#And the spider was just so perfectly positioned

[mightybeaujester]

I'm visiting London and went on a lil "locations from the Magnus Archives" tour and not only found this bench for all your "having a mental breakdown and smoking while your boss is murdering the guy that's kind of responsible for your childhood trauma w a steel pipe"-needs, but also this door leading somewhere basement-y (like an archive?) that is apparently alarmed, and is completely obstructed by a huge spider web including spider. Absolute perfection.

[p3terparker]

𝗯𝗮𝗯𝘆 𝗺𝗲 - 𝗽𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗸𝗲𝗿

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: peter wants to be babied.

𝘄/𝗰: 0.5k

𝗮/𝗻: hey guys!! it has been nearly a year since i’ve last written and i just wanna say i’m sorry for leaving for so long </3 please do bear with me, this may not be that good judging by how long it’s been since i’ve last written. i hope you enjoy though! also for everyone who has requested something, i haven’t forgotten about you! i’m getting to those soon :)

“please hold me” 

it’s nearly 1am and you’re sprawled out on your bed watching some random movie that was playing on tv. you’ve been up waiting for hours for peter to come by after patrol, and now he’s finally here sneaking in through your window.

“are you okay baby? you finished up pretty late” you question softly as you take off his mask and brush his hair out of his face.

“i’m fine. i just want you to hold me” he says tiredly and practically puts all of his body weight on you, causing you both to fall back onto your bed.

adjusting yourselves to get more comfortable, you’re now laid back on your pillow as you hug peters large frame while his face is nuzzled in your chest.

you two lay silently as you rub his back until you decide to break the silence.

“you know, you’re still in your suit. you’re getting my bed dirty.”

“you just want me to take it off so you can see me naked”

“you’re done” you say before attempting to push him off of you. peter quickly caught your hands before you could even try.

“how did you–”

“i’m spider-man, baby”

“clearly” you chuckle, referring to him still being in his suit.

“since you want to see me naked so bad, i’ll take it off” he groans as if it’s the hardest task in the world. “happy now?”

“very. now come lay back down”

you don’t have to tell him twice. he quickly gets back into the position you two were in before and enjoys the warmth and comfort you bring him.

“you’re so perfect petey, did you know that?”

“mmm” he groans into as he nuzzles his face further into your chest, enjoying the sudden compliment.

“i mean seriously. you’re so smart, so strong, so caring and so funny. you being handsome is just the cherry on top”

“stoppp” he whines. “i’m blushing.”

“okay fine, i’m done”

“nooo, i didn’t mean it! keep going please” he cries as he lifts up his head to look at you.

“you are truly such a big baby”

“i’m your big baby. now continue please, i love being praised by you.”

how could you deny him?

“i love how cute you are. you have the prettiest brown hair and eyes. your face is perfectly sculpted too. i don’t know how i got blessed with the most handsome boyfriend in the world.” 

“mmm” he groans again in complete ecstasy. hearing your compliments is like music to his ears.

“you’re so cute, i just want to squish your cheeks” you say before lifting his head up slightly and squishing his cheeks together.

you cannot believe he’s letting you baby him like this.

“aww petey, you’re so adorable” 

“thank you” he says with a pink tint on his cheeks as he rests his head on your chest again, suddenly feeling sleepy.

you two sat in silence for a few more minutes and he peacefully drifted to sleep.

you were definitely going to make fun of him for tonight in the morning.

[fxllfaiiry]

─ you're the sunflower ੈ✩‧₊˚

✶ pairing: miguel o'hara x fem!reader

✶ synopsis: everyone on the team loves you, expect miguel who seems to hate you more than anyone.

✶ warnings: angst!! major angst. sunshine!reader x grumpy!miguel. reader is nicknamed sunflower, mentions of death.

✶ notes: there's one spanish sentence in this, I'm not good with spanish so if I've made a mistake please tell me so i can fix it! part two is already up!!!

Everyone on the team loved you from the moment you joined, everyone, except Miguel. 

You knew Miguel was cold towards everyone, but he was extra cold with you. Maybe it was because of how different your personalities were. 

You were the embodiment of sunshine, always positive in any situation, putting others before yourself. Hence why everyone calls you sunflower, it fits perfectly, Miles was proud of coming up with it. 

Miguel on the other hand was cold and distant but that didn't stop you from trying to get him to open up. You'd try to have simple conversations with him but nothing, all you would receive in reply was an eye roll or a slight grunt, but you wouldn't give up that easily. 

Like today, you got him some coffee. 

"Morning, boss. Got you some coffee." You said in your usual cheerful tone. 

"Why?" He raised his eyebrows, looking down at you suspiciously. That's the most he's said to you all week. 

"Because I wanted to." You shrugged, placing it down on his desk. 

He steped down walking towards his desk, you couldn't help but stare at him, unfortunately for you, everything about him was so attractive, it's such a shame he hated you. 

"This isn't how I like my coffee." 

"Huh?" You snapped out of your daydream at the sound of his voice. 

"The coffee, it tastes terrible. Get it from another place next time." 

"Well, actually I made it-" But he had already walked away from you not listening to a word you said. "Alright, never mind, I'll just go back to work." You mumbled hurt by his words. 

"Wait, hold on." You looked up, thinking, maybe he'll say something nice after all. 

"Yeah?" 

"Take the coffee with you, I won't be drinking it." 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

"Girl, why do you look so sad? Did Miguel do something again?" Jess asked with a frown, she did not like seeing you sad. 

"No."

"Sunflower…"

"Okay, yes." Miguel being cold towards you was normal, he never spoke to you unless necessary. Out of everyone here, he probably hated you the most, even more than Miles.  

"Sunflower, I've told you to stop trying." Jess sighed. 

"I know, I know… why does he hate me so much, Jess?" 

"That's just the way he is, don't overthink it. It's his loss, baby." She replied, gently patting your shoulder. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Today was going to be a good day, you were so sure of it. 

But, of course, you were wrong. 

Everything was going great up until a few hours ago. 

Miguel had assigned you on a mission to catch an anomaly, alongside a few other spider-people. His instructions were clear, stick to the plan and catch the anomaly. It was supposed to be simple. 

If only you didn't disobey him. You screwed up badly, and because of that, you could have been killed. 

"Why don't you ever listen?" Miguel shouted. No one had ever seen him this angry. 

"I was just tryin-" 

"¡Ay, por el amor de Dios!" Being yelled at by your boss in front of your coworkers was humiliating, everyone was looking at you with pity. 

"I'm sick of this, why can’t you follow simple instructions? Is it that hard to understand?" He barked, towering over you. 

"It's not a big deal." You tried to keep your composure, you didn't want to humiliate yourself further by bursting into tears. 

"Not a big deal? You could've died! A simple mistake would have ruined the whole mission." 

Don't cry. Don't cry. 

"But we're all fine, aren't we?" You weakly chuckled. That was the wrong thing to say because it only made him angrier. 

"Oh? If that's the attitude you have then you shouldn't even be on the team." Ouch. 

"Miguel, I think that's enough-" Hobie said, quickly jumping in. 

"Not now, Hobie." He growled. 

Never once did you think that you'd be in a situation like this. 

"If you put more focus on trying to be good at your job, rather than impressing me, we wouldn't even be here!" Oh, so he did notice that. 

At this point, tears were streaming freely down your face and you made no attempt to stop them. 

"Yep, you got it, boss." You smiled up at him through your tears. It was pathetic, but you did not care, you just wanted to leave and never come back. 

"Next time make sure this doesn't happen." 

"It won't happen next time." That's because there won't be a next time.

[plutolovesyou]

Okay.. but like, loser ellie but she’s also a stoner and explains the entire lore of spider man to you while you’re trying to have seggs and she’s like stoned out of her mind and yapping about literally spider man 😭

before you read!!

☆: THIS IS SO FUCKING FUNNY IM CRYING LMFAO had me dying for like 10 mins straight. this is longer than intended bc im a yapper as we know, and i kinda don't know much of the spiderman lore (and you can def tell oops)…BUT I LOVE THE WAY YOUR MIND WORKS NONNIE.

◇: sfw but suggestive themes. warning: FAR from my best work, just wanted to keep momentum going ig. basically just fluff, lots of buildup as usual SORRY i have to establish a plot before we get to the good stuff…they're of age obviously, their relationship is left vague/up for interpretation so fill in the blanks w/ your own thoughts! “babe” pet name usage, consumption of weed, duh. ok i suppose that's all. OH AND SBWM REFERENCE HAHAHA (shameless self plug :3) + 1.0k wc.

One nice, regular night, chilling at Ellie’s humble abode, getting high, the usual Friday evening activities. You both were laying down in her bed, wrapped up in her dinosaur bedsheets of course, you were resting your head on her chest, occasionally coughing and swatting away the residual smoke that lingered in the air.

The weed had made your head fuzzy and your mouth drier than the Sahara desert, but despite all the not-so-great things, you loved to get high with Ellie.

Sometimes you'd fuck, sometimes you'd talk about life and reminisce about the good, the bad, and the ugly, and sometimes you'd just lay there to enjoy each other's company.

She was so warm and comfortable, you simply wished to merge bodies and become one with her, to make a home inside her ribcage even. You'd be perfectly fine just napping there on her cushiony chest, listening to her steady heartbeat and slow intakes of breath, if it wasn't for the familiar ache of need between your legs.

Shifting to look up at her, she was so incredibly zooted out of her mind, you found it hilarious. Chunky glasses covered in fingerprint smudges and sitting crooked atop her nose, eyes blood-red and so heavy lidded, you'd have thought she was asleep had you not taken a closer look.

You lifted yourself up and pressed your lips to the side of her pink cheek, repeatedly kissing her soft, smooth skin. She let out a husky giggle, her voice all hoarse and crackly from the substance. “Hiiii.”

She dragged out the vowel, grinning widely at you. Her smile was infectious, and you laughed at her state. Burying your face again in the crook of her neck, you mumbled, “Hi Ellie…you're so cute.”

Tangled up together, you kissed her some more on her neck, wanting to be as close as possible to her. She sighed, and angled her head to give you better access to more surface area. “That feels nice.” She'd slur, and you were pretty turned on at this point, to say the least.

It was worth asking. “Ellie…do you wanna fuckkk?” You whisper against her ear, and watch in delight as the bright-red blush spreads across her entire face like a wildfire, even reaching her collar, and spreading underneathyour shirt. “Um, yeah, duh. C’mere.”

You pressed a sloppy kiss to her lips, tangling your hands in her auburn locks and parting your puffy lips to invite her tongue in, not noticing the spit dribble down your chin where your faces met. Her breathing quickened immediately, and she whined into your mouth, the kisses getting even messier to the point where your teeth were clinking together, so you backed away for a breather.

The two of you shifted positions so she was now on top of you, resting her hand on your hip, thumb rubbing small circles. She moved in to initiate more lip-locking, but pulled away abruptly.

“Babe I forgot to tell you, so y’know Peter Parker, right?” And there she goes.

“Yeah, yeah I know him, can you just-” You try to rush past the beginnings of her rambling, because you knew once she got started, there was no end in sight. At least for a while.

You tried pulling her in to meet your lips again by the back of her head, but were met with lots of resistance. She seemed to look more alert now, a miracle. The power of superheroes!

She shuffled off of you and sat upright, assuming a cross-legged position, clearly not noticing your exasperated huffs and purposely obnoxious eye rolling, and the fact that there was a whole-ass human, half undressed, horny girl on her bed right there in front of her, who was slowly losing patience.

Ellie just went to her own world. Her eyes sparkled with passionate wonder as she thought about the series so dear to her heart. “Okay I rewatched all the movies a few days ago and I noticed something new…”

You were ready to give up what you originally had in mind, she was too far gone. She talked and talked endlessly, and you had to feign interest, nodding along and murmuring, “Mhm, yeah Els. Wow that's cool. Huh, never knew.” As enthusiastically as you could, so she didn't feel like she wasn't being listened to.

It was worth noting too though, when she started info-dumping about her interests she really was adorable, an excitement in her grassy eyes you never see otherwise, gesturing wildly with her hands and mapping out ideas to make it easy for someone who's never seen any of it to digest all this new information.

“...And then, in the movies Into the Spiderverse and Across the Spiderverse, there's this character called Gwen Stacy.”

She stops to cough and clear her throat, now seemingly appearing to completely forget that you were even there.

“And- oh yeah! She's also in the comics and ugh she's awesome, I really love her suit. It's got a hood on it…if I were to have a spider suit, it would be her style. Hm, it would also be mostly like, green…with red accents, ah I'm gonna show you all the sketches I made of it. But anyway…”

To be completely honest, you've been out of the mood for enough time now, and you've come to the realization that it actually didn't bother you.

This was Ellie, and you loved her for her! There was always next time you two met for a smoke session, you just loved spending time with someone so treasured such as her, and you'd be lying to say the Spiderman world wasn't a little interesting.

"That's so cool, wait. Okay can you explain the timeline of it all, oh and also how do all these different movies interact, is it the same universe, or something like the multiverse I think you mentioned?”

[fangswbenefits]

Sharing is Caring (I)

𓂅 𓄹 Summary: A mission has both Miguel and you sharing a room… what could possibly go wrong?

𓂅 𓄹 Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader

18+. ‘There’s only one bed’ trope. Dry humping. Fangs. Wet dreams. Love bites. Miguel in denial of his lust for the reader, but secretly touch starved.

You glanced at the watch on your wrist, suppressing a yawn.

