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helplesslypurple77 · 6 months

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Day 13- Step Bro!Dazai/Reader/Step Bro!Fyodor

Notes: I think it's a little ooc, but i really couldn't decide which characters to go with so yeah.

also, uhm, that fyodor header picture has nothing to do with the actual story, i just though he looked so fucking hot with that gun(also yes, ik im using the step silbing/dad concept twice but its just so sexy to me yaknow*)(*and also, if your wondering, i actually have a wonderful relationship with my father)

Ever since you can remember the house had been cold. You didn't call it your house, even though you had lived there all your life. No, it was more akin to a creature unto itself, a perfect reflection of your childhood. You were born in this house, the only child Mother, or Cecilia as she insisted upon, didn't abort. You spent your younger years with a nanny, who cared for you the best she could. She taught you to read and write, and you excelled especially at math. But Cecilia didn't care. She never cared. And the house reflected her disinterest.

The nanny, a kind woman named Martha, had been disposed of when you turned eight. Cecilia decided you were old enough to function on your own and fired the waste of money. You spent your years after that in the library, absorbing information, reading fanciful stories with mothers who loved their daughters. You wondered why Cecilia never loved you.

When you turned ten, Cecilia brought home a man. She introduced you, and you stood like instructed, pretty and well behaved. He patted you on the head, but never spared you a glance. He was tall, blond and very, very young. Much younger than Cecilia. And he was much too enamored to care for you, Cecilia's little child. Cecilia encouraged this behavior, and although the number of people in the house had grown, you were all alone. You were always alone. But it was ok, you were used to the silence. You sat in your large playroom, and cried into your pillow, muffling your feelings in the silk. Cecilia didn't need your burdensome feelings.

The summer you turned eleven, Cecilia brought another man home. And this man was kind to you at first. He gave you candy and treated you with kindness, luring you into his trap like a spider. The first time he hit you, you had cried defiantly for Cecilia. And of course Cecilia had not come, for she would rather believe her boytoys over her own flesh and blood. Humans were cruel things, ready to hurt others at the drop of a hat. And Cecilia was the cruelest. Nothing comforted you for ounce as you cried into your comforter, as unloved as before.

The summer you turned fifteen it was clear you had inherited Cecilia's peerless beauty. You spent the rest of the summer mastering makeup and when you arrived at your private school you were instantly popular. The makeup just elevated your already peerless beauty and people, both boys and girls fell at your feet. You reveled in the popularity, the love. A different kind of love, but love all the same. The house congratulated you, but Cecilia didn't care. She never did, after all.

Your grades never fell however, you simply could not let them. If you were proud of anything, it was your intelligence. It was wholly yours, unlike your beauty, inherited from Cecilia. You hated that you were her creation, hated it with your entire very being. You loved your intelligence, however. It came from your father, you were told briefly by Cecilia, and because you had never met him it was easier to accept his qualities. The house was from your father, his money at least. A gift to Cecilia.

And the one gift he had ever gotten you was a ring, a gorgeous piece of silver and emeralds that Cecilia had taken, stoll right from your pudgy two year old hands. You had never even gotten to hold it as an adult. You didn't miss it, not really. But you hated the trait you shared with Cecilia, a sense of selfishness, and a love for jewelry.

It was on your sixteenth birthday, sitting at a table alone as you were blowing out the birthday candles, that you truly cried without the comfort of your pillows. Cecilia was out, and as you eat your cake, you soon come to realize that you had grown up too fast. You had been an adult since the moment Martha was fired and you had sat in the cold walls of your beige playroom, crying and crying for comfort, something that would never find you again. You were a shell, a puppet, a beautiful china doll empty of love. You were Cecilia. The house laughed at your plight, as you sobbed into your pillow, muffling your feelings into the comforting silk.

It was a hot summer day, a few weeks after you turned seventeen when Cecilia broke the news. You were sitting by the pool, sunbathing in your swimsuit. Cecilia simply walked in, spared you a glance, and informed you she was getting married. You felt a small shiver of surprise run up your spine. Cecilia had had many boyfriends, yes, but she never married them. This man had to be different. Or maybe it was her age, and her fading looks. You hated the spike of happiness that pillaged though your heart, you hated how feelings of hatred turned you into a spiteful shrew, just like Cecilia. Cecilia had cracked open a beer, flipping through her magazine, sparing you one last glance. “He has sons, two of them.” She had said, closing the screen door behind her.

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“There you are, Name. You're late.” Cecilia said, giving you her usual faintly disapproving stare mixed with disgust. You still quail under it, even though it's the same one you’ve seen for years and years and years. You still fear her disapproval, even after all.

“I'm sorry Cecilia.” You say, straightening your spine. You're still in your school uniform, and the bus was late but you know better than to give excuses. Cecilia doesn't care for those. The little skirt and blazer combo is one of your favorites, and the only thing you truly love about St. Catherine's private school for young ladies. The walls of St Catherines are barren and cold, but not as cold as your own. Cecilia flips her hair, looking perfectly put together as always, although her age is beginning to show around her eyes. She hates it, you know, and you love it. You can't wait for Cecilia to wither away, her personal worst nightmare.

“Don't embarrass me, Name.” Cecilia says, her cold eyed stair rooting you to your place. “Just smile pleasantly and entertain your step brothers, alright Sweetheart?” She says. The pet name reeks of disinterest but her disinterest is preferable to her anger. For when Cecilia angers the foundations of the very house shake. You nod, and Cecilia takes that as enough. A knock sounds on the door, and any ugly expression is gone from her face as she flies for the door, opening it and hopping into the arms of the man behind it.

He’s your mothers usual type, tall and handsome, but several years older than you would have guessed. He spins her around, and they kiss. You look away. There are two boys standing behind him on the doorstep, and to your surprise they also look away from the torrid display. Their strange boys, both around the same height, but that is the only thing they share in common. They don't even really look related, but who are you to judge? Done with their display, Cecilia and her new husband step through the door, still attached at the hip. Cecilia throws you a glare, and you put on your customary smile, a smile so fake you feel like a barbie doll.

“My daughter, Name.” Cecilia almost imperceptibly grimaces at the word daughter, gesturing at you. You smile. “Hello.” You say, feeling like a fake. The man gives you a smile, gesturing at his sons, who have stepped through the door, and now stand on either side of him and Cecilia. “My sons, Fyodor and Osamu.” The one on the right smiles at you, the other one simply gives you a nod. They're so different, you’d almost think them adopted. But you can see their features in their father.

The smiling one, Osamu, has short wavy brown hair and sparkling brown eyes. He gives you a tiny wave, and you feel your smile become genuine for a second, before you catch yourself. The ones who smile are more dangerous, you had learned long ago. They lure you with kindness and hit you with force. He’s dressed in a wrinkled button down and uniform pants, his posture casual with his hands in his pockets. A matching tie hangs crooked on his neck. It's the uniform for your school, or the boys school across the street. St. Catherines school for young ladies and St. Andrews school for young men share a single campus separated by a metal fence.

The one on the left side is pale, almost sickly pale, with dark circles to match his long dark hair. It looks soft, his hair, and brushes just below his jaw. H’s eyes are dark, and they run over your face, almost as if they're checking for cracks in your composure. He’s dressed in the same uniform, but his appearance is more neat. His tie is tied correctly, and he wears a black jacket over the rest of his uniform. They are strange boys, but you are very used to strange after all.

“Name? Entertain your new brothers, Sweetheart.” Cecilia says. You wince at the nickname. You hate that nickname, you hate it so much. “Yes Cecilia.” You bite out, smile still in place. You feel empty, like a porcelain doll. A tool Cecilia can use and discard at any moment. You feel disposable. You hate it.

⋆｡ °✩

Your new brothers are kind, if a little strange. The quiet one with pretty hair, Fyodor, is a year older than you. He plays cello and dislikes Cecilia, which makes you like him a lot. Fyodor treated you with an amount of distance at first, but slowly warmed up to you when he found out you play piano. He had informed you one day, when he was helping you with homework, that his mother was a Russian supermodel. And he’s handsome, you're not really surprised. He’s kind in a quiet kind of way, less teasing than his younger brother. You also notice how he subtly moves forward, shielding you whenever Cecilia is angry. You love him for it, that protectiveness.

Osamu is younger than you by about six months, and loud. He quite clearly makes it his goal to be the loudest person in the room and you love how it annoys Cecilia every time he steals her thunder. He’s a very touchy person as well, unlike his brother. He would comfort you with jokes when he saw you were down, and could not cook for the life of him. His reaction to Cecilia was the most reactionary. He taunted her, shot smart alec remarks in her direction, or just plain ignored her. And every time he got a reaction. Cecilia’s face would flush red with anger, and she would strike out, just to be dodged with a snarky little comment. And the more angry she got, the more pleased Osamu became

And they hate each other, the brothers. At first you had thought they got along well, but then you noticed the snarky little comments they would trade back and forth, the glares behind their parents back. Everything is a constant competition, be it a board game or report cards they make it their goal to beat the other each time. And you don't really mind, the house feels warm and full of life, and you feel included. To them, life seems a game, and the people who live it merely pieces, to be moved to and fro to their pleasure. You must assume yourself a spectator, not a piece, but if you were a piece you would like to be the queen. Cecilia didn't like your new brothers, that much was obvious. But she still used them to belittle you every chance she got.

“Your brothers got all A+.” She would say, pinning you with that faintly disgusted expression she used as default. “And you got an A.” You would surrender to your room to cry in peace, away from Cecilia's proud eyes, and the prying ears of your much to perceptive brothers.

But if they shared anything, it was a sense of mystery. Because each of them never allowed you to get too close, keeping you forever just a length away. You tried not to take it personally, but you still shed a tear or two.

But for the first time in many years, you were happy. The house congratulated you, as its hallways filled with laughter to replace to silence, its rooms with color to replace the beige. Cecilia was as unpleasant as ever, but she was busy with her husband, and left you and your step brothers to their own devices. But still you feared it would all go away. That soon, they would tire of you, that they would never let you close, that Cecilia would grow tired of her husband and toss out the trash as she always did. It was a nagging fear that came back to haunt you in dreams, until you woke up in a cold sweat.

And there's an odd tension that hovers in the air, whenever you and the brothers interact. A strange tension that makes your blood sing with excitement, that leaves you on your toes with anticipation. When Osamu slings his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a loose hug of sorts. When Fyodor pulls your hair behind your ear, his cold fingers brushing your face, leaving goosebumps in their wake. It's a tension you’ve felt before, a tension you don't want to give name to, a tension that scares you. But then, you're sure it's just you, that your new brothers simply treat you as a sister, like how you should treat them. You should not desire your step brothers, Cecilia had told you the night before they moved in. But then again, Cecilia had never been a very good role model.

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It's raining, big fat drops pattering against the roof, wind splattering the droplets against the window panes. A faint clatter can be heard from outside, as if the wind itself is crying, banging at the doors. The wind sounded lonely. It banged on the doors of the world, begging to be let into the light, much like you had when you were young. You wanted to comfort the wind, to hold her in your arms with the warmth you had never been given, but everyone knew you could not hold the wind. So you simply told her to stay strong, and let the night and rain embrace her for you.

