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reverie-minded · 2 years ago

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The Grass is Greener on the Other Side

Description: It's Miguel's birthday and you want to surprise him with his childhood favorite foods. With you living in his home, he has rules, and you broke the most important one.

Story is connected to my yandere!caretaker!Miguel fic.

Word Count: 5170

Warning: 18+, mdni, yandere!caretaker!Miguel, fem!afab!Reader, spanking, manipulation, slut-shaming, Stockholm Syndrome, infantilization, physical pain, non-con, not beta read

Please read warnings before proceeding. The following behaviors are abusive and I do not condone them.

You wake up one morning from Lyla’s alarm and see Miguel isn’t next to you in bed. That is typical of him because he has to go to work early or the rare times he stays there overnight (which he will always give you a heads up on).

He will almost always come home every night so it doesn’t particularly bother you. (But it definitely bothers him because he just wants to spend an eternity in every waking hour caring for you, but alas the multiverse isn’t going to take care of itself. It’s not like he can entrust the fate and balance of it all to the other Spiders.)

You slowly begin to wake up and slide yourself out of bed. Another day without Miguel as your only friend and husband to keep you entertained.

That is until you realize what day it is.

You memorize this specific date because it is one of the few things that Miguel will tell you about himself (you pestered him a long time to tell you).

Today is his birthday.

You feel saddened by the fact he is not home to celebrate, but that gives you the chance to surprise him if he comes back home tonight.

You ask Lyla what Miguel’s favorite cakes and birthday food are.

Lyla says he really likes the pan dulce sold at this specific bakery downtown. Unfortunately they’re a prideful business that does not do delivery.

That is a problem.

Ever since he took you under his wing to live in his apartment, he has many, many rules for you to follow. They only get stricter after marriage and childbirth.

Rule number one is you do not leave the apartment for any reason (unless it’s for safety and Miguel is not there to save the day).

Lyla, his AI assistant, is also sure as hell not going to let you go either.

You have a child now, a daughter of 9 years, so there is even less incentive to let you go outside.

You think to yourself, wouldn’t your daughter also want to help set up his birthday surprise?

You immediately wash up and dress in one of Miguel’s favorite dresses that he likes on you. You even put on the style of makeup and hairdo the way he likes them.

You go to your daughter’s room and softly knock on her door. “Hey, Y/D/N, can I come in?”

She swings the door open, and says while yawning, “Hey mama, good morning.”

You step into her room and sit on her bed. You pat the bed to gesture to her to sit down next to you.

“It’s your papa’s birthday today. And I think we should surprise him with his favorite foods when he gets back.”

Her face lights up in excitement and bounces up to her toes. “It is?! Oh can we, mama?”

She pauses, “But wait, you can’t cook.”

It was another one of those rules Miguel set for you: you are not allowed to cook. You can at most use the microwave, with Lyla’s supervision.

“I know, sweetie, but I know a few places we can stop by to pick up his favorite foods.” You counter.

“But papa says you’re not allowed to go outside, it’s too dangerous for you.” Your daughter looks to the side with uncertainty while playing with her fingers. She does this whenever she feels pressured.

You sigh, “I know…that papa can be protective of me. But sometimes…he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I’m not as weak as he thinks. Besides, I want to spend time with you outside! I’ll promise to take you to your favorite ice cream spot, if you’ll show me.”

With just that, her face lights up again in glee. She has always wanted to bring you to her favorite places in the city that she usually goes with her papa. You never got the chance to see the outside world beyond that brief time in Spider Society and when he brought you to the hospital for her birth.

You lean into your daughter’s ear, “But we’ll need to trick the alarm system and Lyla if we want to make it happen.”

You have to convince Lyla into disabling the alarm system without her alerting Miguel.

You also have to make your trip super quick because he likes to video call you randomly.

There are very few ways to convince or even trick Lyla. None of which would pop up in your head if you aren’t particularly tech savvy.

And you aren’t.

“Lyla.” You called her.

“Hey there sweetie. What’s up?” The small yellow woman appears on your shoulder and tilts her head in question.

You pause to gather your words and organize your mind. It doesn’t really work.

“It’s Miguel’s birthday today and I want to surprise him.” You start slowly to gauge her response.

“Ah, yes it is, and oh dear…” Lyla pauses, “He doesn’t particularly like his birthday, much less surprises.”

“Well, I still think he should have a little something. Maybe not like a party if he doesn’t like those, but something like getting his favorite foods. And before you tell me I’m not allowed to cook, I know. And… I need to go outside to pick them up.” You clasp your hands together and look down to help with your words.

You can see Lyla is already about to cut in.

“I KNOW, I know, rule number one. But, it’s close by. I’ll make it quick. Y/D/N will be with me.”

Lyla sighs and readjusts her pink heart-shaped glasses, “You know Miguel is still not going to be happy about that.”

“You don’t have to tell him! I mean, you’ll be with me and if anything happens you can call him. But, I swear, nothing will happen to me!”

“I’m sorry gal, I just can’t let you do that.” Lyla could only give you a sympathetic look.

“He deserves something special for a special day. Even setting aside his whole birthday, I just want to show him how much I appreciate him for everything he’s done for me.” You could feel yourself becoming dejected.

“You can paint him a picture.” Lyla suggests.

“I painted him a thousand.” You counter.

“You can crochet.”

“I do that every day.” You are getting frustrated and sigh, “And don’t you think it’s a little ridiculous that I’m not allowed outside. I can walk just fine. You can take your diagnostics. Even I need a change of scenery every now and then.”

“Girlie, you know you two have talked about this. Miguel set that rule in stone. I can’t do anything about it.” Lyla is still on the fence.

“I just… I just want to get him something that reminds him of home. I haven’t seen him have that pan dulce at all before. He deserves it for all his hard work. Don’t you think?” You plead and plead in hopes to appeal somewhere in her algorithm for Miguel’s sympathy.

“Well, I can ask one of our Spiders to fetch it for you.” Damn you Lyla.

“I can’t trouble the Spider people for this!” You quickly said.

And then you remembered something.

“Hey Lyla, don’t you have customization mods that you’ve been bugging Miguel to let you have?” Your eyes look devious.

“...no?” Lyla narrows her eyes in suspicion.

“Well… if I can get him the pan dulce, he’ll be very happy. And you know with happy Miguel, I can convince him to let you have your customization mods.” You wink.

Lyla doesn’t immediately answer and looks up in thought. “Hmmm… Well, as long as you make it quick…”

“And he cannot know!”

“Deal. At least he won’t berate me about it.” Lyla twirls her hand. “But you have to make it quick!” She emphasizes and points at you.