Three in the morning had rolled around, and there were still no signs of the anomaly. Miguel O’Hara stood by the hotel window, gazing into the distance through narrowed and ever-watchful crimson eyes.

He was also not showing any signs of stopping for the night, but you were already far too sleep deprived to go on.

“Miguel…” you said miserably, sinking into the bouncy matress. “We should get some rest. We’ve been at this for hours…”

His face hardened slightly. “Get some rest, then. I’m staying up.”

Impossible man.

He was as relentless as he was stubborn. Once he had his mind set on something, there wasn’t much one could do to talk him out of it. He always had to have his way.

“We have sensors scattered all around the perimeter,” you said, feeling every last ounce of patience leave your body. “Any movement and we’ll be on it.”

This time he turned his head to you. “Sleep,” he grumbled, positioning himself closer to the windowsill, but just out of range of the raindrops that began to fall hard outside.

You exhaled in defeat. “Suit yourself.”

The bed squeaked as you moved to find a comfortable spot, eagerly flopping onto your back, facing the bland ceiling of the poorly lit room.

“The bed’s really comfy,” you said with a sigh of sheer relief, feeling the soft material dig into your sore muscles pleasingly. “You’re missing out.”

“The bed’s too small,” he said simply.

Right.

Trust Miguel O’Hara to find flaws in anything whenever it's convenient.

"Don’t be ridiculous," you scoffed, earning an intense glare from him. “We can totally fit here.”

“Uncomfortably, yes.”

You bit the inside or your cheek to keep yourself from mumbling a snarky reply, deciding not to push it and dive into a never-ending argument. You knew better than to do that with him.

Miguel suffered from chronic last word syndrome.

You exhaled noisily, as you pulled the soft sheet up to your shoulder before flipping onto your side to face the wall, ready for a much well deserved break from this boring mission.

Thankfully, the pouring rain outside presented itself perfectly, lulling you into a state of relaxation, and you felt your eyelids heavy as you drifted into sleep.

You weren't sure what time you awoke, but the room was now engulfed in darkness, with only the moonlight casting a dim light through the window.

The bed was dipped lightly behind you, and you glanced over your shoulder to find Miguel sleeping on his side. He had retracted his digital suit and you were now faced with his broad bare back.

You had never been in such close proximity with him, let alone in this state of nakedness, which had your stomach do a sudden flip. But both of you were beyond tired, so you told yourself to go back to sleep.

But then you heard it.

A soft grunt coming from him made you look over again. The muscles in his back twitched lightly with each breath. But something was off. his breathing was harsh and erratic, as if he was in a state is distress.

Another low and throaty moan was heard.

Was he having a nightmare?

He suddenly flipped onto his back and you were met with his bare chest, covered midway by the flimsy sheet you both shared. His face was twisted into a light frown, eyed firmly shut, but mouth parted, revealing his protruding fangs.

That was odd... Miguel wouldn't bare his fangs lightly unless the occasion called for it during missions.

But then your eyes traveled down his body to find a tent rising in his lower half, and your eyes nearly bulged out.

Miguel O'Hara's cock was pressing against the fabric proud and erect. The faint lighting was enough for you to make out the growing wet stain. From time to time, his hips would buck instinctively, causing a few beads of precum to seep through.

Oh.

You had nearly forgotten Miguel wore nothing under his suit.

Your mouth went suddenly very dry at the realisation that Miguel was actually having a wet dream.

Maybe you were the one dreaming, because the alternative just felt too much to be true. Witnessing the Miguel O'Hara in such a vulnerable and intimate position was not something you had on your bucket list, for sure.

Did you find him attractive? Yes. Would you gladly fuck all that grumpiness out of him if given the chance? Definitely.

So now you were torn on what to do. Should you wake him up? Should you just try to ignore the pant and grunts that kept spilling from his mouth? Should you also ignore the way your clit was now pulsing?

But the answer came with him moaning your name.

Your eyes widened and you gasped, immediately flinching away from him, turning to face the wall, heart drumming fast and in unison with your clit.

Before you could fully process the initial shock, a second one quickly followed as you felt him shift next to you to swing a strong arm over your waist. The top half of your suit had ridden upwards from all the commotion, and goosebumps immediately spread across the point of contact between him and you.

"Miguel..." you whispered, too afraid to make a sudden move.

He hummed softly, his large hand pressed flat against your tummy, as he pulled you closer into him, his breath hitting a sensitive spot just below your ear. But what truly made you jolt against him was when his cock came into contact with your ass.

At this point, you knew you had to brace yourself somehow, because you were too far gone to fight the overwhelming wave of pleasure that washed over you. It hit you slowly at first, and then all at once, as he slowly jerked his hips into you.

You were essentially trapped between his large body and the wall, leaving you with no choice but to press your hand against the latter, trying to steady yourself as he picked up the pace.

He mumbled your name under his laboured breath once again, rubbing his cock harder against you, the unmistakable spill of precum now coating your skin.

Your eyes were fixed on your fingers that soon curled into a fist against the wall from the jaw-dropping sensation, and you couldn't stop yourself from undulating your body to match his.

"Miguel..." you groaned in a miserable attempt at waking him up.

His hand slid up and below your covered breasts, his thumb dipping inside the tight fabric of your suit.

You immediately clenched around nothing, and felt your own wetness drip into your underwear.

There was only so much one could take. The voice of reason inside you was telling you to put an end to this right away, but you were not one to listen to reason, especially when you had Miguel O'hara humping you desperately.

His hand slid down to the hem of the bottom half of your suit and began to tug at it.

That was enough to snap you from the haze of lust. "Miguel!"

The reaction was immediate and you found yourself quickly being flipped onto your back and pressed firmly into the mattress, arms pinned above your head, as a breathless Miguel positioned himself on top of you, baring his fangs.

"Miguel... it's me," you said, eyed meeting his crimson ones. "You were..." your voice immediately died down as you felt the weight of the underside of his cock pressed firmly against your covered clit.

The grip on your wrists loosened and his eyes narrowed as confusion settled on his face. "What..."

You were trying your best to ignore his heavy cock, but failed miserably with a whimper, eyes snapping shut and your back arching reflexively.

Miguel grunted from the friction, and you felt him press further into you. "What are you doing?"

With a roll of your hips, you moaned. "Me? You were having a wet dream about me and dry humping me..."

His face drew near yours. "Nonsense."

"It's true..." you whispered shakily, yearning for more.

He moaned again, his balance faltering momentarily, head dropping next to your face. "I would never think of you that way."

You weren't entirely sure why he was now saying this, while still firmly pressed against you.

"Why not?"

He grazed his fangs along your neck. "You're too annoying."

"Then how do you explain that hard cock?"

"Biology," he groaned, hips jerking slowly.

Somehow, his refusal to accept his lust for you only served to fuel yours for him. His subconscious had dragged him earlier into a wet dream about you, and he wouldn't never be able to square this circle.

"So we should stop," you teased, dragging your soaked suit along his cock.

He stilled you with one hand, teasing your skin with his fangs once more. "Yes."

"Then stop."

"Hmm."

His lips latched on to your pulse point, sucking lightly, as one hand beside your head held his weight above you, and the other snaking in between your bodies.

"Let me just feel it... with nothing in the way," he grumbled after tearing away from your skin, and probably marking you with a hickey.

"Why?" you moaned, feeling your clit throbbing uncontrollably. "I'm too annoying."

He pulled the fabric down at once, visibly impatient. "Too annoying."

And when you felt his cock settle between your soaked folds, you jerked with a gasp. Miguel shuddered and glanced down along the length of your body. You followed his motion and were presented with the most alluring sight ever.

His cock lay neatly settled against your, strings of precum drooling from the tip and onto your skin, letting you know his body craved more.

"We should stop now," he said with a feral grunt rumbling from his throat.

You began to roll your hips to have your clit slide effortlessly along his cock, wet sounds filling the room. "You don't want to."

The way he snapped into you next almost had the tip at your entrance, earning a gasp from you.

"I do."

"Then why don't you?" you pouted, caressing his face and having him lean into your touch.

"Biology."

And as he closed the remaining distance with a searing kiss, his tip slipped past without much obstacle as your wetness mixed with his made it way easier. You felt the air in your lungs being crushed by the sudden stretch and you immediately parted your lips from his to let out a strained groan.

He was too thick.

"Just the tip, then," you panted against his lips.

He remained still inside you. "You can take more than that."

Probably, but all the teasing and unintentional foreplay had dragged you so close to the edge you feared you might combust before he buried himself balls deep.

Miguel proceeded to plant persuasive pecks along your jawline and down to your neck. "You can bite down on my shoulder, if it helps."

Your eyes widened at the proposal, and you nearly jerked into him, the promise of struggling to take all of him being way too alluring.

"Okay... but I'm too close..."

"I know."

He positioned himself and your lips brushed against his shoulder, before sinking your teeth into the flesh, and that was enough to signal him to slide in deeper.

You tried to easy the pressure on his skin, but the stretch was too overwhelming and he next thing you knew, your fingers were clawing at his back.

"Stop clenching...." he moaned and you detected despair in his voice.

You would if you could, but the friction was too good to turn down.

He growled in your ear, one hand gripping your knee to further spread you open for him. “Almost there, cariño..."

And just as you were finally beginning to easy your grip around him to fully accommodate him, the obnoxious sound of an alarm flared across the room, lighting up your travel watches.

Fuck...

The fucking anomaly...

Part 2

Masterlist

[tarjapearce]

What is Mama an Miguel’s fave sex position?

Jsksj omg nonny. NSFW undercut

Miguel absolutely LOVES Doggy style. Specially when he presses your head further into the mattress, muffling your cries and your ass is displayed before him in all it's glory.

He loves watching his fat cock slide in into your weeping pussy, stretching to his girth cause you feel so perfectly warm and tight for him, and he loves watching his cum rolling down your clit.

Missionary is another one of his favorite. Specially when he's feeling particularly romantic and want to enjoy you thoroughly. It's one of his favorites cause he gets to see all of your expressions while he's inside you.

He loves loves so badly when you're cupping his cheeks, mumbling how much you love eachother within blown breaths and pants as he wraps your legs around his waist. Eye contact is a MUST. He'll kiss you nonstop until you look at him in the eyes. And he can cradle you as you come undone underneath him.

He relishes into feeling your despair for him. That consuming need only he sates, leaving you both begging for air, disheveled and his front strands colliding against your forehead. It's so intimate. And you calling him Mi amor in that sweet moaning voice during?

He really means it when he tells that you have no idea the things you do with his mind.

The Spider. C'mon. What a better position to have him underneath you just for him to see how well you take him? And when you're extra needy, he'd lean back and enjoy the show, looking how well you fuck yourself to him and talking you through it. Controlling the pace.

Reverse Cowgirl cause, yeah, it morphs into doggy style. Plus he just lose it as soon as he sees your ass jumping and bouncing ontop of him, taking him like a champ. He loves watching the size of his hands groping and squeezing your ass.

When he's extra needy and kinky, He'd slap any surface he can reach while plumbing your insides, specially when you beg him to not be gentle.

As for Mama, needless to say, Mama loves it rough, but also enjoys a good vanilla from time to time.

Mating press is on the top list cause you love feeling the teasing stretch of Miguel inch by inch as he delves inside. His 6'9" caging you completely in his strong frame makes your orgasm mind shattering. Some even have you laughing like a total fool while he renewes your walls white.

The Prone Bone, works wonders, specially if you're tired but in need of your beefy man to rearrange your guts, specially after a stressful day on both ends. He loves when you're biting either the pillow or sheets

Flatiron is your own version of the missionary. Having such a fine man as your husband to talk both the sweetest things and pure filth in your ear while he smothers you with his body, specially when he cradled and embraces you to then bite your earlobe, and sets the pace for a slow and torturing tempo.

You live for his whimpers and wanton moans as you squeeze him, making your walls to snug him in a Pompoir choke. He can feel everything, and so do you.

Hearing him a moaning and grunting mess above you makes your imagination and senses to soar in delight.

The L, is perfect to have your insides well plowed and milked while Miguel kisses your ankle and thigh. Plus, it grants you a good clit massage from your husband.

You're somehow flexible, given Miguel's size, your muscles have accustomed to his manhandling and melding.

Against the wall? Of course. Having no room to breath properly while he fucks the daylights out of you is simply delicious and oh so kinky if you're doing it in the laundry room, mouth covered and hoping that Gabi doesn't knock on.

The thrill of being absolutely quiet to the point of your pussy and it's continuous 'zrup-ing' noises were heard every time he slid in, was matchless.

His neck was full of bites and his chest adorned with little hickeys. His back with delicious scratches, he wore proudly underneath his button shirt.

Whenever you used sweaters or pants, meant that he had left your inner thighs marked with either his own share of lovebites and fangs grazing. Only to remove your clothes at night to admire his handiwork and look for new places to put them in.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Just Like Dad (2 of 4)

Content & Warnings: referenced military career, domestic fluff, some humor, canon-typical swearing, Kyle is a girl dad

Word Count: 935

A/N: Part of the Imagines & What If Series

An evening of peace is interrupted when Kyle has to answer questions about what he does for a living.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // just like dad masterlist

Peace is shattered.

It always is when you have a kid.

It’s not just scraped knees or melted ice cream splattered on the pavement. Sometimes, peace is shattered because your child is a feral goblin who decides disturbing your sleep is the perfectly logical thing to do.

