#but unfazeable parker

[dark-elf-writes]

The way he moves his arm out of her way!!! I love me this traumatized asshole!!! 😭😭😭

[absolutely-esme]

Amity Park is different

Amity Park has a local superhero.

He's great. He works hard to protect his town. That said, Amity's local hero is a teenager. The people he relies on to help and support him are teenagers. The town's superhero defense is a handful of kids figuring things out on their own.

They do good, but sometimes the people of Amity have to be prepared to lend a hand or hold their own for a bit. That's just how life is under these conditions. Communities come together and support each other. It's fine. People adapt. Life goes on. They're really doing quite well.

A class from Amity Park visits a museum in Gotham on a field trip. They get caught in an unfortunately timed Scarecrow attack.

Scarecrow should have known better than to activate the fight or flight responses of a group of Amity Parkers.

The gas canister drops and discharges. The field trip group explodes into action.

A pair of Football players quickly overturns a table and use it as a shield as they charge the goons with the most firepower. Cheerleaders toss each other into the air for aerial attacks. Nerds turn objects from a nearby Janitor closet into a surprisingly effective trebuchet with astounding speed. One girl utilizes impressive martial arts skills.

A boy with Black hair and blue eyes flits about the battlefield pilfering and disassembling weapons with a shocking degree of efficiency as a Goth girl follows him around and bludgeon anyone who attempts to make a grab for him with a stand that had been holding up a rope barrier, and a boy in a beret lays down cover fire by launching pencils out of a makeshift bow formed from a binder and rubber bands with a startling degree of accuracy.

The teacher flits around pulling kids out of the path of attacks they hadn't seen, stowing any injured behind cover, and giving foes solid thwack on the noggin when the opportunity arises. He actually ends up knocking out Scarecrow himself.

The statement "We're not trapped in here with you. You're trapped in here with us," is repeated several times by different people.

When the Bats or police arrive, they have to carefully pull the feildtrip group off of the unfortunate rogues.

It takes a while to get the antidotes administered, but they do eventually manage. The class remains in defensive formation the whole time.

When the kids finally calm down enough to give statements, they mostly just say that Scarecrow gets what he gets for deliberately activating Amity Parkers' fight or flight responses. After the antidotes take effect, the class seems unfazed and goes about their business as soon as the authorities allow.

Some other visitors to the museum upload videos of the event online with titles like "the one class that was prepared for a field trip to Gotham" and "What kind of place is Amity Park, and why haven't I heard of it before?"

It doesn't take long for people to edit the videos to set the fight to music. Popular song choices include Ballroom Blitz, Bring 'em Out by Hawk Nelson, and the "we like to party" song from the six flags commercial.

Now the Bats are investigating Amity Park (and why they haven't heard of it before).

[me-uglypretty]

Three words and you know it

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Summary: Yelena and Kate fools Peter into a web of lies that eventually creates something more than a mischievous prank. [Loosely based on this incorrect quotes]

Warning: 18+ (G), fake relationships, comedy, pranks, fluff | Word count: 3.2k

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Oblivion was neither bad nor good, it was something that depended entirely on an individual’s circumstance. It was the knowing and not knowing. For an instance, there are certain time or situation in which, someone voluntarily walks into a shared space, a look of innocence on their face or that of oblivion, the utmost clarity in their words as they spoke with an unknown oath to gather attention that spew at confusion and awkward conversations. Though, it was to their unawareness.

It begun, a lovely morning for a warm breakfast, an extra sweet treat at the side, and two cups of tea. Natasha assured that breakfast duty was hers for today, and for you to sit comfortable on the kitchen chair. It forced a sort of routine, you would cook for her and she would cook for you, and Natasha profusely placing an extra pancake on your plate. Such arguments of being too full from your side was ignored.

You knew—Natasha knew. The extend of what you could eat, what you hated to eat, and everything that wouldn’t suffice your hunger. Especially for her special breakfast pancake that you truly enjoy, and have in numerous occasions requested for the same food later in the evening. It was your thing with her, and her thing with you.

Natasha knew that at every dreadful mission, the vile smell of gun powder, blood that sticks uncomfortable on your skin that was a mix of yours and the body that fell dead, and the anguish within which you hid with a joke—it was this little routine that curls a genuine smile on your face.

There, a smile etched on your face as you take anguish bites of your breakfast, and the equally contented smile on Natasha’s face as she unashamedly stares at you. A twinkle of some sort in your eyes and hers. The childlike expression which erupts at the most trivial situation or when enjoying the little things in life more than others, but more with each other.

You both were alike in that way, just not in the exact way that would make obvious of another correlation between two former assassins.

It was then, a wisp of white threadlike webs whizzed through the kitchen, an inch away from knocking your plate and a perfect hit to the cabinet behind you. At the exact moment that you swore, Natasha swiftly extracted a knife from beneath the counter, and a sound of cheer erupts with the appearance of Peter Parker.

Occasion alike this is when confusion arrives, playing a tune that led to strokes of awkwardness by the words of Peter, “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, Mrs Romanoff! I’m still trying to understand this, look it’s so cool, but it's so confusing and this update just made it more confusing…”

The show of a silver bracelet wrapped around his wrist had earned a whistle from Natasha, complimenting him on the new look and discreetly hiding the knife she was holding. He seemed unfazed as he continued talking. The young boy’s likely visit often result in many broken objects, and yet, Tony insists on presenting him with new devices.

“How’s uni?” you enquired, after ensuring that you wouldn’t be hit by another string of web.

Natasha who was sat opposite you, watched amusedly as you navigated your plate correspondingly to where Peter moved in the kitchen. Your attentive gaze on the young boy dithers when you meet the eyes of Natasha, the wiggle of her eyebrows seems to almost take your attention away, if wasn’t for the rumbles of the additional person in the kitchen.

“…I told him that we shouldn’t do it, but it happened anyway,” Peter had gone on, words upon words that was ignored by reason of the woman sat opposite you. “Opps, sorry again, Mrs Romanoff,” he mumbled, hands fixated on the string of web almost hitting straight on Natasha’s forehead as the other end was stuck to his bracelet.

Several taps on the countertop redirects his attention towards the sound. Natasha gave him a pointed look. “Peter…” her voice sounded stern, nearing that of annoyance, before a playful smile emerges on her face, and she waited for the realisation to settle at her attempt of a joke.

The intention was to gather rounds of laughter from the young boy, perhaps, for you to announced again that she was horrible at joking as it always seemed more scary than funny. Despite that, you would laugh, shaking your head as you always did, hand waving away any attempt of explanation for her ways of words in the tone of comedy.

Peter sensed it, she thought. There was a look of confusion on his face as he glanced between two, your shake of head and the grin on her face. His eyes widened, “Sorry, Natasha. No more last names,” he spoke, hands raised in surrender which drew soft chuckles from the spy.

Natasha doesn’t flatter, opting to wink at him then glancing at you. “Do you want anything else?” she murmured the question, voice soften so drastically, and only for you to hear.

You smiled, feeling the warmth that roused at your skin as her eyes remained stuck on you. “Not really, but maybe for lunch…”

It’s easy, the exchanges of words or when eyes met and spoke more than what anyone else could interpret between two. Perhaps, the familiarities of your past had easily engulf this understanding. The learning of life that wasn’t controlled severely, breathing in air that both warmth your chest and made your huff at the scent that carried through the room, after she had sprayed her favourite perfume.

It wasn’t your favourite scent, but you had made it a habit to expect that she always wore the same perfume. Natasha sprayed your jacket with her perfume once, and somehow, she understood that you detested the scent—unless it was on her.