You would always read when it rained. You remembered a book you had read long ago. It had been the one to solidify the wind as lonely, and had been oh so impressionable to your young mind. ‘Keep strong wind’ it read, ‘keep strong and soon the rain and night will hold you in their comforting embrace, will keep you warm and happy…’. You had always seen yourself in the lonely wind, and had dreamed of your rain and night to comfort you. The library had long been your only comfort, and you begged for human comfort, human warmth.(You didn't dare to hope that your step brothers could be your night and rain, because you knew god would hear you and laugh in your face. Because god loved Cecilia, not worthless you.)

Cecilia and her husband are gone, on a weekend trip to Hawaii. You were not invited, because of course not, and neither were your brothers.

The house is almost silentand with Osamu out at book club the house seems to sigh in relief, giving itself time to relax before the loudness returns.

You are curled up on the couch with a book, listening to Fyodor as he practices his Cello. It's a cozy evening, the fire crackling in the grate, the strains of the first movements of Brahms – Cello Sonata No. 1 floating through the cozy atmosphere. You hear the piano part along with him unconsciously, fingers tapping your things in rhythm. You can never quite beat the musician out of you, it's embedded into your very being at this point.

Brahms – Cello Sonata No. 1, the first movement is a deep piece, and slightly depressing if you're being honest. But you love the melancholy that surrounds it. It creates a certain air, allowing the instruments to tangle together beautifully almost as if the melodies are dancing together. They twist like lovers, the parts, dipping one then the other, a beautifully teasing medley of pure emotion, something you could never truly give in life. It would be nice to dance with Fyodor, he was such an elegant human being, from the way he walked to his looks. You imagined the two of you would sail across the floor of the ballroom, his gloved hand on your waist, twirling you and spinning you and only looking at you. You wanted him to gaze upon you with reverence, much like the men your mother married gazed upon her. You want to be loved.

The Cello part comes to an end, and you sit silently for a moment, hesitant to break the spell. Then Fyodor's accented voice, still slightly hushed, breaks through the atmosphere. “How was it?” He says. You love his accent, it feels all full and warm. “Good, good as always.” You say, putting a finger in your book and looking up. “You were a bit sharp on the first note of measure twenty seven.” You're reading Pride and Prejudice, again. You’ve always loved it, and have read it some many times you’ve simply lost count.

Fyodor sighs, leaning back in his chair and resting his cello back into its case. “You always catch my mistakes. What would I do without you, Name.” He says with a small smile. Your heart warms at the praise, your smile threatening to break out of its confinements, all together and split your face in two. You tamp it down, putting on a face of disinterest you're not sure he believes. You always get the vague feeling that your brothers know you better than you know yourself.

You flip through the channels on tv, happy to have control of the remote. It's all the usual, sports games and real housewives and spanish game show episodes. You put on a random movie, which sounded interesting. ‘Essential object of enjoyment,’(is a title that to anyone else would scream softcore porn film, to you, still a sheltered girl of seventeen years old, it seemed as innocent as a daisy. You were not a virgin, but inexperienced and somewhat oblivious, so at odds with your calm adult attitude.) Fyodor plops himself on the couch next to you, a tedious foot away. He seemed too far away but all at once to close, the heat of his body a tease beside you. You clench your legs together, pulling in on yourself.

The film is about a young woman named Maria, who is taking a vacation on a very sketchy manor in a strange small town. It's a low budget film, with crappy acting and even crappier scares, but it's entertaining and you find yourself settling in against the couch, slowly leaning closer and closer to the warm human beside you. And soon, as Maria decides to ignore all the advice of the locals and enter the abandoned church late at night, you're so close your shoulders are almost touching, and finally, you dare to lean into him.

He lets you, slinging an arm around your shoulders with an excuse none of you are listening to anyway, and pulls a small blanket over your bare legs. “You're cold aren't you?” he says, voice hushed in your ear. You shiver, with a nod. You arent that cold, but you want to be close to him, to feel his heat, his warmth. You're sure he knows this, and you let yourself feel hopeful for once, curling into his body like a pedigree cat.

And as you watch the movie, heart pounding in your throat, it dawns on you that something is very clearly wrong. The budget is too cheap, but the camera work is too advanced, the camera’s to expensive. The acting is too bad, but the actress has professionally done makeup and hair. And then, as you watch Maria get tied up by the clean masked man, it all makes too much sense. It's softcore porn. You move for the remote, fishing around for it on the couch, desperately. You're already flushing, your thighs rubbing together as you reach around for it. The idea of watching a porn film with your step brother is humiliating and embarrassing and frustratingly arousing.

“Do you need something?” Fyodor says, rubbing little soft patterns in your shoulder, pulling you closer to him. You nod. “The remote, gonna switch channels.” You're already flushing, but have stopped your frantic fishing for the remote. He frowns in disappointment and you automatically tense, so used to Cecilia’s disappointed or angry stares. “Can we leave it, I'm actually enjoying it.” He says. You glance at the screen, where Maria is now being threatened by a knife. You desperately want to say no, but the people pleaser in you insist you agree. And so, you sink back into his touch, flushing.

‘Where is it? Where is it?’ The masked man is saying to Maria. The film takes a moment to focus on the actress’s bountiful chest, and you try not to writhe with embarrassment and jealousy. You bet Fyodor likes big boobs, Cecilia said all men like big boobs. Her’s are fake, but you don't feel the need to protest and get a slap.

The bad guy of the film is a man in a purple mask. He’s thin in stature, and tall, overwhelming Maria’s small frame. He reminds you distinctly of the man sitting beside you, with his face hidden like that. He has a russian accent in the film as well, just like the man beside you, and as he whispers in her ear it does stuff to you.

‘Tell me where it is or there will be consequences.’ the man in the mask says.

‘I will never tell you!’ Maria says definitely. You watch in horror as the masked man's thin fingers slip between her thighs. The camera cuts to her face of surprise. It's clear that this is where the actress’s true chops shine, as her mouth drops open in a little oh of surprise.

You feel hot, biting back a whimper as you press your thighs together, hoping that your step brother doesn't notice.

‘Your such a slut for my fingers aren't you?’ The man in the mask bends Maria over a table, the camera now showing a cut of his hands pulling her thighs apart. All you can picture in your mind is you as Maria, and the man in the mask as Fyodor. When the man in the film speaks all you can hear is Fyodor’s voice, his teasing lines, him all him all him.

And then, the other bad guy of the film appears. And honestly it should shock you out of your dirty fantasies, but the other man, this one in a teal mask, sounds very similar to your other step brother.

You can imagine yourself in Maria's place, bent over a table like that, fingers shoved up your cunt, dick keeping you silent. And most of all, pretty praises falling out of your step brother's mouths. ‘Such a pretty girl, such a smart girl, so good for us, such a slut for us—’

Fyodor’s eyes are on you, you can feel them even as you focus resolutely on the screen. He speaks near your ear, a pur, a whisper, a tease ment for seduction. “What are you imagining, darling?” He says. He speaks like he already knows, and through your haze of arousal clouding your brain you let the words escape before you can stop them.

“Fingers in my cunt.” You say, your voice a whimper. Maria on the screen begins to moan, loudly. The volume goes down on screen and you're too lust clouded to question why Fyodor had the remote.

“You want fingers in your pretty cunt baby?” Fyodor purrs in your ear, his long pale fingers teasing the edge of your uniform skirt. “You want my fingers stuffed up that tight cunt of yours? Would that feel good?” You whine, head falling back against his arm, eyes falling closed.

“Oh yes, please.” Your voice is embarrassing, all breathy and whiny. This whole situation is illogical, and if you were able to see through the haze of lust in your brain you would have backpedaled immediately. But you're horny and in love and he’s encouraging you.

His fingers caress the edge of your panties, teasing you with glances of touches, driving you crazy. You grip his arm, the one teasing your pussy and shove the hand against your drooling cunt. The man beside you bites back a groan, muffling his pleasure, but you hear it. It reassures you that he wants you too, but also drives you insane, craving sweet relief with his touch.

Fyodor’s fingers find purchase, clever musicians' hands pulling back the crotch of your panties. He chuckles as you clutch his arm, still clothed in his loose white turtleneck and jeans. “You're so wet darling, your little cunt is absolutely drooling.” he says, his accent doing things to your brain, to your pussy. Your eyes catch on the dirty picture. He drags his fingers through, collecting a fair bit of wetness and popping his fingers in his mouth. The picture is nasty. He keeps eye contact all throughout, sucking his fingers wetly, the dirty slurping sounds filling the room.

“Here darling.” He holds out his wet fingers, dripping with a mix of saliva and your own arousal. “Suck.” He says. You take them in your mouth obediently, tasting the mix of arousal and saliva. The very idea that you're tasting him, that you're tasting his very being, makes your abandoned cunt clench around nothing, the nasty slurping sounds you make only fueling the arousal perfuming the air. At some point Fyodor had turned off the porn, and now the only sounds that fill the room are from the two of you. A different kind of music than that you're used to, a symphony of debauchery.

His fingers leave your mouth with a pop, and you open your eyes. He smiles at you, all hazy eyes and spit slicked lips. “Good girl.” He says, and then shoves both fingers in your cunt. You arch off the couch at the abrupt intrusion, clenching down hard around his fingers with a scream. ‘Oh, oh god Fyodor!” You say, panting. He looks vaguely proud as he scissors you open, watching as you thrash around on his fingers, bucking desperately.

The sound of the door slamming penetrates the haze, and you grip Fyodor’s fingers, trying to stop him. He just continues to fuck you open, grining all the while.

“Man, fuck you Fyodor.” It's Osamu, looking less surprised and more annoyed. Fyodor just continues grinning as you moan on his fingers, drooling pussy on display. “I consider this a win then?” He says, smirking. Ah, another one of their competitions. You would pay more attention but your being fucked open by Fyodor’s long relentless fingers. You keen as he adds another one, gripping his arm with a nasty whine.

Osamu speaks to Fyodor, but his eyes are fixed on you. “It's not over yet, you fucker.” He says, slamming his backpack down on the floor and sauntering over to you. “Name declares the winner. Deal?” Fyodor, now rubbing a thumb on your clit nods, holding out his other hand to shake. “Deal, that sound good darling?” You nod around your moans, not truly comprehending what that means. Osamu sends you a rather scary looking grin and pounces.

They move you into a doggy position first, Fyodor replacing his fingers with his cock. You're already so close, and as you feel the large intrusion bully your walls apart you cum right there, your head falling against the couch cushions. “Oh, oh, oh god, ‘m coming!” You scream, drooling onto the couch. Fyodor grunts behind you. “You're tight.” He coos. Osamu grips your jaw, draggin you off the ouch to look at him. “So pretty too, just perfect aren't you.” His dick is already hard in his jeans, you can see the bulge as Fyodor begins to move, fucking you through the overstime. You whine in pain, the sharp pains of overstimulation mixing with the blinding pleasure they give you. Dazai chuckles.