Wearing a pink onesie, standing in the bedroom doorway with her little fist raised and clutching a thin piece of paper, you and Kyle’s six-year-old daughter is ominously backlit by the hallway light. Kyle blinks, a little stunned by the sight before him. You shift beside him, one hand reaching out to him, murmuring his name.

There are a few seconds between her sudden appearance and the leap onto the bed. She spider-crawls like a thing out of a horror movie.

“Bloody hell,” groans Kyle, pinching the bridge of his nose as his daughter perches like a gargoyle next to him.

“Daddy,” she whispers.

You are already awake, turning over onto your back with squinted eyes as you’re blasted by the bright light of the hallway.

Before you can even speak, Kyle is shaking his head, placing a hand on your shoulder. “I’ve got this,” he groans, sitting up to turn on the bedside light. You glance at your daughter before returning to your original position.

Kyle rests his forearms on his bent knees, staring at his daughter who gazes at him with a peppy eagerness like she’s just eaten a cake heavily coated in icing. She shouldn’t have this much energy at this late hour.

“Go to bed,” says Kyle. “It’s past bedtime.”

She clutches the thin piece of paper. “I wanted to show you earlier.”

While Kyle is typically indulgent when it comes to her, he’s not feeling that way at the moment. He only wants to sleep.

“It’s late, bug,” he replies. “Tomorrow.”

She shakes her head, her tight curls bouncing slightly. “I didn’t know what to put here. You don’t talk about your job.” She points to a spot on the paper, and Kyle frowns as he peers closer.

Fuck.

It’s one of those questionaries where the child answers all these questions about themselves, and several pertain to her parents and what they do. She has left that entire section blank. Kyle understands that schools do this so that the students can build identity in their community while also making connections with classmates.

But she’s right. Kyle doesn’t talk about his job. At least not with her. You, his wife, are an entirely different story. You, the one who has been through nearly all of it, is the only person who truly knows everything. His daughter is far too young to know specifics or to fully comprehend the sheer violence of his work.

“You’re right, love. I don’t.”

“Why?” she asks automatically.

This is not a conversation he wants to be having. She needs to be in bed, and Kyle should be asleep and spooning you before he has to take this feral fiend of a daughter to school in the morning.

Kyle sighs and runs his hand over his face. “Where is this coming from?”

Her face falls slightly, and then becomes steel. “I want to be like you,” she says. “I want to grow up and be strong.”

No, babygirl. No. You don’t want to be like me.

You stir beside him, shifting like you’re about to turn and join the conversation. But Kyle knows you need your rest, and this isn’t the sort of conversation he desires to have this late at night.

That hardness melts away, and Kyle’s heart fractures slightly. She’s so small and yet so determined. Her little fist clutching the paper shakes slightly as if asking him is taking all her strength.

“Give me the paper.” Her smile widens as she hands it over. “And go turn off the hall light.” She groans loudly and Kyle shushes her as she throws herself off the bed and drags herself to the hall.

The light flicks off, and then she’s rushing back to him. He pats the side of the bed, and she crawls in, curling up next to him as he grabs the book off his bedside table.

“Pencil?” he asks, and she whips one out, her smile wide.

Kyle snorts and snags it, twirling it end-over-end as he tries to formulate an answer to the questions. Some of that gentle humor slips away, falling into memory, all the lead and blood and carnage comes back, roaring in his ears.

He takes a deep breath, silencing it all.

Graphite touches paper, and Kyle begins jotting down answers to all the things his daughter didn’t answer. She rests her head against his shoulder, watching the pencil scratch across the paper.

When he’s done, he presents the paper, and his daughter takes it reverently, as if all the secrets she doesn’t have are now suddenly before her. She does not take the pencil as she slips off the bed and starts to sprint for the door. She comes to a halt and turns on her heel, running back to him.

“Thanks, Daddy,” she says a little too loud before kissing his cheek and heading out into the hall.

The bed shifts, and Kyle turns to look at you as you twist to face him.

“What did you write?” you murmur.

Kyle sighs and shuts off the bedside light. He snuggles in, and you reach for him in the dark. Wrapping his arms around you, he pulls you close, inhaling your scent, allowing his mind to drift toward dreaming.

“A nice truth,” replies Kyle softly just before he slips into sleep.

[bitchyycapricorn]

Bitten

Peter Parker x Reader

Masterlist Word Count: 1.6K Synopsis: Peter’s body changes significantly after being bitten Warnings: Angst, Smut, very fluffy, oral (F and M receiving), P in V, language AN: Characters are aged up. Also, sorry this is one of my shorter ones, wanted to get a small blurb out before my long work. Not edited.

Peter before the spider bite:

You found yourself once again sitting in your boyfriends room watching as he messes with his new Star Wars lego set. “Babyyyyy, I’m boredddd.” You whine, hoping to get his attention after sitting on his bed for almost four hours just playing on your phone. Peter’s head shot up at your voice while a dorky smile spreads across his perfect lips.

“Well then, what would YOU like to do?” He asks while standing up to stretch.

You tap your chin and look up at the ceiling jokingly. “Probably you,” you tease. Peter’s eyes go wide, as shock paints his face.

“M-me?” He quivers with a terrified face before bursting into laughter with you.

“Oh my-just come over here you doof!” You giggle while holding your arms open. Peter quickly jumps into bed to join you, his lanky body slipping easily into your arms.

“Sooo…” Peter mumbles into your neck, “you really wanna do me?” He asks looking up at you and wiggling his eyebrows. You let out a laugh and nod, capturing Peters lips in your own.

“Take your cloths off lover boy,” you hum while sliding your own shirt off. Peter is quick to oblige, throwing his shirt to the side to reveal his small, and quite scrawny figure. You liked it though, after all, he was your Peter and your Peter was perfect. “I love your body you know that Pete?” You smile, leaning in to kiss his chest.

You watch as Peters cheeks flush a bright red, “R-really?” He laughs nervously.

You wrap your arms around him quickly mumbling a “I love it more than anything, you’re so sexy,” into his chest. Peter laughs again before crawling out of your lap to help you pull off your shorts.

“Well I, I love your body too,” He beams as he throws your underwear onto his desk.

“Peter!” You gasp as you feel him bury his head between your thighs. His tongue slowly licking between your folds and grazing your clit. Arching your back, you lightly grab ahold of Peters hair, admiring the way he looked between your thighs. You could already feel the pleasurable sensation of your orgasm creeping up on you, the feeling making your muscles tense and your insides feel warm and fuzzy.  “Fuck, babe I’m close,” your moan, grip tightening on Peter’s messy curls. His tongue swirled around your clit a few more times before you felt yourself release, grinding your hips as you finish. Peter smiles, popping up and giving you a sloppy kiss, making you taste yourself on his tongue and lips.  “Your turn,” You hum, flipping you and Peter over so he was now propped up on the pillows.

Peter let out a small moan as you toy with the zipper of his jeans, truthfully struggling to get them off. Peter lifts his hips, allowing you enough room to discard both his pants and boxers. A smile plays on your lips as your hand slowly strokes his cock. He was around 6 inches and fit just about perfectly in your mouth. You found yourself admiring his aching cock as you lay down on your tummy, eagerly taking him in your mouth. Peter let out a gasp as you bob your head, enjoying the feeling oh him hitting the back of your throat. “N-not too m-much uuuhh longer, I’m-I’m already close,” Peter stutterers, feeling his cock begin to twitch in your mouth. You slowly remove your mouth from him, making a loud popping sound as he flew out of your mouth completely.

“Ready?” You hum, as you sat up and position yourself on top of him. Peter nodded quickly, squeezing your tits as you slowly sunk down onto his cock. “Oh-fuck Peter,” You moan, throwing your head back as you slowly slid up and down his hard cock. “Fuck you feel so good, you-fuck-you fill me so well,” You whine as you continue to bounce. You place your hands on his smooth chest to balance yourself, before slowly grasping onto his shoulders.

You continue to ride him, loving the feeling of his cock buried deep inside you. “I-I’m close Y/N,” Peter moans , bucking his hips up into yours. Within a few minutes Peter was pulling out of you and finishing on his stomach while you helped him clean up.

When you find out about the spider bite:

“Peter what the fuck,” You gasp, staring at your mostly naked boyfriend standing in the middle of his room.

Peter’s head snaps to the now open door, staring at you like he had just committed a crime. “Y/N…I don’t know what’s going on with me.” Peter’s voice cracks. Your eyes skim his now extremely muscular body, with his new set of abs, broad shoulders, and thick arms. “Y/N, I don’t know what to do,” Peter cries, feeling suddenly out of place in his new body.

“Hey, it’s okay, do you know what happened babe?” You ask softly, as you close the door and begin to approach Peters crying figure. Your arms wrap around him, embracing him in a tight hug. His arms squeeze you, and you became suddenly hyper aware of just how strong his grip was and how every one of his muscles felt against your bare arms.

Peter heaved a few more sobs before sitting down onto the bed with you. “Remember that spider exhibit I went to visit a few days ago? The one you refused to go to with me?” Peter asked, his red puffy eyes staring into yours.

You nod, touching his face and replying with a soft “Yes.”

“Well,” Peter sighs, “One of the spiders was missing from it’s compartment, and while I was there I felt a sharp bite on my neck, and the next thing I know I can see and hear things so much better. I can stick to the wall! I’ve gotten bigger…everywhere! And I’m hungry and sweaty and I feel amazing yet so sick at the same time.” He rambles.

“So wait…you’re telling me that you got bitten by a radioactive spider and are now some bulky ass man who has like super hearing?” You ask furrowing your eyebrows.

“Yes…?” Peter replies sucking in another breath.

“Okay…wait…did you say sticking to walls?”

Peter with the spider bite:

You and Peter had been adjusting to the new spider bite for about three weeks now, trying to figure out all the new things Peter could do along with helping him get used to experiencing his new and enhanced senses, oh, and the Peter tingle. You both had been so wrapped up in figuring stuff out it was only now as you were laying in Peters bed on a rather warm day that you realize neither of you have had sex for over a month. In fact, the last time you saw Peter even close to naked was the day you found out about the spider bite and he was just in a pair of boxers. Since then he seems so nervous to even take his shirt off around you.

“Hey Peter?” You ask turning to your boyfriend who is hiding in a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants on an almost 90 degree day. “You can take off your sweatshirt you know? I don’t bite, unless you want me to.” You tease, tugging at the warm material of his sweatshirt.

“I’m cold,” Peter lies, still looking at his phone.

“Peter?” You ask again, finally getting Peter to turn to you. “Why won’t you let me see your body anymore?” You finish quietly.

Peter frowns, realizing that you’d finally noticed his hesitation to let you see him with nothing on. “I’m scared,” he answers honestly. “You’d always tell me how much you loved the way I looked, and how you liked my build before, all of that, and now I look different. I know that typically people favor a more muscular build but what if you don’t? What if you only like what I used to look like?”

You stare at Peter for a moment before a warm smile spread across your pink lips. “Oh, Peter,” you sigh, sitting up and fully turning toward him. You gently cup his face with your palm, stroking his cheek with your thumb. “Of course I loved your body before, but I love it now too. I really don’t care what your build is sweetheart, I just care that you’re my Peter. I fell in love with your goofy smile and your absurd jokes, not your body after some hookup. Besides, bodies change, mines changed since we’ve met, and you still love mine.” You smile kissing his lips softly.

“You’re right” Peter sighs pulling away from the kiss. “I was just so worried you’d view me differently,” he mumbles.

“I know, but hey, I’m going to love you regardless,”

“Okay good because I’m about to die of heat,” Peter groans slipping off his sweatshirt followed by his sweatpants and boxers. His naked boy lays spread out across the sheets, radiating previously trapped heat.

You let out a laugh, slowly running your hand up his muscular chest. “You look hot babes,” You tease, slowly massaging his right shoulder.

“I am hot, I am sweating, look at me!” Peter groans again.

“I meant you’re like sexy hot,” You giggle, running your hand down his arm. “But i could make you even hotter if you want,” You wink at him.

Peter raised an eyebrow at you, feeling blood rush down to his now hardening cock. “It that so?” he asks with a small smirk. “I mean, it has been forever,” he admits, rolling onto his side to face you.

You hum, placing a kiss to his lips before scanning his body again. “Um Peter…” you ask slowly.

“Yes love?” He asks slowly placing his hand on your thigh.

“D-did your dick get bigger?” You laugh nervously remembering just how much it already filled you up before.

“Yeah, extra two inches, wanna try it out?” Peter winks, before tackling you onto his soft mattress.

+++

TAGLIST

[redstarwriting]

the clash | vi. (with someone you shouldn’t’ve)

hobie brown x goth!reader

word count: 2.2k

genre: enemies to lovers

warnings: language, insults, hobie hating you (sort of), you hating hobie, angry hobie, death, there’s a murder, SORT OF GRAPHIC death scene, injuries, ANGST, a plot twist!, sort of allusions to s*icide

a/n: ok y’all. this one’s a lil shorter, but this is where it starts getting whacky. the way i’m writing this is sort of like if i was writing a comic book, so this is a WHOLE ASS PLOTLINE that i could see being illustrated in my brain. i hope you enjoy, bc it’s about to get WILD. don’t worry tho the fluff will come bc i’m soft(ish)

previous chapter: v. ever fallen in love

now reading: vi. (with someone you shouldn’t’ve)

next chapter: vii. i wanna be sedated

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First thing’s first, Hobie needs to find out where the Prowler of your world might be. He could always call Miles and ask him where his Uncle Aaron lived, but that seems a little… insensitive. If there’s anything he knows about the Prowler, he knows that he’s a thief. So, Hobie snatches your police dispatcher and listens for some burglaries being reported. Getting any type of assistance from the police pains him to his very core, but he’s not about to wake you up and let you know what he’s about to do. He crouches on the railing of your balcony and stares out at your city. He hears calls about someone robbing a Bloodega, not the Prowler. Some kids snuck into a club, also not what he needs. “Come on, pigs,” he mumbles, “give me somethin’ useful here.”