You smile and nod.

You quickly go and grab your laptop to order the pan dulce for pickup. You also map out a couple other stops to pick up his favorite empanadas, tamales, sopapillas, etc and your daughter’s ice cream spot as you promised. Nothing can go wrong.

You tell her to get ready to go and Lyla to disable the alarm system.

“Hey Lyla, could you also temporarily disable the live tracking on my watch?”

She gives you a bored look. “He quite literally checks every 30 minutes. Sometimes 5. Oh and including the camera feed in the apartment as well. He’s gonna notice.”

“Could you, like, distract him at work? Maybe another anomaly case or what not.”

“Fortunately for you, he’s out in another universe catching an anomaly right now. But it’s an easy one. I can try and distract him a little, but he’s going to finish up pretty fast with this one.” Lyla conjures up her own digital screen to analyze all her possibilities. “I can probably shoot another case for him to do.”

Honestly anything is fine as long he’s distracted long enough for you to go to all of your stops.

“I’ll try and be fast.” You promise her. “Oh and Lyla-”

“Hm?”

“Thank you.” You smile at her genuinely.

“Aw shucks.” Lyla smiles back.

–

On Miguel’s end, he is finishing up his capture on several anomalies and heading back to HQ. He just can’t wait to go home soon since today is slow and nothing else should be happening. All projects are being handled by the other Spiders, so he can take it easy and go see you.

That is until Lyla pops up on his shoulder and screams, “HELLO MIGUEL–!”

He flinches and covers his ears from the banshee levels of frequency. “What the shock Lyla! Don’t scream into my ear!”

“Haha sorry, sorry. I just wanted to let you know that there’s another case on Earth-2348 that needs your attention.”

“Send another Spider for that. I need to go home and check on Y/N.” Miguel raises his brow at her through his mask.

“You have a point, but this one requires your special attention.” Lyla shows him the data.

Miguel gives a gruff sigh and rolls his eyes, “Fine. Let’s get this over quick.”

–

You and your daughter are making your way downtown. Walking fast, faces pass and you’re… at Miguel’s childhood bakery!

The walk with your daughter has been a breath of fresh air. You’ve been trapped in that godforsaken apartment for the last 9 years, basically ever since your daughter was born. But even before then, Miguel wouldn’t let you go outside unless it was a date or state of an emergency. He hasn’t taken you out on a date since your daughter’s existence. And emergencies rarely ever do arise, if ever.

But now, you get to have your own time with your daughter without being shackled to him and the shared apartment. It’s not like you hate him; you just wish he lets you have the freedom to choose and make your own decisions.

Why can’t he see that?

Picking up the goods is quick and easy, even if there is a bit of a wait in some shops. You know you don’t have time to stall and admire your surroundings.

You still take your daughter to the ice cream spot that she boasts about going with papa. You’re happy that you get to also share this moment with her as well.

“What flavor does papa get with you?” You ask your daughter. Maybe you can pick up a pint for him.

“He usually gets cinnamon-basil.” Your daughter scrunches up her face in disgust. “I usually get the peanut butter fudgesicle.”

Noted.

You turn toward the male worker to place your order, “Um, hi there, I would like the peanut butter fudgesicle…”

You turn to your daughter, “On a cone?” She nods.

“On a cone.”

You continue, “As for me, I would like the [your fav ice cream flavor] on a cone as well. Oh! And one pint each for the peanut butter fudgesicle and the cinnamon-basil.”

The transaction goes smoothly and he hands you your order. He decides to add, “You are very pretty ma’am. I hope you and your daughter have a nice day.”

You blush at the compliment. Miguel is usually the one feeding you compliments, but it’s nice seeing someone else other than your husband acknowledging you.

You smile back cheerfully, “Thank you!”

–

Miguel quickly finishes up on this “special” case that Lyla claims to be. Strange, she usually isn’t wrong with her calculations and data processing. Did something happen to her programming?

He fidgets his gizmo to check up on you since he hasn’t planned on taking on an extra case today. The camera feed of the apartment shows no signs of you or your daughter. Then, he pulls up his map of his Earth to find your pinpoint, but it’s not there. He searches for your ping frantically and it’s not there.

“Lyla.” He calls in a low tone.

She pops up and tries not to look guilty, mentally cursing you for not being fast enough.

“Why did you give me such an easy anomaly to take care of?” His voice is threatening.

Lyla can’t take it anymore. “I’m sorry! Y/N wanted to surprise you for your birthday. She didn’t want you to find out because you know…you’d freak out.”

“You know the rules. You’re not programmed to respond to her commands.” He crosses his arms as he gives her a heated look.

“Well, you deserve a little something, and she really wants to show her appreciation for you. You can’t fault me for that!” Lyla protests.

He just glares at her in the most deadpan expression.

“Okaaaaay. It’s mostly because she promised me that she’ll help get me those mods you never let me get.” She rolls her eyes.

“Where. Is. She. Now.” He emphasizes each word, barely holding on to his anger and state of panic from breaking loose. He notes to himself to reprogram her, thoroughly.

“She should be on her way back to her apartment right now! She went to that bakery you grew up with and the ice cream spot you take Y/D/N with.”

And with that, he heads out.

–

You beeline towards your apartment as you check for the time. Luckily Miguel hasn’t called you all day or else you wouldn’t know what to say or how to react.

You and your daughter reach the second to last block of the apartment when suddenly you get approached by some shady, hooded figure.

“Hey there, pretty lady! Hope you can spare a few minutes with me~” He steps up towards you, a little too close for comfort.

You kind of freeze up in place, and are unsure of how to respond. You are too polite to tell him off. “U-Um, excuse me.”

You take your daughter’s hand tightly, who is shooting daggers at him, and try to move past the stranger.

He stops you by grabbing your shoulder and shoving you back into the alleyway behind you, causing you to lose your grip on both your daughter and bag of food.

You hit against the brick wall aggressively, with your head smacking against it. You start to feel lightheaded and the area of impact pulsating.

He tries to reach for your purse, but is soon met with a loud, booming punch against the gut from your daughter. He is sent flying 50 feet away and smacks against the wall causing him to pass out. (She might have killed him.)

“Mama! Mama! Are you okay?!” Your daughter frantically rushes to your side, gripping the skirt of your dress.

“I-I’m fine. I just need a moment to collect myself.” You hold your head from the impending headache.

Not a second later, you are suddenly hoisted up like a potato sack causing you to scream and flail until you recognize whose back you’re seeing belongs to.