“We’re going to fuck you do good darling.” He says, running a gentle hand through your hair. “Make you feel our love.”

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It's when you're three orgasms deep, and you're hung over the couch backwards, a dick down your throat and cum dripping from your pussy, that you maybe start to have second thoughts. Their stamina seems endless, and they bring to the edge relentlessly, their competitive natures making them drive you to orgasm after orgasm. The world is hazy at this point, and all you feel is pleasure, all you hear is their voices, all you want is them, them them.

“Switch her around Osamu.” Fyodor says, his accent rough though the haze. You feel yourself hoisted up, and now you're folded into a mating press and Fyodor’s fat cock is bullying your walls again. Cum leaks out of all your holes, the loud squelching sound letting you know that you're thoroughly ruining Cecilia's favorite couch. You're covered in sweat, completely naked and makeup ruined, and to the boys you’ve never looked so pretty. They tell you at length, compliments showered on your exhausted form.

And as you cum yet again, clenching around Fyodor’s dick with a weak cry, you feel so loved, so appreciated, and so optimistic.

And then you bended into another position, Dazai’s dick lodged into your ass, Fyodor’s in your dripping cunt.

⋆｡ °✩

“So, which of us won anyway?” It's Dazai, and he sounds plenty exhausted. You sigh tiredly, holes dripping cum onto the carpet and exhausted. “Draw.” Is all you manage to pant out.

Fyodor beside you chuckles. “I guess we’ll have to have a rematch then.” You're exhausted, but you feel your pussy clench tiredly at the mention of that. “Yeah.” You sigh out tiredly. The boys chuckle beside you, each pressing a kiss to your cheeks.

“Love you Name.” You hear them whisper in your ear. You smile as you drift off the sleep.

End Notes: I am actually a piano player, and every time I listen to classical pieces nowadays I feel really bad because I haven't been practicing lately because my piano teacher is taking a break because she had a baby.

#bungou stray dogs #mariannacrxss #kinktober 2023 #bsd smut #helplesslypurple77kinktober #kinktober #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #dazai x reader #dazai smut #fyodor x reader

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staincastle · 11 months

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⠀⠀⠀★ rina's message is here! spider-man headers

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angel-of-the-moons · 8 months

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Cycles

Miguel O'Hara x Spider-Woman!Reader

TW/Content Warnings: NSFW, Smut, PIV Sex, Heat/Rut Cycles, Territorial, bit of Feral!Miguel, improper use of webs, pheromones, hormones, predator/prey dynamic if you squint, Unprotected Sex, Biting, Scratching, Bondage(?), Breeding Kink (c'mon we all know Miguel has one), established relationship, boyfriend/girlfriend, rough sex, oral sex, blowjob

MINORS DNI: I am not responsible for the content that you are about to read/consume, if you are upset by the themes in this fic, do not read it and scroll on by!

A/N: For context, you are a Spider-Woman who is one of (maybe the only) the few Spiders who have similar powers to Miguel. This is my first Miguel x Reader fic I've ever written, and my first fic ever posted here on Tumblr! (Header does not indicate reader's race)

Earth 7164. New York. Middle of summer.

The scent hit him the moment he tore through the portal. A heavy, sweet, earthy scent that flooded his whole body with a rush of adrenaline. Even the fat droplets of summer rain that fell from the dingy skyline did little to diminish that delicious, mouth watering scent.

Your scent.

His body was trembling as he rolled his shoulders in an attempt to rid himself of the tension that roped its way through his heavy muscles. His talons flexed as he gritted his teeth, each drag of his lungs pulling your scent into his body.

Miguel O'Hara was a man who would claim he had a good sense of control over his urges. He would also say he was a good boyfriend, attentive. A bit protective (some would say possessive).

But, he had been neglecting you as of late, his duties in the Spider Society and ensuring the safety of the universe had kept him away from you these past few weeks, and he almost lost track until he felt that familiar boiling of his blood, an itch that he knew could only be scratched by you.

And he knew that you would be experiencing a similar situation to him, almost parallel. In fact, he surmised you were probably the only Spider who had similar powers. The only difference was that whereas Miguel's powers were (sort of) intentional, and other Spiders were given to them after being bitten by radioactive spiders... You were born like this. They didn't know why. Hell, you didn't know why.

You had the venom (you could consciously control how much you pumped out in every bite), you had your own talons (although yours were a part of your nails, not in the pads of his fingers and toes), the wall crawling abilities, natural web-shooting...

And your cycle. At first having you around was torture on his senses when it would roll around. It would start with your scent changing; the dampness he picked up from between your legs making the blood rush straight to his dick. More often than he'd like he'd have to excuse himself to his private lab to jerk himself off until he felt some of his clarity return.

But it was always just a temporary relief. It only got worse when your breeding cycle and his rut cycle synced up, resulting in the two of you needing to almost be sedated and kept away from each other. (How Lyla kept that under wraps, Miguel never knew.)

And once your dynamic shifted and you started seeing each other, and eventually getting intimate... well. He was positive that Jess or Peter suspected what was up... Especially when he would disappear to your universe for a week or so, only to come back in a slightly better mood, small dark patches peeking out from beneath the collar of his suit, or you would be walking funny or unable to sit comfortably.

Right now, though, those thoughts were shoved to the back of his mind. The only thing he could think of was you. He could smell you, taste you in the air. This was your territory, and he... Could be considered an intruder, depending on your mood.

A male spider waltzing into a pissed off and horny female spider's web during breeding season.

Shaking his head, he took another deep drag of the air around him, the smell of the city mixing with your earthy, almost fruity tones. Your scent was faded slightly, but he could still use it to track you beneath the smog, garbage, and vehicle exhaust.

It's not like he didn't know where your apartment was... But he knew during this period of time you'd be restless, irritable, angry.

And mind-numbingly horny.

Miguel launched himself up, slinging his wrist out and using his glowing webs to propel himself in between the buildings and skyscrapers; leaping, flipping, arching through the sky in a red-and-blue blur.

He knew he was closing in on you. Your scent was all but strangling him, choking the air and what little sanity he was clinging to right out of him.

He should have known you were waiting.

Miguel was rammed into with the speed of a runaway train, the oxygen he so desperately needed ripped from his lungs as he tumbled with a roll onto the rooftop below, landing on all fours as his talons dug into the concrete and tar, leaving deep grooves as he slowed himself.

He lifted his gaze to see you land in front of him, chest heaving, body trembling.

"I have been waiting for you, for almost two weeks." You wheezed out.

"Hell of a way to greet me, querida." Miguel grunted, pulling himself to his feet.

Beneath your mask, he knew your eyes immediately dragged down to the hard bulge pressing against his suit, the hard outline of it sending a fresh throb of arousal straight to your core.

"The kick was a bit much." He said, trying to maintain a professional composure.

But his control was quickly slipping.

"Shut the fuck up."

The short rebuke didn't surprise him.

"Should have been here days ago." Miguel said, swallowing hard at the lump in his throat. "I know that. But--"

You cut him off by lunging at him, hurling your full weight onto him and pinning him down beneath you.

The heat between your legs felt like it melted through his suit, burning the skin beneath and causing a fever to spread.

You raised your fist to bring it down on his face but his reflexes allow him to catch it, gripping you like a steel vice. His other hand gripped your thigh as he planted his feet on the rooftop, rolling to pin you beneath him, his massive frame caging you in.

He squeezed your hips between his thighs, muscles tensing and twitching, breathing heavy. Your free hand reached out and clawed at him, tearing at his suit, leaving a rainbow of glitched out fabric behind, small droplets of blood rushing forth to drip down his tanned skin.

He gritted his teeth at the sensation, the sweet burn sending another wave of heat through his body that made his cock twitch.

You were past talking, past negotiating and being civil. You knew what you wanted, and you wanted it now.

You breathed heavily, gritting your teeth as Miguel gripped your thigh and forced your knee by your head, squeezing the plushest part as his face dragged down to the dark patch soaking through the fabric of your suit.

Using this new position, you kicked at him square in his chest and threw him off of you.

Before he could right himself, you rolled to your feet and jumped off the roof, shooting a web to sling you away from him.

Sure, you were horny and wanted to ride his cock til he couldn't see straight for a month. But he had been gone for weeks and you had been struggling with your own self-care, your measley silicone toys and vibrators barely able to compare with that womb-punching length that Miguel crammed into you, or his skillful and knowledgeable hands rubbing you until your eyes rolled back. But right now, you were pissed.

He wanted your pussy? He was going to have to work for it.

And if that meant playing your cat and mouse game for an hour, building the anticipation and making his cock leak; aching, desperate for a taste of you? So be it.

You played this game for a while, teasing him, getting within arms reach before yanking yourself away at the last possible second, thwarting his attempts to catch you.

Sometimes you liked to play with your food.

But all games come to an end. And this one had an abrupt ending when Miguel headed you off, tackling you to the roof of some abandoned warehouse, pinning you down on your belly, hands above your head.

"Bout fucking time I caught you. Tu pequeño bromista.." (You little tease.) He snarled, leaning down to your ear as his mask dissipated from his head, letting his wavy chocolate hair fall free, damp strands plastering themselves to his forehead.

His eyes were wild, red and glowing; pupils blown wide.

"Fuck you." You hiss, squirming under him.

"Oh, sucederá en, no te preocupes." (Oh, don't worry, it will happen.)

Miguel raised his free hand and brought it down hard on your ass, making you bite your lip to contain the mewl that tried to claw its way out of your throat.

"Look at you, now, hermosa." He sneered, his chest huffing in a small, humorless laugh. "I can fucking smell you from a mile off."

He reached down and cupped your mound, his fingers squishing slightly in the damp fabric of your suit; but once again you deny him a moan, instead biting into your lip, fangs threatening to puncture your lip.

You squirm an arm free and go to elbow him in the face, get him off of you. (Or under you.)

But he predicted that. That's what always got you going when you were in the middle of your cycle. You liked it rough.

His large hand completely encircled your elbow and forced your arm back down. Quickly, he used his glowing, laser-webs to secure your wrists together before he gripped the fabric of your suit with his talons, shredding it as he yanked you over so you were on your back.

Miguel smiled and yanked your mask off of your head, tossing it to the side before gripping your chin with his fingers, putting enough pressure to keep your eyes on his.

"Now... What should I do with you?" He said contemplatively, tapping your cheek with his index finger, making a show of thinking, his eyes dragging over the flushed features on your face, your tongue darting out to wet your dry lips.

"Ah. That's it." He grinned, his slightly askew teeth gleaming in the dark. He grips you by the front of your torn suit and pulls you to your knees as he stands.

He grips the crotch of his suit, and rips at it with his talons, the torn edges doing that kaleidoscopic glitch of colors as his cock springs free from its confines; large, twitching, angry red tip leaking in excitement.

You have to bite your tongue to keep in your little groan, your heart soaking through and dripping out through your suit.

"Hmh." He grunted, annoyed. "I'll loosen your fucking mouth. I've been keeping myself under control this whole time. But now? I'm not going to be gentle."