That’s when his ears perk up.

“Reports of someone lurking around of Oscorp Labs, suspicions that it might be the Prowler. Units on standby for Spider-Goth, do not engage with the Prowler.”

Do not engage? What the hell? Isn’t he a villain? Hobie quickly understands what’s going on.

He works with the cops.

Fuck this assshole.

He leaps off your balcony, webbing his way through your city. It may not be his style, necessarily, but it’s a nice place. He can see why you like it so much. He’s actually been webbing through it more than he ever expected to with how much he visits you. He knows deep down that he’s visiting so much only to see you, but outwardly he likes to pretend it’s just to see Shadow. He knows more about your world than Miles, Pav, or Gwen’s which is interesting considering he’s known you only about 3 and a half months. Luckily, you live only a short web swing away from Oscorp, so he can’t get too lost in his thoughts about you and can end this guy faster. He lands on the top of the building and glances around. He notices a perfectly cut hole in the glass a few floors down, so he crawls down and through into the building. It’s dark. He tries to stay as quiet as he possibly can because he knows that’s how you would do it, but damn. He just isn’t good at stealth. And this is factual apparently, because he gets the feeling someone is watching him and just barely jumps out of the way from what looks like a whip covered in spikes. He lands on the ground in a crouched position when he hears a somewhat familiar sounding voice. “Who the hell are you?”

“Can ask you the same question, mate,” Hobie says, “The answer will make this whole thing so much easier.”

“You one of that freak’s friends?”

“Something like that,” Hobie responds. “I take it you’re the Prowler?”

“The one and only,” he says, and Hobie rolls his eyes under his mask. “Mate, do I have some news for you,” he snorts, and the Prowler flicks his wrist. His whip makes some mechanical noise and green and purple light starts shining through it in little places where the metal isn’t completely welded together. Hobie motions to it. “Bet you’re proud a’ that. What are you? A cybergoth? cyborgoth?”

“I’ll ask this one more time. Who are you?”

“Name’s Spider-Man, also known as Spider-Punk,” Hobie says, and the Prowler groans. “There’s another one? You’ve got to be kidding.”

“There’s a lot more than just me and them, mate,” Hobie crouches down, ready to leap out of the way if need be. “Why are you here? Where’s my insect at?”

Hobie doesn’t like the way he called you his. “They’re not yours,” he hisses at him. The Prowler is quiet for a moment before laughing. “Oh. I see. Didn’t know they had a boyfriend,” he says, before whipping towards Hobie. He jumps out of the way in time, but almost doesn’t because boyfriend? Excuse me? “Not their boyfriend!” he yells, landing on the ceiling and glaring down at the Prowler. “No? Then why are you here? I figured it was because of how badly I beat them. Their screams were so entertaining.” Hobie hates this man. He clenches his jaw. “Nowhere near as entertainin’ as yours’ll be, dickhead,” he grunts, jumping down and shooting a web at the Prowlers legs. Luckily, the Prowler wasn’t expecting that, and Hobie is able to yank his legs out from underneath him. He falls hard, and Hobie smirks. “Oh sorry, did that hurt?” Hobie says, and the Prowler growls, standing up faster than Hobie anticipated. “I’ll kill you.”

“Not if I kill you first, mate,” Hobie says, anger seeping out of his words. “A spider that willingly kills, huh? Is that why you came to find me?” he chuckles, “I feel like you and I could be good friends,” the Prowler’s chuckle turns into a laugh, and it pisses Hobie off even more. “I’d rather die than be friends with someone like you,” Hobie shoots another web at him, but this time the prowler dodges it. He flicks his wrist, and Hobie feels the whip make contact with his side. He grunts in pain. This must be what got you earlier today. “That can be arranged. You’re even worse than your little partner,” the Prowler says, and Hobie can hear the smirk. He wants to punch that fucking smirk off his stupid face. Hobie stands again, grabbing his guitar. If it’s a fight to the death this fucker wants, it’s a fight he’ll get. And Hobie will not be dying tonight. “Oh, what are you gonna do? Power chord me out of existence?”

“More like beat your ass until you kick it,” Hobie growls, “but if ya want me to do it with style, I’ll play ya a song over your dead body.”

“Bold of you to assume I’ll be the one dying tonight,” the Prowler says and uses his whip again. Hobie jumps out of the way, and his eyes widen as he dodges two bullets in midair. He lands on the ground and sees that the Prowler’s gauntlets are guns as well. He scoffs. “How much that suit cost ya?”

“Would have cost a lot if I didn’t steal it or invent it myself, but I did,” Hobie dodges two more bullets, but lands directly on the Prowlers whip, causing him to slip and fall. “Luckily my agreement with the police got me the state-of-the-art tech that I needed,” the Prowler confesses. “Fuck,” Hobie grunts, jumping up as quickly as he can. “I’m gonna love telling Spider-Goth I took down their boyfriend.”

“Not their boyfriend!” Hobie yells, jumping out of the way of his whip, and more bullets.

“I find that very hard to believe.”

“Look, how ‘bout we settle this without any gadgets, eh? See who wins then?” Hobie says, and the Prowler scoffs. “If you can’t beat me at my best, you can’t beat me at my worst.”

“Actually, yeah I can. Dunno if you’re realizin’, but I’m still alive and breathin’,” Hobie says, jumping out of the way of his whip yet again. This time, though, Hobie was prepared. He webs the whip and yanks it as hard as he can. The Prowler is airborne as Hobie swings him to the other side of the room. He lands with a thud, and Hobie webs over to him, doing a flip to land a kick directly to the face. The Prowler manages to get his whip wrapped around Hobie’s ankle and flings him back across the room. He crashes into some glass wall and groans. “As much as I fuck with your ‘fuck the establishment attitude,’ Spider-Goth ain’t gonna be too happy with me if I destroy another buildin’,” Hobie says, shaking his head, hearing some glass fall down next to him. Then, the alarms start blaring. ‘Great, probably broke somethin’ important,’ he thinks before noticing a piece of glass stuck in his arm. ‘Gotta make this quick,’ he thinks, grunting as he pulls the glass out of his arm. “Like I give a fuck what makes them mad,” the Prowler says, running towards Hobie. He leaps out of the way, webbing his leg again and causing him to slip and fall. Hobie then delivers a blow to the side of his face with his guitar, but thanks to his armor, it just hurts him more than anything.

Then Hobie hears hissing. He leaps up onto the ceiling just before a mechanical snake was about to sink its stupid metal fangs into him. “Made yourself friends ‘cause ya ain’t got any? I’d be gutted for you if ya weren’t such a dick,” Hobie says, webbing the snake and jumping off of the ceiling. He does a flip in midair, swinging the snake with him and throwing it at the Prowler. He dodges just in time, but Hobie is able to deliver another blow to him. This time, Hobie goes for his leg. And he hears a crack. Just as he wanted. The Prowler shrieks out in pain. 

Hobie lands next to him and bends down. “Hope that hurt, fucker,” he spits, striking his other leg in the same fashion. He dodges the mechanical snake again, grabbing it and using his strength to break it in one squeeze. He throws it to the side and dodges more bullets from the Prowler’s gauntlets. Unsurprisingly, Hobie goes for both arms next. He stops when the man is rendered completely useless, rolling the Prowler over on his back. “I win,” Hobie says, and even he is taken aback at how menacing his voice sounds. The Prowler grunts, “You sure you’re a good guy?” Hobie ignores him and stands beside his head. “I do what I want. Any last words?”

The Prowler is silent for a moment before speaking. “Tell them that their boyfriend would have been able to save–”

Hobie doesn’t let him finish.

In fact, Hobie has trouble stopping even after he knows the deed is done. He didn’t even give Osborn this kind of disrespect. But this guy is different. All Hobie has to do is think about the state of your back, how you still blame yourself for what this motherfucker did to someone you cared so much about, and he’s swinging his guitar again.

He only stops when there’s nothing left to hit.

He breathes heavily, observing what he’s done in the flashing red lights as the alarm blares in the background. He walks back to the window, glancing back at what he’s done before leaping out and webbing away as fast as possible. He hopes no one saw him. Doesn’t want anyone confusing you for him.

He lands on your balcony and sees Shadow waiting for him inside the doors. He opens them and hears the cat meow at him. He leans down, giving him a few scratches, before opening a portal to his world. He goes home, falling on his bed. He groans, feeling the injuries he got for the first time. The adrenaline was keeping him going that entire fight. He gets up, and begins mending his injuries. Halfway through the last set of stitches he has to give himself, he gets a call on his watch from Miguel. He rolls his eyes, ready to get yelled at for, ‘interfering with the fate of the multiverse, yaddah yaddah yaddah blah blah blah boring boring boring.’

“Yeah, what d’ya want?” he answers, finishing up his stitches. “Get to Spider Society immediately.”

“I’m a little busy here, mate can it–”

“NO! It can’t wait, Hobie! Get here now!” Miguel screams, hanging up. Hobie groans. He was supposed to go back to your world so when you wake up, he would be there and explain why he did what he did. He could just go back… but then Miguel might show up in your world. And he sure as hell doesn’t want that. Sighing, he opens a portal to earth-2099, walking through and ending up in Miguel’s multi-screened research room. “Do you know what you did.”

“Killed a bloody villain, what of it?” Hobie asks, already annoyed. Miguel pounds his fist on the desk. “You interfered with (Y/n)’s timeline, Hobart!”

“I was protecting them!”

“YOU CREATED AN ANOMALY!” Miguel screams, and Hobie frowns. “How did I–”

“You killed a villain not a part of your own world, a villain who played a role in a major canon event of (Y/n)’s and now–”

“Would you come off it with the fuckin’ canon events?! Whatever it is will be resolved in one way or another!”

“Hobie you don’t understand–”

“He hurt them! Was I just supposed to stand around and let it happen?!”

“YES! We’re Spider-People it’s part of the job,” Miguel screams, and Hobie rolls his eyes. “I thought you hated them anyways, why did you want to protect them so bad?!” Miguel asks, and Hobie freezes. That… is actually a good question. He sees your injuries in his mind again and his frown deepens. Why did he want to protect you? Surely, he doesn’t… like you? No, he wouldn’t have done what he just did for a just a friend, though he would have still hunted the Prowler down. But the thought of him hurting you drove him to do unspeakable things… which he did. Is it… does he like you romantically?

His eyes widen. It would make sense if he felt that way. He was around you 24/7. These past two days were torture. He likes the way you challenge him. He likes the way you look, he likes the way you speak, he likes– “Hobie. Answer me.” His thoughts get cut off by Miguel, and he swallows hard. “I… I actually can’t answer that right now,” he says, and Miguel frustratedly runs his hand through his hair. “Hobie. What you just did…”

“Is bad, I know–”

“It’s not just bad. It’s detrimental.”

“What do you–”

“Do you know who you killed?” Miguel asks, and Hobie scoffs. “Obviously. I killed the Prowler, probably some variant of Aaron Davis or–”

“The Prowler on Earth-666 is not Aaron Davis,” Miguel says, frowning at him. “Did I kill Miles? You know his voice did sound kind of familiar…” Hobie asks, feeling a little worse about the way he handled the situation. “No. It wasn’t Miles, either.” Hobie looks up at Miguel, who takes a deep breath. “The Prowler on Earth-666 was Hobart Brown.”

Hobie feels like he just got hit with a pound of bricks. This is too much for him to process in one night. “I… what?”

“You just killed yourself.” Hobie shakes his head. “I–”

“He sounded familiar because he was you. Just without the English accent,” Miguel says. “Did (Y/n) know?” he asks, less concerned with the fact that he technically killed himself, and more concerned with the fact that he did all of those things to you. Miguel shakes his head no. “They didn’t. They were never supposed to know,” Miguel affirms, and Hobie lets out a shaky breath. He unclenches the fists he didn’t realize he formed. He feels the indents his nails made on his palms, but he doesn’t care. He was genuinely scared for a minute there. How would you react towards him if you know he was the one torturing you for so long? He nods. “Good.”

“There’s something else I need to tell you, Hobie,” Miguel says, and Hobie looks at him. “You changed a canon event. So far, the world seems stable… but you’re not going to like what will happen next,” Miguel says, turning away from him. Hobie jumps up to the platform Miguel is standing on. “Will (Y/n) be okay?” he sounds a little too frantic, and Miguel glances over at him. “You care too much for them.”

“Bollocks,” Hobie retorts, and Miguel sighs. “I knew you would like them,” he mumbles before pulling up information on your Earth onto the monitors. Hobie sees the Venom symbiote pop up and frowns. You haven’t had to deal with that yet. “The Venom symbiote was meant to bond to Hobart Brown on (Y/n)’s Earth. Now, the symbiote is going to bond to (Y/n), which is bad. This symbiote is unlike the other Venoms. It’s angrier. Deadlier. He would have been the worst enemy they ever had to face. I’ve been mentoring them as a secret way to help them train to be able to defeat him because… well…”

“Cause what?”

“Hobie Brown with the Venom symbiote would have been unstoppable,” Miguel says, turning to Hobie and delivering information that makes a chill run down his spine.