It’s so easy to overlook the other person who stood there, mouth producing noises that seemed like nothing if it wasn’t her voice that spoke or yours that she kept close.

“Goodbye Natasha, and Mrs Romanoff!” Peter waved his right hand while his left grasped onto his sandwich, and he speedily left the kitchen.

It was that, the noise that enticed your attention to the sound. The clatter of silverware followed by grumbles of curses slipping out your mouth, and hands grasping onto the countertop when your knee bumped against the counter. Natasha’s head had promptly turned towards you after staring at the door where Peter’s exited. The first thing she observed was the sheer look of panic on your face, and round eyes widened as you chaotically tried picking up the fallen fork.

Natasha caught onto something there. Her sense of awareness has always been remarkable. Missions completed in perfection due to her foresee of situations and ensuring her head was clear to achieve the best outcome. Thus, your undoubted appearance had proved her theory of something else than simple exchanged of greetings. Before this abrupt occurrence, Natasha was sure that Peter was greeting her as two different persons, and throughout those exchanges, you were always by her side. Bodies almost pressed together by the proximity.

Unless—and her attention shifts, round eyes marvelling at the clear nervousness on your apperance, mouth parted as though you were ready to justify yourself, but only offered her empty blows of air. Natasha raised a single eyebrow, easily grasping your attempts of changing the conversation.

“Was Peter calling you…Mrs Romanoff?”

The question was asked with a firm tone, and it agitated your hands to reach for a tissue or anything closer. A needed distraction from how you could easily utter every little secret by the sound of her voice, the look on her face, and those eyes, so green and gleaming even beneath the gloomy light.

When your eyes redirected from your almost empty plate to meet her eyes, you had perceived the look of contemplation on her face. It felt that she was genuinely engrossed in the idea. In a split second where your attempt mask of indifference slips, and you were sure that she knew.

Natasha sighed. “Why did Peter call you that…” her voice softened profusely. “I’m not going to harm you…or throw a knife at you so tell me please?”

The question itself flashed a memory in your mind. A knife that was thrown across the room, slashing a wound on the side of your arm, and if you hadn’t spent that time gawking at the known assassin, you wouldn’t had walked out with a wound to remind you of the moment you met Natasha Romanoff.

She was the enemy first, then she became your closest friend. That endearment kind of feeling, a word that tasted both sweet and bitter at your heart’s desire. At times, you wondered if staying as enemies would be enough. But you stare into her eyes at that moment, a smile that materialises on her face with a look to encourage your confession and the warmth that spread in your chest caused by her.

You would never know, perhaps, you thrive in the prospect of having a close something with her than nothing at all.

In your spiralling state, Natasha’s body remained rigid as she sat there, and waited for an appropriate reason for that mistake. There was a voice in her head that pushed forward the thought she had dejectedly hid away. It was the sound of hope that would persuade for something good than bad. If by her desired outcome, she wouldn’t continue to harbour the truth of her profound feelings that flourish at the mention of your name and more when your eyes met hers, the most delicate sort of gleam that made her body contentedly warm.

A confession may not meet the ears of others, but her mind whirls at the intended notion of being together forever. A significant other. If those words manifested itself into reality, slipping from the tongues of others like a casual banter, it made her heart swell at the idea of marriage. Natasha’s felt sure at the prospect of life spend with you.

Would it be so bad if she was so selfish to want that more than anything else?

Natasha’s round eyes widened, mouth parted slightly, and a little sound of a gasp at the realisation that dawned upon her.

It was assumed as harmless crush alike one she had on Bruce. It was a meant to pass through stages of complete fixation of a relationship she wouldn’t dare ruin to something that wasn’t important. It didn’t went pass that. In fact, she tried pretending that it was a just a friendship. A forged platonic relationship that was so pure and intimate, and now, she was seeing you as someone more than a crush she was forced to disregard.

“Honestly,” you suddenly spoke, and her attention flatters from the whirling thought, returning entirely to you. “I thought it was a mistake at first…little boys, right? But I don’t think he knows,” you finished with a shrug, appearing unbothered by the confession.

It was your reaction that struck her heart wrongly at first. Her expression seemed to flatter by seconds, the soften look to one of confusion to utter hurt. The hint of bore in your tone had easily disregard the nervousness that lingered before. She was almost sure that you were worried for an entirely different reason. One that she shared too.

The worst outcome clashed in her mind than the ones that coloured so vividly of her hope. Her hands fisted at the thought that was ready to confess her entire heart to you, and every vulnerability that she hasn’t yet shared.

Then, she heard the start of rhythmically taps. It was your nails tapping against the kitchen counter. Her shrewd eyes focused on your appearance, attentive gaze trailing a path to where your hands clenched and unclenched, followed by the look on your face. Natasha noticed the corners of your lips twitch, intending to smile or frown, then forcing a look of indifference that appeared more suspicious. It was clearly an act of masking your anxious state from her.

Something clicked in Natasha’s mind. A knowing hum resonated through her throat, her body leaned back nonchalantly and pressed against the chair. The drastic change in the atmosphere had caught onto you.

You didn’t think more of it than her knowing the truth. Natasha must had found out that you haven’t done anything to rebuke the misinformation. However, you start to notice the little act of a smirk on her face, and a subtle look of arrogance on her face. It was that reaction which straighten your posture.

“It’s not a bad thing,” you spoke out of distress. “I mean— it’s not— I’m okay with it! Mistakes happen and it’s no one’s fault…” you trailed, and entirely stopped your splatter of words.

Natasha stared intently at you, daring more words to spill that doesn’t justify yourself at all. It’s that look, the kind used during interrogations, and something you had watched from a safe distance. Natasha’s famous look that expressed, ‘I know the truth,’ and the look that made the other person tremble.

Silence transmitted first.

You contemplated the chances of escaping from having this dreaded conversation, and grimacing at your mind replaying your previous choice of words. A conclusion roused that she must had known, Natasha was definitely—to your absolute confidence—making a joke at your flustered state because she knew the embarrassing misunderstanding that Peter had produced at your expense.

“Wait, before you think that…”

Natasha decided to stop your second sequence of rambling. “I’m not opposed to it,” she spoke, a tone of certainty in her voice as she gauged your reaction.

Natasha observed the seconds where you reacted by your eyes widening almost comically then gaze falling entirely on your plate, mouth parted like you were talking to your breakfast, and you stayed there for a moment too long.

Slowly, a shy smile emerged on your face and when you shifted your gaze to meet her eyes, Natasha was beaming at you with a smile that appeared wider and happier than any kind you had ever saw.

You could only utter a word or more so, a sound. “Oh?”

Natasha nodded her head. “Oh,” she jested, switching her position to lean her elbows on the counter and resting her head on her palm of her hands. Her teeth nimble on her bottom lip, and your eyes blatantly stayed on that sight.

“So…” Natasha started, redirecting your attention away from her lips to meet her glistening eyes. “From my understanding, you like the idea of being my wife?” she teased, and slowly leaned her body forward.

It felt like a similar tactic she used on criminals, but there was a difference ambiance to the way she looked at you. A honied smile, eyes glazed of such tenderness, and you wondered for a second there on what it would feel to have that same look stayed on you forever. Natasha that developed a genuine relationship with you that was far more special and different than the kind shared with Clint. The thought itself distracted you from the actual matter in hand, and warmth that roused from your neck to your face.