He gripped your hair, just shy of painful as he dragged your head to his crotch, the tip of his cock smearing his precum across your cheek.

"Chúpalo." (Suck it.)

You finally give in, your hands bound in your lap as you drag your tongue along a prominent vein in the velvety skin of his shaft, earning a deep, rumbling groan from him that you swore sent vibrations straight to your cunt, making you flutter around nothing.

You pull your head back and swirl your tongue around the tip, pulling and tugging as you lap at his slit, eagerly tasting every drop of pre he was giving you before diving in and taking the rest of his tip in your mouth, bobbing your head in a steady rhythm.

He massaged your scalp, his talons tickling the skin under your hair as he encouraged you to continue.

But you knew his calm demeanor wasn't going to last. It wasn't long before he grabbed at your hair with both hands, forcing you to choke down on his length, just shy of blocking off your airway as he fucked your face, the tension and stress from your cat and mouse game coming out as his tip kept shoving at your throat, your nose brushing the dark curly hairs at the base, his balls slapping your chin with every thrust; saliva pooling around his length as you keep your fangs pulled back as you let him use your throat like a fleshlight.

You close your jaw microscopically, fangs grazing the flesh.

"Míralo!" (Watch it!) He reprimanded, pulling your hair roughly to pull you back, his cock springing out of your lips with a wet pop, saliva connecting the tip with the soft pink muscle in your mouth like a weak bridge.

"Be a good girl." He snarled, pulling you back down on his length, barely letting you catch your breath before forcing you all the way down, tears welling up in your eyes and falling down your cheeks as you choked and gagged.

You knew exactly how to lick, suck, and tug at his cock to get the best reactions, the most delicious sounds from him.

You snuck a glance up at him, watching as he tipped his head back with a throaty groan as you greedily swallowed him down.

You moaned around him; his cock throbbed.

You felt him twitch, felt his hips sputter as he gritted his teeth.

"Fuckin' close." He snarled, looking down at you as your eyes connected with his feral ones.

You rocked your clothed cunt on your heel, trying desperately to get some friction to your aching clit. Miguel caught this motion, and held you down on his cock, choking you from not letting you ease off.

"You're not allowed to touch yourself." He said through gritted teeth, pulling your head back with a harsh tug, letting you get a gulp of air before voraciously fucking your mouth again. You obeyed his command, sitting in your slick that was dripping down and out of you, your folds puffy and neglected.

"Fuck..." He breathed heavily, he could feel that burn, that coil about to snap, his blood boiling and rushing straight to the tip of his dick as he felt his balls draw tight.

You moaned softly around him, gagging slightly before that rush of heat flooded your mouth as you worked your throat to swallow every last drop of the load he was feeding you.

Miguel panted, dragging some much needed air in his lungs as he let you pull back, hacking and coughing as your airways flooded with oxygen again. You grin maliciously and bite down on his thigh. No venom of course, but just enough to remind him you were there, earning you a sharp glare and a slap to the back of your head as you licked your lips.

He ran a hand through his hair, and it wasn't but a moment later before he yanked you to your feet, and shoved his tongue past your lips to overpower yours, tasting his cum lingering on your breath as his heavy rut-scent flooded your nose. You moaned shamelessly into the kiss, biting and tugging at each others lips until a burst of cooper flooded your mouth.

Miguel pulled away and licked at his bloody lip, before his mouth twisted into a snarl. He barreled into you, forcing you against a rooftop air-conditioning unit.

His hand reached down as he ripped at your suit, your breasts bouncing free.

Of course you weren't wearing a fucking bra. Probably no panties either. Because you were just that fucking horny and desperate.

He leaned down and took one of your pebbling nipples in his mouth, biting and sucking roughly as you push your head back against the unit, the metal bumping as you do, a strangled cry coming from you.

He pulled back, before delving back down and putting the same torture on your other tit. This time however he pulled back, biting down on the marshmallowy flesh, making you mewl out as his tongue laves over the mark he made.

"Miguel!" You snarl, thrashing your leg to kick at him, your frustration and neglect finally getting to you.

Miguel caught your flailing lim and forced it up, pinning it against the air-conditioning unit with another shot of his webs, before securing your already bound hands with more, above your head.

He pressed his forehead against yours, his hot and heavy breath ghosting over your sweaty skin, before his hands once again swiped and gripped at your cunt, pawing at it like a cat kneading a blanket.

Miguel lazily dragged two fingers torturously slow up your slit, before punching your clit hard through the fabric.

"You've been misbehaving... But I know you're just going to keep acting out until I give you what you want." Miguel sneered into your ear.

You whimpered, arching into his touch as he pulled away, making a frustrated sob at the lack of contact.

You nearly had the air punched out of your lungs when Miguel dropped to his knees, inhaling the scent of your soaked pussy like it was a drug he needed a hit of. He opened his mouth and dragged his tongue up the soaked fabric, before latching on and sucking.

Now this was new. Getting eaten out through the fabric of your clothes. There was too much contact but somehow not enough as he rutted his nose at your clit, sucking more at your folds drawing more of your slick through the fabric.

You thrashed against his webs, trying so hard to roll your hips and fuck his face, but with the way you were pinned, you were at his mercy, especially when he hoisted your free leg over his shoulder. He pressed two fingers against your covered hole as he furiously suckled your clit.

Your orgasm crashed into you so hard you couldn't even manage a scream, your mouth just hung open on a silent cry, eyes rolling back as a fresh gush of slick leaked through your suit.

Miguel smiled against you and tore your suit's crotch open, and you shivered as the humid, summer air made contact with your slick and creamy folds. You barely had a second to realize what was happening before Miguel plunged back in, his nose rutting your clit once more as I sucked at your cream, your slick covering his chin.

Miguel was the best sexual partner you ever had, he knew exactly how to eat you out to the point you lost your voice without even using it.

Just as your second orgasm was creeping up on you, he pulled his mouth away, wiping his face clean with the back of his hand and licking his chops like a dog eyeing a juicy stake.

His cock bobbed against his stomach as he stood, a steady stream of precum dribbling out of the tip and to the ground below.

He pulled your free leg to wrap around his waist as he slid the underside of his cock against your puffy cunt.

Miguel bit down on your shoulder, hard as he forced himself into you with one brutal thrust, pushing the air out of your lungs as he punched your guts through your womb with his cock, spearing you wide as he set a rapid, relentless pace for the both of you.

You uttered breathless pleas, praises, and incoherent mumblings with each thrust; the two of you grunting and moaning in each others ears like rabid animals, Miguel's cock slamming home into your pussy, squelching, dripping, the slap of skin and hips colliding filling the very atoms around you.

Your body screamed, cried, ached for him to fuck you, fill you up to the brim.

Miguel's tip crammed against your cervix in such a brutal way that you swore he bullied himself into your womb with every thrust. It was a blossoming pain that bled into pleasure, quickly bringing you back to the edge of your second orgasm that he had denied you.

"That's it, baby." Miguel snarled in your ear. "Ah... So tight for me. You want me?"

You nodded, whimpering and sobbing into his shoulder.

"Want me to fuck you til you can't walk for a week? Stretch you til all you can think of is my cock?" He said, his voice edging on a gleeful tone as he pants, turning his head and licking at the sweat on your neck.

"Want me to fucking breed you?"

You bite into his shoulder at that, whimpering as his suit glitches around your fangs and you lick at the blood welling up.

He hissed, and his pace became frantic, almost angry as he reaches down and pinches your clit like before, and your orgasm comes flooding through every blood vessel in your body as you jerk mindlessly against him, your pussy crushing down on him, milking him for everything he can give you.

He moans loudly in your ear, snapping his hips up into yours, balls slapping your ass as you cry out, sobs wracking your chest as your vision blurs and the tension rips out of you.

You whimper, and hiccup against him when he forces himself into you one last time, his tip kissing that oh so lovely spot inside as he pumps his heavy and sticky load deep inside your pussy, dripping out of you with each jagged thrust as he fucks you through his orgasm.

When Miguel's hips still, his hand pets at your hair as he kisses your jaw, nipping the skin there as he slices the webs holding your legs and hands up.

"Mmmmh. I needed that." Miguel sighed into your hair.

You grunted in response, your fists gripping at his suit as you pull him down for a hungry and toothy kiss.

"Take me home and fuck me." You demanded.

All Miguel could do was smile, and carry you back to your apartment. The real trick was keeping his cock sheathed inside of you as he swung from building to building, trying to avoid anybody who may have a camera phone...

But honestly? You didn't care.

However...

The two of you did care, a few weeks later.

When two little pink lines appeared on the stick in your hand.

"Fuck."

#miguel o’hara x reader #atsv miguel #miguel spiderverse #miguel spiderman #spiderman 2099 #miguel O'Hara x you #my writing #spiderverse smut #smut

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mondlevan · 9 months

Text

spider-man: across the spider-verse headers

“♡” or reblog if you save/use — follow me.

twt: @szamofada

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literallykenmaandshoyo · 11 months

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What About Me?

Peter Parker x Female Reader!

Warnings: Angst. Reader is upset because Peter is off being busy as Spider-Man and he's stood her up one too many times for her liking

Word Count: 1.6k

Author's Note: Guys this is my first Peter Parker drabble! YAY!~ I absolutely adore Peter and I wrote this one up earlier tonight and figured it'd be good to share! I hope you all love it, I'm so used to writing fluff that sometimes I forget that writing angst is really good too! Let me know if you have any feedback or requests by sending in an ask, and remember to request Mod Shoyo to be specific! Have a great night (Or morning) everyone!

Also, PicsArt doesn't have the same scrabble letter thingies that Kenma and I have been using for our headers so this one is just a major WTF. Sorry if this looks ugly lol :,)

~Mod Shoyo <3

Y/N sat by her bedroom window, overlooking all of Queens from the seventh floor of her apartment building. Night had fallen and the stars were out, all of the buildings nearby had some office lights still on, people were probably still working, even at this ungodly hour.

That’s one thing that they had in common with her boyfriend Peter.

Being a web-slinging superhero was definitely not on Y/N's list of why Peter Parker could be so distant and just vanish all the time. However, when they first officially started dating, Peter took it upon himself to lay out all of his cards for her right then and there. Y/N was more than understanding and he thanked God for her every single day. Y/N knew that she said she’d be okay with the late nights and the canceled plans, that she’d be up waiting for him during late hours of the night just to make sure he came home safe.

But there was only so much she could take.

She stared down at her text messages with Peter. She asked him if he wanted to come and stay over at her apartment tonight since she’d been missing him a little extra these past couple days. Not only has Tony been working him to the bone, but the crime percentages in Queens seem to have only elevated since Peter would be out all night stopping robberies, saving people from getting mugged or kidnapped, the whole shebang.

I’ll swing over in 10 love <3 11:45 p.m

Y/N looked at the top of her screen and saw that it was 1:57 in the morning. She knew that she got herself into this and she told herself that every time that he was late or had to cancel on her. It wasn’t his fault. Peter was just doing his job, what he signed up to do, so she couldn’t be mad at him. But who could she get mad at?

