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yandere-sins · 7 months

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Today, I was thinking about Kar'niss the drider, who—mad and confused—stumbles over a nearly dead darling in the Shadowlands.

You're already as good as gone, life sapped out of you mercilessly by the shadows gnawing at you. They burn your skin and dig into your very soul while strangling you slowly, agonizingly to death, trying to take over your body and make you into one of the lifeless puppets wandering around unprotected. It's your own fault for getting into this mess, yet you prayed and wished for nothing more than to be released from the torture.

Perhaps that's why it's so surprising when instead of eternal, restless death, your body is enveloped in a gentle light, bright and freeing you of the shadows that quickly retreat. You gasp and wheeze as you jolt back to life, coughing and contorting until you finally get your own mind back.

It hurts to look, yet you cannot help but stare into the blinding light, trying to determine where it's coming from. Only now can you make out faint noises coming from it, the shadows having wrecked your hearing badly enough so that you didn't notice it before. Metal clanking and a voice. It almost makes you believe in a god again, as you mistake the light to be talking to you.

Imagine the shock, the ice-cold shiver that runs through you when your eyes finally adjust. When the real monster behind the voice comes into the light, mumbling and yelling nonsensical phrases about 'feeding the shadows' and 'her majesty's will'. Half of its body resembles a man, the other half is spider through and through. His skin seems more leathery and armored, and his fingertips are contorted into claws. What you thought were dark jewels adorning his face turn out to be eyes, and you choke on a scream as they blink, their focus suddenly shifts entirely on you.

"Who are you? What are you doing, feeding the shadows?! It's not right, it's not...! Ah, yes, your majesty! Your light guides us, protects us. We are eternally grateful!"

As if almost dying and being rescued by a drider isn't bad enough, madness seems to be dripping off of him the moment he notices you through his hazy mind. You can tell that there is no reasoning with your savior, no last bit of sanity to appeal to, your instincts tell you. He leans down, and you cower, trying to get away. But the moment you leave the lantern's glow, you feel the shadows reaching for you again. You have no idea what's going on as the drider makes another step forward, the light enveloping you again, but you start to listen to his rambles, the way he calls out to some queen, reverently so.

And your blood runs cold when, in his mumbles, you hear him call you a gift.

"My queen, are you giving them to me? Is this my reward? I will not complain about this most generous gift, majesty!"

Your arm is caught by him quicker than you can get away, though his grip only tightens when you struggle, his skin feeling wrong against yours. Appalling. But when you stop thrashing like a fly caught in a spiderweb, he gently pulls you to a stand, waiting for you to regain your strength before he starts walking, tugging you with him. The shadows want to reach for you, pull you back, and you fearfully step closer to the drider, making him chuckle.

There's nothing you can do, his grip on you firm and the shadows being the only alternative to walking with him. He keeps blubbering and laughing about his thoughts, conversing with someone you can't see but who he seems to revere. But at the same time, you feel at least one pair of eyes fixating on you in every moment of your journey, even if you don't know which one is looking. Everything about him is freaking you out, but when you reach a massive building with people walking around, you can't help but feel thankful to the drider for bringing you back to civilization.

That is, until someone tries to talk to you. He does not like that.

Letting go of your arm, he snatches you by your waist instead, your feet dangling above the ground while you feel the air being forced out of your lungs from the pressure he puts you against his chest with. It's all so unnatural, and you can't help but struggle in fear when, suddenly, his bellowing voice makes you freeze.

"NO! This is my gift! Our Queen has gifted them to me! They are not for you to take! You are not worthy!"

And just like that, after baring his fangs and driving away the people you thought were going to help you, his anger disappears almost immediately as he cradles you, cooing much softer words in your direction than to the others. "It's alright, sweet gift. They'll not take you from me. We'll be together, as has our Queen decided."

With that, you feel like your body is flying through the air, clutched against him, as his many legs are swiftly put into motion. When you force yourself to look over his shoulder, you are already far up in the air, watching the ground distance itself more and more. All you can do is cling onto him in fear of falling to your death, and he breathes you in deeply before you two reach the top, his lips contorted into a smile when you finally meet his eyes again.

"Mine, all mine. My sweet little gift."

NSFW-ish below

I'd like to think he has taken one of the free towers that are more or less empty and spun a pretty web for his darling inside. Kar'niss takes care of you, rarely letting you outside (only if you convinced him over the span of days that you'd so like to take a stroll with him) because he really doesn't want anyone else to see, touch, or talk to what is his, even when he needs to go and guide souls to the tower. You will probably go as insane as he is, listening to his rambling and trying to appease him when you accidentally say something to send him into a fit of rage.

There are so many ways to punish you, too. Simply leaving you in the darkness after your almost death reverts you into a crying, sobbing mess that Kar'niss will love to soothe you, dedicating himself to cuddling and cradling you in his arms and lolling around in the web with you while he tells you he and the grace of her majesty are always with you.

He's also just painful to be around, especially when he's so irrational, and you cannot move out of the way of his fangs, claws, and legs. Everything about him feels strange, giving you no comfort, but he can hurt you so easily it makes you paranoid. When you ask him to, or he's currently obsessing over you, his touch can be gentle, and Kar'niss has proven his soft caresses to you many times. But if a leg or his hands accidentally swipes you, you bleed. It's just how things are.

Also, suppose you displease him by speaking against his queen or setting him off by denying him the pleasure of being with you. In that case, he'll just stop caring for you, sitting outside the tower where he keeps you, and sulks. (The Absolute is probably telling him to go back, so he's also bickering a bit with her. Kind of an impressive achievement on your side.) He listens to you and waits until you start begging and pleading for him (or anyone) to come back and help you, to not leave you there to rot like this. Yet, Kar'niss makes you suffer for a while longer to punish you while ensuring no one comes near you.

But it does excite him when he goes back, and you cry and call to him and apologize for what you did, swearing you won't do it again. Excites him a lot. You do love him too, don't you? Of course you do... his queen would not have given you to him if that wasn't the case. You are meant for each other, after all. So he can forgive you this time.

Once he realizes you're in need of a parasite, he'll probably start connecting his disturbed mind with yours, giving you severe brain damage as you are flooded with his thoughts. But it'll finally give him the chance to show you exactly what he wants. Force you to believe in the Absolute like him by torturing you with his devotion and admiration until you break. Now, you'll finally understand your purpose as his mate, too. Accept him. Share his love for you and his majesty.

And since he has a new deity talking to him that isn't Lolth, who knows he cannot have children, Kar'niss might be convinced that he's supposed to make babies for the Absolute. He can't, technically (and maybe you can't either), but that doesn't stop him from talking about how he'll give his majesty new worshippers and how the two of you will be so worthy of her and have Absolute-babies. Kar'niss gets so excited at the idea of you being full and round from his offspring he almost drools, unable to wait any longer once the seed has been planted in his shattered mind.

So all you can do is ask him nicely to prepare you, to make sure he doesn't rip something or is gentle with those sharp claws and teeth no matter how eager he is. Just imagine how happy he'd be when you tell him that you could possibly be pregnant after all the orgasms he gave you—a lie, but you just really need him to stop. He'll be enraged if he finds out that you are not, but hey, he can always try again. And maybe someone will come to help him with his plan. Maybe Araj Oblodra could be convinced to offer a child or spider eggs to quench the Drider's baby frenzy, or the Absolute will give him a child like she gave him a darling.

Either way, until he dies, you're not getting out of this. And even then, someone would have to find you first and rescue you.

If they don't deem you too far gone already.

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bastianklak · 2 years

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Un par de mini pinturitas que termibe hace unos dias. . . . . . #tattoopainting #draw #illustration #artwork #ink #tattooflash #liner ##soypaint #ecoline #blacktraditional #sumi #claw #chrisanthemum #spiderweb #spider #nature #recoleta #zapadores #huechuraba #conchali #independencia #norte #lapincoya #chile (en Santiago, Chile) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cg7QSIKO6m3/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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dearsnow · 1 year

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MIGUEL O’HARA RELATIONSHIP HEADCANONS

- how he is in a relationship (miguel o’hara x gn!reader, fluff)

a/n - i love the spiderverse movies so much i decided it would be fun to write for them, so i hope you guys enjoy this little surprise! 💕

- he’s not one to show affection, considering everything that happened to him, but he does show his love in tiny admissions. his hand on the small of your back, giving you one of his prized empanadas, and making you walk on the inside of the sidewalk are just a couple ways he tells you he loves you.

- he has had his own problems with keeping people close to him and it’s lightly reflected in the way he talked to you when he first met you. later in your relationship, though, he thinks he would rather die than see you hurt, and he knows he will always protect you.

- miguel secretly loves it when you play with his hair, though he is way too prideful to ever let you know.

- after arguments, he always apologizes. it’s a big step for him, and he just wants you to know that no matter what, he will never hate you.

- he usually keeps something of yours on his person as a reminder of one of the things he’s fighting for. when he’s bored, he’ll fiddle with it and smile very slightly when he remembers exactly how he got it.

- while he is gruff, stoic, and slightly egotistical with other people, he is incredibly gentle with you. everyone can see it, but only a few people are bold enough to make fun of him for it.

- he sometimes takes walks outside of headquarters to cool off, and he likes to bring you along for them. he’ll show you all the places he loves without ever saying that he loves them.

- he’s incredibly scared of the effect you have on him. he’s supposed to be tough, and absolutely no one is supposed to penetrate his emotional armor. you, however, broke down all his walls for god knows what reason. though it’s slightly terrifying, he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

- if you’re being too loud, he will absolutely shut your mouth with spiderwebs. he’ll make sure you aren’t hurt, of course, and it’s incredibly funny to you.

- if you’re hurt, he’ll patch up your wounds himself just to scold you for being careless. he might seem mad, but he’s really just scared of losing you just like he lost so many other people.

- he lets you play with his claws when you’re bored. he will sit there at his chair as you paint them, cut paper with them, or fidget with them as he’s doing his work.