It’s your husband, and he wastes no time to leap to the top floor of the apartment building with not just you but your daughter also, one on each hand, without breaking a sweat.

“Lyla, open the door.” He sternly commands.

The door opens on its own, and he gently sets both you and your daughter down. You are still shaken from the whole ordeal that your knees give out. He swiftly catches you, almost as if he expects you to.

He carries you bridal style, and walks you to the living room to set you down on the couch. He takes off his mask, and you can see the tension contorting his face, stabbing you with guilt.

He grabs your chin to scan for any signs of obvious injury, and a quick visual across your body.

“Lyla, scan her for vitals.”

Quickly, she does and concludes, “All vitals seem normal. Heart rate is 120, likely due to panic and stress. Increased blood flow to the back of her head due to external impact, but no signs of head trauma.”

He drops his head and leans in. He runs his fingers through your hair in the area of impact and massages your scalp. You can feel your headache already melting away, and you lean into his touch.

“Just why…” He whispers into your ear. “Why would you go outside?”

“I just wanted to surprise you for your birthday.” You put your hands on his wide shoulders and give him a light squeeze, trying to placate him.

It does nothing to sooth him. He shifts himself to sit beside you and pulls you into his embrace. You are led to sit on his lap with your face laying on the crook of his neck as he continues to massage your head. His other hand rests around your waist.

“Y/D/N, come here.” He doesn’t stop his ministrations.

She has been standing near the door fidgeting her fingers anxiously. She walks over to you two, and with the smallest voice she says, “Am I in trouble, papa?”

He sits up a little, but assures you that he won’t drop you by tightening his embrace.

“No, but tell me what happened. Every last detail.” He says firmly, yet tactfully.

She tells him everything, including the part where the ice cream guy complimenting you. You can feel his grip getting harder and tighter as he grinds his jaw. His jealousy is apparent.

“Thank you for being honest with me. You’re a very good girl for protecting your mother. You take after me which is why you are strong. You are also a smart girl. You must understand that your mother is in no shape to go outside without me. Never let her persuade you again.” He emphasizes “never” to drive home the point. “If she tries to go outside again, tell me.”

And at that, you pull yourself away from him. His arm around your waist doesn’t budge, still straddling you to his lap. The hand that was on your head now rests on your neck.

“That’s not fair, Miguel! I am a grown woman! Your wife, her mother! You can’t keep trapping me here in this apartment.” You protest.

“I’ll…I’ll go crazy.” You barely whisper whilst choking back a sob.

“We already had this discussion before. It’s just not safe. Look at what happened today! Do you really think you’re in any position to be demanding to go outside?!” He glares at you.

You don’t listen. You try to tear yourself from him but his grip is relentless. You push and kick with all your might, but you’re like a mouse fighting against a lion.

You turn your head to your daughter, “Y/D/N, I am your mother, please don’t listen to him.” You plead in hopes that she won’t bar you from ever going outside again too.

Alas, Miguel is the one with authority here.

“Don’t drag her to your impulse. You also endangered her by taking her with you.” He chastises, and forces your head back down to lean into his, to look him in the eyes. “You may be her mother, but you can’t protect her.”

Somewhere in your heart breaks. You slump as all the energy in your muscles give out.

Yes, considering today, you never would have been able to protect your child. Yes, it is in fact your own child, who hasn’t even reached puberty, that saved your life. What would have happened if she was taken while you were distracted? You have no survival skills.

“Y/D/N, go to your room. I need to talk to your mother in private.” He orders and watches as she scurries off.

With her bedroom door shut, he calls for Lyla, “Activate soundproofing.”

Your heart begins to race in anticipation for what’s about to happen. He gets up from the couch while holding you (causing you to koala hug him) with one hand on your bum and the other your back.

He carries you to your shared bedroom, and unceremoniously plops you to the bed. He flips you over so that you face down to the bed, and slides you towards the edge so your ass hangs off.

“I’m going to punish you now. This is your lesson for disobeying my most important rule.” He says in a cold tone.

Goosebumps form and your body shivers in fear. You never would have expected to be here. He has always been so gentle, forceful at times, but gentle nonetheless.

You fucked up big time.

“P-Please wait…!” You hold your arm out to stop him.

He swats it away and simply says, “Stop moving.”

He hikes up the skirt of your dress over your ass revealing your pretty lace panties, and grips the skirt in place on your lower back.

“You didn’t wear safety shorts under the dress? You’re either a slut or an idiot.”

Before you can answer, he gives you a hard smack on your left ass cheek. You yelp from the sudden impact. It stings and burns.

You squirm, but you don't move out of place from the heavy weight pressing you down your abdomen.

He gives you another smack, this time on the right cheek. His touch is not kind, not tender like you’ve been used to for all these years. Your heart races so intensely; you can feel it beating against the mattress.

“P-Please…” You attempt to get the words out through your heavy pants. “I…just want to…give you a birthday present.”

He kneads your cheek harshly, and you instinctively hiss from the contrast of earlier hits and round your back to escape his hand. He pushes your abdomen back down.

“And yet, instead, you had not only made me worry, but you endangered yourself unnecessarily and for what? A couple baked goods? I can get them any time.” He hard smacks your cheeks a couple times earning him a scream. “Not very considerate of you on my birthday.”

You sob from his words and the pain from his strikes. He doesn’t loosen his hold and continues to strike your ass in rapid succession.

You groan into the sheets while you grip them tightly to hold yourself in some form of leverage.

He spreads your cheeks apart and pulls your panties up. The cloth wedging itself into your cunt.

“You’re getting wet.” He scoffs. “You’re getting off on this.”

He rubs the inner side of your ass near your cunt with his thumb. He pulls on it to spread your cunt out for him to see. He glides his pointer finger across your glistening hole.

“You’re very wet.” His husky voice is low and you can sense he’s beginning to feel aroused.

He pulls your right leg up and anchors your foot down to the mattress. “Keep your ass up.”

You do as you’re ordered and he smacks the area close to your dripping pussy. He smacks again and again. You can barely hold on. That area is far too sensitive.

Especially when you’re becoming impossibly wet.

Your cunt is clenching around nothing and you try to push down the neediness that’s building up in the pit of your stomach. Your clit won’t stop pulsating.

He pushes your hiked up leg back down to focus the assault on just your ass. He forcefully pulls down your panties and inspects your pussy again. While it’s not the first time he’s ever seen it, for some reason, you’re so much more embarrassed being presented in this way.

“I-I’m sorry Miguel. I w-won’t do it again.” You want to be out of this demeaning hold as soon as possible. You can’t contain your tears and sobs flowing into your bed.