“Hobart Brown was meant to kill (Y/n) (L/n).”

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『 tag list 』

@444neapolitain @afraidofshrimp @arianalovescatss* @aroaceg @astrok1dz @baefy3764 @casmosmoon* @ch6ntt* @chill-guy-but-cooler​ @cl0udyw4ter​ @cursedbitchboy​ @d1nne @death-and-rebirth-again @dotheyevenknowmars​ @epicy0n​ @f1shb0nez @faerieluuv @fisshil @fukingsad @fushiguropleasesteponme* @friendly-reject @hisdarlingabsurdity @idk-i-draw @imarealfungi @imobsessedreader* @ineedsomeconfidence @inkthgoat @iwillrisefromthefire @j3st3r-13 @jayelyyynnn* @jingliuu @jjkclub @katiebug0603 @kenqki @khaleesihavilliard @kittekat420 @lacunaanonymoused​ @lightning-wolffe* @localbeidousimp @madusas-girlfriend @marshallowy @marsyay78 @mistpx* @miwagila @naarra* @nikabearr @notbluees @notplutos* @pookiesnatcher @queen-of-the-bored @queen-of-the-grapefruits​ @romeomahbromeo​ @sadbitchhours400* @scoliobean @sillylittleguyinc @simplefools* @siriusly1 @sparklyphantom @stevenknightmarc @sxftiebee @tengen-fourth-wife @thatweirdgirlsposts @umiexe @valee1xoxo* @wannabe-fic-reader​ @weyrrii* @wheeeelys @woahrin* @xoxobabe* @zero-boxes

*if you are italicized - i am unable to tag you for whatever reason, feel free to reach out and see if we can fix the issue

if you asked to be on the taglist and i forgot, i’m sorry :( feel free to leave a comment on this or message me separately and i’ll get you right onto it!

[xstarsmvxz]

sub spider men?

𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐁𝐘 𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑-𝐌𝐄𝐍 ❥

𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐋𝐔𝐃𝐄𝐒 > Miguel O’hara, aged up! e1610 Miles, aged up! e42 Miles & Hobie Brown

𖦹 i just wanna say that I love getting requests, even if they’re simple and small they really help me have motivation to write <3

𝐌𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐄𝐋 𝐎’𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀 ➬

Fuck, this man may just be one of the most gentle giants ever when it comes to being a sub. His biceps are flexing behind him, his veins bulging out as his hands stay tied to the head board. One minute, his girthy cock is being pumped by your hand and the next it’s twitching and nearly turning purple, desperate to cum as you gently tease the tip with your thumb. His legs are kicking and squirming as he lets out a long whine, his voice cracking as you cup his sack and gently massage. Your other hand finally grabs the base of his cock, slightly squeezing as you lick his sensitive tip, causing him to let out a lewd moan at the sensation.The rest of the night was filled with Miguel’s desperate voice, begging you to let him cum.

aged up! 𝐞𝟏𝟔𝟏𝟎 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐒 ➬

Remember in my last post when I said that he was a virgin? Well yeah, this guy is definitely a virgin. He’s always been a sub, never a dom.. but to be honest, he secretly likes it that way. He likes the way you ride his cock so smoothly, so confidently, so experienced.. it always causes a jealous feeling to arise in his chest whenever he thinks of you with any other man, whenever he thinks of the fact that you’ve ridden another man just like how you ride him. But strangely enough, he enjoys it. The way your tight cunt professionally squeezes around his length perfectly as your thighs crush his waist. The way you smirk and tauntingly laugh at the whimpers and moans that leave his mouth. Even when he tries to suppress it, you always find a way to get him to let out a sweet moan or whine, either purposely clenching around him or muttering sweet, sexy words into his ear before moving to kiss his sensitive neck.

aged up! 𝐞𝟒𝟐 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐒 ➬

Bro is for sure a a switch, usually a dom but not for tonight. No, tonight you have him pinned against your bedroom wall, running one of your hands all over his chest, your fingers gliding over his nipple as the two of you lustfully kiss. He’s letting out breathy moans into the kiss, his brows furrowed as your other hand every so gently pumps his cock, the tip of your pointer finger prodding at his slit before you break the kiss, getting onto your knees in front of him as he lets out a small whimper at the sight. Your perky nipples and plump thighs look so good to him right now as you give the side of his cock small kitten licks, moving to give his tip a wet kiss, your saliva mixing with his leaking pre-cum. His hands instinctively move to grab a fistful of your hair before you roughly grab his wrists to stop him, moving his hands away as you slowly take his whole length into your mouth, gripping what you can’t fit with your free hand as you continue to hold one of his. You nearly gag as his tip hits the back of your throat, letting out a groan at the sweet taste of his cock. His eyes are brimming with tears as he searched for something to grip, letting out a broken moan at the feeling of his tip hitting the back of your throat.

𝐇𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐄 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍 ➬

Even as a sub, Hobie is still extremely cocky. He’s praising you as you ride his cock, attempting to take control of the situation. It honestly surprised him when you switched the position from military to cowgirl, when you went from subby bottom to dominant top, it wasn’t at all like you. He smirks and toys with his lip piercing as you weakly grind your hips against his, still tired from your previous orgasms, but you don’t stop your movements at all, no… you grind and bounce on his huge dick as if your life depended on it, letting out breathy moans as Hobie grabs your hips, shamelessly letting out groans and whimpers of his own as your tight cunt sucks him in. It didn’t take long for the two of you to reach your climaxes. Hobie let’s out a long groan as he shoots long ropes of cum into you, pulling your body down as he shoves his face into your breasts, whether they’re big or small- they’re still his favourite thing about you.

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

[destinationtrekk]

Another nsfw thought...

Imagine him being so horny he goes creature™ mode

His pupils are completely dilated, Uroboros' tentacles are out, and he's drooling.

he literally crawls on walls like a fucking spider, chasing after you lol

wow!!! this is so nasty :) if it’s not your thing just keep scrolling!! 18+ mdni gn!reader - rough sex, restraints, dubcon? just in case, overstimulation, unprotected sex

when you come home and find wesker standing perfectly still in your bedroom, shirtless and panting like an animal, you can tell immediately something is up.

He’s on you the second he turns around, you only get a glimpse of his glowing eyes around his vanta black pupils. the lights are off so you can only see vague shadows of his broad shoulders and thick tentacles rising from his back as he crowds you against the wall. he’s pressed so tight against you that you can barely move, and his rock hard bulge is already grinding against you.

he lifts your legs to wrap around his hips like you weigh nothing and his teeth are biting bruises in your neck. you try to ask what what’s going on, is he okay, slow down and talk to me-

unless you safeword or tap out, he’s not stopping. he doesn’t have the brain capacity to explain to you the burning desire in his chest, like he’s drunk on you and how you’re squirming in vain to escape and inadvertently grinding on his cock harder. he just ignores your worried voice and carries you to the bed so he can work on stripping you both naked as quickly as possible

he loooooves to pin you down with the tentacles. They tighten every time you squirm and try to break free and he still has both his hands free to touch you. Honestly uroboros is so versatile - they can hold your hips tight so he can thrust up into you without worrying about pushing you up the bed, they can slide over your tongue to keep your mouth occupied, so so many options to keep you pliant and perfectly positioned for him :)

he’s so worked up he can barely talk, every touch of your bare skin on his is like electricity and he’s making so much noise - growling and grunting and moaning when he has his mouth full of you, drool spilling from his lips and down his chin and neck. when he finally comes back up to kiss you he smears his spit all over your face as well - he can’t bother to care how messy it gets when he just needs to pump you full a few times to clear his head. he doesn’t stop when you finish more than once and start whining about how it’s too much and it hurts, he just uses the tentacles to keep stroking/rubbing you to keep you squeezed tight and pulsing around his cock while he uses you like a toy

the next morning he’s really really embarrassed and sorry. he spends half the day apologizing by kissing your bruises and hugging you from behind and giving you worried puppy eyes, but you really enjoyed it - much more than you ever thought you would. you tell him just to warn you next time, but if he needs to let loose so combat his insane new biology, you’re always there to be his little fucktoy <3

[libraryofgage]

Addams Family B-Side (3)

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two | Three (you're here!) Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One | Two (on the way!) Harley Quinn One 10th Doctor and Rose One | Two (on the way!) Scooby Gang (there are plans for this one lmao, so plz be patient with me orz)

Did I already post today? Yes. Did I also post two chapters of Modern Steve in 80s Hawkins today? Yes. I am just incredibly productive today, who knows when it's gonna happen again lol

Anyway, finally! The next B-Side! This bitch has been stewing my guys, so I hope you enjoy it lol

There are two memes at the very end of this one, so definitely stick around

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't 😘

--------

For four weeks, Eddie feels himself losing his mind. He finds gifts in his locker every other day, and he's convinced they're from Steve Harrington. He now has a taxidermied bat, a fancy-looking vial with a skull and crossbones embossed in the glass and filled with mysterious liquid, an actual human skull that Eddie immediately incorporates into his next campaign, and a spider. An actual spider. A live spider that, after a little research, he learns is a fucking Black Widow that seems unnaturally friendly.

Eddie can't stress that part enough. Multiple people have mistaken the spider for an intricate vest patch because it just sits perfectly still over his chest pocket. It only moves to rub its head against Eddie's fingers whenever his hand passes over it, and even then it's careful to avoid hurting him with its pincers.

He names her Nox.

Those aren't the only gifts he's received, but they're the most notable, and Eddie is overwhelmed and flustered by the positive attention he's suddenly receiving.

The other thing driving him crazy is Pubert Addams, a guy Eddie had never paid much attention to before but now considers his mortal enemy. He's convinced Pubert is, at worst, potentially abusive or, at best, delusional and taking advantage of Steve's kindness and inability to brutally turn him down. Or maybe Eddie is the crazy one; he doesn't actually know. Whichever it is, Eddie is ready to take the very nice dagger he now has (gift number 15; yes, Eddie has been counting) and stab him with it.

Because he can't get more than two minutes alone with Steve before Pubert appears out of nowhere. Eddie runs into Steve in the hall while everyone else is in class? Pubert shows up with a hall pass two seconds later and literally waltzes Steve away from him. Eddie finds Steve camped out in the library during study hall? Pubert materializes in the chair next to Steve before Eddie can sit down, leaning far too close as he asks Steve to explain something from their shared Gothic Literature class. Eddie, by some miracle, is behind Steve in the lunch line (and he calls this a miracle because Steve always brings his lunch in a pink box with black skulls, which Eddie considers incredibly brave of him to carry around like it's nothing)? Before Eddie can do more than say hi and get a blinding smile in return, Pubert fucking Addams shows up and drags Steve away while promising to share his lunch.

Eddie is just about to lose the last shred of patience he's struggling to maintain when Steve finds him. Ironically, it's the same bathroom where they first talked, the one with mysterious mold growing in the corner that Eddie is convinced is some new species. It's the only bathroom with a busted smoke detector, and Eddie goes there to get high during his free period.

He's halfway through a joint, smoke curling around him as he sits on the sink counter and tries not to think about what else has been there, when the door swings open, Steve walks in, and Eddie chokes on his inhale.

"Don't die like this," Steve says, stepping closer and patting Eddie's back like they know each other, "It's no fun."

Eddie finally gets himself under control, taking a deep breath and wincing at the way his lungs burn. "No worries," he croaks out, regretting the departure of Steve's hand on his back. "What are you doing here? Please don't tell me you plan to use this bathroom."

"As curious as I am about the bacteria teeming on these toilet seats, no." Steve sounds genuine, like he really does want to swab the toilet seats and see what grows. Instead, he places his bag on the sink and pulls out a familiar vial with a familiar skull and crossbones. "I just came to drink."

"Oh?" Eddie says, leaning forward with a grin. He looks Steve up and down, taking in the pale blue sweater vest and immaculately pressed jeans. "You don't look the drinking type, Stevie."

Steve hums, popping the cork out of the vial and taking a swig from it. "This isn't exactly hard stuff," he says after he swallows, distracted enough that Eddie thinks he misses his eyes lingering on Steve's throat as it bobs.

"Just beer then?"

"What?" Steve asks, looking at Eddie like he's delusional. "No, it's cyanide and vinegar."

He says it with such conviction that Eddie believes him despite knowing cyanide is poison. "Metal," he says, looking away to take another drag of his joint as he struggles to break through his own awkwardness and hold a conversation that will somehow sweep Steve off his feet and make him forget all about Pubert Addams.

Before he can think of something clever and smooth and funny, Steve leans close and raises a hand to his chest. Eddie is about to warn him that Nox is, in fact, real when the spider scuttles onto Steve's fingers and settles in his palm. She does a little up-and-down motion, circles in his hand twice, and rubs her head against his wrist. "You've been taking good care of her," Steve says.

"Uh, yeah. How is she not biting you right now?" Eddie asks, remembering all the times Nox has warningly snapped at others who tried to touch her.

Steve snorts and allows Nox to return to her spot on Eddie's vest. "I raised her," he says, his tone casual like he isn't admitting to showering Eddie with inexplicable gifts for the past four weeks, "of course, she won't bite me."

"So, it has been you," Eddie replies, wanting to hear it from Steve himself.

With a soft hum, Steve takes another sip from his bottle. "Who else would it have been?"

Eddie licks his lips, takes another drag of his joint to brace himself, and hops off the counter. "So, uh, does that mean you li--"

Before the rest of the question can be asked, the bathroom door swings open again, and Eddie feels his eye twitch as Pubert Addams frowns at them. "So, this is where you were," he says, walking over to Steve and putting an arm around his shoulders.