#solar eclipse.#miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara headcanon #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o’hara fanfiction #spiderman across the spiderverse #smatsv #atsv #atsv x reader #spiderverse x reader #spiderverse imagine #across the spiderverse #spiderverse headcanon

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orderforbrian · 7 months

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hi we saw your vibe from across the room and were wondering if we could burn down your archive🕷️🔥

[Start ID: Digital drawing of Jon and Martin from The Magnus Archives, both as web-aligned avatars. Martin is a fat, mixed Polish/Korean man with a beauty mark left to his lips and right side of his neck. He has dark, shaggy hair with a large white streak on a front bang - his sideburns and eyebrows have streaks of white as well. He wears a spider earring, a denim jacket, and a black shirt with a spiderweb design. Jon is a thin Persian man with long, curly hair, most of it tied back in a ponytail. He has a prominent streak of white on his front bangs and some in his eyebrows. He's wearing a high collared, white shirt with a black tie, as well as a dark, cardigan vest with a mix of argyle and spiderweb design. Both of them look to opposing sides with mischievous expressions, one fang displayed in their smiles. The left half of Martin's face is shadowed and has four purple/pink glowing eyes. The right half of Jon's face is shadowed and has four green/white glowing eyes. Martin extends a hand holding a glowing cigarette towards Jon's hand - both their fingers are sharp like claws. The cigarette smoke travels off screen to the right. The background is a muted purple with white spiderwebs in adjacent corners. End ID.]

#what's better than one web aligned boyfriend #TWO web aligned boyfriends #the magnus archives #tma #tma au #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #web!martin #web!jon #jonmartin #jmart #cw smoking #tw smoking #cw cigarettes #tw cigarettes #order up! art tag

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ghouljams · 2 months

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Do you think Fae König would ever indulge in a bit of pred/pray play with his darling? I just see him enjoying a fun chase through the woods

Oh absolutely. It's one of the reasons she won't go out in the woods with him, it almost always ends with her getting mounted on the forest floor. I mean can you imagine how annoying that is?

You're trying to spend a nice day out with König, enjoying the weather as you point out different plants and trees, occasionally a small animal skitters across your path and König's pupils blow wide watching it sniff the air. You turn to snip one little flower from its sprout and suddenly the man is gone. Gone gone. You can't see him anywhere, and it is so goddamn unnerving, but you're not about to wait for him when he can just find you wherever you are.

Of course that's the problem, König will find you wherever you are, and he's more the happy watching you from the trees, stalking close enough to hear you humming you yourself, but never close enough for you to see. He's trying to scare you into running. Trying to make you yelp and squirm and bolt. He grabs you from behind a tree, his claws digging into your hip as he pulls you close, watching you flinch and squirm away from his hold. You swear at him, annoyed with his games, and he lets you go to stumble away. You check the tears in your clothing, look up to glare at him and he's gone. Truly, truly, annoying.

Then he grabs your ankle to trip you, watches you catch yourself on your hands and knees, the forest floor digging into your skin. You're cute when you pout, thinking he can't see it. You start looking around more, start watching your step, watching the trees, his tail flicks excitedly and you turn your head quickly to catch the motion of it in your periphery. Your blood is starting to run hot, anxiety starting to spiderweb across your chest, as you realize how quiet the forest is. Silent in the presence of an apex predator. You feel König's claws ghost over your throat, and turn to yell at him to stop fucking around, but he isn't there. You turn back to your path, your heart hammering in your chest, and König I'd staring you down in all his monstrous glory: his body covered in growth, his face obscured by hair and vine, his fur and spines rustling either the wind his tail whips up. He is huge, and he opens his mouth to let his tongue loll out over the deadly sharp teeth that row his mouth.

You can't do anything but dart back down the path, especially knowing he'll give chase, you have to run. You run so that when he catches you, when he knocks you to the ground and wraps his claws around you, you can feel his cock already throbbing where he slides it between your thighs. It's demeaning the way he has to lift you to be level with his cock, a monster too big to even dream about, solely focused on fucking you like a toy. You can't say you aren't excited by the prospect, that the nervous energy coursing through you doesn't divert south to pool hot between your legs.

He so damn pleased about it. So eager to rut his thick cock against you, showing you exactly how big he is, exactly how he's going to ruin you. Christ he holds you up and the head of his cock bumps against your diaphragm. Your eyes go wide, his claws slipping under the waistband of your pants and slicing a neat line down the back seam.

"There's no way," you choke.

"I will make it fit," König growls, the sharp points of his claws tracing over your cunt, "don't worry."

As if that's what you're worried about.

#cod x reader #x reader #x oc #cod x oc #könig x reader #könig cod #könig mw2 #könig call of duty #fae!könig #oc: liebling

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nothingtoseeherebyeexx · 1 year

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sped here at the speed of light to demand to know what "of claws and spiderwebs" is about. such a cool name it is entirely possible i am obsessed already.

ive been DYING to talk abt this

its a spider-man au and it was inspired by across the spider-verse (i have been obsessed w those films since 2018 soo)

i don’t follow the movies’ plot so it’s not really spoiler-y but i’ll explain everything under the cut!

OK SO

basically the story revolves around the black brothers (no surprise here): the black family used to be a big industry in the technological field, but after being caught selling weapons to villains, sirius and regulus’ parents (along w many other important and rich people) were arrested, and the company was shut down.

sirius and regulus ended up living w alphard (who used to be the mind behind the greatest inventions before he left the company, when business started to get shady), and although they struggle w money, alphard wants them to have the best education possible, so they go to prestigious schools (sirius studies physics in uni w james and peter and they’re all besties, regulus is still in high school but has amazing grades)

BUT!!!

one day regulus found out uncle alphard was actually a criminal, the prowler, and that’s how he could afford to support his two boys. however, when alphard’s health started to quickly deteriorate, regulus decided that, to let his brother have the future he deserved, he was going to take his uncle’s place in the world of crime. regulus and alphard begin to work together, making technologically advanced gadgets for the prowler and getting that bag!!

(alphard despised the idea of making regulus into a criminal, but reg is set on his idea and the two bond over their passion for tech)

in the mean time, sirius went on a school trip to visit a (for now unnamed) lab and got bitten by a radioactive spider: he got powers, showed them to james and peter as soon as he could, and decided to become spider-man and fight crime!!

of course, this will lead sirius to fighting his own brother, so that’ll be fun…

A FEW MORE THINGS!!

euphemia is captain of the police, and james admires her a lot, so he starts to investigate on his own: he notices that the prowler’s tech is very similar to some prototypes the black family was working on, so he wants to help sirius discover the criminal’s identity…not sure how well that will go for him

remus and lily work in the lab sirius was visiting when he got bitten as apprentices and the spider was their secret experiment

reg is a skater boy

bellatrix was thought dead, but actually she had also become a criminal under the name of doc ock (my woman is deranged and a tech nerd sooo)

#nothing answers #nothing’s wips #of claws and spiderwebs

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merakiui · 6 days

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Oh, what about...teasing the creature in the tank. Not in a mean way but making sure to bend over in front of it and press the titties against the glass when cleaning it...it's not like the creature is gonna escape and do something...

👁 👁 oh, that’s amazing…….. teasing the creature in risqué ways and the next day the researchers or other cleaning staff find aggressive claw marks cross-crossing over each other on the other side of the glass. They think the creature might have been agitated (and it was, just not in the way they’re thinking).

Next time you tease the creature while cleaning and they slam their body against the glass in hopes of breaking free, be aware that cracks are slowly starting to spiderweb across the glass. Just a little more pressure and soon the creature will be free. :)

Tako who has been diligently working on breaking free in secret, whereas the eels are determined to escape even if their attempts are made obvious when the glass gets more cracks and scrapes in it. They just want to finally get back at you for all the teasing you’ve been doing. Although maybe it doesn’t appear like teasing to them. In their minds, you keep telling them you’re ready to be marked and mated every time you sway your hips near their tanks.

#twisted chit chat

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jessamine-rose · 11 months

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꒰ The Spider and the Fly ꒱

This is for my hormones every artist/ writer who dragged me into the Miguel O’Hara fandom. Your content is absolutely amazing, and I hope this piece can measure up to the brainrot you’ve given me ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝

Tw:: YANDERE, kidnapping, manipulation, blood, violence, self-deprecation, mention of suicide, bondage, noncon, nsfw, MDNI

Note:: Female reader, double POV, ATSV spoilers, Best Wingman Award goes to LYLA

♡ 7.6k words under the cut ♡

i. spiral orb web

You’ve always been attracted to pretty things, and that includes spiderwebs.

In your eyes, the spider’s craft is the closest thing to art in your everyday life. It is a natural phenomenon marked by intricacy and utility, yet one so easily overlooked due to its associations with pest behavior.

Fortunately, public reception has shifted since the emergence of Spider-Man. It is thanks to your “Friendly Neighborhood Hero” that the spiderweb has been rebranded as a symbol of safety. Be it a weapon or a life-sized shelter, there is a certain beauty to those human creations.

Though the same cannot be said for Miguel O’Hara’s.

Spider-Man 2099’s webs belong to their own category. His are scarlet, bright as lasers, conspicuous and dangerous in equal amounts. When Miguel traps a villain in his webs, one is reminded that a spiderweb is the tool of a predator.

Miguel’s webs are not the only thing which set him apart from the other Spider-Men. He has more inhuman powers—claws, fangs, paralytic venom. His jaded personality and intimidating stature are also far removed from the public image which inspires hope in civilians.

Perhaps that is why you find him all the more alluring. Or it could be simply because he is the one who saved your life.

He’s done more than rescue you. After catching you midfall, Miguel regards you with shock and…pity, you think. It is the only logical explanation as to why he is being so gentle with you when your dimension’s stability is a greater concern.

It also explains why he allows you to follow him into the departing portal. No, follow is a self-preserving term. More like burst into tears, ran after him, then told him your pathetic life story and how anywhere is better than here.

Much to the surprise of his coworkers, he relents.

꒰♡꒱

At first, Miguel thinks you are an Anomaly.

It is one thing to find you in another dimension. It has happened before, and he always avoided your Variants for their sake. But you are inescapable.

Among every version of you, the happiest one was his Variant’s wife. Then there’s you, the one whose life would’ve ended if not for his interference.

He tries to justify his decision. Your departure doesn’t affect the Canon, so no harm will come to your universe. And judging by your personal data, you would be much safer in a different dimension.