He again kneads your ass, but in thought. As if considering your apology, “If you’re truly sorry, then you’ll continue to ride out your punishment.”

Your eyes widen as his hand crashes down on your ass again.

Your skin is fiery hot and raw. Your mind is blanking out. Strings of saliva fly out of your mouth.

He stops for a moment after minutes of nonstop assault on your poor ass to knead and console your sensitive skin and muscles. (If your skin is pale, your ass is beet red, almost glowing like his webs.)

You make a guttural throat sound in response; the shock shooting your brain awake.

“Forgive me! Please, forgive me. I didn’t know. I didn’t know. Please stop.”

He stops but his hand does not leave your ass as he gives you a quizzical look. “You didn’t know? Like you didn’t know this would happen?”

You make a poor attempt at a nod. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think someone would attack me.”

He lets go of your dress and grabs you by the bodice pulling you off of the mattress. He drags you to the front of the full size body mirror where you can clearly see the dramatic height difference between the two of you.

He grabs your waist while holding your face out. “Look at yourself!” He yells.

You take a good look at yourself. You’re a mess. The tears streaming down your face ruined your makeup. Streams of black from your mascara stain your cheeks while your lipstick is smeared all over your mouth. Your hair is disheveled. Your eyes are red. Your dress is wrinkled.

You don’t quite understand what he’s looking for. All you see is a mess.

“Do you have any idea how captivating you are? Why do you think I love this specific dress on you? And your makeup? You can tempt any man around you. You can’t possibly think no one would try to take you?” He says while pressing his hard-on on your back.

Sure, the dress hugs your body in all the right places. It shows your cleavage. But still, nothing overly liberal and out of place for a casual stroll in the city. Not when other more scantily clad women are a dime a dozen. Especially in Nueva York, in a time that’s far more advanced and liberal than your own.

“I d-don’t understand what you’re saying. I’m not that pretty.” You struggle to stand, but his grip on your waist keeps you from falling.

“Don’t act like you don’t know.” He grips your jaw harder as he glares at you through the mirror.

“I’m really not. I don’t even know why you married me!” You sob. “I’m weak. I’m useless. There are tons of girls who are better and prettier than I am. Why did you choose me? All I do is give you reasons to do more work at home than you already have.” You can’t help but sulk and spill all your insecurities.

His gaze softens and drops his grip from your jaw. He spins you around and brings you close to his chest. He strokes your head like how he used to comfort you. Your gentle Miguel is back.

“Shhh, I know that you can’t do a lot of things like other people, but it doesn’t make me love you any less. Isn’t that enough?”

You pull your face away from his chest and look up at him. “But I want to be your equal. I want to be worthy.”

“But you are worthy. You don’t have to be my ‘equal’ for me to love you.” He counters. Good point. He cups your cheek and you lean into his touch. He lightly wipes away your tears.

You have nothing more to say. Perhaps you’ll never understand why he chose you, why he loves you.

“I love you more than you can know.” He brushes your hair behind your ear. “We have a beautiful family now. I can’t risk losing you, any of you. I hope you understand that.”

His eyes darken. You can see that his words mean more than what he tells you. You don’t know what he really means.

You have no choice but to accept him anyway. He is your rock in this world. Your entire fiber of being and existence completely and solely hinges upon him and his will. Without him, you have nothing, you are nothing.

He is your savior as much as he is your captor. He is your caretaker as much as he is your jailor.

He is your God.

You two linger in each other’s hold as if time stood still. His scent calms you down, and you begin to relax more and more in each breath you take as you sink into his embrace.

Until your stomach growls.

He chuckles as he lets you go slowly. “Looks like someone’s hungry. I’ll go whip up some dinner for us.”

He walks away for a second to grab a box of tissues. He wipes away all of your tears, makeup smears, and dripping nose (which he tells you to blow out while holding up the tissue for you).

“B-But the pastries and the ice cream I got for you. They got left behind.” You sniffle.

“Don’t worry about it.” He pauses to think. “How about this? I’ll take the next weekend off and we can go together, as a family.”

You smile up at him; you couldn’t be more happy. “Thank you, Miguel. Thank you.”

He softly smiles back and kisses your forehead, “Now, go rest, I’ll come back to get you when dinner is ready. I’ll wash you up after.”

You nod to that. You make your way to your bed and plop face down. Your ass is still stinging and burning so you can’t lay on your back. Your eyes flutter shut and begin to drift off.

Good grief is what he thought watching you pass out on the bed. You’re going to catch a cold. He lifts you up to untuck the blanket and covers you with it. He carefully tucks the blanket in every crevice around your neck, ensuring no part of you is bare to feel the cool air.

He stays for a second to look at you and brush away the strands of hair from your face before walking out and closing the door behind him.

A/N: Well...that was intense. The second part will be fluffier and smuttier. (づ￣ 3￣)づ I spent like at least 12 hours just on part 1 in both writing and proofreading, only to not even get to part 2 yet. Feedback is welcomed. This is not a comfortable read.

Also I want to thank @wreakingmarveloushavok for giving me the idea of what Mexican pastry that's eaten on birthdays! Everything else I googled, including any inaccurate health related mentions.

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reverie-minded · 2 years ago

Text

slipping through my fingers

prompt: Miguel just wanted to be a father. It was all he ever wanted in life. After finding a universe where he could be one, he immediately took the chance. Sure Miguel O’Hara was supposed to be dead in that dimension, but Miguel chose to ignore that. He just wanted to hold his babygirl and raise her. He wanted to be there for her every step of the way. But we can’t all have what we want.

miguel o’hara focused , no x reader

contains: character death , angst no comfort, parent! miguel o’hara , gabriel o’hara mention, gabriella o’hara

inspired by: slipping through my fingers - ABBA

══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══

Miguel O’Hara just wanted to be a father. That was all he ever wanted.

After finding a universe in which a version of him was indeed a father, he kept tabs on it. He watched his daughter, Gabriella, grow up.

It was like watching old home videos through a recording. He watched Gabriella take her first steps, say her first word, her first day of school.

Schoolbag in hand, she leaves home in the early morning. Waving goodbye, with an absent-minded smile.

Miguel watched her go, a sadness building up deep within him. He sat there, watching through the monitors. He yearned to be able to stop the young girl and to give her a big squeeze.

He wanted to be the one to take her to school, to hear her excited giggles as she went off to her first day of school.

Miguel desperately wanted to have a child that he could care for. He loved children. Always did. After all, he was the one to raise his half brother, Gabriel.

Yes Miguel had named his daughter after his brother. Miguel’s brother was important to him, even though they went through some tough patches growing up.