"I told you I was going to the bathroom," Steve says, rolling his eyes as he stuffs the vial back into his bag.

Pubert looks Eddie over, a derisive huff escaping him as he dismisses Eddie and looks at Steve. "On the other side of the school? Really?" he asks, and Eddie would be overthinking what that means if he weren't sure his veins were about to burst.

"We were talking, you know," Eddie says, gaining Pubert's attention again. Steve looks at him, too, his eyes a little brighter.

"I'm sure," Pubert replies, rolling his eyes as he takes Steve's bag. "And now we're leaving." With that, he leads Steve out of the bathroom, the door swinging shut before Steve can do more than smile apologetically and wave.

Anger surges through Eddie, and the shaky drag he takes to finish off his joint does absolutely nothing to soothe it.

He's going to kill Pubert Addams.

--------

Funnily enough, Steve's mother doesn't learn about his crush until he's five weeks into it. When Debbie finally does discover the crush, it's because she walks in on Fester and Steve decorating homemade cookies shaped like anatomically correct hearts. She pauses in the doorway, looking between the two covered in flour and raspberry jam, and asks, "What on earth is going on here?"

Steve looks up, sees this as his chance to finally tell Debbie, and smiles brightly at her. "I'm in love, Mother. He's allergic to raspberry, and Father agreed to help me make him cookies with raspberry filling, so he can feel the same breathlessness I do when I see him," he explains, using his thumb to wipe raspberry jam off his cheek.

Debbie stares at him for a few seconds before looking at Fester. "How long have you known?" she asks.

"Five weeks," Fester admits, looking apologetic. "I wanted to tell you, Pumpkin! But Steve asked me not to so he could tell you himself."

She sighs and walks over to the island, sitting on the edge of a stool and taking one of the cookies for herself. She bites off a pulmonary vein, looking thoughtful as she chews. "I must admit, these are damn good cookies," she finally says, taking one more bite before passing it to Fester to finish. "Tell me about him."

And Steve does. He gushes about Eddie for a solid hour without taking a single breath, spilling everything he's seen Eddie do and how he's reacted to all of Steve's gifts and how he gets so obviously jealous when Pubert butts into their conversations. He tells Debbie about Eddie not screaming when he saw Nox, about him selling drugs, and about his interest in music. Steve laments his hair but eagerly describes the treatment routine he already has in mind.

By the time he's done, the cookies are decorated and his mother's expression has grown a little pained. "Steve, darling, come with me," she says, getting up from the chair and leading him out of the kitchen while Fester starts to clean up.

Steve waits until Debbie has brought him to her spare room to ask, "Did I do something wrong?"

"Well, did you remember my rules about crushes?"

"Yeah. I've talked to him a lot."

Debbie smiles and brings Steve over to the bed, sitting him down and straightening his hair before perching next to him. "Then, you're not in trouble, but you've been going about this all wrong, dear."

"Should I tell Pubert to stop making Eddie jealous?"

"Absolutely not," Debbie says, shaking her head firmly. "In fact, he could try harder. Nothing gets to a man like someone he can't have, especially if he thinks they're in distress."

Steve blinks, frowning slightly as he tries to figure out where, exactly, he's gone wrong. Eddie seems perfectly enamored with him, after all, and Pubert's goading is encouraging his affections, which is the only reason Steve has allowed it to continue. "Did I give him a live spider too soon?" Steve asks, figuring that's the problem here.

"No, that's not...," Debbie trails off, mutters something about Fester being an idiot, and clears her throat. "Steve, your father is the last person you should approach for love advice."

"But...you agreed to marry him, so he must have done something right," Steve says.

Debbie barks a laugh, waving her hand dismissively. "I married your father for his money. I attempted to kill his entire family and only stopped when he promised to give me everything I asked for. I would hardly call him a casanova."

Steve nods along, smiling a little as she speaks. He's heard their great love affair many times, but he doesn't get tired of it. "But you actually love him anyway, right? Father says it's because he showered you with gifts. So, that's what I'm doing."

"I...do love your father," Debbie admits, sighing as though she doesn't know how that happened either. "But it's less because of his gifts and more because...he gave me the devotion I wanted. Anyway, if you learn anything from us, it should be that love comes second."

"What comes first?"

Debbie smiles, the expression positively devious, and Steve can't help returning it. "Obsession," she says, her shoulders rolling back some as pride fills her. "Occupy his every waking thought. Make yourself irresistible. Make him dream of you at night. Overwhelm him with desire until he simply must act on it."

"Oh," Steve says, thinking of how his father acts around Debbie and realizing that obsession never quite went away. But it's worked out well for them, and he knows his mother has experience with luring men into her arms. He nods once and asks, "So, what should I do?"

"I'm so glad you asked," Debbie says, her smile bright and her eyes filled with excitement. "You'll have Eddie falling to his knees before you in no time."

--------

Eddie didn't think it could get worse. He was already attracted to Steve, already distracted by every little movement.

He was wrong. So incredibly wrong.

Because here he is, his mouth dry and his palms sweaty and his cheeks warm because of Steve. He's not even doing anything. Well, that's not true. Steve is curling his tongue around a lollipop before sucking it into his mouth like he'll die without it. But it's more than that. It's the painted-on jeans that hug his legs; it's the pastel pink hoodie (with little bats on the cuffs) that rides up whenever Steve moves to show off a strip of skin just above his waistband; it's the way he finishes the lollipop and pulls out lipgloss, casually telling Pubert it's raspberry flavored as he puts it on.

Eddie swallows around the dryness in his mouth, gripping his locker door so tight that his knuckles turn white as he looks inside it. Sitting innocently on top of everything is a Tupperware container of cookies with raspberry filling (according to the label), and Eddie is ready to eat one just so he can die knowing what Steve's lips taste like.

That's not even the worst of it. The worst is that Steve transfers into Eddie's Music Theory class, smiling innocently while the teacher introduces him and then directs him to sit at the empty desk next to Eddie. When he's close, Eddie realizes Steve smells like cookies and cream ice cream, and he's tempted to ask if Steve smells like his favorite flavor on purpose.

The teacher saves him from the embarrassment of blurting out the question by announcing a project. The teacher then dooms him by telling everyone they're required to work with their desk neighbor. Eddie grips his pen tightly when the teacher tells them to spend the rest of their class time discussing the project.

"So," Steve says, getting Eddie's attention. When he looks over, Steve is leaning forward on his desk, chin propped in his hand as he looks at Eddie. "Want to come over to my place after school? To work on the project, I mean."

Eddie stares at Steve for a few seconds, his tongue stuck in his throat. To his credit, Steve doesn't say anything or call Eddie out for staring at him. He just waits patiently with a little smile curling his lips. Eddie finally clears his throat, his voice coming out a little strained when he says, "Yeah, sure, sounds good. After school. Your place. Project."

Smooth. Real smooth.

When Steve just smiles wider and stretches his arms above his head, pulling his hoodie up, while suggesting they do the project on the evolution of heavy metal music, Eddie realizes he's probably going to die after school.

He can't wait.

-------

Tag List (I think there's still room for a few more people ^_^)

@estrellami-1, @itsall-taken, @mugloversonly, @fandomcartographer, @hippielittlemetalhead, @agree2disagre-kicks, @ledleaf, @just-a-tiny-void, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @ink1177, @maya-custodios-dionach, @littlebluejane, @steddieonbigboy, @ravenpainter, @read-write-thrive, @deadontheinside20, @yeahhhh-suga, @nectandra, @mogami13, @mx-jinxous, @thoughtfulbreadpolice, @anne-bennett-cosplayer, @xoxoladyclara

@zaddipax, @dycte, @breealtair, @geekymagicalpotato, @janea-grill, @juliasthename-adhdismygame, @yikes-a-bee, @wayward-people, @st-fics, @disrespectedgoatman, @bipusssy, @cottagecorebutnaturescaresme, @nightowl14028018, @that-binchh, @your-confused-friend, @irethsune, @goosesister, @strawberryyyenthusiast, @irregular-child, @theverywest

And, finally, a two-for-one meme special because I couldn't decide which was funnier:

[ladyelissarose]

can you write the most sheet gripping smut for hobie pls

‘Risks’

Hobie Brown ‘Spider-Punk’ x Spider-Woman reader

Summary; After Miguel sent you two on an almost impossible and risky mission, leaving you with cuts and bruises, you two decide to celebrate in a risky position.

Warnings: NSFW 18! Smut ladies and gents... oral (f & m receiving).. and some more smut y’all.. fluff too, I’d want to believe Hobie was a great-ass fucker but sweet too.

Authors note: You asked.. I serve. Period babes. Enjoy- muah ;) oh and I’ve never written anything so provocative.

“H-Hobie you sure about thi-ah!”

Hobie sucked the sweet spot behind your ear as he kneaded your thighs while they wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer to your aching core.

On Miguel’s desk you were, making out heavily, after you and Hobie came back from a mission that had you two aching for some kind of release. The mission was successful but an atrocious process, but Miguel had given that one specifically to you two after pranking him on the last mission you three went on.

You were a little doubtful about this risky place to pull such a risky action, but Hobie finally pulled away after spending the past few minutes absolutely covering your skin with his open-mouthed kisses and sucking marks into your skin that undeniably screamed him.

Taking a moment to breathe and wipe off the streak of blood falling from your busted lip with his thumb, Hobie collected his thoughts to answer your question and not instead dive into your lips that cried for him to claim them in every way.

He grabbed a hold of your face and held them in between his palms as he panted,

“I’m so sure lovie.. Miguel thinks he can take risks with our lives- especially yours my adorable doll-“

In midst of his words he pulled you in for a deep kiss, tasting the crimson blood from yours and and lips, spurring him to go on as he heard your sweet moan, but he made sure to finish his statement first so h abruptly pulled away and smirked at your needy pout,

“-then we can take a little risk here too no? Don’t you think puppet?”

You nodded while taking deep breaths of air, you refused to spend another second away from him, it was your turn to wipe the little blood off his lip rings while feeling incredibly needy for his pleasuring touch even though you needed medical attention more than anything.

You had horrible bruising after ramming into a glass building, which also brought some cuts through your suit, but you couldn’t remember where they hurt exactly as Hobie kissed all logic away and your brain cells practically shut down at the touch of Hobie’s lips all over you.

You could’ve probably resisted and jumped off of Miguel’s desk and go to medic, but the way he groped you tightly and had you squirming in his hold kept you away from medical and glued to him, only wanting more.

Hobie let out a low moan when you gave a kitten lick to his jaw then kissed his bruise that rested right at his Adam’s apple, but he hissed when you palmed him through his jeans, feeling his hardened cock that was straining through his jeans because of you. You smiled in triumphant when he bucked into your hips and promised,

“Hold on lovie.. I’ll take care of you.”

He planted a kiss to you lips and dropped to his knees, his greedy hands never leaving you as he began to pull down the bottom of your spider-suit, the one that had him hard every day for the way it perfectly shaped your curves and gave him unholy thoughts.

He’d never make it to heaven for how he sinfully thought when you were around, but you for sure brought heaven to him every time his eyes met your pussy, like right now.

You loved everything about Hobie, from his kindness towards you and his unique humor- and of course the sex... but mostly his hair, especially for moments like these when you needed good grip when your pussy was being absolutely devoured by him.

You moaned out loud when he licked up and sucked on your clit, knowing just exactly how to make you roll your eyes back and curl your toes. Like a starved man or someone who was having their last meal- with desperation and pleasure, Hobie ate and sucked your pussy hard, focusing on your clit to have you cumming on his face in no time.

Warmth spread throughout your body but that familiar pressure was felt in your lower tummy, your pussy throbbing for more as you neared your release. Using his thick hair you pulled him closer as you cried,

“I need more Hobie- p-please.”

Hobie looked up from where he sucked on your clit, and he smirked at your fucked out face, and those tears that streamed down your cheeks because of him. His cock jumped at the sight of your pouting lips that were partly opened taking breaths in, they looked so perfect for him, and to take him. He knew just what he wanted next, but you came first, his rules.

He brought up two fingers and slid them into your pussy, pumping swiftly as your were soaked and dripping for him already. The grip on his hair tightened, and letting him know you were close, very close also when your pussy clenched around his fingers. He praised you and added to your high while adding a third finger and encouraging,

“C’mon lovie, cum for me.. I can feel you-“

You let out a cry at the feeling of being right on edge, moaning Hobie’s name as he held your waist down and growled,

“Cum for me- now.”

That was all you needed to let go, wailing and moaning his name only as Hobie fingered and ate you through your high. White spots had covered your vision-even when you’re closed your eyes, the pleasure of it was so overwhelmingly euphoric.

Hobie as always hit all the right spots perfectly to have you coming undone until you were breathless. When your high died down, with the hold of his hair, you pulled him away and whimpered,

“To sensitive baby... to sensitive..”

Hobie made sure to press one last kiss to your pussy then pulled away, standing to be at your level and let you taste yourself on his tongue and lips. He made sure to praise how sweet you tasted to him as he cooed,

“So sweet f’me lovie? Yes.. always. My perfect and sweet lovie..”

You smiled through the kiss and began to undo his jeans, but Hobie stopped your hands as he concerned,

“Let’s wait for a bit puppet.. don’t want to hurt you-“

“Let me taste you. Please Hobie.”

There was no way he could deny you that, not when your doe eyes did a lot of the begging as well of your tongue wetting your lips, and of course your polite words that didn’t match your dirty actions.