His dimension, to be specific. Where he can keep a close eye on you.

He is also logical enough to recognize you as your own person. You aren’t his wife, and his observations support that theory. Your hairstyle is different. You code-switch more often. You sleep and wake up at earlier hours. You’re not as confident in your abilities.

You are alike and unlike her in so many ways, yet he still sees a spark of his sun in you.

ii. funnel web

Since then, you’ve resided in Nueva York.

In return for permanent residency, you are hired as a secretary for the Spider Society. It’s civilian work, nothing dangerous, but more purposeful than what you’d ever achieved in your old job.

Strangely enough, you encounter Miguel quite often.

At first, it feels totally warranted. He is the only person you know in Earth-928, so he guides you through every step of your adjustment. He gives you a Dimensional Travel Watch, shows you around the facility, and instructs you on how not to mess up the multiverse.

After your first week, he invites you to move in with him. Miguel claims that his home already has an extra bedroom, though LYLA’s remarks suggest otherwise. Regardless, you accept since it means a familiar roommate and better living quarters.

How thoughtful of him.

꒰♡꒱

“It’s easier to look after her if we’re under the same roof,” he rationalizes.

“Sure,” says LYLA. She flickers above his shoulder and watches the holographic screens with him. “And it’s not because she reminds you of a certain someone?”

Ignoring her, Miguel switches to a different camera angle. Peter B. Parker walks past your desk and does a double take, and he is promptly summoned for a meeting.

No doubt, there will be questions about you.

“What about the redesigns?” LYLA pulls up a screen showing two bedroom layouts, one collapsed and the other abandoned. “Should we pick one? Merge them? Think of a new design? Or we can ask for her input, seeing how she clearly has better taste than you.”

One of the monitors catches their attention, announcing an Anomaly in Earth-131222.

“We can talk about this later.” With that, Miguel opens a new screen and analyzes the data. On second thought, he adds, “She prefers thin bed sheets.”

Later that day, he escorts you home. Your mood has greatly improved since your change in environment, though you’re still quiet around him. LYLA compliments your coat, a purple remnant of her closet which Miguel lent to you, but he ignores her knowing glances.

You wear it differently, he notices. It’s the same article of clothing, but fully buttoned with a silver brooch on one lapel. The effect is significantly less casual.

“So, this is it.” Your expression turns hesitant as Miguel unlocks the front door. “Are you really sure that I can stay here?”

“I wouldn’t have asked you if I wasn’t a hundred percent sure,” he points out.

And it means less time monitoring the CCTVs.

“And you haven’t seen your room yet!” adds LYLA. “We know you’ll love it.”

“I guess it would be impolite to back out now.” You follow him inside and remove your coat. “I’ll try not to be a nuisance.”

He pauses.

That green dress…he could swear that he’s seen it on you before. Many shades lighter, paired with a bright smile, to match the T-shirt of the little girl by your—

“Miguel?” You frown at him, then your gaze flits to your dress. “Is there something wrong with my outfit? I didn’t commit a serious fashion crime in your dimension, did I?”

“It’s nothing,” he says quickly. But upon noticing your lingering anxiety, he admits, “You look good in it. That’s all.”

You nearly drop your coat. “W-What? Are you serious?”

Miguel could swear that you look more shocked than during your first meeting. If he were to come close enough to touch your face, it would surely feel warmer than average.

That’s enough.

“I meant what I said,” he replies, walking ahead. “Do you want to look around or are you just going to stand there?”

That snaps you out of your fluster. You follow him into the living room, a small smile making its way to your face. “The living room is pretty. Was it you or LYLA who designed it?”

The change of topic is a godsend. As Miguel shows you around, you recover from his comment and focus on your surroundings. LYLA is the next to admire your dress, winking at Miguel as she asks about the color, and he takes note of your reaction.

More vulnerable to flattery, regardless of speaker. Extremely happy afterwards.

His wife wasn’t like that. Usually, she’d be the one teasing Miguel with praises, pick-up lines, and inside jokes which he pretended to understand.

Still, it’s nostalgic to sit next to you on the sofa. He could get used to this again.

iii. lace web

In the following months, you fully adjust to your new life.

Your job in the Spider Society is manageable, fun even. Aside from the Spider-Man of your dimension, your close coworkers are kind enough to welcome you into their group. They look out for you, include you in their conversations, and appreciate your hard work.

They even indulge your aesthetic interests! One word from you, and they are already comparing webs. Among the various designs and techniques, however, none have fascinated you as much as Miguel’s.

…You do wish he’d let you roam Nueva York more often.

In case of Canon events, you need to get his permission first. Then you have to wait for him or an assigned Spider-Man to accompany you, and the latter is always a stranger whom you find difficult to bond with. Conversations with LYLA can only do so much.

You’ve recommended your coworkers before, but Miguel doubts their reliability. And every time you invite them to go with you, a new mission cancels your plans. If not for the official records, you’d suspect them of making excuses.

It’s a bit frustrating, honestly, but you know better than to complain.

You should already be satisfied with Miguel. He is an agreeable roommate, he trusts your capabilities, and he acknowledges your efforts. And no matter how closed-off or overworked he is, he's still deemed you worthy of his company.

…He is also very nice to look at. Muscular physique, handsome face, a serious gaze occasionally tinted in red. It’s a shame that he rarely smiles.

In another dimension, a better version of you would have definitely pursued him.

꒰♡꒱

“...and get this, he can shoot webs with stabilimenta. The designs are so detailed!”

“Oh, wow.” Miguel barely looks up from the monitors, grimacing at yet another Anomaly. He quickly sends an alert to the dimension’s Spider-Man. “What else?”

Behind him, you suddenly grow quiet.

“Now that I think about it, you must already know that since you recruited him. Sorry if that wasn’t anything worth listening to…are you sure I’m not bothering you?”

“You’re not.” It comes out faster than intended.

He turns around. Once again, you look surprised by his words, but you don’t ask for confirmation this time. You just nod and return to your digital reports.

Why did you visit his laboratory again? You said it was a false alarm from LYLA, who’d likely sent it on purpose. Lately, she’s been on his case about how rude it is to “avoid” you through extra work. He thinks he could easily do without distractions or triggered memories, however.

Miguel opens a private file and thinks of what you’d just told him. Apart from concerned looks from Jess and Peter B, most of the Spider-Men haven’t given you any trouble. Your coworkers, however, are a different matter.

23) ______ laughed because of some stupid pickup line from Web-Slinger. Smiled when he complimented her outfit (purple blouse, black high-waist skirt, favorite heels, pearl hairpin).

24) ______ talked about the other agents’ webs again.* She admires stabilimenta.

“You should be careful with your friends,” he tells you. He types a few more observations and closes the screen. “The last thing I need is for you to get involved in their mess. Don’t think that I can’t see them slacking on the job.”

To your credit, you don’t apologize. “Noted.”

“Miguel!” LYLA appears and moves the screens around him. “We have an Anomaly in Earth-332. Spider-Woman called for backup.”

Great, another one. It must be a persistent villain if Jess needs his help.

“I’m on it.” He types the coordinates on his watch and activates the portal.

“How dangerous is it?”

He stops, just a few meters short of leaving.

You leave your desk, an anxious look on your face. “I know you told me not to worry before, but I really have no idea of what your battles are like. So…will you be all right?”

“I’ll be fine,” he assures you. A hug comes to mind—it always calmed her anxieties—but he instead gives you a shoulder pat. “Don’t wait for me. If it takes a while, LYLA will call someone to escort you home.”

“Okay.” You’re still standing in front of him, but he can feel the tension leaving your body. “It’s my turn to cook dinner tonight, right? I’ll prepare a nice victory feast so look forward to that.”

A few more seconds wouldn’t hurt. “You don’t have to.”

You pout at him. “But I want to. Besides, it’s not fair that you are so good at making my favorite meals. I still haven’t perfected yours.”

Secretly, Miguel thinks your cooking tastes better than his wife’s. But whatever keeps you distracted while he is saving the multiverse.

It’s also…nice to talk about work with you. With her, he had to act normal and make up excuses for his sudden disappearances. It’s refreshing to see your concern and know that you are praying for his safety. To imagine your relieved smile when he comes home.

“Miguel!” LYLA reappears between the two of you. “I hate to ruin the moment, but Spider-Woman could really use some help right now. I know you’re counting the seconds!”

No more time to waste.

“I’ll see you later.” He lets go of you and walks into the portal.

“Take care!” you call after him.

iv. triangle web

“Welcome home, love!”

As the door opened, Miguel resisted the urge to flinch. The lights were always too bright.

His Variant’s wife wasted no time hugging him. “What took you so long?”

“Something at work came up,” he explained, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Again?” You closed the door behind him, a frown replacing your smile. “That’s the third time this month. Is there a problem in your office?”

“It’s…classified information. But nothing to worry about, mi sol.”

The house felt lively, even with Gabriella temporarily away. Warm lights. Family photos. Personal belongings scattered about. Your cheerful presence leading him.

The TV in the living room was on, paused at the beginning of a new film. Movie nights were an old family routine, he’d learned. The first time Miguel arrived in your husband’s place, you and Gabriella had agreed on an animated classic.

“Okay then. I’m just glad your office isn’t in the same area as that crime from earlier. Was there any debris blocking the road?”

“Not much.” And definitely none on the route to your workplace.

Upstairs, Miguel took a shower and contacted LYLA. The Anomaly had been returned to its original dimension. If he were lucky, none would appear tomorrow.

You were on the sofa when he came back. Wordlessly, he sat next to you and you rested your head on his shoulder. The film began playing.

“I called Gabriella,” you murmured. “She and her friends are already planning their next sleepover. I’ll pick her up tomorrow morning.”

“That’s good to hear. Have you gift-wrapped her present?”

A pearl ring glinted above your intertwined hands. “It’s in my closet.”

Note to self: Ask LYLA to record the party. It will be a nice memory to revisit.

He smiled at you. “I can’t wait to see her reaction.”

The movie had a happy ending. It was, in your words, a cinematic masterpiece.

“That’s how it ends?”

Your outburst prompts Miguel to face the opposite end of the sofa. In the dim light, he can easily make out the unimpressed look on your face.