In the universe that Miguel had found, Gabriel was dead. He had died some time before Gabriella was born. The Miguel from that dimension was devastated.

As Miguel continued to keep tabs on the universe, he noticed a canon event was going to happen. He was going to die in that universe. Well not him, but the Miguel in that universe was going to die.

So Miguel came up with a brilliant plan. One that would later come back to bite him in the ass.

One that would make him the Miguel you know today.

Miguel knew that if he didn’t do something, he could lose Gabriella as well. He felt like he was losing her, without ever really entering her world.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Lyla asked, her hologram appearing next to Miguel. She looked at the screens, watching Gabriella as well. “This doesn’t seem smart, Miguel.”

“I know what I’m doing, Lyla.” Miguel responded. He continued to watch Gabriella through the monitors. She was currently at school, talking with her friends during recess.

“It could mess things up.” His AI assistant simply pointed out. “According to what we have so far, if a canon-“

“Lyla, turn off.” Miguel muttered through gritted teeth. Lyla stared at him before her little body flickered and disappeared. Miguel knew that there were risks..but he wanted this.

He waited for the day the Miguel from that universe had died. He was shot on his way home from getting some supplies at the stores. Miguel stepped through the portal, looking down at his dead clone’s body. It was weird.

Watching the life drain from your eyes. Miguel quickly took the body and disposed of it. He didn’t want to leave a trace. He couldn’t let anyone know that *their* Miguel was dead. He couldn’t let them know that he wasn’t who they thought he was.

Miguel sat on the couch, watching a telenovela that was on at the time. He heard Gabriella’s giggles as she rushed towards him.

“Apa!” She had just gotten back from school and was excited to see her father. Miguel turned his head to look at her. Gabriella tilted her head a bit as she stopped in front of him.

Something seemed off about her father. He looked different.

“Hola princesa.” Miguel responded as he leaned forward so he was sitting up. He offered a gentle smile to the little girl.

“You look different…” She mumbled, studying her father’s face. “Did you just wake up from a nap? Ya estás viejo.” She teased him as she wrapped her arms around her father’s torso. Miguel felt his heart leap as he felt her hug him. This was what he had wanted. And he had finally gotten it.

“Haha si, mija.” He responded as he hugged her back. His tall, broad, form almost swallowing the poor girl. Gabriella happily hugged her father. She was unaware that the man she was hugging wasn’t her father. It was a different version of him.

Miguel fell into a quick routine in the world he had now been living in for a few days. Spending all those years having watched them through a monitor, he knew almost everything about Gabriella.

Miguel thought he was being discreet with who he really was, but Gabriella was smart. She picked up on his tells. She knew something was up with her father, but she had no proof.

Still, she didn’t know her real father was dead. She thought her father was up to some shady business that he didn’t want her to know about.

“Need help with your hair?” Miguel asked as he walked into the bathroom. Gabriella was struggling to brush her hair. She nodded as she looked at him through the mirror.

“Can you put it in a ponytail?” She asked as she stood still. Miguel nodded and took the brush from her hands. He cherished the small moments like this with her. Fuck, he cherished all moments with his sweet girl. He loved Gabriella as if she were really his. In some fucked up way, she was.

“Tight or no?” He asked as he gently brushed her hair. It reminded him of when Gabriel would ask him to help him take care of his hair. Miguel would purposely pull his hair so his younger brother would chase him around. His hands gently held Gabriella’s hair in place as he brushed her hair.

“Not too tight, it hurts.” She pouted as Miguel let out a small laugh. Gabriella giggled as she handed him a hair tie. Miguel took it and tied her hair.

“Ahí está, si está floja o la necesitas que la afloje?” He examined the ponytail. Gabriella shook her head.

“Nope! Quedo bien! Gracias papi!” She turned and hugged him tightly. Miguel smiled as he hugged her back with one arm.

“Of course, princess, go get your stuff ready. Don’t forget you have soccer practice tonight.” He fixed up the bathroom, putting the brush back in it’s place while Gabriella hurried to get her stuff together.

“Pa! Where’s my cleats?” She yelled as she looked around the entrance of the house.

“Your bag!” He called back as he looked in the mirror. He looked happier. He didn’t look tired like he used to. Ever since he started recruiting people to the Spider Society, he felt drained and tired, but now he felt energized. Gabriella was his energy.

Everything felt like something out of a movie when he was with Gabriella. He enjoyed spending time with his daughter and going to her soccer practices and games.

Hell sometimes he even helped the kids practice. The kids loved him and the coaches appreciated the help.

Miguel would happily kick around a soccer ball any day of his damn life if it meant seeing his little girl smiling brightly up at him. Gabriella really admired Miguel.

He always tried to capture every minute. The feelings. The atmosphere. He tried to capture every little thing about the moments.

Gabriella always surprised him when he least expect it.

She ran up to her dad and jumped up, hugging him tightly as she smeared a cupcake on his face. One of the kids on the soccer team had brought cupcakes for their birthday. Gabriella loved messing around with her father.

Miguel laughed as he wiped the frosting off of his face. Just when he thought he knew her, she kept on slipping through his fingers. Each time he thought he was close to knowing her, she kept on growing.

She always slipped through his fingers.

”Miguel you can’t keep staying there, there’s reports of-“ Lyla noticed he wasn’t listening to her. “Miguel!” She appeared right in front of him. “Miguel this is serious, there’s reports of something bad that could happen! The universe could collapse.” She crossed her arms.

Miguel continued to ignore her. He chose to turn and type something in his watch.

“..Miguel.” Lyla sighed as he simply stood up and walked through the portal. Her holographic body flickered as she appeared next to Peter.

“…We need to get to Miguel, fast.” She explained everything that was going to happen.

Gabriella was tiredly eating some cereal as she yawned. School had been called off for the day. Something about weird weather or something. She wasn’t too alerted by it. She was a kid. Any excuse to stay home from school was great.

Miguel smiled at her as she continued to eat. Seconds ticking by. He had noticed the weird weather that was being reported. Lyla’s words echoing in the back of his mind.

No. He was just being paranoid. . .

Right?

“We need to go get some groceries today, we’ll go in a few minutes okay?” Miguel said as he stood up and went to change. Gabriella nodded as she glanced out the kitchen window. Everything seemed normal.. until the sky glitched.

The sky has glitched.

She rubbed her eyes, thinking she was starting to drift off to sleep. When she opened her eyes the sky was normal again. She let out a confused hum but shrugged it off.

Yet..something wasn’t feeling right.

She wasn’t feeling right.