You think of that. The first time you met Natasha, the first time you exchanged greetings as partners, the first time you shared a meal together, the first you swore that your feelings were something would progress into nothing, the first time you realised it was more than building an honest attraction to someone from a silly misinformation, the first time you sat and imagined the notion of being Natasha’s wife, the first time you almost confessed your feelings at her sister’s pestering and it dawned on how serious—

You gasped.

Natasha impulsively jumped backward, grasping the knife she had kept hidden again.

The expression on your face had morphed into something that worried Natasha, it wasn’t a shy look of someone sharing similar feeling to her.

You cursed under your breath.

“What?” Natasha questioned, her attention heightens on you and your surroundings. “What’s wrong?” she tried again, her hand clasping over yours.

It seemed to had break your distraction as round eyes fell on her hand at the tender touch. Natasha observed the way your eyes lingered before interlacing your fingers with hers. Where your forefinger seemed to hover over that one finger.

You looked ahead, gazing into her eyes—alike the moment you first met, the occurrence of such mundane thing, and the constant moments where hearts thumps keenly—and you didn’t look away. Natasha swore to herself at that vital moment, nothing could split the connection between you and her, even if she had to leave with a bleeding heart at the expense of your tenderness towards her.

“What is it?” she asked. It was almost followed by, ‘Do you need me to kill someone?’

You shook your head. “Three words,” you spoke softly, and she looked confused at first. “And you know it,” you continued, softly squeezing her hand.

Natasha doesn’t comprehend your implication. It was unlikely that Peter had misaddressed you as hers on purpose. The absolute innocence and sincerity in his words was supporting his case. She reflected on your words, feeling the thought rush through when your finger traced the minimalistic tattoo on the inside of her wrist.

It clicked. Your pointed look and noted pointers then the look of annoyance that materialised on her face.

“Yelena and Kate.”

You nodded your head. “Yelena and Kate.”

A silent understanding breached between two after the revelation. Of course, it was the mischief duos that landed you in this predicament.

Natasha instantly dived into planning her course of action to scare them into admitting their antics and possibly fear them enough to attempt this prank again. Internally, she was fuming at the idea that someone else could had been paired with you. That her younger sister—once innocent and wouldn’t dare be disobedient—could had your intertwined with another name that wasn’t hers. It wasn’t real, she knew that. But she couldn’t stop the way her heart hammered that you could had possibly felt something for someone else because of one prank.

It lured her to look at you than stared absently at the wall behind you. As her eyes gazed into yours, round globes seemingly gleaming beneath the awful pale kitchen light, the feeling of annoyance seemed to vanish into something warm and soft.

Natasha wasn’t eager to confront her sister, but she was eager to continue where you had left off, where it was clear that you shared her feelings for this specific future too. That was it, wasn’t it?

You appeared to understand her thoughts. “So...” you murmured, and she repeated the same word with a childlike smile on her face. “You’re not opposed to us…hanging out…as wives?”

Laughter echoes in the kitchen at your question. Natasha couldn’t stop the endearing look on her face as you added another joke at her obvious desirability for you. A prank had brought light to your shared feelings on the topic, and it wasn’t nothing alike a passing crush for someone.

Unfortunately for Yelena and Kate, the supposedly best prank might had turned into the worst assisted links of an even more compatible duos by the name of you and Natasha.

NEXT

[dearest-painter]

My beautiful child! PT.2

Summary: Mile’s has a younger sibling who isn’t…human to say. Their a demon who cannot go into the sunlight,his parents knows and make them do online school. When he an his siblings go to a place where all the spider people are at…they decided they want a new child and Y/N is perfect material for them!

TW/CW:Yandere behavior, unhealthy behavior, unhealthy relationship,abusive behavior,abusive relationship,Reader is Nezuko,Reader is Miles’s younger sibling,Reader can talk they just make Miles say stuff or make him translate their muffled words,very out of character characters,this is a series,Reader wears the same muzzle as Nezuko,Reader is not a spider-person,Reader wears skirts and oversized hoodies with leggings because they can get hurt by the sun touching their skin but they still have no gender,The whole family knows about Reader being a demon and having to wear clothes to not allow the sun to touch them,people might be out of character,tell me if I need to add more

PT.1

Miles and you just ran away…again as Miguel was chasing you both again. “WHY THE FUCK IS A GROWN MAN CHASING TWO TEENAGERS!?” You were unfazed by this as it was pretty normal at this point. You held your muzzle as it kept trying to fall out, you two ended up in a place where Hobie, Gwen, Peter B, and Mayday where. You both fell but you went flying as you were on Miles’s back but you didn’t get to hurt. You ran towards Miles and made sure he was okay.

“Mmhmhmm?!” “I’m okay Y/N, just a tiny scratch that’s all!” “Mmmhmmm!” “I’m fine really, are you okay though? You went FLYING!” “Mhm! Mhmmmhmh!” Miles sighed happily as you two got up but also hid you behind him as Miguel approached you two. “Peter..what the fuck is your friend on!?” “He’s all bark and barely any bite!” Miles looked at him shocked as he and you just witnessed Miguel chased you down while threatening Miles. You glared at Miguel as it was obvious he was the reason Miles was in distress.

Miguel didn’t know why but he hates how you hide behind Miles and glare at him…he doesn’t know why he hates it. “Miguel, you know Miles and his younger sibling Y/N.” Peter B got in front of you and Miles hiding you from Miguel’s vision. Miguel had his usual annoyed face but smelt blood…who was bleeding? It wasn’t any of the spider-people until he looked over Peter’s shoulder to see you biting Miles’s arm. Peter B looked around unfazed. “You okay kid?” “Yeah, Y/N hasn’t been eating as usual so I’m giving some blood” “what…the fuck are they?” “I ain’t su-“ “A demon, originally they were human but now a demon”

Miguel then felt a sudden hit of responsibility. He can relate to having to eat blood for survival but Miles wasn’t a good brother for you, he was a bad influence on you. Miguel needed to be the dad you need. Soon you stop while wrapping bandages of his bitten arm, you were still hungry but Miles is your brother and you don’t wanna hurt him. “Here…” miles was shocked to see Miguel handing you a blood bag but you didn’t care and drank the whole damn thing. “Aww you have a soft spot for little demon!” “Shut it Parker” Peter B rolled his eyes as Miguel began to rant.

You were holding Mayday again as she pretended to be an airplane, you didn’t talk to Gwen…she doesn’t seem like who she used to be anymore but maybe that’s just you being sleepy! Yeah that must be the reason!

[theoryandahalf]

STOP SAYING BOY KISSER IN CHAT, THEY DON'T NEED TO KNOW THAT!

(Ash, 2024)

Film Theory: YOU are a BOY KISSER

Sequel to Blow his WHISTLE 100%

original photo

[sunlightmurdock]

The Parent Trap | Prologue | Bradley Bradshaw x Ex-Wife!Reader

♡ Next Chapter | Masterlist

♡ In which, after a couple of years of listening to Peyton and Parker Bradshaw complain about their parents’ custody agreement, Grandpa Mav’s meddling goes a little bit too far.

♡ warnings: mentions of divorce throughout the fic, flashbacks to arguments and unhappily married people. Idiots who still love each other and don’t know it. (warnings will be added as story progresses).

…

“God dammit.” You sigh, leaning down into the passenger side footwell to grab your phone. After your hasty parking job, it’s wedged pretty securely under the metal bottom of the seat, impossible to reach from the angle you’re sitting in. You move up onto your knees and lean over, rummaging around for the lost device. This is the last thing you need.

It’s the third week of the semester and the second time so far that you’ve been called into the principal’s office.