“The ending looks decent to me,” he muses. “If you ignore the logistics of their reunion, the film is entertaining enough to rewatch.”

“I think it could be more realistic. And you’re saying that across the multiverse, this is the most common version of the movie?”

“In five dimensions, to be exact. Others have the same ending but different actors.”

You pause. “I’ll admit that Earth-928’s version has superior costume design. But I still prefer my dimension’s neutral ending. Maybe it’s because our societal values are different.”

The closing credits continue, but neither of you leave the sofa. You’re still criticizing the film under your breath, unaware that Miguel can understand every word. He does agree that the happy ending causes a few plot holes.

At least with you, he can adjust the brightness levels.

“We can watch your version next time,” he offers, reaching for the remote with his webs.

“Really? You don’t mind?”

He turns off the TV. “We can do it on my next day off.”

Knowing LYLA, this won’t be the last time she plans a movie night without telling him.

“Well, what else could I do?” she asked after he privately demanded an explanation. “You’ve been working yourself too hard, Miguel. You could really use a break, and so does ______.”

You take the remote from him and untangle the web fluid. “Do you mind if I keep this?”

Miguel gives you an odd look. “For what reason?”

You twist the web in your hands, forming string figures.

“As a decoration, maybe. Oh, and for the record, I don’t go around collecting webs from your coworkers. I just find yours particularly interesting.”

Weirdo. “My webs are functional like the others’. That’s all there is to it.”

You look him in the eye this time. “Hey, you should give yourself more credit. It’s my belief that every spiderweb is a work of art. And before you call me overly romantic, there have always been artists who thought they were worth noticing."

The web loops around your ring finger, in the place where her wedding ring used to be.

He averts his gaze. “I don’t see it that way. But whatever works for you.”

Another moment of silence.

“There is another reason,” you add softly.

He side-eyes you. “Is it about that day? You don’t need to keep thanking me for saving your life. As I said, I was doing my job and anyone would’ve done the same.”

“I wasn’t talking about you catching me.”

Oh, you meant that.

The web tangles in your hands.

“Listen.” You take a deep breath, eyes on your lap. “I know you’ve been avoiding this subject. Maybe it's so I don’t feel indebted to you or pressured into reliving bad memories. But…I just want you to know that I’m glad you foiled my plans.”

…It would be best to let you finish first.

Your voice shakes. “I mean, you’re smart, aren’t you? Even without my meltdown, you would’ve figured out that my fall had nothing to do with the Anomaly in my dimension.”

He did. And that was precisely why Miguel mistook you for one at first. It wasn’t just your identity but the fact that you were found in danger after the Anomaly had been captured.

Ten minutes post-battle. The undamaged state of the nearby buildings. The passive acceptance in your demeanor.

He can vividly recall the rest of that day. Those hours spent studying your personal data, identifying every action and condition which diverged from his wife's path.

A loud sigh. “I just—I couldn’t take it anymore, okay? I thought it would be easier to put an end to my mistakes, then you had to show up. And thanks to you, life has been great! I like this world, I’m not alone, I still have my personal issues to work through but I’m trying to do better. But yeah…I’m just sorry for forcing you to get involved.”

“It’s not your fault,” he insists. He scoots closer to you and puts his hand on top of yours. “I made the choice to bring you here. And I couldn’t exactly leave you, knowing your situation.”

That is a lie. Rather, half of his thoughts were about his wife and how he’d been able to sustain her happiness. How that farce proved he could do the same for you.

“Either way, I’m grateful.” You look up, your lips curving into a shy smile. “I’m really happy now, Miguel. I’ve made a lot of mistakes, but I’ll never regret my decision to follow a cryptic stranger into a portal. Even if it meant learning that the multiverse is in constant danger. Or that my favorite film has an alternate ending which makes no sense to me whatsoever.”

Has his wife ever looked at him like that? There is a soft brilliance to your gaze, wholly reserved for him. It triggers a warm feeling in his chest.

The moment is quickly ended when you cover your face with a cushion.

“Anyway! If you don’t mind, I’d really love to move on and talk about something else. How was your mission earlier? Is Earth-199999 still giving you a hard time?”

You’re still seated next to him, legs touching. Your tone leaves no room for objection.

He lets go of your hand. “You would not believe what kind of shocking messes we’ve had to deal with. We are never recruiting Dr. Strange or his little nerd.”

“You can tell me all about it.” You untangle his web from your hands; it loops around your pinky finger this time. “I’m here for you, okay? For as long as you’ll have me.”

v. mesh web

There have been more Anomalies lately.

You walk past the detained villains, silently counting them. Their increase in numbers has kept the Spider Society on high alert for the past weeks. While it means more documents for you, the effect on Miguel’s stress levels is concerning.

Come to think of it, has he returned from his mission yet? If not, you hope the cafeteria’s takeout boxes have a self-heating function. As you get closer to Miguel's laboratory, you hear the door open. The sound is followed by two sets of footsteps.

“Do you think it’s healthy for him?”

“I’m more worried about ______.”

You stop walking.

Is that Peter B and Jess? Why are they talking about you?

Jess’s tone is reproachful. “The poor girl has been through so much already. It’s not safe for her to be here, at least in HQ. He knows that she is a different case from Gwen.”

“You know how Miguel is. I’ve already asked about her, and he won’t tell me anything new. Not even my Super Adorable Mayday album could convince him.”

“I don’t like this, Peter.”

Their footsteps become louder. You go back to the entrance of the hallway, just within earshot but hopefully far enough to evade their Spider-Senses.

“Neither do I. But you should’ve seen him when he lost their daughter, Jess. Now think of his wife: He never got to see ______ before she disintegrated. Then one day, out of nowhere, after staying away from countless Variants, he finds a version of her who needs him.”

…What the hell are they talking about?

The walls close in on you. You take a step back, followed by another.

Then, at the sound of a sharp “Is someone there?”, you drop the takeout box and run.

Their daughter. His wife. A version of her.

You already know that Miguel lost a family in another dimension. It was briefly mentioned when he warned you about Canon disruptions, but he refused to share the details. Is this why?

This whole time…you are a Variant of his wife?

You aren’t followed. Your coworkers cheerfully greet you, but you ignore them and return to your desk. It’s arranged the way you like it, complete with personal decorations. The drawer holds a stress ball in your favorite color, a gift from Miguel of all people.

You never did tell him that it is your go-to stress reliever. Was it the same for her?

You squeeze the ball and take deep breaths, but the action does little to calm you.

It all makes sense. Why else would Miguel take an interest in you?

Your gaze lands on your Dimensional Travel Watch before you remember that the idea is futile. Yours is only a modified version which prevents glitches but can’t be used for travel. And the Go-Home Machine would require Spider-Byte’s help.

…Why are you even wasting your time on an escape plan? How are you sure that you won’t mess up and make another mistake?

“______?” LYLA appears in front of your face. Her greeting sounds different.

He knows.

You force yourself to answer. “Y-Yes?”

“Miguel is back.” She flickers as usual, but it doesn’t change the nervous look on her face. “He wants to see you.”

꒰♡꒱

Peter B will be dead when he gets to him.

Several screens surround Miguel, each playing CCTV footage. He focuses on a live recording of you on your way to his laboratory.

At least you are complying with his orders.

The platform is fully lowered by the time you get there.

“Hey…welcome back,” you stammer. “How was the mission?”

“It was fine,” he replies brusquely. “Jess and Peter B spoke with me as soon as I came back. I was just confirming the status of Earth-67 when I checked the CCTVs. Care to explain?”

A heavy silence falls between the two of you. LYLA is nowhere to be seen.

Your panic is evident. Your gaze wanders, at everything but Miguel, until it stops at the dented takeout box on his desk. “Is that…is the food still warm? Or have you already eaten in Earth-67? I forgot to ask in advance.”

He glares at you. “Are you seriously worrying about my lunch right now?”

“Well, what else am I supposed to say?” you shoot back. The anger in your tone is unmistakable. “‘Hey, Miguel, when was I supposed to know that we were a family in the dimension you accidentally collapsed?’ Does that sound any better?!”

“Believe me, I was going to leave you alone at first.” He grips the edge of his desk, resisting the urge to raise his voice. “But how could I do it after the way you reacted?”

“Oh, so it’s my fault? You could’ve easily said no! This whole time, I wondered why you were so willing to help me. I thought you were being nice, that you believed giving me a better life was worth all these risky accommodations. Was…was I wrong?”

Your voice cracks at the last part, and you hastily wipe your eyes. It’s reminiscent of your first meeting, the distressed shock which Miguel had never seen in his wife. Only that time, you had sought out his comfort.

“Tell me, was it because of her?” you whisper. Tears well up in your eyes, threatening to spill. “Is that all you’ve ever seen in me?”

“You have the wrong idea.” Miguel approaches you, but you instinctively back away. He raises his hands in a placating gesture. “If you would just listen to me—”

“How can I?!”

Your hand settles on your wrist, unconsciously fiddling with your Dimensional Travel Watch. The clasp loosens, and his reaction is immediate.

He grips your arm. “Don’t do that! You’ll get yourself—”

“Let go of me!”

You pull back, clawing at his wrist, but Miguel's grasp only tightens. His other hand taps the watch’s controls to activate the Lock feature.

“This is for your own good, ______." In the split second that he releases you, his webs shoot out and bind your limbs together.

“No!” You collapse onto the floor. The scarlet threads dig into your skin, emitting a harsh glow in the dark. “Please, just let me go!”

After everything he’s been through, he is not losing you again.

Ignoring the stab of guilt, he picks you up and salvages what is left of his composure.

“You see, this is why I didn’t tell you.” He sighs, already feeling the beginnings of a headache.

You’re still shaking in his grasp, tears rolling down your cheeks. “I…I’m not—”

His kiss easily silences you. It’s far from intimate but the sensations are familiar. Warm lips. The scent of your perfume. The addictive rush of euphoria. Physical and chemical reactions which couldn’t be adequately explained in words.

And the whimper that escapes your lips when Miguel pulls back to press a light kiss to your forehead.

“We can continue this conversation when we get home.”

vi. cobweb

Your days in the Spider Society are over.