Gabriella placed her bowl of cereal in the sink and changed into some casual clothes. Miguel knocked on her door before opening it slightly.

“Ready to head out?” He asked. Gabriella nodded as she put her hair in a messy ponytail. She followed him out into their car and both made their way to the store.

When they arrived at the store, they made their way inside and looked around at the different foods and items. Miguel pushed a cart as he looked at the items on the shelves. Gabriella followed him.

Everything was peaceful. Quiet music played in the background, the chatter of shoppers were everywhere, beeps from the refrigerators. Everything was normal.

THUMP

Gabriella flinched as a something fell from the ceiling. Miguel instantly grabbed her close and sheltered her. Screams echoed throughout the building.

“Come here!” Miguel shouted as he quickly scooped her up in his arms. He ran throughout the store with Gabriella in his arms. They made it out and into the street where people were screaming.

Everything looked terrifying. Pieces of buildings were collapsing, people were glitching out. It was apocalyptic.

“D-dad?!” Gabriella yelled.

“Don’t look!” Miguel shouted as he covered Gabriella’s eyes. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, clinging close to him.

They ran down the road as the world behind them deteriorated. The screams would later haunt Miguel. He heard a portal opening up and turned his head. He spotted Peter.

Peter’s eyes widened as he looked around and tried to help some people, only to see them fade away into nothing

“Dad help me!” Gabriella was starting to glitch out like the others.

“No no no, Gabby it’s okay-“ Miguel tried to hold her close. “Peter!” Miguel called out for his help.

“Please-“ She looked up at Miguel with those big brown eyes of hers. A terrified expression on her face. “Pa..” She faded away in his arms.

Miguel stared down at his empty arms in despair.

And when she’s gone, there’s that old melancholy feeling... and a sense of guilt I can’t deny.

Miguel closed his eyes for a second, his hands moving to his hips as he let out a deep breath.

This was his fault.

The universe had collapsed because of him.

Gabriella was gone because of him.

He was looking at old recordings again. Lyla had stored the recordings of when he’d watch the now gone universe.

They were labeled Gabby.

Miguel still blamed himself. He vowed to never let that happen again. He would try his best to avoid collapsing another universe.

He watched the recordings with Gabriella and him. A familiar feeling welling up in his chest.

What happened to all those wonderful adventures.. the places I had planned for us to go?

He couldn’t stop torturing himself. He missed her.

He wanted his daughter back. But the only way he could have her back was through the recordings. He knew if he looked into other universes, he’d repeat it all again. He didn’t want to do that.

He couldn’t bear losing her again.

He froze a familiar frame he cannot forget about. The day she happily smeared frosting on his face. The two of them were laughing.

He wanted to save this moment from the funny brinks of time.

Miguel stared at the monitor, his yearning to hold his little girl in his arms hit hard.

Hold her.

Miguel remembered the way she weighed him down as they ran down the road. One second she was in his arms, the next his arms felt light as a feather.

She had slipped through his fingers one last time.

With a heavy sigh, Miguel rewinded the recordings. The familiar video of the other Miguel holding camera as he took a picture of a little smiling Gabriella. The big yellow school bus pulling up in the background.

Schoolbag in hand, she leaves home in the early morning. Waving goodbye, with an absent-minded smile.

Miguel watched her step into the yellow school bus and turn to wave at her father. The other Miguel in that universe. But in that moment, it felt like Gabriella was waving good bye to him.

A familiar sadness building up deep within him as Miguel turned the video off and let the tears fall from his eyes.

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reverie-minded · 2 years ago

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Soft yandere Miguel O’Hara

cw: noncon, breeding, kidnapping, m masturbation, biting, SPOILERS. Headcanons and drabble. 1.4k words.

Mean dom Miguel is so hot, but I find that soft yan Miguel has so much overlap with canon.

This man still does all the sick and deplorable things a villain does, but in a way that's strangely tender.

I mean, you simultaneously have to be a sweet man and a stone-cold motherfucker to step in the shoes of your dead counterpart and con his family into thinking everything is fine. Like, he (eventually) fucked a dead man's wife, adopted his child, and seamlessly integrated into his shoes.

While certainly calloused, it also reveals a profound desperation for love and a willingness to do anything for it.

Enter you: a Spider from a random dimension that got caught up in an anomaly's destruction. Maybe your world was destroyed or it's emotionally difficult for you to return, so you end up spending a lot of time at HQ.

Miguel doesn't notice you for a while. There's hundreds of Spiders milling about the base, so it's only until you befriend Peter B and his baby that you get acquainted.

You draw him in without trying, no matter the walls that Miguel puts up. He needs to focus—everyone's very existence is at stake, dammit,—but by month five, you're the only thing he can think about.

His advances start off slow, bogged down by his own exasperation at himself. You're ordered to give in-person de-briefs in Miguel's office and get invited to lunch with him and Peter B, giving you the impression of an upcoming promotion. Miguel is as poised as ever, not letting a single stray emotion color his expression, and talks to you in an aloof, polite manner.

However uninterested he might seem, his insides tighten and flutter at your growing friendship. Every time you smile or secretly share a bemused look, he sinks deeper and deeper in his desire to have you.

Proximity-wise, Miguel vacillates between sitting next to you, close enough for your elbows to brush, and standing 30 feet away on his podium for the next week.

His involuntary, physical reactions startle him, and it becomes another contention he internally wars about. The second he thinks it's harmless to brush against you, it divulges into grabbing—cupping—pinning—fucking—ruining.

God, he fucking loathes the powerless feeling you inflict on him, but he doesn't have the strength to put an end to your friendship. He furiously jerks off after every meeting, biting into his hand to punish himself as he comes to the thought of you swollen with his child.

He thinks of all the deplorable ways to make you pay for causing these feelings, but he ultimately knows the blame lies within him. You see him as a boss and friend, nothing more. You would never intentionally drag him down to this state, so he bottles up all these feelings for your protection.

It takes a particularly bad mission for his control to break.

Whatever reservations he had about locking you in his bedroom evaporate when he sees you covered in blood and rubble. Protecting you from himself was one thing, but the thousands of universes?

You didn't realize what happened until you woke up in an unfamiliar bedroom, weary from pain medication.

He takes your fear, anger, and tears in stride.

While he can't shake his bitchy personality, his annoyance always fizzles out to mumbles and sighs. For months, he takes your verbal abuse and outbursts with resigned acceptance. Miguel didn't always like what he had to do, but he would commit any atrocity if it meant keeping you at his side.

He moves some of his work at home to spend more time with you, just content to occupy the same room while you adjusted to your new situation.