The faint sound of seventies music coming from somewhere behind your shoulder alerts you to your ex-husband’s presence before you can see him. Shit, it must be bad if Rooster left work for it.

He turns his engine off and glances to his left. His lips quirk softly at the sight before him. You, in a pair of tight denim shorts, bent over the centre console and leaning down into the passenger side, searching for something. His smirk only grows as he steps down from his truck and swings the door shut behind him, tapping on the window of your 2018 Toyota corolla.

You flinch at the sound and turn your head to look back at him over your shoulder. He smiles, lifting his hand and waving his fingers at you. No matter how long passes between you seeing him, he always looks the same — and he’s usually got that smug look on his face. You roll your eyes and turn back towards your mission.

It’s been two years since the divorce became official. Still, Bradley glances down at those form fitting shorts and reminisces. It’s an outfit like that that got you into this mess in the first place. Fingers curling around your phone, you huff and catch ahold of your bag, then sit upright again. Rooster grabs the door and pulls it open, stepping out of your way.

“How’s it going, Mama?”

You scoff, shaking your head as you drape the tote over your shoulder and slip your phone into your back pocket. “I’d be better if your kids stopped being such miscreants.”

He chuckles, flightsuit tied around his waist and gold rimmed sunglasses covering his eyes. The teachers around here always go wild when he shows up like this. “My kids, huh?”

You step around him and nod your head, wishing that you were less familiar with the path to the principal’s office than you currently are. Rooster trails behind you, taking another quick glance down at those shorts he’s so fond of, “Did they tell you what we’re here for?”

“No, the lady on the phone just said that Principal James needed to speak to the both of us.” Rooster confirms your suspicions. This must be pretty bad. You groan in frustration, pushing through the front door.

“That’s what they told me too — I wonder what they did now.” You can only shake your head at the thought as the two of you sign in and are led to the principal’s office. Rooster takes his time, looking around at the colourful artwork on the walls, seemingly unfazed by whatever havoc your children have caused this time. He’s always so calm when it comes to them. He had been so different in the beginning. Terrified when those two blue lines showed up. Nauseous when the doctor confirmed that there were two heartbeats. He had almost blacked out during your labour. You can still remember the way he had periodically baby proofed not only the place that you shared, but also his Uncle Maverick’s house and your parents’ place. Anywhere his kids were going needed to be up to his standard.

Somewhere after the year mark, they had become significantly less fragile in his eyes. When they’re jumping off of high surfaces or climbing trees, dangling off of the slide at the park, he’s usually nearby with a smile on his face. He likes seeing his kids be more carefree than he ever was in childhood.

Rounding the corner, the girls’ reactions to the two of you are exceptionally polarized. When you had been told that you were expecting identical twin girls, you had expected the polar opposite trope — a mischievous daredevil tomboy and a goodie-two shoes who loved to dress up. Instead, you had received two partners in crime who were somehow all of those things at once. Freckled skin, rounded, rosy cheeks and long curls, it’s hard to tell them apart sometimes, but they still have their differences.

Peyton, Twin A — as determined by your first ultrasound, your firstborn, sits upright and beams at the two of you. It’s a rare occasion that she sees both of her parents in the same place these days. “Daddy!”

At her side, Parker, Twin B, your youngest, shrinks down in her chair in immediate realization. If you’re both here, then they’re in big trouble. For a seven year old, she’s getting good at reading the room. She turns those big brown eyes towards the ground and purses her lips.

Peyton leaps up and rushes forwards, wrapping her arms around Rooster’s waist, pressing her freckled cheek into her stomach. He grunts softly as she hits into him, then breaks out grinning as he hugs her against his middle, “Hey, Honeybee.”

He looks towards his remaining daughter. Parker glances up sheepishly, hands folded into her lap. Bradley smiles softly, “How about you, Peanut? — You got a hug for Daddy?”

You fold your arms over your chest as he pushes herself up from the chair. Bradley settles down onto his knees, opening up his arms and taking one of them in each. He hums as he hugs them tightly against him, then pulls back and scrunches his nose just slightly. “So, what’d you guys do?”

The twins stop and then share and equally worrisome glance. You squint at the two of them. “Girls.” You prompt.

“It was an accident!”

“Yeah, we didn’t mean to!”

Rooster lifts his head and this time it’s your turn to share equally worried looks. The door clicks open ahead of you.

Principal James steps out and rests her wrinkled hands on her hips. Rooster stands upright at your side. Under that cold, weathered gaze, it suddenly feels like the two of you are the ones in trouble. You swallow softly as she lifts a hand and beckons you into her office without a word.

“Sit down, girls, we’ll be right back.” You say softly, tapping their shoulders and nudging them back towards their seats. Rooster tucks his sunglasses into the collar of his black t-shirt and closes the oak office door behind him. You sit down in one of the chairs opposite her impressive, heavy mahogany desk.

She has been teaching for twenty years, and your twins have still managed to surprise her on this occasion.

“Mr. and Mrs. Bradshaw, I wish I could say that it’s a pleasure to be speaking with you today,” Her tone is sharp. Rooster presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek, whilst you count the tiles on the ceiling. “Unfortunately, today’s meeting has a rather unpleasant subject matter. Are you at all aware of the twins’ mission to… impersonate each other?”

Rooster’s lips quirk. They’ve been trying to swap places since they were two. They usually get caught pretty quickly. They’ve done it at school before, but they always mess up quickly. Their longest record for being undetected was three days at your parents’ house. “Yeah, they do that as a joke sometimes.”

“Well, today they switched outfits in the bathroom and went into each other’s classes.”

Your brows scrunch slightly. Sure, it’s a dumb thing to do, but it can’t be a punishable offense to swap outfits with your sister. Principal James looks between the two of you and finds no remorse on either of your faces so far. Clearly you aren’t following.

“Has Parker ever mentioned a boy named William Prescott?”

“Oh my god.” You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. Bradley frowns at your side, looking between you and the principal, lost. You turn your head. “He’s been picking on her. He pushed her down in the playground last week.”

“That’s what that cut on her knee was? — She said she tripped.” Bradley frowns, immediately engaging in that protective parent mode that’s neither helpful or impressive.

“She didn’t want to tell you because she knew you’d freak out.” You explain sitting back in the chair and rubbing at your temples. Her judgemental stare is just about enough to bring you out in a stress rash.

“So, why didn’t you tell me?” Bradley’s tone is accusatory, his expression even more so. He’s always been protective when it comes to his girls, including you not too long ago. It’s a sweet sentiment, but sometimes it’s too much and the girls are quickly picking up on that.

“Because I knew you’d freak out, and I already spoke to Billy’s mom about it.” You speak gently, acutely aware of the way that the principal’s crows feet deepen when she squints dubiously at you like she’s doing now. Rooster remains completely unaware of her judging your parenting at your side.

“Clearly that worked because —“

“The twins switched classrooms so that Peyton could, in their words, ‘take care of’ the issue.” Principal James interrupts. Both you and your ex-husband are silenced as you stare ahead at her. “Peyton proceeded to walk over to William’s desk and hit him in the face.”

You press a hand over your mouth and close your eyes, exhaling softly. Bradley sits back in the chair, leaning his head back and groaning quietly.

“At this moment in time, we have no choice but to place the twins on a short suspension.”

You purse your lips and wince. Seven years old and suspended for plotting out, and executing assault. This isn’t your proudest parenting moment.

“Suspension? — They’re in the second grade, it was just—“

“We won’t be reconsidering our decision, Mr. Bradshaw,” The principal interrupts, holding out a hand to silence him. He glances across at you. “There is some paperwork for you at the front desk, we look forward to having the girls back in a week’s time. Maybe the two of you could have a word with them about their behavior during their time off.”