Not permanently. Miguel says that you can resume work once you’ve calmed down, but you doubt it will happen under any pretense of freedom.

Since your confrontation, you’ve been confined in his home. As it turns out, Miguel had already prepared for this—locks, alarms, hidden cameras, a comprehensive speech which only elevates your horror.

“She wouldn’t want this,” you keep insisting. You writhe against your restraints, but the webs remain taut against your skin. “How would your ______ feel if she knew?!”

“She’s not here anymore.” Miguel looks away from your face, as though the reminder physically pains him. “What matters now is that I have you. The both of us can start over.”

“How can you say that?!” At this point, you’re on the verge of hysteria. “You…you don’t actually love me. You’re only doing this because I’m the closest you have to getting her back!”

The hand on your cheek makes you flinch. The gentle caress does little to soothe you, not with the underlying threat of his claws. His eyes flash red in the dim light, brimming with—what do you call it? Grief? Desperation? Obsession?

You can’t tell, not when those sentiments are for someone else.

“You only say that because you don’t know any better,” he says softly. His lips meet yours, trapping you in a deep kiss. “Now get some rest, mi sol. It’s been a long day, and we know how you get when you’re stressed.”

My sun. What a lie. Since when have you done anything to deserve such a title?

You can’t bother to fight back. You’re too tired to think, to resist the kiss, to move an inch as Miguel undos your restraints and tucks you into bed.

Instead, you close your eyes and retreat into slumber. But even in your last seconds of consciousness, his gaze is strongly felt.

As it turns out, Miguel really did consider all possibilities. Your Dimensional Travel Watch has an exclusive Lock feature, should you ever be tempted to escape him through death. It can only be removed during your scheduled baths, with LYLA acting as your timer.

You rarely talk to her, either. She clearly feels sorry for you, but not enough to help. She monitors your daily activity, keeps you company when Miguel is away, and tries to cheer you up. She has yet to accomplish the last task.

Against your better judgment, you ask her about your Variant. She is resistant at first, knowing the negative outcome, but you are persistent. In the end, LYLA decides that it’s better to show you a few videos than for you to ask Miguel directly.

…Your Variant is perfect. Pretty. Carefree. Successful. A calming presence. You can see why Miguel would fall for her, with how she effortlessly puts a smile on his face.

Among your Variants, isn’t there one who bears a closer resemblance to her? Or were they too important to leave without disrupting the Canon? Is that why he settled for you?

“You have a better sense of style,” LYLA offhandedly mentions. “It was Miguel who said that. And do you know that he calls you one of our best workers?”

It doesn’t make you feel any better. “I see. Thanks for letting me know.”

As LYLA predicted, the information only makes you feel worse. You can’t stop thinking about your other self. How did she turn out like that? How did she succeed in your failures? How has Miguel perceived his moments with you, as new memories or a replica of lost time?

You don’t want to ask him. You’ve had enough disappointments for one lifetime.

Neither do you make an escape plan. On the low chance that you succeed, you don’t have anywhere to go. The Spider Society, or most of them, is loyal to Miguel. And it’s not like you’d be better off in your dimension, back to your empty home and dead-end job and daily reminders of your insignificance.

At least here, you can feel valued. Even if you owe that to someone else.

꒰♡꒱

“I hate to say ‘I told you so,’ but I told you so.”

Miguel doesn’t look up from the screens. “Now is not the time for this.”

LYLA is anything but smug. ”Are you sure? Because you said that when I asked if you’d ever tell her the truth, and look where that went. A civil explanation might’ve been nice.”

“How is she?”

“No better than with you.”

The CCTV switches to the kitchen. By now, you've established a new routine—lie awake in bed, rearrange your room, watch TV, cook your own meals. It's repetitive but easy to follow.

He zooms in on the ingredients. “Do you see anything suspicious?”

“No potential poisons,” LYLA responds, equally focused. “Oh, is she cooking dinner again? Last night’s meal looked really good.”

“It probably helps. Gives her something to preoccupy herself with.”

In the end, you’ve chosen the docile route. You’re still tense around Miguel, but your behavior can’t even be counted as malicious compliance. You just go through your new routine, trying to create some semblance of normalcy in confinement.

Though internally speaking, he has no access to your thoughts.

“She’s quite different from his wife, isn’t she?” asks LYLA. “I like this version of ______.”

Miguel zooms in on you this time. In your current state, you’ve revealed more contrasts to his Variant’s wife. It actually doesn’t bother him in the slightest.

When did his feelings for you begin? Was it when he saved you? When he saw a spark of his beloved in you? When that spark turned out to be your own brilliance?

All he knows is that you’re the one who consumes his thoughts nowadays. Your distinct preferences, your little quirks, your quiet words, your uncertain expressions, your attitude towards him and no other Miguel.

...There must be a way to persuade you. If Miguel was able to play along with his Variant’s family, to the point that his love for them became genuine, the same can be said for you. He just needs to prove that you can and will be happy together.

The only thing missing would be Gabriella.

vii. sheet web

You’ve been promoted to Miguel’s bedmate.

His room isn’t much. It is dark, minimalist, often empty due to the nature of his work. There are zero mementos of his lost family, not even a framed photo or something of her influence.

They’re probably hidden somewhere. How considerate.

On most nights, you act oblivious to your new sleeping arrangement. You just say good night to Miguel, lie down on your side of the bed, and try to fall asleep as quickly as possible.

…That turns out to be more difficult than expected. Try as you might to feign sleep, you can’t relax in Miguel’s grasp. He holds you tightly in his sleep, your back pressed against his chest. You wonder if it is a familiar position or a means of keeping you close.

Lately, he has switched tactics. Movie nights have become a regular pastime. You’ve received permission to work from home, sans contact with the Spider Society. The two of you have even gone outside for a few dates, though his grip on your hand discourages any escape attempts. Awkwardness aside, he’s been more physically affectionate.

It’s absolutely jarring, but you’re somewhat grateful for the added comforts. If your choices are different from his wife’s, Miguel doesn’t seem to mind.

This should be fine. It’s better than when he was acting like an overprotective control freak…even if those methods had left no speculation as to who the intended receiver was. With this approach, you can never be sure if Miguel sees you or his wife in front of him.

You try not to dwell on it more than you already have. You’re still here. Your living conditions have marginally improved. Miguel doesn’t expect you to be more like her.

You just need to keep it together, like you always have.

That is what you keep telling yourself, up until the night Miguel asks for your thoughts on starting a family.

“No. Please, stop!”

Red. In the dark, all you can see is red.

The lurid color wraps around you, binding your wrists to the headboard. The webs are taut, no-frills, effective in their sole purpose of keeping you trapped.

No, what’s worse is Miguel. His gaze is trained on you, scarlet orbs alight with crazed desire and your own terrified reflection.

“Stop struggling,” he sighs as he pins you down. Blood decorates his bare arms, from where your scratches failed to stop him. “You’re only going to get yourself hurt.”

You continue, anyway, only to scream as he leans down and sinks his fangs into your neck. It hurts, the flesh burns, everything feels heavy—

You can’t move.

It doesn’t take long for the venom to kick in. The numbness spreads throughout your body, leaving you dizzy and helpless. Your limbs won’t cooperate at all.

Yet despite the paralysis, the pain stays with you. It’s the only sensation you can feel—the sharp ache in your neck, the chafing around your wrists, the sting from where Miguel accidentally scratched your thigh while tearing off your clothes.

“Mi sol, you are still tense,” he mutters. His lips remain on your neck, administering light kisses to the fresh wound. A clawed hand presses down on the bed, puncturing the fabric, to support his weight. “You need to calm down.”

You can only bite your lip as he moves on to your chest, tainting the skin with love bites. His other hand retracts its claws and strokes your stomach, tracing—are those patterns supposed to be her stretch marks?

Of course he memorized them. She must be on his mind right now.

You squeeze your eyes shut, but the ministrations continue. His thumb strokes your hip, eliciting a stifled moan, and the self-inflicted darkness gives way to the sight of Miguel’s irritated expression.

“You’re not listening to me, ______.” His eyes flash, daring you to try again. The sight of his exposed fangs, speckled with your own blood, triggers another wave of dread.

Should you even be surprised that he knows your sensitive spots? He already made it clear that any form of escape is in vain.

It's pure torture. It would be easier if Miguel would just have his way with you, use your body to his heart’s content, leave you to your thoughts. But no, he is taking his time and making sure that you physically enjoy this. Ensuring that you will be ready for what comes next.

“S-Stop.” Your lips are still numb, but you manage to form words. “I said…I don’t want this! I’m not ready!”

“Shh.” He silences you with another kiss, his palm pressing down on your stomach. “You’re only saying this because it’s our first time. You have to trust me.”

It’s hard to believe him when you know that his composure is slipping. What is he trying to hide? His ragged breaths? The hardness pressed against your inner thigh? The urgency with which he lifts your legs up onto his shoulders?

“You’ll understand once our child is here,” he says. He breaks off the kiss, his voice hushed to a reverent whisper. “We will be so happy, happier than you can ever imagine.”

“You’re lying…I can’t—!”

You can’t stand to look at him. His gaze is so cruel, clouded with love, adoration, hope. Skies, he looks so hopeful. You don’t want to wait for the day he looks at you differently.

Was this how he looked at her? How did she return his gaze? It must’ve been passionate. It must’ve been romantic. It must’ve been so promising.

“I can’t give you Gabriella!”

The world stops as soon as those words leave your mouth.

“...What did you just say?” Miguel stares at you, eyes wide.

Of all Variants, why did it have to be you?

That is when you burst into tears.

How humiliating. It’s hard to breathe, it must be an ugly sight, and you can’t do anything to cover your face. But it’s enough to make Miguel stop and listen to you.

“I can’t give you Gabriella,” you repeat in choked sobs. “It requires an exact time, specific cells and DNA. And even if we succeed, I can’t raise her into the child you knew. I...I can’t restore your family. I can’t be her.”

In the end, you will only disappoint him.

“______…” He raises his hand to wipe your tears, but you interrupt him with a glare.

“Honestly, why did it have to be me?!” you shout. “Why couldn’t you have found a better duplicate of your wife? This wouldn’t be happening if you’d chosen the right ______!”