Your shared apartment is quiet most days, save for sporadic outbursts of rage from you, and Miguel daydreams about having a few little kids running around to fill the void.

He stares at you most evenings, watching you curled up on the couch pointedly ignoring him. Miguel thinks you wouldn't be so belligerent if you needed him for something, if you craved his presence and help in some way.

Miguel's mind always drifts back to his favorite fantasies on nights like these: you nine months pregnant and too big for anything other than his shirts. His eyes drift down to your stomach, to the place where you could make his dreams come true.

Patience is something Miguel prides himself on, which is why he puts up with the loneliness for nearly a year after bringing you home. You were given ample time to warm up to him and he's been nothing but kind. Every broken plate and spoiled food, every scratch across his face, every insult—he let you have your way in hopes that you'll eventually recognize him as your lover.

But no. You complained and struggled every step of the way.

Miguel could never hurt you, but he realized that more permanent and assertive measures had to be taken to make you see that you need and love him as much as he does you.

---

When he finally takes you, there's hardly any space between your bodies. There are months of touch starvation to make up for and Miguel is compensating all at once.

His entire 6'9" stature pins you to his bed, locking you between arms as large as your thighs. Miguel is the only thing you see or feel, as his hands caress every dip and curve of your body and his cock grinds against your slit.

With your legs helplessly hiked up around his waist and one of his hands pinning your wrists above your head, he makes love to you with a slow burning intensity.

Your fear and disgust are palpable, but between his sweet voice in your ear and his fingers somehow knowing the rhythm and speed to play with your clit, you're more wet than you've ever been.

"Shh, shh, mi cornazón. I have you." Miguel kisses your jaw, his cock rocking in and out of your aching heat with an agonizingly slow pace. "Just breathe steadily and let me take care of you."

He's too big inside of you, and your grunts of pain make him linger in place to help you adjust. When his stride picks up and the wet sounds of sex fill the bedroom, disgust roils in your stomach. Yet fuck, fuck, fuck, your body temperature rises with each stroke.

Miguel kisses you deeply, using his free hand to hold your head in place. He says, "It's time. I've been so patient. Be brave for me and take our baby."

He swallows your horrified pleading with another scorching kiss.

Your pussy clenches around his dick and your breath catches in your throat. Miguel hugs you tighter, his nose pressed into your hair as he angles himself just right. When the first waves of your orgasm make your head dip back, the sharp edge of fangs scratch your neck.

You barely register his mantra of, "Te amo," when his jaw clamps down on your shoulder. Blood spurts from between his teeth, and you cry out in confused pain as your orgasm shakes your body.

Miguel moans into your flesh seconds later, pumping his cum deep inside you. His thrusting is uncoordinated and rough, too blinded by pleasure to notice how powerful his pounding is. The mattress springs whine beneath you two, and you can only cry from the overwhelming treatment.

He milks every last drop of cum into your cunt before he begins to slow. Both of you gasp for breath, your chests heaving against one another's as sweat cools on your hot skin.

He keeps you plugged up for a while longer to give the conception time. His bloodied lips drag across the wound on your shoulder, peppering you with kisses as he trails red along your neck.

A sob shutters in your chest as Miguel runs a palm along your stomach.

"You'll understand soon. I promise. This will be the best thing that's ever happened to us."

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reverie-minded · 2 years ago

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by yopink

#by yopink #line stickers

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reverie-minded · 2 years ago

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They couldn’t give STEM boyfriend-husband a five o’clock shadow with the glasses because he’d be too powerful in his final form

Also the red eyes??? Miguel’s confirmed light-sensitive!! I need him in sunglasses at all times

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reverie-minded · 2 years ago

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Yandere Miguel O'Hara Headcanons

Warnings: 18+, Depictions of Smut, Implied Non-Con, Breeding, Kidnapping, Restraining, Yandere Miguel, Obsessive Miguel, Possessive Miguel, Implied Female Reader, Implied Gender-Neutral Reader, No Pronouns used for Reader Except ‘You’.

You took him in after you found him collapsed on the rooftop of your apartment, a thick, bleeding gouge along his side. And, initially, he was very suspicious of you, found your generosity – your eagerness to clean and dress his wound, to bring him a fresh change of clothes, to offer him a warm meal – a cause for alarm.

But, you made your intentions with him quite clear; that you only wished to help, to make sure he was fully-healed before he descended upon the world once more.

He did try to leave. Truly, he did. But your proclamations that he needed rest and the nice warm bed you’d offered him forced his body to succumb before his mind did.

As convincing as you may be, Miguel is still highly cautious of you. Tuning into his senses, trying to detect poison in his food or a hidden enemy in your apartment.

But, for the days he’s there, Miguel picks up nothing.

You tell him about yourself – anything and everything he’d like to know – often sitting by his side and answering every question he asks of you: your name, your job; the basics. And, eventually, he opens up to you. Marginally. Tells you a little bit about why he’s here.

He only tells you he - and his associates – are in pursuit of a highly dangerous target. Of course, he omits the part about the fate of the Multiverse hanging squarely on the success of this mission, and he just can’t seem to bring himself to as your eyes fill with wonder and curiosity, your attention solely on him.

And he can’t help but indulge you when you ask him if he has any stories about his time as a superhero.

He relents. Tells you of missions which bear little weight on the universe you reside in – nothing that could endanger you should you tell another soul. And you listen with an eagerness he wished his subordinates would display, even if only for theatrics’ sake.

You tell him how lucky the world is to have a hero like him – how lucky you are to even be talking to him, seeing as you’re just a civilian.

Your earnest nature makes something in him tick. Something he can’t place his finger on.

As the days fly by, he finds himself racking his brain for more stories to tell you, more tales to regale where he comes out on top, ever the hero he is.

It helps bury some of the guilt that lingers in his heart, fractals of a universe he’s shattered. Makes him feel as if he’s not entirely a failure.

Whenever you leave the apartment – for work or for shopping – Miguel wanders around, watches some TV, formulates his game plan for when he has to leave.

That last one brings him a little too much anxiety for his liking, so he often finds himself thinking of you instead to ease his nerves.

Something, initially, he’s somewhat shocked by. But the longer he does it, the more natural it feels. The more vivid his daydreams become.

He tries never to let them stray into lewd territory, but after he accidentally caught sight of you undressing, his mind has been urging him to visit some...unsavoury places.

He only permits brief trips there when you’re out of the house, and never for very long.

The two of you fall into a routine while he’s healing; you come home and prepare him dinner, he comes and helps you – even when you tell him he should be resting. Then, you eat together and watch a film.