Scolded, the two of you step out into the hallway, each of you silently blaming the other. The twins look at the two of you expectantly.

“Give us a second to talk, okay? — Don’t move, you’re both in big trouble.” Rooster warns them, his face stern. They frown at him in unison, then look towards each other. He reaches out, tapping his fingers against your forearm to nudge you away from the two of them. Once you’re out of earshot, he folds his arms over his chest.

“Alright, we should probably talk to them about this together, so I can swing by your place tonight after work. Like six?” He checks his watch and looks back up at you.

“Wait, wait — I can’t take them right now, I have meetings with clients all afternoon. Today’s your day to pick them up.” You frown at him. The custody agreement was fifty-fifty, two days with you, two days with him. It’s inconvenient for both of your schedules and the twins hate moving around as much as they do, but neither one of you has had the time recently to call up the lawyers and fix a new schedule.

“No, I have a debrief today that I’m already going to be late for. It’s your day.” Bradley shakes his head quickly and crosses his arms over his chest. Sometimes you think that he just does that to show off his arms. His biceps strain against the fabric of that fitted black shirt.

He’s bigger now than when you met him, filled out more into his adulthood. Years of lifting two growing girls up whenever they ask him to. Heading to the gym often so that they won’t outgrow being held by him.

Still, there’s a reason that it’s over and tanned skin and arm veins won’t change that.

“No, it’s Tuesday. The seventh.” You argue.

“Actually, it’s Wednesday. The seventh.” He mocks you back. Real mature. But, unfortunately— your phone confirms that he’s correct. You sigh and throw your head back. You’ve been so out of sorts all week, turned around with work and the kids.

Two kids running wild around a boutique that’s smaller than some of your clients’ closets. You can just see it now, them breaking into the expensive fabric whilst you’re distracted with clients. You shake your head quickly. “Shit. I can’t take them to work with me.”

Bradley purses his lips. Two kids on a naval base while he’s in a confidential meeting that they can’t sit in on sounds like an even worse idea.

When you found out you were expecting, the two of you had made an agreement that your career wouldn’t suffer as a result of parenthood. Given that Rooster is practically government owned, it’s hard for him to be as flexible as he would like. But, he has always made sure you had the support you needed. “Hold on, I’ll call Mav.”

It seems like a bad idea to send the twins to practically their favourite place on earth when they’re supposed to be being punished, but you’re out of other options.

“Idiot, I told you to wait until recess to—“ Parker’s voice trails as she spots her parents headed back in her direction. Peyton squints at the frown on her father’s face. The two of them learned early on that their Dad was wrapped around their fingers, he could barely stand to punish them and so he let them get away with more. The look on his face now tells them that he’s serious.

“I was doing you a favour.” Peyton whispers back angrily.

One look at their guilty little faces and they’re already tugging at your heartstrings. Still, you need to be strong.

“Your father and I have to get back to work, but we want you to know that we are taking this very seriously — we’re going to have a long talk about this later tonight, okay? — What you did was so wrong!”

Rooster glances across at you. Watching the same girl that he was doing body shots off of ten years ago turn out to be such a good mother is an interesting turn of events. He bites his cheek to contain his smile. If you told him back then that things would have turned out like this, with two incredible children, he wouldn’t have believed a word of it.

“We’re sorry.” They say at the same time, looking up at the two of you with those brown doe-eyes. It’s the winning combo, they inherited that puppy-dog look from their dad and mastered it years ago, and they are expressly aware of how funny Rooster finds it when they say the same thing at the same time.

As Rooster stands firm, both of you unwavering before them, your twins give in to their fate and sit back, groaning in complaint.

After his retirement last year, which he was practically forced into, kicking and screaming, Maverick was practically itching to babysit the girls every chance he gets. With Amelia off at college now, and Penny banning him from around the house DIY, he likes the chaos that they bring. For similar reasons, they adore Maverick.

“I’m serious, Mav,” Rooster frowns, his face stern as he holds the twins still. They’re practically buzzing with excitement at his sides as they wait to be allowed inside. “They’re in big trouble. No TV, no games. Have them sit there and finish the worksheets their teacher gave them, or have them clean the floors or something, I don’t care. No fun.”

Maverick takes a quick glance downwards at his freckle-faced granddaughters, both of them staring up at him in worry, hoping that he’ll disagree with their dad.

“Sure thing. I’ll keep ‘em busy.” Maverick agrees seriously, giving a quick, orderly nod of his head. The girls both frown, dejected as they pout at the wooden slats of the porch.

“Alright. If their Mom gets here before I do,” Bradley lowers his voice and squints at his uncle. “Do me a favour and please don’t be weird.”

“Weird? — I’m never weird.” Maverick answers defensively. Bradley squints at him. That’s far from true and they both know it. Maverick was always a big fan of you — you remind him of himself in some ways, and he’s always thought you were good for Bradley. Rooster still jokes that Maverick was more upset about the divorce than anyone else.

“Uh… alright. Be good for Mav, I’ll see you guys later. I love you.”

Maverick ushers the girls inside at once and waits until Bradley’s truck disappears down the road before he turns to address them. With it pouring rain outside, and the trouble they’re in, there’s limited fun that they can have. Something with no evidence. Before that, he needs a chore that they can complete that will satisfy Rooster but not take all afternoon and kill Mav’s fun.

“Alright, we’re clearing out the hallway closet, kids. Move it.”

An hour later, Maverick’s brows are furrowed as he’s thirty pieces into a two hundred piece puddle, sitting in the middle of the hallway floor. His navy expertise means that the twins have a good system, Peyton pulling down items, Parker sorting them into keep or toss.

Only, given the difficulty of piecing together the dozen shades of blue that make up the sailboat puzzle, Maverick hasn’t noticed that they stopped sorting through items five minutes ago. Now, they’re both leaning over a photo album, flicking through pictures.

“Is this Mommy?”

Maverick looks up, brows furrowed. He spins the album towards him without question and smiles at the picture. This was when he was teaching Top Gun that one time, it’s a picture of you at the beach, holding a football and posing with your arm flexed into a muscle.

“Yeah, look at this one.” Maverick flicks to the next page and spins it back towards the two of them. Their faces twist up in a mixture of excitement and amusement. It’s a picture of Rooster draped around you, squeezing you in his arms, his head resting against yours, the two of you beaming. Behind the two of you, the twins’ Uncle Jake is flexing both of his biceps, sticking his tongue out to bomb the picture.

“Daddy’s tummy doesn’t look like that anymore.” Parker snorts, shaking her head, cheeks dimpling as she looks up with a grin on her face. Maverick smiles. He sees so much of the both of you in the both of them.

“They look really really happy.” Peyton adds on.

Maverick nods. “They were. Here, you want to see some more?”

Chores quickly abandoned, daytime movie channel playing on the TV, cutting out every now and again as the weather screws with the signal, the living room floor is littered with old albums.

“Mommy’s wedding dress was so pretty.” Peyton traces her fingertips over the picture, examining the intricacies of the dress. Maverick smooth his hands over her curls and nods his head.

“That day was so special. Your Daddy was so nervous all day.” He chuckles fondly at the memory. Standing at the end of the aisle with Rooster and periodically reminding him to breathe. After so much missed time with Bradley, all of those years of not speaking, sitting here and listening to these delighted little giggles makes his heart warm.

He hadn’t ever been ready for children, but it turns out that being a grandfather was his calling. Passing on his stories, explaining funny faces and little anecdotes about each picture that they come across, seeing their little faces just light up.