He doesn't respond.

For a few seconds, all you can hear is your own pitiful weeping. You vaguely register the feeling of your legs hitting the mattress, of the absence of Miguel’s touch, but you keep your eyes closed. It’s easier that way.

Suddenly, there is the sound of threads snapping. Then the sensation of strong hands coming under your back, lifting you upwards, pulling you into an embrace.

Your eyes fly open. “What—”

“Ya, calladita.”

Miguel…is he hugging you? He holds you tightly, repeating the words in a hushed tone. The message is followed by a string of curses which, judging by the way he turns away from you, must be solely directed at himself.

Paralyzed, you can only stare down at your lap. At his webs, still wrapped around your wrists but no longer connected to the bed. “What are you—”

“Could you let me talk for a second?" he snaps. He tilts your face upwards, allowing you to take in his glare. “You are my first choice. Not the version of you from Earth-94, Earth-835, or any other dimension in the multiverse. It doesn’t matter that you are different from her.”

This can’t be true. “Still, I—”

“As for Gabriella, you’re right." There is a flash of resignation in his gaze, so sorrowful that it clashes with his words. “I knew that from the start.”

“...Then why?”

Your head spins. His hands are still on you, caressing your cheek and keeping you in his grasp. The numbness gives way to warmth.

“Well, it doesn’t change the fact that any child from you will be ours,” he answers. His voice softens, as does his gaze. “Just as you are mine and I am yours.”

The words get stuck in your throat. “Are…are you sure?”

How can he say such a thing? Your sense of hearing must be damaged. It is the only logical explanation as to why—

The look in his eyes leaves no room for doubt. “I promise.”

...What else can you possibly say?

Your vision blurs. Miguel is still speaking, another quiet reassurance from the sound of it, but it’s all static in your head.

What the hell are you supposed to do with this information? It’s beyond your comprehension, too subjective and unproven for the likes of you. And yet you feel…good. Happy. So, so happy despite everything you have been through.

Skies, you are truly pathetic.

No, what’s more pathetic is the way you cry harder and melt into Miguel’s embrace. It’s the way you listen to his remaining praises and beg him to keep talking. To list everything about you that is good and faultless and desirable to him, everything he thought was worth noticing.

And when he kisses you, you willingly reciprocate.

The darkness is soothing.

The dim lights cast the bedroom in shadows. It’s a blessing to your dizziness, your eyes tired from crying. With this obstacle to your vision, you can pretend that the previous hours never happened.

Almost. The soreness, the deft hands tending to your injuries, and the immense euphoria are impossible to ignore.

It’s also painful, unbearably painful now that the venom’s effect has fully worn off. You can only sit up and wince as Miguel disinfects another wound.

He looks up in concern. “Are you okay?”

“I am.” You give him a weak smile as he bandages your thigh and mumbles a second apology. “I feel better already.”

His own injuries are equally evident, from your hesitant love bites to the scratch marks on his back. As guilty as you felt, you could only say so much before Miguel silenced you with a withering look.

…You will make it up to him tomorrow. If you are still capable of walking.

The thought leads you to cry into the pillow, muffling your curses. If Miguel can understand you, he doesn’t say anything. Rather, he closes the first aid kit and holds your hand.

“I’ll draw a bath,” he tells you. “Can you wait for a few minutes?”

Your thumb brushes against his pulse point. His heart rate is frustratingly calm, perhaps slightly above average if you are to flatter yourself. Maybe you can count the number of beats and ask LYLA tomorrow. She will be happy to confirm it.

You meet his gaze, intertwining your fingers with his. “Sure.”

You’d like to think that his last kiss is another promise.

With that, Miguel stands up and leaves the room. As for you, you lie down and go back to screaming into the pillow. Tired as you feel, you haven’t felt this thrilled in years.

Then the spiderwebs catch your attention. They’re still stuck to your wrists, albeit frayed. There are loose threads from where Miguel broke them.

Red. Illuminating the dark, holding you close, keeping you safe.

Carefully, you pick apart the threads and twist them around your hand.

No string figures this time. Your technique is clumsy, irregular, lacking beauty and order. Nonetheless, you continue until your left hand is covered in a glovelike pattern.

The final knot is above your ring finger. It’s a perfect fit.

It is the prettiest thing you have ever seen.

♡

Author's Note ๑ Side Story 1 ๑ Prologue ๑ Epilogue ๑ Side Story 2

“I’m just going to write a short post to purge my brainrot,” I say, shortly before Miguel O’Hara unlocks a core memory of me reading The Spider and the Fly and inspires me to write 7.6k words with literary references.

Thank you so much to @diodellet for beta-reading this and @yanmaresu for helping me with the Spanish phrases!! As for my readers, I hope you enjoyed my take on Yandere! Miguel and his darling. Do entertain me with your comments and brainrot ⸜(⸝⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝⸝)⸝

Tag a Miguel O’Hara enjoyer!! @kocherry @yandere-romanticaa @yandere-daydreams @bweoo @h2o2-and-baking-soda @ansy-tea @yandere-wishes @weebsinstash @curesi @robindere @crystalcrynight @mrlidocaine @handsomeunderwear-art @blughxreader @chiikasevennn @fortheloveofleon

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am-3-thyst · 11 months

Text

Te Quiero, Puta

Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

blurb: miguel’s new secretary has seemingly caught his eye, how long can he keep his composure and try not to let his hunger overpower him?

themes: smut, slight angst, slight fluff (not proof read)

warnings: small use of spanish, y/n is not used, jealousy, possessive!miguel, mean!miguel, perv!miguel, creampie, biting, reader gets bent over desk, “slut”, “whore”, thigh kink/thigh fucking, subtle voice kink, oblivious!reader to less oblivious!reader, sub!reader

note: haven’t written smut in a while, might be a bit rusty

word count: 3.10k

It started when she had shown up in that cute blouse and tight pencil skirt, a spiderweb design embroidered into the fabric.

Silkie was her superhero alias. Miguel finding her to be a peculiar fit as his secretary, she handled both jobs at once. He couldn’t lie and say he was impressed, though his rough, reserved and egotistical demeanour hadn’t faded regardless of her and her oh so very tight skirt. Sure he’d taken a couple of glances downwards where the tight material dug into her thighs deliciously, while she was oblivious and her doe eyes would just look up at him sweetly.

He pursed his lips whilst he stands at his monitors, the screens lights reflecting off his sharp jawline defining his somewhat permanent scowl that was carved into his face. Brooding at the screens, until he hears the small delicate steps from down the hall. Heels tapping against the floor, she enters with her hands under her bust, fiddling with her fingertips. Shy under his blistering gaze. A satchel filled with papers hung over her shoulder, bouncing against her waist with each step.

He swallowed at the sight of her, her hair had been tied up ever so slightly higher than usual – baring her neck to him unknowingly. How he liked to think it was all for him. He turns his body fully towards her, as she peers up at him and gives him a meek wave. Extending her arm out, she shot out a web and swung up the platform, landing in front of him. He could thank gravity at the way her legs were angled as she shot up, he got a small glance of the cute pink panties worn underneath. Between those devilish thighs. She dusted off her skirt, flattening out any crease and plucks out the few sheets of papers stuffed into her satchel.

“I’ve gotten the paperwork done for you, Miguel!” She smiled, holding it out to him. Her smile nearly glistened more than her curious, loving eyes.

It's something he often adored, though he adored the thought of her eyes twitching with pleasure and her teeth biting her lip desirably even more.

He grunted, snatching them out of her grasp. “Alright then, get back to work yeah?”

She frowned at his reaction, why was he so cruel? He could see the disappointment in her eyes, he internally chuckled to himself. The confusion and rejection in her face made his chest swell with pride, and he felt his suit tighten at the feeble sight. So cute. He thought, turning away from her and getting back to his work.

She swung down, sitting down at her desk which was at a regular height compared to Miguels. She couldn’t help but bite her lip as her heart beat rapidly in her chest. God, his huge figure, broad shoulders, his big hands – she couldn’t help but be flustered. His voice was crisp and deep whenever he spoke to her, giggling quietly to herself she looked at her own monitor. Hoping Miguel hadn’t heard her.

He did, in fact, hear her.

He could only ponder what made her emit that saccharine laugh? It swirled uneasy in his gut, the taste of it sour in his mouth.

–

He despises the sight of her with him.

Not only himself, out of the guilt and disgust that he deserves any love one would typically have; but the sight of her standing next to Hobie. Unknowing he was more of a brother to her, the view of her honeyed smile wasted on him had Miguel’s claws digging into his thighs. Lyla popped out, and tilted her head at him.

“Have you ever thought of instead, being a… y’know, asshole – you could maybe show her you’re interested?”

“That’s ridiculous,” He scoffed, glaring in her direction still. “You don’t understand the situation, Lyla. Stay out of it.”

The hologram rolled her eyes, glitching away from his vision. He grasps his food and exits the canteen swiftly, unaware of the yearning gaze from the delicate secretary he secretly cherished. Hobie tapped her shoulder, as she shook her head dumbly and looked back at him.

“Sorry, what’s up?”

“Oi, why don’t you stop working for him? Doesn’t he treat you like shit…?” Hobie questioned, biting into an apple. She sighed, twirling a strand of hair in between her fingers.

“You’re right… But I can’t help and think there’s something underneath all that rudeness. You know what I mean? There’s just… something about him. I can’t stay away from him.”

He rolled his eyes, patting her back. “Don’t get yourself hurt, yeah?” She smiled, standing up and getting rid of her food tray. Making her way back to his office, there was a dark energy surrounding him. His scowl creased more than usual, his large body tense and rigid. She swung up to him, her hand laying on his flexed arm.

“Miguel?” She spoke, eyes furrowed in worry. “Are… Are you okay?”

A subtle growl rumbled from deep within his chest, as he stared off into the distance. “You’re distracting, you know that?” He sucked his teeth, “Not only to me, but to everyone else.”

His head shot towards her, glaring down. “We can’t have that.”

Confusion filled her, the oblivious look in her face angered yet turned him on more. He hated the effect she had on him, how stupid and unaware must she be? Does she not see what she's doing to me? His large hands plummeted to her waist, gripped her tightly as she squeaked under his rough grasp. Her thighs trembled in his peripheral vision, and he loved it so much. “Do you want this?” He growled, the tone going straight to her core. “Do you want me like I want you? Say it, pretty girl.”