She looked like a lovesick puppy, just waiting at her window to see the red and blue suit that her boyfriend wore to come swinging over to her building. Tears were streaming down her face and she was making herself more upset by crying over something like this. She grabbed her phone off the windowsill and turned it off, chucking it into a random corner of her room and lying in her bed. She got under her throw blanket on top of her covers and threw it over her head. Her sniffles and soft sobs weren’t loud enough to wake anyone, but a small part of her wished that Peter would walk in and hear how devastated she was.

Being Peter’s girlfriend was a blessing. It was something like a mantra that she told herself every single morning when she woke up. She wanted to be the one he came home to, the one that would make all of his cuts and bruises better after she cleaned him up, she wanted to be the last woman he would ever love in his life. She wanted to be his. Forever. But being in a relationship didn’t always mean that Peter was the one she fussed over all the time. She was entitled to her own feelings and how she felt, and right now, she was sick and tired of waiting up for Peter.

As if right on cue, her bedroom window slid open and in crawled Peter. He was panting, short of breath as soon as he ripped his mask off his face. “I’m so sorry love, there was this guy in an alleyway that wouldn’t leave this group of middle schoolers alone and he-”

Peter stopped dead in his tracks as he looked at Y/N's shaking figure under her throw blanket. He raised an eyebrow and walked over to the bed, his ears picking up on the sounds of her soft sniffles and hiccups. He pulled the blanket off her head and saw her laying in the fetal position. Her hair was covering the side of her face and he couldn’t really see her expression, but he knew that she was upset. Obviously.

“Baby,...” Peter pushed her hair behind her ear and could see her puffy eyes and red nose. “Hey, hey, what’s the matter?”

Y/N sat up in bed and fixed her crazy hair, sniffling and wiping tears off of her cheeks with the sleeves of her shirt. She sputtered and tried to speak, but she didn’t even know what to tell him. Part of her wanted to be straight up and just tell him that this is the seventh time she’s been kept up waiting on him, but the other part of her knew it wasn’t his fault and that she was just upset because he’s been so busy. Just because she was always available for him, doesn’t mean that Peter was always at her dispense too, especially with what he does with his time.

“I…”

Peter waited for her to explain, but she just looked down at her lap and started to cry again. He felt awful and he was so clueless. He thought back to the last time she cried and remembered that she had lost a grandfather recently that she was close to. Maybe it was that. He grabbed her hand and held it in his tightly.

“Is this about your grandpa again, love?”

Y/N shook her head and pulled her hand away from his. Now Peter was really confused. He racked his brain trying to figure out what else it could be, but every single option he came up with just came to a dead end. Y/N couldn’t help but notice how hard he was trying to think, and she found it ironic. He was so intelligent, the smartest guy she’s ever known. Yet he’s so oblivious when it comes to the small things, she always thought that maybe his brain was so big, that the most simple of questions really took a couple of seconds for him to think about.

“I’m just tired, Peter.” She finally croaked.

Peter’s heart fell into his chest. His gaze met hers instantly and he felt his heart pounding in his chest. He always thought about how Y/N never deserved to be with someone like him, not when he has the whole Spider-Man thing going for him. It’s unfair to her. And he always felt like one day she’d get tired of it all, but he was praying to God out of his own selfishness, that today was not that day.

“This…” She hiccuped. “This is the seventh time that I’ve stayed up past what we agreed to see each other at just to see if maybe you needed a little more time to come home.”

Now Peter understood.

“You said you’d only be ten minutes at 11:45 and it's two in the morning now, Peter.” Peter looked down at her hands and noticed that they were trembling. “It’s been so hard for me these past couple times to just tell myself this is what I signed up for. But I miss you so much while you’re gone.”

She broke down in tears again, sobbing into her hands. Her sobs and her hiccups were muffled, but that only made them louder in Peter’s head. She was right, in every way imaginable. He hadn’t been much of a boyfriend recently, only texting her about how much he loved and missed her, sending her a quick selfie while he was mid-swing from one crime to the next. He couldn’t even imagine how lonely she must feel within those gaps of time that he wasn’t messaging her.

“Baby, I- I’m so sorry,” Peter cooed. “I know that I’ve been really busy recently, and I-I can’t even think about how lonely you must feel every single time I do this,”

Y/N looked up from her hands and wiped the snot that was running down her nose. She could barely keep her puffy eyes open enough to look at him.

“Don’t ever tell yourself that this is what you signed up for ever again.” Peter scolded. “I asked you to be my girlfriend because I knew in my heart that I was ready to be your boyfriend. And I still believe that. I haven’t been giving you the attention that you deserve and that’s completely on me. Okay?”

Y/N stayed quiet, staring at him with her bloodshot eyes and a quivering lip. The scary part was over. She was never good with calling people out and telling them how what they’re doing affects her. She’d rather just forgive them and never have to talk about it again. But then, when it happens again, she just puts herself through an endless cycle.

“I just miss you…” Y/N sobbed, wrapping her arms around Peter.

She dug her nose into the crook of his neck, bringing her hands up to the back of his head to feel his hair in between her fingers. When Peter hugged her back, her entire body relaxed and she just let him hold her while she cried into his suit. Peter was rubbing her back comfortingly, whispering sweet things into her ears in between pressing kisses to the top of her head and her temples.

“I’ll do better for you, baby. I promise, okay?”

Y/N nodded.

Peter felt himself getting choked up the entire time Y/N was crying in front of him. The lump in the back of his throat was almost unbearable to push his spit past whenever he swallowed. He held Y/N in his arms for a while longer before finally taking his suit off and changing into some pajamas. He crawled into bed with Y/N and held her once more, the sound of her heart beat finally calming down bringing a soft smile to his face. He kissed the top of her head once more and closed his eyes.

That night, he made a promise to himself.

A promise that she was never going to feel like this ever again.

#marvel #x reader #female reader #marvel x reader #Spider-Man #tom holland #peter parker #peter parker x reader #spider-man x reader #avengers #avengers x reader #fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #spider man homecoming #spider man far from home #spider man no way home #tom holland x reader #tom holland spider man #tom holland peter parker

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naeverse · 6 months

Text

Keep It In The Closet (Halloween Special)

💜 starring: Miguel O’Hara x Shy fem!reader

🍾 preview:

"I didn't know you had that kind of fire in you, Y/N. You always seemed so… timid," he said, his thumb caressing your side, sending a shiver down your spine and igniting a fire within you. "But tonight...

You've been all I’ve thought about."

😈 summary:

Miguel O'Hara finds himself being dragged to a Halloween party by his friend, Peter B. Parker. His disdain for the party quickly dissipates when he is drawn to a mysterious woman in a sleek leopard costume and captivating black mask that seems to move him in ways he'd never thought possible…

🍾 tw/cw: Unprotected sex, Sensory Deprivation, Wall sex, Fingering, Dirty talk, Semi-public sex, Standing, etc…

😈 Pet names: Bebè (Baby), Cariño (Darling), Muñeca (Doll), Gatita (Kitty), Hermosa (Beautiful)

💜rating: 18+ explicit I SMUT I

🍾Word Count: 7.1k

(Every character mentioned is of age!!)

😈Credit to artist in header: sylvaeon

Miguel let out another annoyed groan, his amber eyes rolling in irritation as he rode in the passenger seat beside his friend, Peter B. Parker.

"Come on, Miguel, don't be like that," Peter said, glancing over at the huge, tanned male beside him in the car while he drove. "I promise this party MJ and I are hosting is going to be worth it! Pinky promise!" He joked, even putting his pinky finger up and giving it a shake whilst turning his amber eyes to look at the road in front of them.

Miguel couldn't help but roll his eyes, feeling like he had done it a hundred times already. He muttered under his breath angrily, turning to look out the window, feeling sullen.

"Miguel, it's Halloween night! What were you going to do, huh? Stay cooped up in your office this whole time?"

"Yeah, actually," Miguel replied. The mere thought of spending an entire night among multiple Spider-people already made him feel claustrophobic.

"You know me, Peter. I don't do parties." Miguel growled, keeping his crimson gaze fixed on the window on his passenger side, taking in the many halloween decorations and trick-or-treaters that covered Peter's dimension, Earth-616.

Peter laughed. "I couldn't tell. You seemed pretty prepared, buddy."

Miguel snarled, his eyes glancing down at the outfit he had thoughtfully picked out.

He wore a scarlet, collared button-up shirt that was unbuttoned a few at the top, covered with a black blazer. His black formal slacks and leather oxfords dressed the bottom half of his outfit. To finish the look, he had added some gold jewelry. Golden bands of different sizes and shapes adorned his fingers, and a chain was worn around his neck, accentuating his bronze, defined collarbones and thick throat.

"Shut up and drive," Miguel snarled, earning another laugh from Peter. "Okay, fine, but I promise you, Miguel. When you leave this party tonight, you'll be thankful I dragged you there..."

Miguel sighed, heavily doubting Peter's words.

Miguel felt a huge wave of dread hit him as soon as Peter arrived at the penthouse he rented for his party.

“I can’t have alcohol and drunken spider folk around my baby, Miguel. I have a family now!”

Miguel vividly remembering him rant when he asked the simple question of why a penthouse out of everything.

Miguel let out another heavy exhale, his dark brown eyes wandering the party from the safety of the passenger seat, trying his best to get the lay of the land. He cursed once more under his breath when he turned over to Peter’s side of the car to see a scary clown staring back at him.

“BOO!”

Peter exclaimed, causing only an unfazed grunt to escape Miguel’s lips. “What the fuck are you doing?” Miguel asked nonchalantly, his eyes narrowing in confusion and annoyance. Peter groaned in frustration, pulling the mask up from over his face. “You are no fun Miguel. You could at least pretend to be scared.” Miguel rolled his eyes, his arms crossing over his broad chest. “Why? You look more ridiculous than scary.”

Peter snickered, pulling his mask off to take a look at the clown covering before placing it back onto his head. “Yeah, yeah. To you maybe. This mask looks pretty sick to me.” He laughed, glancing over at the bustling party that was occurring at the huge penthouse in front of them. “Well, we’ve stalled enough. Let’s head in now, I know MJ is probably tired from hosting all by herself.” He exclaimed, turning to Miguel.

“You got your mask?”

Miguel’s eyebrows instantly furrowed, his jaw clenching. “I didn’t bring a mask.” Peter ran a frustrated hand through his dark brown hair. “Miguel, it’s a Halloween party. Did you think you would just walk in there like…that!?” Peter motioned to Miguel’s outfit causing him to scoff. “I told you from the start I didn’t want to fucking come, Peter. Of course, I didn’t bring a mask.” Miguel snarled, causing Peter to hold the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. “Just…bare your fangs and do whatever you do with your eyes to make them redden. Look the part.”

Miguel was practically seething, his fangs starting to protrude from under his lips, his eyes darkening. “Just like that!” Peter said with a grin, covering his face with his clown mask before exiting the car. Miguel growled, leaving the car after Peter, and slamming the door shut behind himself.