They work through the wedding pictures, the work events, the beach days. The pregnancy, the birth, the newborn pictures.

“Is that me or her?” Parker asks as she squints at a picture of you holding a chubby-cheeked newborn on Mav’s porch, smiling tiredly. Maverick remembers that first year of parenthood, you and Bradley stumbling around half-awake that entire time.

“Honey, I’m not even sure who’s who right now.” Maverick admits with a smile. They roll their eyes fondly and continue to flip through memories they’re too small to remember.

They move onto pictures of their toddler years. Lots of pigtails and matching dresses back then, muddy knees and toothy grins. Peyton lingers on one page, lips falling down into a soft frown as she slips the picture from its place on the page.

It’s a picture of them in the backyard at their house, sitting in the sandpit that Rooster had built one summer after reading that it’s good for safety and motor skills all at once. Him, sitting in a pair of shorts and those gold rimmed sunglasses, shoulder reddened under the sun, dog tags hanging around his neck, grinning. Peyton, on his lap, eyes squeezed shut as she squeals excitedly, sand balled in her chubby fists. You, at his side, wearing a pretty sundress and grinning against his cheek, right about to kiss him once you can stop laughing. Parker standing between your legs, lips parted, staring towards the camera like she just heard something shocking.

Mav, behind the camera, his heart so full.

“I wish they were still together.” Peyton mumbles dejectedly. Her sister looks over and examines the picture, then gives a small nod. They hate being without one of you all of the time.

Maverick looks up and looks between the two of them. Those pouted lips, that sad look in those eyes. He looks back down at the happy couple in that picture. The two of you were so in love back then.

It should take him longer to think about than it does. He probably shouldn’t include them in the decision making, but it’s not the worst idea he has had in the past couple of years.

“Have you guys ever seen the Parent Trap?”

…

@thedroneranger @xoxabs88xox @khaylin27 @unordinare @shanimallina87 @sufferingophelia

[naeverse]

Keep It In The Closet (Halloween Special)

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

🍾 preview: 

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

You've been all I’ve thought about."

😈 summary:

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

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

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

💜rating: 18+ explicit I SMUT I

🍾Word Count: 7.1k

(Every character mentioned is of age!!)

😈Credit to artist in header:  sylvaeon

(*All rights reserved. DO NOT repost/translate/copy any of my work.*)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Miguel sighed, heavily doubting Peter's words.

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

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

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

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

“BOO!” 

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

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

“You got your mask?” 

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

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

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

“What’s up Peter?!”

“Hi, Peter!”

“Nice party!” 

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

He wanted nothing more than to leave…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He heard a young girl say somewhere to his right. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You wanted to leave…

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

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

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

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

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

He almost dropped his beer bottle.

You were stunning, absolutely breathtaking. 

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

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

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

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

"Hey buddy!"

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

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

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

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

"Now why the hell-"

"O-okay…I-I'll play." 

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

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

But he knew what his answer would be…

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

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

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

“So are we going or not?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was Miguel O’Hara...

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Damn, you are even better up close.'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A series of groans erupted after Peter’s words.

But Miguel was only half-listening...

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

'Who is my sexy gatita talking about?' 

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

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

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

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

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

Love…

Or lust

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

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

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

In that moment, you wished you could disappear.

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

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

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

Stirred a sense of excitement...

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

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

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

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

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

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

Instead, it pointed directly at Hobie.

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm really into teasing."

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

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

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

To do...

More..."

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

"Do you all catch my drift?"

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

Him teasing you with his tongue and fangs.

Touching you with his large, veiny hands,

Whispering naughty things into your ear...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Especially with Miguel. 

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

The Spider Society's library,

The gym,

Under the table in the cafeteria.

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

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

Now, he did…

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

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

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

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

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

You knew that look Gwen had given you. 

She was hoping it would land on you. 

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

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

Because it happened…

The bottle landed on you.

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

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

Your name...

Miguel had finally learned it.

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

"Y/N!? 

As in the clumsy and timid Spiderwoman?!"

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

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

If only he had seen you sooner...

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

Right?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sit on his lap, Y/N!" 

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

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

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

You almost drooled at the sight…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

..

.

"Damn! They are still at it!" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(*All rights reserved. DO NOT repost/translate/copy any of my work.*)

[firefly-fez]

You know what? I think any and all scenarios that put Rex in a crossover or an AU where he ends up in a different universe should have him be 100% on board with whatever shenanigans he’s faced with. He winds up in, say the BBC Merlin or Once Upon A Time universe? Or the MCU teaming up with a young Peter Parker and/or Miles Morales? He’s utterly unfazed. Nothing throws him. Ahsoka is with him like “Rex, we’re totally out of our element here, be careful” and Rex is just like. “Ahsoka. We agreed to help this kid, which means I’m responsible for protecting a young, stubborn, hotshot with magical powers I don’t understand. No offense, vod’ika, but this is just another Tuesday for me.”

Just... Rex as a non-magical, non-superpowered, non-force sensitive character in every setting, who absolutely does not know the first thing about any of this stuff, but from the sheer repetition of dealing with Jedi nonsense (mainly Ahsoka’s nonsense) over so many years, has just developed a nonchalant, unblinking acceptance of the craziest stuff. Like, in superhero or fantasy settings you usually have the side-kick/best friend character a little confused like: “what’s going on? [explanation filled with complicated jargon] In ENGLISH, please!” But instead of that, Rex (who is NOBODY’S sidekick) is just there like; “The kid got bitten by a spider, now he’s magic, the Quarren-looking creature is the enemy, we need to secure the area and neutralize him with a serum injection before we can safely recover the hostage. Keep up, Shiny.”

Just...just picture Rex in a crossover situation where you have this young protagonist superhero/sorcerer/insert-genre-here who’s very green but also talented on their first serious mission scared out of their mind trying to save someone, trying to scramble for the quickest explanation they come up with to get Rex to trust them that “I know where they are I just can’t explain how I know, you just have to trust me” and Rex is like “Yeah, yeah, sure you can sense it. Lead the way, kid. Follow your instincts but don’t get into trouble without backup, okay. I’m right behind you.” The kid just stares at him wide-eyed for a second like “wait -- you, you belive me?” and Rex is just like “This ain’t my first rodeo, kid. Now get moving, time is of the essence here.”

[dishoneykisses]

And more to be added. (Mostly NSFW)

EVERY YOU EVERY ME: Issue #1 By @astroboots (T, Series)

Relationships:

Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Tags:

Near death experiences

Summary:

You are falling from the 44th floor of the Chrysler building when you're saved by the unfriendly neighborhood Spider-man: Miguel O'Hara.

miguel has a praising kink by KEEEEMZ (E, Short Thread)

Relationship:

Peter. B Parker/Miguel

Tags:

Summary:

miguel has a praising kink and we all know that, while peter finds out he’s into degradation

I’ve Never Felt Like This Before by FlowerCitti (E,Complete, 9,488K)

Relationship:

Miguel O'Hara/Peter B. Parker (Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse)Miguel O'Hara/Peter Parker

Tags:

Fluff, Light Angst, Pining, Touch-Starved, Flirting, Kissing, First Kiss, Making Out, i just rly love Miguel ngl, Teasing, Bickering, Now with smut in part 2, Smut, Praise Kink, Oral Fixation, Biting, Scratching, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, They’re still really soft, soggy old men, Bottom Miguel O'Hara

Summary:

He turns to Peter abruptly when he mutters something smart under his breath, his arms crossed and brows raised as Miguel instinctively bares his fangs—

And then Parker’s finger hooks over his teeth, his mouth twitching into an exasperated smile. Miguel freezes, eyes wide as Peter doesn’t pull away, shaking Miguel’s head with the finger caught behind his teeth, sighing as if in disappointment. Like he’s holding the teeth of a large predator and is completely unfazed by it.