Butterflies dove straight into her abdomen, her cheeks red and flushed with each word. “Yes,” She whimpered out, her voice breathy and longing. “Please…”

He grasped her cheeks roughly between his fingertips, pulling her face closer to him. “Say it.”

“I want you. God, you’re all I want. Please…” “There’s no God here,” He whispered, her body shuddering beneath his touch. “Only me.” His fangs bared to her, and she whimpered desperately for his touch. Miguel’s head dove down slowly, his warm breath lingering on her neck causing her to shiver pleasurably. His teeth were so close to where he craved to dig them into…

But he came back to his senses, and pushed her away by the waist.

She ponders more than ever what she’d done wrong, whilst he mutters to himself. “Estoy loco.” (I’m crazy.) His whispers quietly, as she just stands blankly staring at the big frame of him scowling more to himself.

“Miguel…” She pleaded, “What did I do wrong?” She lays her hand on his arm, his eyes go blank, distant. “What is it?” She continued, stepping closer to him. He pushes her away more, turning around swiftly and stares longingly into the hologram of his monitor screens. Before she could speak, he dismissed her. “Leave.” He hissed, his hands curling into a fist. Trembling slightly.

“But-”

“I said go.” His voice was stern, never wavering with each breath. She nodded hopelessly, retreating away from him. She’d been unsure of what exactly to do.

One thing she knew is that it hurt her heart the way he left her longing for him.

Miguel was more distracted.

He was angry, annoyed, horny. His emotions were bottled up and he could feel the cap of that bottle ready to burst. His thoughts were engulfed by her. Her smile, her hair, her waist, the sound of her voice whimpering for him. He was so turned on it killed him slowly. It's been a while since he's felt such a loving, desperate touch. He couldn’t help but push it away, like all good things he once had.

She would be ruined;

And maybe he wanted to ruin her. Ruin her from the inside out, fuck her pretty little hole that wrapped around his thick cock so deliciously as he would pound into her relentlessly. Little cries and whines for him to slow down as he would stuff her full to the brim. He could imagine how much she would enjoy it, and possibly beg for him to satisfy her more. His cock strained so tightly against his suit, and he growled at the feel of it. His mind was going wild with the overwhelming thoughts of her, the feel of her, the sounds of her, the smell of her. He grunted, hitting his desk angrily. It had been a week since he’d seen her, and fuck it was unbearable. He missed her sweet little scent, and her glossy lips.

Sighing, Miguel snapped his fingers impatiently. Gesturing for Lyla to come out of her confines.

She popped up in front of him, peering at him curiously. “Hi, Miguel…!” She spoke teasingly at the sight of his gruff face, her voice annoying him further.

“Call Silkie.” He demanded.

“Why? Hm? Huh?”

“Just –,” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Do it.”

Lyla laughed, “Alright then.”

She disappeared quicker than she had entered, his watch ringing. He peered at the screen, her face popping up with a sense of wonder and annoyance. He grinned eternally, missing her angelic features.

“What’d you need, Miguel?” She spoke bluntly, the tone catching him off guard compared to what would usually be her bubbly, sugary voice.

“We have matters to discuss. Come here, now.”

“What matters? Last time I checked you wanted nothing of me.”

Miguel sighed, his tone becoming rough. “Come here, that’s an order.”

She rolled her eyes, nodding before she hung up. Moments later she entered through a portal into his office, right in front of him. Her foot tapped impatiently against the platform, her eyes suddenly following his hand moving up to her face. She flinched slightly at the feel of his fingertips holding her chin, tilting her head up higher. “Miguel… Don't play these games with me…”

He shook his head, “I can’t hold it back anymore.” He pushed up against her roughly, backing her up against his desk. “I need to fuck you.” His breaths became heavy, and she couldn’t deny the wetness between her thighs.

“I won’t let this become a one time thing Miguel,” She whispered to him, her voice needy. “Please…”

With that, he lowered his lips and trapped her in a rough kiss. His tongue sneaking past her lips and his claws dug into her face violently. She whimpered at the sensation. His hands then caressed down her waist, before swiftly turning her around and bending her over the desk with an unruly passion. She squeaked at the sudden push, as she felt his gruff hands slide up her soft thighs, caressing them and pushing her skirt up to her waist. Her ass at his disposal, he spanked her and she let out a cry. Miguel chuckled to himself, pulling down her pink panties in a rush. The clap of his big palms cupping both sides of her ass rang inside his office, he indulged the sound without a care, groping the plump skin in his hands.

Miguel groaned to himself, as a hand crept further between her thighs and touched the slick within. His finger slowly traveled further, rubbing her clit with his thumb. She moaned softly, arching her back slightly and pushing back against him. He quickly retreated his hands, giving her needy pussy a wet slap.

“Mmph!” She squeaked, biting her lips and closing her eyes to enjoy the pleasure he willingly gave her. He was focused on toying with her, loving it bit by bit.

“Te quiero, puta.” (I want you, whore.) He muttered, continuing another slap to her cunt. “So, so bad…” He now delved his long, middle finger into her. Squelching because of how wet she was, he thrusted his finger in and out with a steady pace, before adding another one. She moaned out needily, butterflies going wild in her abdomen as his fingers hit the spot within her so very deliciously. “You’re such a slut,” He mumbled. “So wet on my fucking fingers, you wanted this didn’t you? Parading your juicy fucking ass around like it was nothing. You know what you do to me, don’t you hermosa?” (Beautiful.) The feel of his fingers repeatedly hitting inside her made her squeal, she shook her head dumbly at the pleasure.

“N-no! Hnghh… I didn’t-”

He smacked her ass with his free hand, the sting left behind leaving her yearning for more. “Liar.” He towered over her, reaching over to rest his head on her shoulder so he could whisper into her ear. “I’m going to fuck you so hard, you stupid whore.” He gets rid of his suit, his long veiny cock out in the open. He hisses as the cold air touches his hardness so pleasurably, he slips his cock between her plush thighs, thrusting at a medium pace. The tip of his dick hitting her clit slightly, and she arched with a feeble, desperate whine.

“Please, fuck me!” She sobbed, shaking her hips subtly. He shook his head, tutting her advances and bit his lip as he focused on the pleasure he currently received between her soft legs. He grinds into them more, his balls slapping her outer thighs slightly with each soft thrust. Miguel panted slightly, feeling himself become more desperate for the feel of her. He stuffed his fingers back inside her once more for good measure, to make sure she was spread out enough to take his thick length. His hunger for her became wilder, nearly out of control. He spanked her inner thighs as he pulled his dick out of them, her legs spread wider for him. Ready for him.

He pushed his cock into her, inch by inch. Reaching right inside of her, as soon as his balls hit the back of her thighs he let out a guttural moan, as she whined at the sensation of feeling so full. Her slick was already running down her thighs, and down to the base of his cock. The tightness of her cunt squirming desperately around him felt so euphoric. He thrusted into her swiftly, not giving her time to process the feeling of him. He was already at it, as she moaned with each slap of his balls hitting her clit sensually. He growled, as he stared down at the ripples going through her skin each time his thrusts hit her backside hard, her ass wobbling with each consistent hit.

Her desire felt intense within her, butterflies continuing to spread like wildfire throughout her abdomen whilst a hot desire spread through her entire body. All of her felt flushed, and it was so difficult to focus on so many sensations at once. “M-Miguel! Mmph… Y-Yes!” She whimpered out desperately, biting her lip in an attempt to quieten her needy moans. Miguel spanked her ass at the sight, as she whimpered out louder at the action.

“Don’t you dare try and be quiet, I love your stupid little noises.” The hunger inside him was overwhelming, as he pushed his dick roughly into her wet cunt over and over again – he couldn’t get enough of how good she felt around his dick. Better than he ever imagined. He reaches out his hands, his claws digging into her scalp and pulling her hair. Her head snapped up, eyes rolling to the back of her head from his violent thrusts into her. Her tongue lolled out dumbly, her moans growing louder by the second.

“You’re mine.” He growled. Mine, mine, mine, mine.

“Y-yes!” She hiccuped, as his dick relentlessly hit into her. “Yours! All- All yours!”

His spare hand grasped at her plush waist and used it as leverage to keep violently fucking into her, a sadistic grin stuck on his face. His pace became faster, slapping echoing through the room, as she gripped onto the desk for dear life. His grunts had mixed with her desperate moans, and a fucked-out dumb smile forms on her face. Miguel could feel the tension within them both slowly rising, as he grips her hair harder and pulls back to whisper seductively in her ear. “You wanna cum? Huh?” He asked, as she nodded lazily.

“M-mhm! Haah… Yes! M-more, please! Hngh!” She sobbed, his cock hitting deeper into her. More faster, more violently. “Keep those noises coming, puta.” (Whore.) He chuckled, hips clashing against her ass with such a divinity. Each feel of his cock had honeyed, breathy gasps erupting from her deliciously. Her body shivers at his words, her eyes blurring with desire. The wet noises from in between her legs grow louder, as they both feel themselves becoming lost in the pleasure. A coil snaps in her abdomen, and she lets out a whiny moan as her legs tremble, her cum coating the base of his cock. He emits a few more desperate thrusts, before snapping his head down to her bare neck and sinking in his teeth just right. He lets out a guttural moan, as his cum coats the insides of her warm pussy. His thrusts become sloppy, as he fucks the cum deep into her.

She whimpers at the aftermath, feeling his warm cum splurge into the depths of her cunt so nicely. Miguel is left panting on her neck, before lifting his head to lick the bite wound sensually. He pulls out slowly, they both whimper at the feel of it, and she cries quietly feeling such a loss of the fullness in her depths. Miguel stands back, admiring her cum-coated cunt – and how the white sticky liquid tries to seep out of her warmth. He laughs to himself as a drop merely drips down her thighs, he pushes it back in with his finger and she whines at the sensation once more. He pulls up her panties, trapping his cum inside her. He gives her cunt one last little slap with a chuckle, as he pulls down her skirt as well.