Miguel walked behind Peter, his seven foot stature making him a foot taller than the family man before him as Peter led him towards the penthouse where his hosted Halloween party was occurring.

“What’s up Peter?!”

“Hi, Peter!”

“Nice party!”

Many spider-people dressed in costumes exclaimed to Peter when he appeared at the front door. Peter grinned happily, welcoming the social event whilst Miguel's body instantly tensed up, his face hardening.

He wanted nothing more than to leave…

“Hey, everyone. I’m happy to hear the party is going great so far.” Peter smiled, before stepping out the way to reveal Miguel. “But, look who I pulled out of the office?! No one other than the boss himself, Miguel O’Hara!” Peter chuckled, resting his elbow on Miguel’s shoulder. Miguel glared daggers at Peter putting him on the spot, before his crimson eyes swept across the stilled social event.

The party seemed to instantly come to a halt, small murmurs and whispers occurring at the sight of Miguel’s attendance. Even the music seemed to have lowered in volume.

Miguel sighed heavily, brushing Peter off. “I’m heading to the snack bar.” He uttered, wanting to get out of the hot seat Peter had carelessly thrown him into.

Peter nodded, returning back to frantically chatting with a few party attendees. Miguel left, entering further into the party.

It seemed as if by his mere presence, it was disrupting the little Halloween Bash. Dancers coming to a stop at the dance floor, excited conversations coming to a halt, and eyes behind different colored masks trained on him as he passed.

Miguel didn’t care. He had told Peter multiple times that Miguel O’Hara and social events didn’t mix, yet, Peter proceeded on dragging him here.

“Voy a matar a Peter un día de estos.”

He angrily mumbled, opening the blue cooler by the snack bar to pull out a cold beer bottle. He brought the bottle to his lips, using his fangs to pop open the lid before taking huge gulps of the alcoholic beverage, his Adam’s Apple bobbing with each swallow. A contented sigh passed his lips when he pulled the beer from his mouth

“That’s good.” He breathed, his amber eyes moving to take in the party whilst he leaned against the wall.

The main party where Miguel stood, was located in a spacious living room, the many furniture pushed back to create a dance floor. A DJ stood at the front, turning tables and hyping up the party whilst many costumed bodies danced before him.

Miguel was rather overwhelmed. His enhanced nose picked up on so many scents, so many smells ranging from the aroma of the delicious delicacies that covered the snack table, to the intense mingling of women's perfume and male’s cologne, and the sweat that leaked from the dancing Spider-people on the dance floor.

His ears also were hit intensely by the loud soundwaves of the speakers, and chatter of the spider-people around him, but there was one conversation that piqued his interest.

“Come on. Get on the dance floor with me?!”

He heard a young girl say somewhere to his right.

Miguel leaned against the wall, sipping his beer whilst his dark brown eyes searched the party for the identity of the voice when he located the two figures.

A girl in a black witch dress, pointy hat, and tall boots stood before another woman, tugging at her arms. The young girl who looked to be in her early 20s was blocking Miguel's view of the other female she was conversing with.

Miguel continued to watch from afar, his enhanced hearing being able to pick up the entirety of the conversation between the two females.

“I-I don’t know, Gwen…I-I-I don’t want to go,” you mumbled nervously, hugging your body. Gwen sighed heavily, pushing a strand of her blond hair behind her ear, and twirling the small broomstick in her hand.

"But I want you to have fun. I didn't bring you here so you could hug the wall the whole night," Gwen, your best friend, explained with a pout, still tugging your arm. "Come on, get out of your shell."

You bit your lip nervously. "I-I feel out of my shell already w-with the Halloween costume you gave me," you timidly said, causing you and Gwen to glance down at your Halloween costume.

A long-sleeved leopard bodysuit covered your being, along with a pair of leopard cat ears headband was worn on your head as a long tail flowed from your backside. Your bodysuit completely exposed your thighs and legs, which were dressed with fishnet stockings. Knee-high, heeled leather boots covered your feet, and to top off your look, a black collar with a bell adorned your neck, and a black mask concealed your eyes and nose, leaving your dark red lips revealed.

The outfit was rather revealing for a timid and shy girl like you, but due to Gwen's persistence, you adorned the costume and came to the party hosted by her friend, Peter B. Parker.

"What are you saying!? You look fantastic! Stop worrying so much," Gwen giggled, briefly glancing back at the dance floor where she recognized a few spider-people before turning her attention back to you.

"Okay... I won't force you, but go check out the snack bar or something? Enjoy yourself." She grinned and then leaned in close to you, whispering loud enough to be heard over the pounding music.

"I even heard the Vampire Ninja himself is here."

Your eyes widened behind your mask. "W-wait, what!? M-Miguel O’Hara is here!?" you exclaimed, trying to hide the blush creeping into your cheeks. Gwen smirked, well aware of the effect Miguel had on you.

"Yep, so I suggest you get out there and show off that costume some," she playfully suggested before disappearing into the sea of dancing bodies on the dance floor. You bit your lip, pressing your back against the white walls of the penthouse.

The fact that Miguel O'Hara was at this Halloween party made you even more nervous.

You wanted to leave…

You remembered the day you were accepted into the Spider Society and your not-so-great first impression to Miguel O'Hara.

His striking appearance had made you a total klutz. You couldn't shoot your webs accurately or dodge incoming attacks, often ending up on your back in pain. But your extensive knowledge of the Multiverse and your skills in medicine, technology, and innovation compensated for your poor physical performance. You knew your ability to create a gadget in under 30 minutes, a task that took Miguel two hours was the main reason he accepted you.

After that embarrassing episode, you thought Miguel would never notice you, let alone look in your direction.

However, Miguel's crimson eyes couldn't help but be fixed on you at the party.

Once Gwen left, he finally was able to see the timid woman she was talking to and he couldn't believe who he saw…

He almost dropped his beer bottle.

You were stunning, absolutely breathtaking.

He’d never felt this way before about anyone. The mere thought of anything more than a good night with a woman made him shudder. He believed the whole relationship thing was a huge distraction, especially with the job and life he led.

His eyes continued to look you up and down, taking in the way the leopard costume accentuated your breasts, and feminine curves, and the sight of your flawless, luscious legs under your fishnet stockings.

What really made Miguel's heart flutter was the shyness that practically radiated from your body. He knew from your conversation that, like himself, social events weren't your thing as you were practically trying to become one with the wall and disappear from the party.

But despite your desires to be unseen, all you did was gain Miguel's attention more and more…

"Hey buddy!"

Miguel jumped, feeling Peter smack him on the back as the clown mask he wore on his face came into view in front of him. "Damn Miguel, now I scared you? I wasn't even trying that time." He cackled, causing Miguel to groan, tapping his ring of his middle finger against the brown bottle in irritation. "What do you want?" He growled, his flickering red eyes constantly glancing over at the leopard girl to see Gwen, your best friend had returned as the blondie was excitedly talking to you.

He couldn't hear the conversation, not with Peter rambling in front of him. "-And MJ took my phone when I was just trying to call her mom to check in on Mayday. She's just being so frustrating, man." Miguel's jaw clenched, his hand dangerously gripping his beer bottle. "So, you came over here…to talk about MJ preventing you from contacting your kid?" Miguel asked sternly, the tapping of his ring against the glass of his drink coming to a halt.

Peter didn't seem to notice the anger that was slowly rising up in his friend as he continued talking. "Yes and no." He snickered from behind his clown mask. "MJ had set up a little game in the guest bedroom upstairs, and wanted me to round up some people to play." He said. "Talking about, maybe playing would ease my worries about our daughter, like that will ever happen." He said with an eye roll.

Miguel scoffed, the mere thought of playing some childish game with a few spider-people made him recoil in disdain.

"Now why the hell-"

"O-okay…I-I'll play."

His ears picked up the sound of the enchanting feline from across the room. His heart dropped to the pit of his stomach, his eyes snapping over to Gwen and you to see your witch friend jumping up and down excitedly.

Miguel growled, running his frustrated, ring covered hand through his dark brown curls. Peter was still rambling on about the game and what it entailed, but Miguel wasn’t listening. He was debating on what to do, what to decide…

But he knew what his answer would be…

“I know you believe games like this are childish and we are like grown ass adults now, but live a little Miguel.” Peter rambled, whilst rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. “So, what do you say-

“Fine.” Miguel hastily responded, turning his amber eyes back onto Peter. “Come on Miguel, you can’t just- Wait what!?” Peter exclaimed in disbelief, believing that it would've been harder to get the stern male to comply with the game idea.

“Don’t make me say it again.” Miguel groaned, downing the rest of his beer bottle before placing it onto the table behind him, and turning back to Peter.

“So are we going or not?”

You sat beside Gwen in a circle of chairs with a lone, empty bottle on a table in the center.

Nervously, you bit your scarlet lip, your hands clenched into tight fists on your bare thighs, which were covered in fishnet stockings.

Your eyes shifted, taking in the other players participating in the Spin the Bottle game: Margo, MJ, Miles, and Hobie. Two vacant chairs stood in front of you and Gwen as she sighed heavily. "Gosh, when are we going to start?!" She exclaimed, causing Hobie to chuckle beside her, glancing over at the empty chairs as well.

"Seems as if there are others coming, Gwendy. Have more patience." He snickered, a black mask perched on top of his thick, black hair. The mask had eerie stitching over the eyes and mouth, illuminated by a neon light that flickers between red and blue emanating from the stitches. It bore a striking resemblance to a famous movie in which all rules and restrictions were abandoned, and the world embraced murder and other crimes. Surprisingly, it was a fitting choice for Hobie's personality. With the mask, Hobie wore all black which paired well with the mask.

“It’s supposed to be Peter coming. I don’t know where he is.” MJ said with a groan, a pink cowgirl outfit dressing her being.

"Yeah… Peter can be a real social butterfly," Miles retorted to your right, donned in a pirate costume, complete with a long leather coat, a waist sash, a cross belt filled with artificial pistols, heavy black boots, and a black pirate hat covering his head.

You stole a glance at Gwen with a small smile to see her trying not to make eye contact with the ebony-skinned male to your right. You knew Gwen had a thing for Miles, just like she knew you had a thing for Miguel.

"But if you know Peter, you know it's easy for him to get swept up in the crowd," MJ said with a grin, her red hair flowing over her shoulders from under her pink cowgirl hat. “He's always eager to introduce our daughter to anyone and everyone. I swear, his love for her knows no bounds." Laughter filled the room, and small conversations started among the guests, but you were too nervous to engage in the banter.

Margo turned her attention to you, her purple skin glowing under her sheriff's cap, and black shades, her body dressed in a dark blue, police officer costume. She pulled down her shades, her amber eyes looking you up and down before she greeted you, extending her gloved hand. Timidly, you offered a smile and shook her hand firmly. "N-Nice to meet you," you stammered. Margo grinned happily. "Nice to meet you too, but why so tense?" she asked, tilting her head. "It's a party. You've got to relax a little, girl," Margo added with a giggle, prompting you to sigh.