(Or, Peter and his unconventional ways of calming Miguel down.)

more than you can chew by three-fingered (calciseptine) (E, complete, 5,838K)

Relationship:

Miguel O'Hara/Peter B. Parker

Tags:

Biting, Blood Kink, Anal Sex, Kink Negotiation, Light Masochism, Top Miguel O'Hara, Miguel O'Hara Has a Large Penis, Bottom Peter Parker, Inappropriate and Unscientific Uses of Miguel's Venom, Barebacking

Summary:

"Do you ever take anything seriously?" Miguel hisses as he stands over Peter. His feet are planted on either side of Peter's hips, shoulders and spine rounded, hands curled into claws.

"Do you ever take anything un-seriously?" Peter counters.

.

Or, that fic in which Peter gets Miguel to bite him. Among other things.

[aardvaark]

leverage s1 parker acting unfazed/grinning defiantly when people say she’s insane or that there’s something wrong w her, vs s5 parker yelling "people thought i was crazy, but i never was! i- i never was."

[secondgenerationnerd]

Lian hcs anything really sad or chaotic cause she's lian!

…..oh you caught me in the middle of a lovely Angsty Lian idea

So we all know how Lian died right?

Now imagine Roy and Jade at home, getting a call about their 16 year old. Something’s happened to Lian.

Omega is on a rescue mission for a little girl, about 4 years old. Roy and Jade have been watching the news on the situation. Then they see part of the building collapse. A few minutes later, they get a call. Lian had found the little girl, but the building collapsed as they were running.

Neither can breathe, because not again, please God, not again.

Because of the time limits, they won’t be able to get to the site, but they can get to the Watch tower. As they arrive, Victor and Parker are working on Lian’s gear remotely. To see if they can get her comms to work or see her vitals.

Then it happens.

They get the Comms open on her side. They can hear her, but she can’t hear them. A familiar raspy voice singing “Here Comes the Sun.” Reassuring a crying little girl that they’re going to be okay.

“Mayday, Mayday, Mayday. We are trapped in the north east quadrant, 500 meters from last known. Mayday, Mayday, Mayday. We’re here. Please help.”

Eventually, Omega gets Lian and the little girl out. They’re safe and the little girl is reunited with her parents. On the cameras, Lian looks unfazed, bruised, but okay. They get to the watch tower for medical treatment.

The second she sees her parents running for her, all her resolve crumples. She collapses as they catch her, gripping their clothes, screaming and crying. She sounds so scared and hurt and—and lost.

“She didn’t die like me, I saved her! I didn’t let her die, Mommy! I saved her, Daddy!”

Roy and Jade hold her close, letting their strong girl break down. Because every breath, no matter how heaving or fought for, is proof she’s alive.

[so-long-soldier-writes]

heretic!kai x accident prone reader

kai parker x reader

tags: blood / blood drinking, injuries

word count: 452

you’ve been prone to accidents ever since you were a child

from broken bones to cuts and gashes, you’ve had it all

nothing really phases you anymore, and you’re certainly not squeamish about blood

so the first time you let kai feed from you, you’re unbothered to say the least

you actually really like it, even

moving in together ended up being the best decision

not only were you always in each other’s company, but he could feed whenever he needed. or, whenever you needed him

and being accident prone, you very often needed him

the first incident was when you tripped and fell in the park

it was still early, so not a lot of people were out, and you were able to expose your injury to kai

immediately, the veins under his eyes darkened, and when you caught on, you gave him the okay to feed

though he didn’t feed - he only sucked the blood away, licked it clean, and then gave you his own to heal your injury

he was too concerned about you getting an infection, or having an open wound. plus, there was a risk of people seeing. though he still gave you his blood to close the gash

after that, you tell him about every injury, no matter how small

so whether he’s closing wounds or actually feeding, his mouth seems to always be on you

one of your most common injuries is to cut yourself shaving

a simple yell of his name brings him right to you, already licking his lips

“i cut myself shaving, can you help me?”

he wastes no time licking up the dripping blood, then kisses your skin sweetly

paper cuts, overly itched mosquito bites, bloody noses

kai doesn’t care how “gross” it be, he’s unfazed, and loves everything about you

when you cook for him - which he taught you to do - he sucks any nicks to your skin from the knife, if you get it too close to your fingers

“babygirl, i do not know how to reattach fingers; you need to be more careful”

but your injuries are never that bad

sometimes, you have non-blood-related injuries, like broken bones or sprains

in those cases, kai siphons magic from his vampirism to mutter a healing spell

you always then love to thank him with your blood, feeding him just a little

he never overdoes it, one, afraid to drink too much, and two, knowing you’ll never leave him, so he doesn’t need to worry about his girl, nor losing his favorite supply

the two of you are absolutely in love, and every time you share blood, it brings you even closer <3

[nickeverdeen]

Caught in the Act (Sort of) | Peter Parker x gn!reader

Pairings: Peter Parker x gn!reader (older sibling), Peter Parker x MJ (romantic), gn!reader x MJ (platonic), Aunt May x gn!reader (platonic), Aunt May x Peter Parker (platonic)

Type of fic: Fluff, Family Dynamics, Humor

Warnings: None

Summary: Peter had MJ over for a sleepover and waking him up you walked in onto something and had to tease him

Tag List: @callsignwidow

—————————

It was a Saturday morning, and the sun had just begun to filter through the blinds of the Parker household. You were lounging on the couch, scrolling through your phone, when Aunt May poked her head out from the kitchen.

"Hey, can you go wake Peter and MJ? Breakfast is almost ready," she asked with a smile, flipping a pancake.

You smirked, knowing that Peter had asked MJ to stay over the night before, a completely innocent sleepover, but you were his older sibling—it was practically your duty to make things awkward.

"Sure thing," you replied, hopping up from the couch and making your way to Peter’s room.

As you pushed the door open, a mischievous grin on your face, you froze at the sight before you: Peter, completely shirtless, sitting on the edge of his bed with MJ sitting cross-legged beside him, still fully clothed and clearly amused by something he had said just moments before.

Peter’s head snapped up at the sound of the door opening, his eyes widening in panic when he saw you standing there. He scrambled to cover himself, but it was too late. You were already backing out of the room, your laughter echoing down the hallway.

"Oh, my God, Peter!" you cackled, clutching your stomach as you headed back to the kitchen. "I didn’t know you had it in you!"

Behind you, Peter practically flew out of his room, his face burning red as he tried to explain, words tumbling out of his mouth in a rushed, jumbled mess.

"It's not what it looks like! We were just—! I mean, nothing happened! I swear!"

You kept laughing, thoroughly enjoying how flustered your little brother was. "Sure, Pete, whatever you say!"

As the two of you reached the kitchen, Aunt May and MJ were both standing by the stove, trying their best to act normal despite the awkwardness in the air. MJ gave you a small smile, clearly unfazed, while May raised an eyebrow at Peter, who was still shirtless and looking like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole.

"Uh, MJ, could you help me finish up here?" Aunt May asked, trying to diffuse the tension. MJ nodded and walked over to assist, leaving you and Peter to settle the matter between yourselves.

You leaned against the counter, still chuckling as Peter glared at you, his cheeks flushed. "I can’t believe you," he muttered, running a hand through his messy hair.