One evening, close to his departure – Miguel knows he hasn’t long with you left – you fell asleep on him, your face resting on his shoulder.

He dared not move for fear of disturbing you, losing you.

Then, his heart…fluttered.

And, as you slept soundly on him, with all the trust in the world, he realised that nobody had been this close to him – physically – since…

Since he lost his universe.

The idea that someone could take this for granted, the simple act of trust, that they could take advantage of yours, shot through him, a bullet of realisation. And the pain only sears as he looks upon your face, oblivious to the thoughts racing through his mind, through the minds of others – criminals and low-lifes who would kill you for no reason.

He couldn’t leave you.

Not here, and not on your own.

He knows it’s selfish, but, in another vein, he believes he’s saving you. Being the hero you see him as.

The next day, he’s fully-healed. And he has a proposition for you.

“Go…with you ?” you say, eyebrow raised. “Miguel, I don’t underst-”

“You don’t need to,” he says. “But what you do need to know is that you’re not safe here.”

“What makes you think that ?” You cross your arms over your chest, as if to contain – hide – the suspicion growing there. Miguel brings a hand to the back of his neck, rubs it, tilts his head back.

“Listen, I just know things– things that make me qualified to tell you that you, on your own, in this universe, are not safe.”

Miguel knows he’s getting nowhere with you. Especially since he made no effort to explain his multiversal goings-ons to you when he first arrived. So, he shows you.

He takes you by the hand and, willingly, you go with him. To him, that’s confirmation – submission. Your compliance with his whims.

He brings you to a universe where everything is oddly…liminal. Like an early 2010’s Microsoft desktop wallpaper. Just green hills, a distant forest encircling the land, and a house. Big enough to fit a family of considerable size.

Made to fit you and Miguel.

By the time you realise anything’s wrong, out of the ordinary (aside from being shown inter-dimensional travel), Miguel’s dropping a bombshell on you.

“This is your new home,” he says, standing behind you. He’s so close you can feel his warmth against your back. He places a hand on your shoulder. Squeezes it. “Our new home.”

Any shock that overcomes you is overpowered with the sense of dread that you’ve walked right into Miguel’s trap. That, just as he’d warned you, someone had taken advantage of your kind, trusting nature.

You can fight as much as you want, but Miguel’s got his heart set on you. And your future here.

You see, while you were caring for Miguel, showing him the concern and attentiveness he’s been starved of for years, his mind had begun to wander. Wondered what you’d be like with him if you were always together. Wondered how you’d act if you were to care for a child.

His child.

He’ll try to convince you of this ideal, that this is right and is what’s best for you, but if you keep resisting, you’ll see his possessive side emerge. His anger.

Red eyes, pinning you to the wall, nostrils flared; he is not losing you. And if he needs to frighten you into this new life, then so be it. Though, he wants you to adjust naturally, to want what he wants, to, dare he say, love him as he loves you.

And if you’re not going to submit to him willingly, he’ll take it by force.

If you’re capable of bearing children, he creates a strict regiment wherein he takes you, filling you with his load. At first, this was once a day – every two days if he was busy.

Initially, he’d string you up to the ceiling by your legs after finishing, “To make sure it takes,” he told you. And it doesn’t matter how hard you struggle; his webs are steadfast. Stubborn.

But, as he became more ravenous, more enemaoured by the prospect of keeping you, of breeding you, he became sloppy. Desperate. The thought of you swollen with his offspring hits him while he’s at work, during the downtime between missions.

At which point he just takes care of himself, panting your name in the bathroom stall before finishing and returning to work as normal.

Then it became more frequent, occurring while he’s on missions, during integral moments. At this point, he tries to suppress it, save it for later. After all, it’s not like he has a choice.

And that’s when he’d come and pay you a midnight visit, girthy and stiff and eyes red with the carnal need to fill you again and again until your stomach bulged.

That regime he’d set up unravelled, and now he takes you at every convenience, every chance he gets, pinning you to a web and making sure you can’t struggle if you’re particularly resistant.

At first, he did feel guilty about this; guilty that he was the one hurting you, causing you to cry, to beg for him not to finish inside you as you told him you weren’t ready to have a child.

And, during this period, he would wear his mask. He thought it would offer him some protection against your tear-streaked, anguished stare, your pleas for him to let you go, to return you home.

It didn’t.

He tries to comfort you, to tell you that you’ll “Love being a parent – just give it a chance,” as he pumps his hot load into you, holding you close to him.

Depending on his mood, he can be very gentle or very rough.

When he’s gentle, he whispers in your ear, tells you how much you mean to him, how he loves you more than you’ll ever know.

When he’s rough, he’s merciless. And gone is the tender love he’d subject you to, replaced with growls and claims that he needs you, that he won’t stop fucking you until you’re filled with his offspring.

He has a web created specifically for when he breeds you – where he attaches you to it upside down, making sure your chances of pregnancy are maximised. He fucks you here too, sometimes. And while blood is rushing to your head from being upside down, Miguel’s pounding the life out of you, panting, sweating, moaning your name.

He can go for many, many rounds. His superhuman stamina and strength make him unstoppable when it comes to you.

He’ll keep going long after you’ve finished or while you’re unconscious and exhausted from his barrage, never ceasing until he stuffs his cum into you, holding you to him, pressing kisses to your face as he tells you what a good job you’ve done, how well you’ve taken him.

If you do end up pregnant, Miguel is never letting you go.

You can say goodbye to any chances of getting back to your universe when he finds out you’re bearing his child.

And you can’t hide it from him, either. His hearing and perception tell him you’re expecting even before you’re aware of it.

By that point, the only thing you can do is just accept that this is your life now. Doing so early on will make your existence with Miguel little more than bearable. Because if you aren’t excited or tolerant of this child, Miguel will string you up in your bedroom.

“For your own good,” he tells you, his eyes flickering down to your stomach. His eyes soften, fill with warmth. “And the baby’s.”

If he suspects you’ll try to hurt yourself or the baby, he’ll take drastic measures to ensure neither of those things happen; restraining you, placing you into an induced sleep, cocooning you.

If you can’t have children, he’ll simply take one from another universe and tell you that the two of you will raise them together.

If he suspects anyone or anything else is going to try to hurt you or the baby, he’ll destroy it. No questions asked.

He’s indiscriminate, too.

Even if it were one of his associates – someone he’s worked alongside for years – they’re all superficial to him.

His only concern is you.

And he’ll make sure you’re loved and cared for forever.

Masterlist Masterpost

Yandere Masterlist Juicy Original Content <3

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