With ease he lifted you off Miguel’s desk and helped you onto your knees on top of his little vest jacket, so your knees wouldn’t bruise too bad (he still tried to be gentleman where he could be)

You waited for his signal which came when he bid,

“Go on love.. I’m all yours.”

You couldn’t hold back your hunger for him as your quickly undid his belt, your knuckles running over his thighs as your pulled down his pants and boxers in one go, not wasting time for you or no one.

It always took you a good second to decipher the difference between reality and a dream when you came face to face with Hobie’s cock. It made you warm, cum, scream, cry, cho- just so much that no one could do but him.

Your hands rested against his toned stomach as he grabbed a gentle but firm grip on your hair, slowly guiding you to take him in. He let out a gutted moan when he felt your lips take his length in, your tongue swirling around the pre-cummed tip that had him instinctively bucking himself into your throat.

He mentally wanted this to go slow, but he physically couldn’t, as you began to bob your head and deep throat him completely. He could feel himself coming close to ecstasy while you gagged around him and moaned, sending vibrations up the vain you licked up, he caught a glance from a new angle of how fucked up you looked, and he could’ve sworn he died and woke up in heaven.. as the sight of you on your knees for him was paradise.

A hand left his stomach to hold his balls and play with him as you continued on your highway through paradise with him. Hobie felt his high come too close for comfort, and got a tighter grip on your hair, and sped up your bobbing, cursing under his breath at the pressure of the heat but praised you loudly,

“fuck- you’re taking me so well puppet.. ah! fuck fuck! So good f’me.. so good. I- oh fuck- my good girl.”

You could feel his hard length throb in your throat, making you chose to take him fully and hold him there, causing him to topple over the edge and fall into pleasure.

He groaned out as he painted your mouth white, and held you down as he pumped a few times into your lips, wanting you to swallow all of him. You finally got his last drop, savoring his taste that compared to nothing, and pulled back with a ‘pop’. You smirked in pride as you watched him wipe sweat from his brow and his thighs shake slightly under your hold,

“You’re a fucking delight my love.. c’mere.. I’m not done yet.”

His still hard cock spoke enough for him, but you were ready to take him as he sat on Miguel’s chair and you lifted yourself to sit on him. All fear of risk and shit was out the window at this point, you were too far fucked out and numb from all pain as you only felt and knew Hobie. I mean- Come on, you’d rather die on Hobie’s cock on Miguel’s chair than on a mission because of Miguel at this point.

You sunk down only his cock easily, the juices from him eating you out and your arousal spilling out from hearing him moan your name for how you swallowed made you absolutely dripping for him. Hobie kissed your cheek as he groaned happily,

“You feel sooo good love.. perfect.. squuezin’ ‘round me like a pretty vice hm?”

Once he bottomed out completely, you both let out whimpers into one another’s lips as you kissed away the loud moans from the bottom of your gut or lungs.

For a few seconds you cherished how perfectly he fit in you, his warmth consuming you wholly and his hands holding onto your hips with a bruising grip.

But once again, all thoughts of everything else but Hobie came over you as he lifted you up and slid you back down, wordlessly but actionably telling you he was very close and wanted this last release bad.

You could feel it bubbling up too, his tip hitting your cervix had you holding onto his shoulders tightly to be able to bounce on his cock faster. If anyone passed by Miguel’s office, they would’ve thought a pornographic film was in the works by how you two went at it passionately. Moans synchronizing and smacking wet sounds filled every corner, telling the untold.

Your legs began to burn and shake, causing you to slow your pace but cry out to Hobie for help.

“H-Hobie! Please baby.. help me.. I- Iwanttocomesobad!!”

“Me to lovie- let’s finish this.”

He suddenly stood up from the chair, holding onto you tightly as he lifted you up and down his cock, letting praises and curses slip into your lips as he tried to clear a space on the desk, swiping things off or to the side. You grind your hips against his as he laid you down, pinning himself over you as he warned,

“I really need this.. might be rou-“

“Just do it Hobie.. rough, fast.. h-hard.. all the magic you have.”

Hobie smiled sweetly as he brushed a hair from your face and pecked your lips,

“As you wish your highness..”

Now the real pornshit started. Legs secured around his hips you made sure Hobie never left you or went out too far, but he never had that intention as he pounded into your pussy with purpose. Spending his every breath of life and movement on his body to pleasure you fully was what made Hobie most proud to have you.

Air left your lungs as you felt so full and couldn’t take a break, or more actually you didn’t want to. If you died like this it’d be a very proud death for you, you probably already did considering how rough yet pleasurable it all was.

Deep down you knew you would have new bruises on your hips, not because of your mission, but because of Hobie’s strong grip on you as he railed into you fully. Both of you knew that you were coming soon, he throbbed in your pussy and your walls clenched around him tightly. You held onto Hobie’s shoulders tightly as you kissed him and pleaded,

“Please Hobie! I’m so- so close!”

He pressed himself onto you and went impossibly deeper as he groaned loudly, feeling you milk him,

“Jus’ come lovie- ah! Now love-“

A gasp left your lips as you cried when you started to come undone for a last time,

“I’m cu-cumming! Fuck Hobie!”

Your legs shook violently as Hobie smacked his hips against yours, vision gone black with stars surrounding you.

Hobie moaned out your name as his hips finally came to a stutter, as he released his cum into you. He stilled and held you close as he panted for air, he had never come so hard in his life, but he was already praying for another chance for this moment, but he needed air and a break first. Hobie then glanced down at you and smiled to himself as he watched you, wet stains covered your cheeks and you had a soft, effortless smile on your face.

Your release was so harsh but euphoric, it left you in a fucked out daze and feeling tingles everywhere... and for a while that’s all you felt as you came down from your high, but you’ve never felt so happy and complete.

Kisses to your face and soft touches got you back to reality, your eyes fluttered open to seeing Hobie caressing you carefully. You felt your sore legs move under a warm cover, and that’s when it clicked for you, you weren’t at the lair. Your head shot up for a second as you looked around, but Hobie pulled you back down onto his bed and kissed your cheek as he cooed,

“Tis’ ok lovie.. you’re home remember? Took care of ya already.. bath... massages and all.. hm?”

That’s when it clicked for you and you vaguely remembered parts of what he told you, his warm and reassuring touches caring for you. He always let you know beforehand what he would do, and he would go on once he had your word. You took a deep breath and laid your head next to Hobie’s, holding his face as you thanked him,

“Thank you.. for everything.”

A soft peck met your nose and lips as Hobie replied,

“Anything for you... get some sleep now.. we’ll take care of Miguel later-“

This time you fully sat up and gasped,

“What do you mean?-“

“Eh.. he doesn’t know exactly what we did on is lair.. but he has an idea we messed around... I might’ve not put everything back exactly where it was.. but it’s ok. C’mere.”

Knowing Hobie was going to be with you through it all gave you peace, and made you lie back down, this time in his arms. Hobie held you tightly once more and rubbed your back softly, luring you to sleep. You rested your hand over his heart as you sleepily breathed out,

“Love you Hobie..”

He squeezed your hip and replied,

“Love you too lovie... I’ll be here when you wake up.. so rest plenty.”

You nodded and curled into him, letting the sleep take you over.

[bits-and-babs]

𝐀𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐘𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐒 – 𝐌𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐄𝐋 𝐎'𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀

↳ summary: miguel has an issue with the performance and comfortability of his suit. he feels he's found a suitable solution– but he can't tell you.

↳ pairing: pervy!miguel o'hara x f!reader

↳ content: 18+ MDNI. SMUT. pervy!miguel, sneaking into your home, panty stealing, miguel wears your panties, (m) masturbation, masturbating in your panties, a little dirty talk, imagines p in v sex with reader.

miguel masterlist ୨୧ main masterlist ୨୧ join taglist ୨୧ ask

Disgust coats Miguel's tongue in a kind of rancid film, his lashes fluttering closed as he tries to breathe through the turbulence of the unhinged thoughts that bounce in his skull. Of all the ideas he'd contemplated to make the suit a little easier to wear, this was by far the most demented.

The delicate, silky midnight fabric of your high-cut thong had sprung to mind late at night, sleep ebbing at the edges of his consciousness and poisoning his ethics. He'd noticed them the last time he saw you, the elasticated straps that framed your hips peeking over the denim waistband of your jeans when you bent over to collect some papers from his office floor. It's as though the image had imprinted itself on his brain's grey, swirling surface and seared into his retinas.

Friends, Miguel he had to remind himself consistently. You were his friend. Friends don't steal other friends' panties.  

Frankly, this ridiculous plot had all come about thanks to the absurd skin-tight suit Miguel consistently afflicted himself with. His excuse for invading your privacy was aerodynamics. The smoother the outline of the suit, the quicker he'd swing from his webbing... Or so he told himself. It was a perfectly reasonable excuse, as far as his bias was concerned. 

The temptation was intolerable. Of course, getting a thong was easy enough– Miguel could buy them from the mall with the excuse of wanting to see an imaginary girlfriend in them or order them online if it embarrassed him too much. But the debauched notion of wearing your panties, the kind you wore and smelt like you, drove him crazier than he could ever admit. 

He hadn't been able to stave off the desire for very long. Some forty-eight hours later, Miguel found himself snatching the object of desire from your laundry basket, blanketed by the pitch blackness of the dead of night. Driven by this repulsive need, he'd retreated to his office almost as swiftly as he had entered your home, careful to conceal evidence of his presence. All items had been placed back neatly while Miguel scoured for your thong, and he'd pulled your bedroom window back to its original position, open just a crack. 

Thoughts of your silhouette, framed only by the panties in his hand and their matching bra, had carried Miguel home. He'd been rock hard by the time he'd stumbled back into the office, practically ripping the lycra-like material from his body to slip the panties on. 

So here he stood, spider-suit a crimson and midnight blue pool at his feet, naked in the mirror beside the panties that barely stretched across his ample hips. His thick, muscular thighs looked even wider when paired with the dainty lingerie and the dark trail of hair that sparsely scattered his lower abdomen looked far prettier when decorated like this.

Miguel's eyes slid over the silky fabric against his smooth, tanned skin. The silk canvas barely contained the base of his cock and his balls, straining over the ample flesh he'd managed to stuff into the already limited, thin cloth. The scalloped straps of the thongs dug into his hips, little diamonte hearts encrusted by the base of the chords– he hadn't noticed them until now, his cheeks warming as he studied them in the mirror. 

The sheer mass of Miguel's frame was far too large for the undergarment, the elasticated waistband stretched across the shaft of his cock, so it rested against his stomach, erect. The ruddy tip of his swollen head leaked creamy pre-cum against his abdomen at the consistent pressure, throbbing weakly when Miguel passed his eyes over it.

"Hng-" he huffed a breath through his nostrils, the sound almost a wheeze. Fuck, he could smell you on them, the musky scent of your sex. Miguel can't contain the monster, his palm tracing over the outline of his cock. The fabric is stretched so thin against his dick that he can see it twitch, the engorged vein that extends across the arch of him evident in his reflection. 

"D-Dios-" Miguel moans softly, watching precum drip from his swollen tip onto the dark fabric of your underwear. Running his thumb over the head of his cock, Miguel smears his spend over the velvety skin and watches the muscles of his abdomen spasm with the intense pleasure that spidered across his nerves. 

"Oh fuck, pretty baby," he whispers, tracing the crescents arches of his nails over his clothed length, babbling to himself as he relishes your scent, imagining tasting you. "Want your pretty pussy on my face..."

Miguel's hand quickly grasps the mirror's frame, his knees threatening to collapse beneath the weight of his bliss. He's drooling precum now, steady dribbles leaking down into the elasticated waistband and trailing across his knuckles. Fuck fuck fuck– would you be as tight as your panties felt on him? Would you squeeze him like this? 

Pushing his thumb beneath the seam of your thong, Miguel lifts the waist of the lingerie upwards. Shuddering breaths heaved from his ribcage, bracing as he lets the stretchy band slip from his digit. 

It snaps back onto his pulsing cock with a 'crack', the stinging sensation from the impact rocking down the length of his spine as Miguel rubbed the flat of his palm across the flushed head. His jaw falls loose, vermillion irises rolling back into his skull.

"Hhah- fuuuckkk– gonna cum-" he choked out into the emptiness of his office, quickly snapping the fabric onto his length again. "Gonna fuckin' cum–"

Miguel's eyelids flutter, almost missing the lurch of his dick. Cum spurts from the tip, splattering across the reflective surface of the mirror, painting ribbons of creamy white across his bronzed skin. It seeps into the midnight blue of your panties, darker blotches oozing into the silk as he rocks his hips into his touch. 

When his exceptional vision finally rights itself, Miguel notes the tearstains that streak down his cheeks, wetness clinging to the ebony eyelashes that frame his dilated pupils. He heaves a shuddering exhale, letting out a hoarse scoff at the rakish vision of himself, smeared in cum and wearing his friend's panties. 

Despite the fizzling arousal that singed the edges of his nervous system, Miguel's mind continued to develop images of you. Forever unsatiated, it conjures the depiction of you sprawled across your bed with your cum stained panties balled up and stuffed in your mouth. Your jaw aching, eyebrows stitched together as Miguel's ludicrously thick cock sinks into your tight pussy. Would you tear up, back arching as you attempt to rock your hips further onto him despite the stretch?

Flopping into his desk chair, Miguel covers his eyes with his palm and feels his ravenous cock twitch under the soiled fabric once again. He was pretty confident he'd never return this thong now...