"I... I know, I'm just not used to parties, and I've discovered that someone is here whom I wish weren't... Now, my nervousness has only…heightened." Margo nodded, understanding your situation.

"You don't have anything to worry about. The people you see in this circle are the best of the best in the Spider Society."

"Don't forget Jessica!" Gwen chimed in, causing Margo to giggle. "Jessica too," Margo acknowledged before turning her shaded eyes back to you. You smiled, glancing around the circle once more through your black mask before meeting Margo's eyes. Her words provided you with some comfort. "Thank you, Margo," you said.

"Anytime," she replied, though her eyes still lingered on you. Your eyebrows furrowed, prompting her to sigh.

"I... wasn't going to ask, but something you said piqued my interest."

"What?" You asked in curiosity and confusion. She scooted closer, lowering her voice.

"I was just wondering... who is it?" She asked, which only made you even more perplexed. "W-who is what?"

"Who is here at the party that is making you so nervous?" She asked more clearly, causing your eyes to briefly widen behind your mask. A lump formed in your throat as, simultaneously, the doors to the guest bedroom burst open.

"We’re here! We’re here!" Peter exclaimed, stepping inside with his clown mask drawn up to rest on the top of his head. "Finally!" Gwen said beside you, causing a laugh to escape Peter’s lips. "Whatever, bubblegum hair. MJ wanted me to bring another player for the game, so I did."

Gwen rolled her eyes at the nickname as everyone waited patiently to see the new player in the Spin The Bottle game. Peter peered out the doorway and beckoned with his head at the newcomer.

"Come on in, buddy." A deep sigh was heard as heavy footsteps echoed on the polished floor. It wasn’t long before the identity of the newcomer was revealed, and your eyes widened behind your mask.

It was Miguel O’Hara...

Your heart quickened, your hands clenched tightly into fists in your lap. You couldn’t believe the sight before you.

Miguel stood alongside Peter, his tall and commanding presence accentuating his distinct magnetism. His massive, sculpted frame was emphasized by the snug scarlet button-up he wore, and the shimmering golden jewelry adorning his body only amplified his already breathtaking allure. Miguel was a living work of art, an embodiment of perfection with muscles that rippled with every move, from the chiseled contours of his face down to his powerful, well-defined legs. His striking features, framed by dark, tousled hair, left no room for imperfection, making him an irresistible vision of masculinity and charm.

Hobie’s laughter snapped you from your trance, drawing everyone’s attention. "Hey mate, where’s your costume?" He asked Miguel teasingly as you looked over your shoulder at Miguel and Peter to see Miguel clench his jaw, his eyes flickering red in anger.

“Hey, hey. Settle down,” Peter said, trying to calm the situation. “Yeah, let’s play the game now.” Gwen begged as Miguel and Peter began to make their way to the empty chairs in front of you.

You tried your hardest to keep your gaze off the large, tanned male, but it was challenging with how attractive he looked, despite not making any effort to do so.

Miguel took the seat right in front of you, his amber eyes scrutinizing your appearance.

'Damn, you are even better up close.'

He thought to himself, taking the time for his eyes to trail over your every being. His breathing became heavier, his eyes flashing red in arousal as he continued to look at you.

“Okay, now that everyone is here,” MJ began with a smile. “Let’s start!” A round of cheers emerged from the players, but you and Miguel were silent. You, trying your hardest to keep your gaze on your lap and calm your racing heart, and Miguel instilling every action and look you made into his brain.

After a while of decision, a choice was made for Miles to go first. “Well, I hope I make a good spin,” he chuckled, leaning over to give the empty wine bottle a spin.

Everyone was on the edge of their seats as the bottle soon slowed down to land on Margo. She smirked, looking beside her at Miles. “Guess I’m the lucky candidate,” she chuckled as Miles leaned over to pick out a small slip of folded paper in a bowl on a nearby table. He opened it and began to read aloud either a challenge or a deep question that had to be answered by the chosen player.

“Okay Margo, my paper says, 'Who in the room do you think has the best sense of humor?'”

Your eyes glanced around the circle, wondering who would be a good choice for the question.

You were honestly stuck between Hobie and Peter. They both, in their own way, were funny guys, but you wondered what Margo would choose.

She looked around the circle with a grin. “That’s an easy question…” she hummed when a mischievous smile spread across her lips.

“Me.”

The room erupted in groans and laughs. You giggled, and when you glanced up, you saw Miguel looking back at you, a faint smile on his lips. You blushed and looked away, but Peter couldn’t resist chiming in. “Oh, come on! I know you were thinking of me, weren't you, Margo?”

“To be honest, no,” Margo laughed, causing another round of laughter to erupt and Peter to pout. MJ smiled, running a soothing hand through his hair. “You can’t be chosen for everything, baby,” she consoled Peter as the game continued.

“Who’s next!?” Gwen exclaimed, her excitement evident, eager to join the game. “It’s Margo's turn. Whoever the bottle lands on goes next,” MJ explained, leaving Gwen with a slight pout.

You gave her a small smile and patted her arm, speaking timidly. “I-It’ll be your turn soon.” Gwen nodded before a huge grin spread across her lips. Your eyebrows furrowed at the sight.

“I honestly can’t wait until it’s your turn. You might get to do something a little cheeky with—”

“D-Don’t say that!” You exclaimed in a hushed tone, causing her to laugh. “I-I already couldn’t function before, and now that…he’s here, I-I just can’t.” You said quietly. Gwen smirked, patting your thigh. “It’s called being highly attracted to someone. I get it too.”

“B-but I can’t…h-he doesn’t even like me,” you said sadly, biting your lip. Gwen shrugged her shoulders with a smile. “How do you know? You’ve never asked him.”

Gwen was right; you’ve never asked Miguel if he was interested in you or not, but Miguel is honestly an unapproachable person. He’s so very intimidating and indecipherable that it’s scary talking to him even for normal, simple things.

Just the thought of coming to him asking if he, the Spider Society leader, has a thing for you, a spider woman who becomes a total klutz around him.

You couldn't bear the thought of what he might say…

You breathed a sigh as Gwen’s eyebrows furrowed. She shook her head, placing a reassuring hand on your arm. “Hey…don’t worry about that right now. Let’s just enjoy the game.” You smiled softly at her before turning your attention back onto the game to hear Peter talking about Mayday.

“-And that’s when I knew my daughter was going to be just like me, so that’s why I choose Mayday as the person who I'll switch places with for a week.”

A series of groans erupted after Peter’s words.

But Miguel was only half-listening...

His attention had been diverted by your quiet conversation with your best friend, Gwen, which he couldn't help but overhear due to his enhanced hearing.

'Who is my sexy gatita talking about?'

He wondered, his amber eyes subtly scanning your figure as he caught the tail end of Peter’s words. Miguel groaned at the sound of Peter mentioning his daughter once again, his focus returning to the game as he sat with one ankle resting on top of the opposite knee.

He was well aware that one of these questions would inevitably trigger Peter to launch into a monologue about his beloved daughter. It wasn't that Miguel had any ill feelings towards Mayday, the young child was perfectly fine. It was Peter's ceaseless chatter about his daughter that grated on Miguel's nerves.

He understood it stemmed from Peter's boundless love for his family, but there came a time when even love had its limits.

"Must you always talk about Mayday?" Miguel's deep voice resonated through the room, bringing the ongoing chatter to a halt. His presence, let alone his voice, held so much power that it silenced everyone in the room, their eyes focused on him. His amber eyes surveyed the others before settling on Peter. Peter heaved a heavy sigh, waving a dismissive hand at Miguel. "You'll understand when you experience even a fraction of unconditional love for someone. Then, you'll comprehend how I feel about my daughter and loving wife," he explained. MJ rolled her eyes, a smirk playing on her pink lips at her husband’s words.

Miguel’s eyes flickered over to you who was gazing at Peter and MJ. He couldn’t help but wonder if this was what he was feeling about you…

Love…

Or lust

“Can we continue?” Hobie chimed in, his dark brown eyes looking between Miguel and Peter. “I’m ready for some spicy stuff.”

"I... didn't add anything like that to the bowl, Hobie," MJ stated honestly, prompting Hobie to groan and run a frustrated hand over his ebony face. "Come on!? Really!?" he exclaimed, his British accent thick in his voice. "Then let's make up our own then. Fuck the bowl!" He announced, his dark brown eyes scanning the circle.

Your cheeks flushed with nervousness at Hobie's suggestion. You glanced at Gwen, who was smirking mischievously at you. "Yeah, I agree, forget the bowl."

In that moment, you wished you could disappear.

'Why, oh why, are you doing this, Gwen!?'

You thought, your black heeled boot tapping nervously on the floor as you bit your reddened lip.

Miguel experienced a rush of mixed emotions at Hobie's words. The change in the rules was unexpected and filled him with a sense of dread, but it also...

Stirred a sense of excitement...

His eyes drifted to you, your anxiety palpable. He still didn't know your name, but he was eager to do anything with you at this point.

He didn't know what excited him more...

Your alluring costume, accentuating every aspect of your exquisite figure and curves...

Or your shyness, which was so cute that it warmed his heart.

Miguel sighed, briefly torn between the two enticing qualities. Nevertheless, he shifted his focus back to the game, noticing that the majority of the circle had agreed to the new rules. As Peter spun the empty bottle on the table, you were a bundle of nerves, your heart pounding loudly in your chest.

Relief washed over you when the bottle didn't land on you.

Instead, it pointed directly at Hobie.

Hobie, his lips adorned with a silver ring, broke into a confident smirk upon being chosen by the wine bottle. "Hell yeah. Now we're talking!" he exclaimed, turning his gaze to Peter. "Give me a good one, mate." Peter chuckled and, playfully, teased everyone by drawing out the moment.

MJ smacked his arm in mock irritation. "Stop playing around," she giggled, causing Peter to join in the laughter. Finally, he relented and posed a question to Hobie. "You wanted a good one, so I'll ask a question."

Hobie leaned back in his chair, a mischievous grin adorning his face. "Lay it on me," he said confidently.

"Share with the lovely players and myself a secret turn-on of yours that you've never told anyone,"

Hobie's eyebrows rose for a brief second at Peter's unexpecting question, but his smirk widened. This was a question you hadn't anticipated, but now that it was on the table, you couldn't help but lean around Gwen to get a closer look at Hobie, waiting with bated breath for his response.

"I'm really into teasing."

Some people's eyes widened at the nonchalance in his voice. Hobie chuckled at the sight of the stunned reactions. "Don't look at me like that," he snickered, biting his lip ring. "Let me tell you what I mean by... teasing... for the uneducated ones," he teased, glancing over at Miles, who scoffed and rolled his eyes.

Hobie looked around the circle, his voice becoming hushed and alluring as he spoke. "I'm talking about the type of teasing that is so good and blissful, yet so wicked and cruel," he explained. He leaned closer, propping his elbows onto his knees, his intense amber eyes fixing on each individual in the circle. His words drew everyone in, making them feel the intensity of his desires.

"The type of teasing that delays the main event. That has you sexually frustrated and begging your lover to continue...

