariño, there’s no need to shed tears. I promise to make you feel so good. And you’ll make me feel good too, right?”

“NO! I don’t want this Miguel!”

“Well you don’t have much of a choice, now do you __?!” Miguel's eyes had begun to blaze an even more vibrant crimson, his whole face pinched in anger. 

“I let you have your little moment, and now you will shut up and take responsibility for this! All this time I’ve spent being denied my urges because of your selfishness, well that comes to an end now. I’ve given you more than enough time to become comfortable, and now I will have what is mine.”

You watch, stunned as Miguel completes his spiel. 

What on Earth had happened to the man you used to love? Who was this cruel monster that now stood in his place? 

What if…what if, in reality, he’d always been this way, and just knew how to hide it well from others?

“What…what has come over you Miguel?” The words come out hiccupy and quiet, your watery, red eyes wide as you await the answer. 

“Love.” 

Miguel’s response is almost immediate, and somehow, his expression softens. 

“I love you, __. So much, you simply don’t understand. But that’s ok! Because I’m here to help you understand. And in time you will. It’s ok to go to extremes to protect the people you love, and I would kill for you, __. Again and again. I’ll do whatever it takes to help you see that my love for you is true, that anyone who would try to come between us is a pest, and that pests must be exterminated.”

Miguel leans forward, eyes lidded once more and lips nearly brushing yours. 

“Do you understand me, __?”

Unable to do much more beyond stare in shock and horror, you absentmindedly nod, barely registering Miguel’s pleased smile. 

“Buena ninita. Good girl, __. Now...,”

Miguel leans back, a smirk shaping his mouth. 

“Tell me you love me. And let me turn those tears of fear into tears of pleasure.”

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

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