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[spaghettiposts]

Video Games

Reader x Wednesday Addams

Summery: Video games are a waste of time in Wednesdays opinion, being with you however is not.

Warnings: First attempt at writing for Wednesday.

A/N: Lemme know if y’all would wanna see more of Wednesday from me I’m thinking about writing for Tara too!

“There are more fruitful things to do aside from staring at a screen all day.”

Lifting your head from your said screen, you raised a judgemental brow. Wednesday sat with her back turned from you, typing away, she had allowed you to sit lay on her bed in the meantime so long as you promised to stay silent. The noises your console gave off broke that promise, one quick narrowed look from the goth had you lowering the volume instantly.

“Like staring at a typewriter all day?” You retorted with amusement in your voice. She paused her typing for a minuscule moment before continuing her steady pace.

“I’ll have you know my writing sessions improve memorization, vocabulary, and keep me from strangling you.” You could see a cocky smirk form on her face. “Consider yourself lucky.”

Shrugging your shoulders you sucked your teeth, a reply fresh on your tongue. “I don’t know, dying in your hands sounds like the most lucky I’ll ever be.”

At that, Wednesday froze, looking down to her paper before ripping it off, a prominent scowl appearing. You grinned to yourself behind the device, knowing damn well you had made her slip up. The small tints of red on her cheeks almost missable, just confirmed that.

“Disturb my writing time again and I’ll throw that…thing off my balcony.” She huffed, folding whatever she did get done during the duration of your visit into a neat pile. It wasn’t much whatsoever, a pattern that only repeated every session you were around.

You simply laughed in response, causing her stomach to grow spiders. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to punch you or shut you up in another form.

In different circumstances she’d respond with haste, quickly dismissing you from her dormitories so she could focus. But for some reason, no matter how close she was to saying no, it never happened. Wednesday supposed that was fine, you weren’t completely irksome.

But if those little noises, coming from your Nintendo? Kept happening she might just come to say it.

“I thought I had warned you to turn off the noise.” She snapped, face scrunching at the weird noises of a man crying. The noise didn’t even resemble a realistic cry, what on earth. “What even is that?” She questioned.

You smiled at the clear curiosity she showed. Not that she’d ever admit. Scooting over on her bed—carefully not to ruin her perfectly folded sheets—patted the space next to you. “Come here and I’ll show you.” You offered, receiving a cold scoff in response. “What? Come on Wednesday. We both know you aren’t getting any more writing done, why not unwind?”

Unfortunately, seeing as she had neatly arranged everything back in its usual place. You were correct, obviously Wednesday refused to let you know that, reluctantly trudging along to her bed. Muttering small things about how “I’d get more writing done if you left.”

“Mhm sure Addams.” You snickered, lifting your arm up to put around her shoulder, bringing her into you. She said nothing, adjusting to the position until she found the perfect spot to rest. On your chest.

“Technology is a man-made brain rotting scam that only diminishes human intelligence.”

“So was romance? I guess you’re into rotting then.”

“Only because you could rot with someone.” She muttered, staring at the game in your hands. The corners of her lips rising when you died, cursing to yourself. “Rot with you.” She added lowly, you almost didn’t catch it but you’re glad you did. You just hope she wouldn’t hear how much you enjoyed it, be still heart.

Feeling bold you pressed a small kiss on her head, leaning your head against hers as you continued playing your game. Later when Wednesday got tired of you mashing those stupid buttons she’d toss the game aside, leaving your full attention on her. Maybe there were more fruitful things you could focus on.

[fangswbenefits]

Broken

𓂅 𓄹 Summary: You wonder if Miguel is broken beyond repair, because he surely believes that.

𓂅 𓄹 Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader

Angst + hurt/comfort (some fluff)

To say you were pissed off would be the understatement of the year. There was only so much a single person could withstand when it came to this.

You kept shoving your belongings hurriedly inside your backpack, determined to leave his place before crossing paths.

It would be better this way. For everyone involved.

That was until you caught sight of flashes of electric red outside the bedroom window.

“For fuck’s sake…”

You took pride in being fast, but Miguel O’Hara was faster and far more relentless, and before you could react, he was standing tall beside you. “Hey.”

Your spine snapped straight like a whip and you glared at him. Unmasked and unmoving. There was guilt written on all over his face, which fueled your anger even more, because now you knew you were justified in your feelings.

“Bye,” you said, slinging the backpack over your shoulder and heading towards the open window ready to take a dive into the cool air of Nueva York.

“We should talk,” he called from behind you.

“Nah, we’re done.”

“Let’s talk.”

You turned back around, walking straight into his chest.

“I’m done with you,” you said with an indignant growl.

“You’re not being reasonable,” he said.

“Reasonable?!” you hissed. “You let our personal relationship get in between work! You dismissed my perfectly adequate advice during that mission, because I’m just some toy to you or whatever.”

He held up a finger. “Now, see, that’s the issue. You keep misunderstanding things.”

“Okay,” you huffed, reining in your temper as you planted your fists on your hips. “Tell me why you ignored my advice — no, tell me why you always do this. I’ve been here for years and any new recruit has more of a say than I do! Is that because we’re fucking, huh?”

You hadn't bothered to keep you voice down, which you knew was a sure way to get on his nerves, but you couldn’t care less.

But evidently Miguel did care. “Can you calm down so we can talk?”

“You don’t take me seriously,” your went on. “I mean, what is this? I don’t know what to do with whatever it is we have — had,” you promptly corrected yourself. “We screw around, I then try to prove myself on the field, and you shut me down like I’m a nuisance.”

You were about to turn to leave through the window when he held it one hand to you, causing you to roll your eyes and folding your arms. “You’re not sweet-talking your way out of this.”

“That's alright, then.”

Miguel’s hand fell to his side, and he just stood there in silence, eyes boring into yours.

You scowled at him. “Well?” you demanded. “Go on. Why so quiet now?”

“I know you’re upset with me,” he said, face hardening.

“Nice observation skills.”

“I shouldn’t have been that harsh,” he sighed.

You scoffed. “It keeps happening, so it’s a habit by now. We’re both old enough to know fully well how to separate personal from professional, right?”

“I do, but you don’t,” he said simply. “You need to understand my position here. It’s a great deal of responsibility, and you can’t expect to be favoured just because we got involved.”

“Excuse me? I never expected favouritism.”

“But it sure looks like it. Look,” he exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose. “In here, you have my attention, but out there I need to have yours. For the sake of each mission.”

Your stomach flipped at his words. “Attention? What attention, Miguel? Aren’t we just fuck buddies? Wasn’t that the understanding?”

His shoulders slumped. “Initially, yes. And I could stand here and blame it on you, but it’s entirely my fault.”

“Now, why would I be blamed? And for what?” you asked impatiently. There was this unshakeable feeling creeping in on you telling you he was merely speaking in riddles with the sole intent of being purposefully vague. “Are we just going to throw blame at—”

“Because you have feelings for me!” Miguel’s temper finally exploded.

Your mouth dropped open in shock, but no sound came out.

An empty silence weaved around you, filled only with the beeping sound of Miguel’s watch which he promptly silenced.

He had made it abundantly clear that your relationship was purely built on the principle of mutual pleasure. You both had needs, and it was a very straightforward ‘you scratch my back, I scratch yours’ type of deal — albeit concerning different body parts.

Miguel broke the deafening silence first. “Trust me, it was against my better judgment.”

“Why didn’t you stop, then?”

There was no point in denying the feelings you harboured for him. There was only so much intimacy one could experience with someone else before other thoughts crept through your mind.

But what really made your heart clench was that mownyou knew that he knew, and it made things worse. So much worse.

Miguel took a long and deep breath. “Because by the time I realised how you felt, I found myself enjoying your company more than I had anticipated.”

“What does that even mean?”

“I should have stopped it,” he went on. “I don’t like dealing with attachments. Those lead to liabilities.”

Well, you’d sworn to yourself not to cry because of this. But the lump was in your throat and your eyes stung, and when you spoke your voice had turned into a whisper. "You should have told me," you said through clenched teeth.

“Then why didn’t you?”

“Because I didn’t want to put that pressure on you!” you exploded, feeling your eyes water. “I knew it was one-sided, so what would be the point? But knowing that you now know just makes me feel so…”

Miguel paced to his bed, taking a seat by the edge. “This is why I said it’s my fault. I can’t have this in my life.”

Your eyes widened. “Have what?”

“This!” he grunted, motioning with both hands to the two of you. “This is what I do. I get involved and fuck things up.”

“You can’t control how others feel about you,” you said as you brushed a teardrop with the back of your hand. “All I want is your respect.”

“You have it.”

“Then show it! Your words mean nothing if you don’t act accordingly.”

Miguel let out an exasperated sigh. “You want what I can never give you.”

“Respect?”

He shook his head. “Love.”

The word carved into you like a dagger and not because it was a lie, but because it was painfully true.

“Why do you think I fell for you? The sex? Sure, it’s great or whatever,” you said, tears pooling in the corners of your eyes. “No, Miguel. You showed me a side of you that you show no one else. You made me feel special.”

He seemed taken aback, but said nothing.

“Everyone here thinks you’re cold and distant and some vessel of righteousness,” you went on, feeling a couple of droplets stream down your face and leaving a damp trail behind. “You want everyone to think that, but you are not that person.”

Miguel scoffed, breaking eye contact with you. “You don’t know the first thing about me.”

“Oh, but I do,” you take a few steps closer to him, wanting him to stare back at you again. “It won’t kill you to feel something other than anger and resentment, you know? We’re humans. It’s in our nature to bond with others—”

“But we’re not really regular humans, are we?” he scowled deeply, crimson eyes narrowing at you. “I haven’t been with anyone since…” his voice faltered, hands gripping his thighs tightly. “I’m too broken.”

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?”

You saw something twist his features. Miguel didn’t like being challenged. He was so terrible at handling his emotions, that anything that he couldn’t control he grew to resent.

“I wanted you to hate me,” he said abruptly. “During missions… just like what happened today.”

“What? Why?”

“Because making you hate me felt easier than me not having feelings for you.”

There it was.

That sentence alone was enough to have your lips quiver shut, heart thumping loudly and head feeling dizzy.

“You’re an idiot,” you managed to say after a while.

“What?”

The sudden flare of rage nearly consumed you. “How could you even think that? How broken are you to convince yourself that you’re not worthy of having normal feelings for someone else?”

“Because I can’t afford it,” he explained as he rose to his feet. “The moment I give into my feelings for you, you become a liability.”

You shrunk away, feeling suddenly really tiny. “I think us getting involved was a mistake.”

He looked at you, surprised. “You’re just saying that because you know this isn’t going anywhere.”

“No, I'm saying it because I feel guilty,” you murmured, hugging yourself for comfort. “I will never understand what you’ve been through. I won’t pretend I ever will,” you paused momentarily, pondering your next words. “But I feel selfish for wanting more.”

“I'm a selfish kind of man, too,” he remarked evenly.

You nodded.

He took a step towards you and you took one back, bumping unexpectedly into the wall. Miguel seemed caught off guard by your reaction and froze, hands held up. "I’m not going to ask you to continue this.”

“It’s better that we don’t,” you whispered unconvincingly. “I’ll get over you.”

“Yes,” he said with a shrug, reaching out to touch a hand to your cheek. “I totally agree.”

You nearly melted into a puddle at his touch. It was like a punch to the stomach, knowing that he could so easily get under your skin.

“I don’t know how to fix this.”

You swallowed hard. “You don’t have to. I don’t want you to feel forced to be with me.”

“Too late for that.”

Your eyes zeroed in on his and he froze under the ferocity of your glare. “It’s fucking sad, Miguel. That it took things getting out of control for us to have an honest conversation.”

“I agree,” he said. “But maybe it was necessary.”

He was now stroking your cheek, and as much as you wanted to flinch away from his touch, he had somehow managed to melt your insides.

He leaned closer and you snapped your face away, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of submitting.

His lips were near your ear. “Do you want to part ways?”

Your jaw clenched.

“I’ll respect your decision.”

You screwed your eyes shut, blocking him out and seeking clarity. “What if I think we should give it a try?”

“Then we must set boundaries,” he said, breath fanning your ear. “You’re an amazing spider-woman.”

You gave him a cynical snort.

“And I think we shouldn’t be paired in further missions unless strictly necessary. At least until we figure this out.

You shared the sentiment, but also craved reassurance. “But you need to let me in, Miguel. I can give you space whenever you need it, but you can’t keep building these walls around you,” you took a deep sigh. “You don’t have to with me.”

His hands were moving down your sides, and you let your backpack slide down one arm, falling to the ground. He came to rest his chin on the top of your head.

“I know.”

Having him this close to you never failed to make your heart flutter.

“I’m sorry,” he said, bringing both arms to cradle your face, pulling you into his chest. “I don’t deserve you.”

Somehow, that confession brought a faint smile to your lips. “No, you don’t.”

“Was that a smile?”

“No,” you huffed in annoyance.

“I think that was a smile.”

“Stop it. You sound as obnoxious as Lyla,” you mumbled.

“Well, I did program her,” he said, hands caressing the back of your head adoringly. “Are you calling me obnoxious?”

“Maybe.”

“Ouch,” he feigned pain in his voice.

Your stubbornness crumbled at once and you finally wrapped your arms around him.

“How could you ever think your feelings were one-sided?” he whispered, lulling you in his arms. “Silly, silly spider.”

Masterlist