To do...

More..."

He paused, allowing his words to hang in the air for a moment.

"Do you all catch my drift?"

Silence filled the guest room, and you felt your mouth go dry. You bit your lip, your body heating up. Hobie's enticing words filled your mind with lewd thoughts of Miguel.

Him teasing you with his tongue and fangs.

Touching you with his large, veiny hands,

Whispering naughty things into your ear...

You squeezed your thighs together in your seat, blushing a little. When you briefly glanced at Miguel, he met your eyes with his crimson ones. You quickly looked down at your lap.

"O-kay!" Miles exclaimed, clasping his gloved hands together. "Sounds spicy. On to the next," he said with a polite smile. Hobie settled back in his seat, wearing a satisfied expression as if he had just earned a hard-fought reward. "Thank you for joining my Ted Talk," he quipped.

Laughter erupted after Hobie's joke, and the atmosphere became more comfortable as the game continued.

"Alright, spin that bottle!" Margo exclaimed loudly as Hobie spun it, causing the black bottle to twirl at such a fast pace that it was almost dizzying to watch.

All eyes were fixed on the spinning wine bottle, and it ultimately pointed towards Gwen. Hobie brushed his tongue along his lip ring, his gaze locked onto the twenty-one-year-old girl. "What shall I give you, Gwendy? Hmm?" he smirked, earning an eye roll from Gwen. "Come on, Hobie, stop playing around," she giggled, bringing a smile to Hobie's lips. "Fine, I've got one."

"What's the kinkiest thing you've ever done or would like to do, little drummer?"

A smile spread across Gwen's lips as she twirled her witch broomstick in her fingers, her gaze scanning the room. You knew there was more to Gwen than met the eye. She was an adventurous person who likely had a lot of experiences you weren't aware of, leaving you in the dark about her answer.

"I'd say a kink I'd like to try is exhibitionism."

Your eyes widened behind your mask at Gwen's words. She wanted to engage in sensual activities in public!?

The very thought made you nervous, but you could see why it would be alluring and incredibly tempting…

Especially with Miguel.

Your mind went into overdrive, imagining all the places where you and Miguel could get a little frisky.

The Spider Society's library,

The gym,

Under the table in the cafeteria.

The possibilities seemed endless, and just the thought of Miguel being your partner in such endeavors was enough to send shivers down your spine and make you wet with desire.

Miguel's eyes instantly snapped to you. Throughout the game, he had sensed something—an arousal that stood out to him like a sore thumb, but he couldn't quite pinpoint the source.

Now, he did…

His eyes reddened as he noticed your thighs squeezed tightly together. To a regular person, your action might have gone unnoticed, but not for Miguel…

He practically smelled your sweet nectar, a subtle but alluring scent that went straight to his cock. It stirred his arousal, and his member began to slowly harden beneath his black slacks, the fabric tightening around his growing desire.

He bit his lip harshly, his fangs sinking into his flesh, as he wanted nothing more than to grasp your soft thighs in his hands, part your legs, and taste just how sweet your essence truly was…

A low, involuntary groan escaped him as he fought to contain his desire. He pulled his ankle higher up his opposite knee, trying to hide his growing excitement.

"Oh really, Gwendy?" Hobie teased, drawing everyone's attention back to the game. Gwen waved her hand dismissively at him. "That's all you get," she laughed before looking down at the bottle. "Finally! Now I can spin!" She shot you a mischievous glance before giving the bottle a spin.

You knew that look Gwen had given you.

She was hoping it would land on you.

Your heart started to race as you bit your lips anxiously, your legs bouncing nervously, increasing in speed whilst you watched the bottle slowly come to a stop.

It was like Gwen had powers other than her spider abilities..

Because it happened…

The bottle landed on you.

Your heart sank as the bottle pointed at you, and you found yourself in the hot seat. You turned your eyes to Gwen, who was already smirking back at you, clearly delighted that the bottle had chosen you.

"Finally, it's your turn to take the hot seat, Y/N."

Your name...

Miguel had finally learned it.

‘Y/N,’ he repeated in his head, his flickering red eyes studying you with newfound interest, then it all clicked into place…

"Y/N!?

As in the clumsy and timid Spiderwoman?!"

His intense gaze roved up and down your form as if he couldn't believe his eyes. The nerdy woman he had welcomed into the society not too long ago turned out to be a stunning model underneath it all, and it took his breath away.

The more he looked at you, he still couldn't wrap his head around the fact that the same girl who continually spilled her coffee in the mornings and dropped her Goober burger during lunch looked like this.

If only he had seen you sooner...

He bit his lip, filled with anticipation, wondering what spicy question your friend would dare you to answer, because she wouldn't dare to push a shy, timid girl like you out of your comfort zone...

Right?

You silently begged Gwen with your eyes, hoping she wouldn't put you in an uncomfortable situation; however, Gwen had a knack for getting you out of your shell and right into the scorching, hot seat…

"Y/N, I dare you to share a passionate kiss with Miguel for 30 seconds."

Your entire body seemed to freeze in shock, struggling to comprehend what Gwen had just asked of you. The room filled with surprised glances, and even a few cheers hinted at the anticipation that things were about to get interesting. You gulped, turning your gaze to Miguel. Amid the cheers of the players, his carmine orbs locked with yours. While his expression remained stern, his eyes held an enigmatic allure, something you couldn't quite define, yet it drew you in nonetheless.

"Why Miguel?" Margo inquired with a chuckle, snapping you from your trance. Your heart was thumping rapidly in your chest at what Gwen’s response could be, but you should have known that Gwen always had a trick up her sleeve.

After all, she was a master of manipulation...

"The two of them have been rather quiet. I thought it'd help loosen their nerves," Gwen explained, her words met with sounds of approval and agreement from the guests, only serving to deepen the scarlet hue on your cheeks.

You locked eyes with Miguel once more, finding a small smirk gracing his lips. His amber eyes shifted to a deep crimson as he cleared his throat, lowering his legs to the floor and leaning back in his chair, welcoming you with his body language.

"Well then, let's go, Y/N!" Margo exclaimed, joining the chorus of encouragement as peer pressure began to take hold. The room filled with voices urging you on, and you sighed, unsteadily getting to your feet.

"O-okay," you stammered, Miguel's eyes shifting to a deeper shade of red with each step you took.

Miguel was undeniably aroused by the situation. The mere sight of you walking toward him ignited a powerful desire to touch you to course through his veins.

"Sit on his lap, Y/N!"

Gwen's shout from behind you only deepening your blush. You knew that if you didn't do what Gwen said, she'd tease you relentlessly for the rest of the night. You approached Miguel with a pounding heart and a timid demeanor.

"I-is that okay?" you stammered, your voice thick with shyness. "I-if I sit in your lap?"

Miguel couldn't help but smile, a sly grin spreading across his tanned lips. Your bashful words only exciting him further. "If you'd like," he huskily answered, parting his legs to welcome you. Your eyes couldn't help but trace his toned thighs beneath his black slacks.

You almost drooled at the sight…

A rush of newfound boldness surged through you as you climbed onto his lap, your legs resting on either side of his. Even in his seated position, Miguel's impressive height and strength were unmistakable. His body felt solid and muscular beneath you, and you couldn't help but gasp at how built he was.

You shakingly exhaled, nervous about what to do next. Your entire body was completely hot and the close proximity between Miguel and yourself wasn’t helping at all.

You bit your lip, feeling his thighs pressing into your own and just the thought of his crotch against your bottom made you blush even more. Miguel smirked up at you, the telltale signs of your anxiety evident. He gently took your chin in his thick fingers, lifting it for your eyes to meet his red ones. "Just focus on me, Cariño," he whispered, his eyes carefully tracing your face whist his thumb caressed your jaw. "It's just a challenge." He reassured.

A charming smile played on his lips, his sharp canines catching the light and capturing your attention as he spoke. The sight of his redden orbs, sharp teeth, touch and words only made your body burn up. His demeanor and actions were very unexpected. Your breath catching in your throat and your heart racing at his gentleness.

Miguel was mostly cold and distant toward you, unable to maintain eye contact before a clumsy mistake left him cursing under his breath and looking away in annoyance and second-hand embarrassment. So, the idea of receiving comforting words and his feather-like touch was something you could only dream about, unable to believe it could ever be real.

You gulped, feeling as though the entire world had disappeared in that electrifying moment, leaving just you and Miguel. Shakingly, you nodded, causing Miguel's smirk to deepen.

The sizzling intensity in your gaze was matched by Miguel's as you began to lean closer, your lips tantalizingly close to each other. The anticipation was palpable, with an overwhelming longing and yearning building between the two of you.

As you drew nearer, that longing and eagerness swelled, breaking free of restraint. Finally, your lips met in a passionate, searing kiss that took you both by surprise. A soft moan escaped you, his lips, surprisingly soft and inviting, met yours, contrasting with his usual cold and grumpy demeanor.

With each passing moment, your initial shyness melted away, replaced by newfound boldness. Your fingers tangled in his dark brown curls, pulling him closer to deepen the kiss. Miguel groaned, his large hand finding its way to the small of your back, pulling you tightly against him and pressing your bodies together. The heat radiating between you was almost tangible, your tongues, engaged in a fiery dance, igniting sensations that satisfied a profound hunger you both hadn't known existed.

Lost in each other, the world around you faded into oblivion. The 30 seconds allotted for the challenge came and went, but you and Miguel continued with your passionate exchange. Heavy breaths mingled, your focus remained solely on each other as desire burned hotter with every passing second.

A surprised moan escaped your lips when you felt Miguel's large hand grope your ass through your leopard costume. His thick fingers pressing into the flesh that made you even more blinded by lust for him.

He grinned against your swollen lips at your cute reaction, spurring his desire even further. The two of you continuing to kiss hungrily, his fangs occasionally nipping your lips, intensifying your craving for him which only caused you to pull him closer with much fervor…

…

"Damn! They are still at it!"

Hobie's exclamation brought you back to reality, and you realized the audience that had been watching your heated exchange. You hastily pulled away from Miguel's lips, his intense gaze and smirking, bitten lips reflecting his lust for more. Your body felt hot and flustered, and you were acutely aware of the places he had touched you, especially your bottom.

Feeling your embarrassment and regret, you quickly climbed off Miguel's lap and returned to your seat, keeping your gaze down to avoid meeting anyone's eyes.

The thought of kissing the leader of the Spider Society in front of everyone weighed heavily on your mind, and you questioned your decision to participate in this game, let alone, come to this party.

Gwen glanced over at you and Miguel, a smile spreading across her face as she then started back up the game to get you out of the hot seat. She even spun for you, but no one could ignore the obvious tension in the air.

Miguel's crimson eyes, blown with lust continuously met your timid form, a sly grin spreading across his lips the longer he stared at you.

He had plans for his sexy, timid gatita, plans that would push you to step out of your comfort zones and embrace the desires that had ignited between the two of you...

A/N: I hope everyone enjoyed Part 1 of the Halloween Special. Stay tuned for part 2! 🕸️😁👻🕸️

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