She has a fucked out smile, and takes unsteady breaths in an attempt to calm down from her high. She slowly turns around to face Miguel, her thighs quivering. He walks over to her in a sultry manner, looking down at her and her cute little smile. That little grin drove him crazy. The way she could be so adorable after getting fucked like a whore.

He reaches his head down and kisses her forehead. She hums happily at his touch.

Maybe he could break down his walls a little bit.

#miguel o’hara x reader #atsv #miguel x reader #spiderman #miguel o’hara #smut #angst #fluff #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader smut #female reader #spiderman x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x you #spiderman 2099 x y/n #spiderman 2099 x you

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thisfanisgonesorry · 10 months

Note

please make a part2 to ironhead where he actually ties up a vibrator to her…….pretty please….

thank you for the req cutie pie!! i have another hobie fic coming out in a few days and then probs going to a diff fandom until i get possessed again (aka ill get halfway through my carlos drabble and then ill end up coming up w/ another hobie fic)

tags: overstim YEAHH, touch denial, bondage, shibari but less than before, dom/sub, i mean v heavy dom/sub. cums in pants.

my beta reader thinks i lace these fics with crack

pt 1 >> IRONHEAD listening to let me hear you scream - ozzy osbourne

✰ “Y’re doing great, love.” He purred me through my orgasm.

I kept my eyes harshly closed, wrists tied above my head and legs tied together with a magic wand held nicely in place by firm ropes. I writhed helplessly against the restraints, the sensitivity getting worse with each moment.

“Calm down, baby.” He whispered, pressing his large hand on my stomach to push me against the mattress in hopes to ease the movement.

“Hobie, please.” I cried.

“Tell me that wit’ y’r eyes open.”

I opened my eyes lazily, trying desperately to look up at him. He was knelt next to me with wide legs, hovering over me. All I could focus on was his aching cock, stuck in the confines of his tight jeans. He was so hard that a wet patch was forming through the fabric, yet he was in complete control.

I let out a pathetic whine at the sight, knowing there was nothing more appealing to my lust-addled mind than to touch him and get him off.

“Love.. Are you cryin’?” He cooed softly.

“It’s too much.” I pleaded with him.

“Y’re only 5 in.”

A choked cry clawed its way from my throat at his words. The stickiness on my body was driving me crazy, covered in sweat, spiderwebs and cum; the view to him was nothing short of immaculate but he simply sat there like the world’s most self controlled man.

“Let me touch you.” I whined. “Please, Hobie.”

“No.”

“Please! You’re so hard, ‘s cryin’ for me, wants me so bad.” I sobbed. “Gonna twitch under my fingers.. Twitch on my tongue, gonna—”

“You’re riling yourself up.”

“Hobes, ‘m gonna cum, please, please, please.” I helplessly begged.

He took in a sharp inhale, steadying his breathing as he watched carefully, running his hand up and down my thigh. “Go on, love. Make it real pretty. Let m’hear you.” He spoke, attempting to speak clearly to show just how restrained he was.

I let out an incoherent mess of cries and begs, cumming all over the wand and squirming against the restraints again. His other hand began to brush my sweaty hair out of my face, watching the way his torture made me unwind.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell.” He gritted his teeth, trying to contain a groan.

“Mhmphf— Hobie.” I whimpered, the orgasm dying down and the burning overstimulation returning.

I used all the strength in my body to stop squirming enough to push myself onto my side, pressing my face into his strong thigh, the position was uncomfortable due to my wrists being tied to the headboard but it was the price to pay to feel him against my skin.

“Darlin’..” He laughed nervously.

“I need it.” I moaned, looking up at him through hazed, cock-drunk eyes. I nuzzled my face pathetically against his jeans. “Need you, need you so, so, so bad.” I rambled.

“You have me.” He answered, his voice shaking slightly.

A loud moan, followed by a loud ‘ah, fuck’ filled the air. I brought my knees to my chest as comfortably as I could with my legs tied together. Small whines, gasps and pants filled the air as I desperately tried to get closer to the handsome man watching every move I made.

“Y’re so desperate, ain’t ya?” He teased lightly, keeping his hands to himself, knowing otherwise he would probably break his iron will.

“Please.” I sobbed, 6 orgasms in and completely ruined beyond belief.

The squirming, thrashing, writhing, tugging, awkward angle and general length of the entire evening meant all 3 of us were worn down. The third, loud as day, snapped. Hobie perked up when he heard the sound of the webbing breaking, freeing my wrists from its hold. He was kind of impressed briefly; my hands quickly wrapped around his waist in a hug, pulling him closer to me.

“I should punish y’for that.” He spoke softly, stroking my sweaty hair once again. Though the fact I simply pulled him into a hug instead of going for his hardness was what convinced him otherwise.

I shook my head to say ‘nuh-uh’ as I pressed open mouth kisses on his jeans. “Close again.” I warned. “So close. I can’t—”

“Y’can do it, love.” He spoke sweetly, his hand gripping the back of my thigh to keep me in place as his other left my face to harshly grip the bed sheets. He leaned back slightly for a better view and that’s when he wrecked himself.

My hips jerked and spasmed, simultaneously grinding into and away from the vibrator. My breathing was racing and the sounds eliciting from my body only raised more and more in volume.

“Right there..” I pleaded.

“Let me hear you scream.” He groaned.

There was not much else I could do but abide by his request, though in the mindless state (despite the fact it was quite intentional), I reached to palm him through his jeans, crying his name out in several moans.

I could feel him switch under me as the sounds left my throat and hung heavy in the air. His hips jerked to the movement before he grabbed my hand harshly.

“Don’t..” He whispered, halting the movements though the pressure of it pressed against his dick was still enough.

“Please.. Need you.” I tried to whisper back, though it definitely didn’t come out like that. I continued pressing open mouth kisses on his jeans and trying to move my hand from under his.

He furrowed his eyebrows, breathing heavily and trying to gauge what the correct thing to do was as my hips continued to stutter against the wand, he kept a keen eye on me, his grip letting up just enough that I could stroke him at the speed he chose, limiting the movements.

“Y’re filthy.” He groaned, watching me lick a stripe up the fabric. His hips jerked at the sight and his composure was falling slowly.

He found himself giving in to my touches as I squirmed at my own pleasure. “Fuck, so much.” I breathed, mouthing his pants. “Ain’t 7 enough?”

“But y’re making m’feel s’good.” He panted.

“Can’t stop cumming.” I whined, feeling it get closer again as I desperately palmed at his cock; silently waiting for the permission to pull it out of his pants, the fact he was even letting me do this much was kind of a miracle.

HIs hips kept moving against my hand as he praised me quietly, watching me squirm into him, taking the punishment like a champ. He let out small moans and groans as he watched me palm him, nuzzling into him, pressing small kisses onto him, doing whatever I could in my goddamn right to worship him.

“Ngh— Fuck, ‘m cummin’ again—” I moaned, the downtime between each one was getting shorter and shorter and there’d either peak when I reached a moment of constant orgasm, or I believe I’d simply go numb and feel nothing but overstimulation and be a whining, crying mess, unable to orgasm any more.

His breathing hitched in his throat, he watched me writhe with that stupid lopsided grin, his jaw slack in awe as he desperately tried to fill his lungs with air. He felt that warm feeling in his stomach, noticing the telltale signs. “Shit, wait, y/n—”

His eyes closed, his jaw fell open and he gasped for air, small groans leaving his throat and his hips stuttering in place. His large hand forced me to stroke him through it, as he quickly accepted his fate.

“Fuck.” He hissed. “Let’s get y’fixed up, pretty baby.” He spoke quickly, pushing me off him, trying to be gentle despite his speed. He turned off the vibrator and let me relax, my tense body finally slump down into comatose limpness.

“Did you..?” I panted mindlessly.

“Shut up.” He mumbled, grabbing his pocket knife and slicing the webbing again, careful enough to not damage the wand, but quick enough to lay me down.

“Mhm, need’a washcloth.” I sighed, finally given a moment to sit back and catch my breath, finally able to relax after the considerate torture he put me through. “Feels gross.. All sweaty 'nd sticky.”

“I can see that.” He responded.

I laid on my back, watching him through heavy eyes, he scrambled to discard the webbing that was tight on my legs and waist, collecting the loose web still stuck to the headboard, to put the wand away and then to get the damp cloth I needed to clean up.

He tried to stifle a laugh when he saw the wet patch on the bed. He knew, in this moment, he wasn’t one to laugh, but he found the view slightly impressive. He ran the damp cloth over anywhere that looked particularly gross, starting with my face for obvious reasons.

“Anythin’ else y’need, love?”

“Dunno.” I hummed, he sat over me, removing his t-shirt and helping me put it on my body. It was worn, but it smelt like him. “You gonna let me see the mess you made?” I commented as he held my body upright.

“I.. No.” He spoke. “Y’look tired, darlin’.”

“You embarrassed?” I asked softly.

“No..” He shook his head again, “A little. Just.. Fuckin’.. Gotta wash these now.”

I sighed, rolling onto my stomach and taking the pile of pillows in my arms, knowing that Hobie would come take his place underneath me soon enough, he just has to rid himself from his excitement.

He ran his hand smoothly down my spine, feeling the muscles relax under his fingertips.

“Go to sleep, darl’, ‘m gonna be a minute.”

“Wash ‘em tomorrow, I want you now.”

He took a sharp inhale, before finally giving in. “If I can’t get the stains out, you’re on clean up duty.” He threatened, though it was clear to tell it wasn’t genuine. He quickly slid into clean pj shorts before snaking his way into bed and pulling me away from the wetpatch and onto his chest.

“Hobes, missing somethin’.” I mumbled the reminder, being taken by sleep as I felt the warmth of his arms wrap around me.

“Mhm? What’s that?”

“Where’s my ‘y’did so good’?”

“Y’did so good.” He huffed in amusement, placing a soft lingering kiss on my neck. “Y’took that real well, jus’ took everythin’ I gave ya’, ‘nd y’looked so pretty doin’ it, too. Wasn’t too much, was it?”

I shook my head weakly. “Was good.” I sighed, nuzzling into his neck and letting myself give into the exhaustion.

“I love ya’, darlin’.” He said finally, continuing his whispers of praise.

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