"Oh, come on, Peter, relax," you teased, nudging him playfully. "I’m just messing with you. I know nothing happened."

Peter let out a relieved sigh, but his embarrassment lingered. "Yeah, well, you didn’t have to laugh so much."

"Can you blame me?" you grinned. "It’s not every day I walk in on my little brother and his girlfriend with you half-naked."

Peter groaned, dropping his head into his hands. "Please, can we just eat breakfast and forget this ever happened?"

With a satisfied smile, you finally let him off the hook. "Alright, alright, I’ll stop. For now."

You both sat down at the table as Aunt May and MJ brought over plates of eggs and bacon, the smell of breakfast filling the room. You dug in, and for a few blissful moments, the awkwardness faded away as everyone focused on eating.

But you couldn’t resist getting in one last jab.

"Hey, Pete," you said casually, glancing over at him. "Maybe next time, you could, you know, put on a shirt before you have company over."

Peter’s fork paused mid-air, and you saw the wheels turning in his head. Without warning, he picked up a piece of bacon and launched it at you across the table.

"Hey!" you protested, laughing as you caught the bacon mid-air. "I’m just looking out for you!"

"Yeah, right," Peter grumbled, though a small smile tugged at his lips. Despite the embarrassment, it was hard for him to stay mad at you.

Aunt May just shook her head in amusement, while MJ gave Peter a sympathetic pat on the back.

"Don’t worry, Peter," Aunt May said with a smirk. "You’re still my favorite kid, shirt or no shirt."

As she said that you let out a small slightly offended “Hey!”

Peter groaned again, but this time it was tinged with laughter, the awkwardness of the morning finally giving way to the usual banter and teasing that made your family feel like home.

[kaylinalexanderbooks]

Happy STS! How would your ocs do on a ghost hunter show?

This is a good question; sorry I'm just getting around to answering it!

Focusing on Part One.

Unfazed, but because they're unconvinced ghosts are real in the first place: Noelle, Carmen, Gabriel

Unfazed, but because they're not scared: Maddie, Ash

Unfazed, but because they're too interested in figuring out why the ghosts are here or why they're doing this: Gwen, Jedi, Tyler

Scares easy, screams at a small noise: Lexi, Akash, Carla, Sam

Scares easy, but protective of those around them, even if they're more scared: Robbie, Wade, Ewan

Scares easy, but pretends they're fine: Kelsey

Most willing to fight the ghosts: Parker, Jazlyn, Liam (verbally)

Didn't seem to care about this but is very surprisingly good at ghost hunting: Rose, Niri

Not really paying attention until the jumpscare: George

Almost put Robbie in that last category but he is scared easily because he's not paying attention. George would just be thinking of something else.

Hope this was fun :) thanks for the ask!

TSP intro

TSP tag list (ask to be +/-): @thepeculiarbird @illarian-rambling @televisionjester @finchwrites

@nebula--nix @literarynecromancy @honeybewrites @the-golden-comet

[neppy-34]

I have Miguel brain rot AHHHH. I imagine being Spiderman he isn't used to being over powered by most normal people and can fend off no problem. But then competent Spider people or like Peter B. Parker can be a worthy opponent when it comes to getting teased by, Miguel getting flustered and actually unable to just brush it off.

This is so cute heehe (thanks so much for sending in an ask!! Miguel has been plaguing my brain too lol)

Miguel is really losing the idgaf war

I totally agree though, Miguel is such a beefcake!! He is unfazed by hand to hand combat so actually being caught and pinned is whole new territory for him, which makes him much more aware and defensive.

If peter can sneak up on Miguel or surprise him in some way, it would be easy for him to get Miguel flat on his back, and it would be even easier to squeeze at Miguel’s sides and whats as he clamps down his jaw and arches his back.

While Miguel does not have spider-sense he does have heightened sensations, so any spidery (hehe) or tickly fingers feel much more intense than they would for someone else.

Peter would just chuckle and play along, teasing Miguel about how roughhousing at work doesn’t seem like something Miguel would like to do.

Miguel just growls in response and attempts to throw peter off of him, while also smearing that smug smirk off of peters face.

They would end up rolling and tumbling a bit before peter finds Miguel’s abdomen, and rakes his fingers gently over Miguel’s stomach. Miguel would kick out, and fully push peter off. Indicating his slight lack of effort before. Peter would smile and promise to keep Miguel’s ticklish stomach a secret

[saratinz]

Maneater (Chapter 6)

pairing ➩ Ex!Bucky Barnes x Promiscuous!Reader (College AU)

series warnings ➩ drinking, asshole!Bucky, enemies to lovers, exes to lovers, love triangle, smut, slut shaming, cursing

chapter warnings ➩ cursing, slut shaming, drinking

synopsis ➩ Y/n gets dumped.

word count ➩ 750

“I’m so sorry Steve.” You and Bucky are quickly dressed.

“Really, with my best friend?” 

“I know how it looks, I can explain though.” Bucky looks down, not helping you out at all.

“How the hell could you explain this?”

“James and I, we used to date. It was freshmen year, but he broke up with me.” He seems unfazed. “When you told me you were a virgin, I got freaked. So I went to a party and made out with someone.” 

“There’s someone else too?”

“No, well, kinda. It was Thor.” He scoffs, but you just have to continue. “Barnes pulled me into a random room and scolded me, because I was being an idiot.”

“And his dick just slipped in?”

“I was wasted, and he was saying all these things, so I kissed him, and then it, well now we’re here. I avoided him for a week, but during the movie he had his hand on my thigh, so when I got up to get water I, well I got confused and gave him, umm, head.”

“Why did you hide it from me?”

“Because,” you sigh, “you are the first good thing that’s happened to me in a while. I didn’t want to ruin it, and I genuinely thought it was a one time thing. All I know is that it will never happen again. I tried to tell you, but I just couldn’t break your heart.” Steve breaks out into hysterical laughter. 

“You really thought you could break my heart. Y/n, I don’t care about you. You were just something to keep my dick wet. I never had feelings for you, I just used you so that I could lose my virginity.”

“James, what is he talking about?” He just keeps on staring at the ground.

“Bucky is the one who gave me the idea, said you would practically sleep with anyone. Face it, you’re not special, you’re not girlfriend material. No, you’re just a slut.” You can’t hold back your cries anymore. “Tears, Y/n? Didn’t expect to see those from such a whore.” 

“You are fucking assholes.” With that, you leave.

You walk, alone, for hours, not knowing what to do or where to go. That’s when you get an idea: Thor. Your eyes puffy and red, you sprint to his frat. You get in easily, and when you knock at his door, you feel instant relief.

Your terrible night gets a lot worse, when you come face to face with Jane, in just a robe, the smell of sex clear as day on her. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning, you recall that you didn't have any other options, so you went to a party. You don’t remember anything from it when you wake up in some random dude’s bed.

Said dude stands over you.

“Who are you?”

“Umm, hi, I’m Peter, Peter Parker, I’m a freshmen.” You groan, drunk you surely knows how to pick ‘em. 

“Did we?” You insinuate.

“Did we what? Oh, oh no, we didn’t do anything.”

“Alright Peter, I’m Y/n.”

“I know.”

“Of course you do.”

“No, I just mean, well I’m the water-boy for the football team.”

“So, how did I wind up here?”

“Well it’s kind of a long story.”

“Don’t worry, I have no plans.”

“Okay well, where to start? Okay, yeah. So it was my first party and I didn’t really know what to expect. And so I walked in and I got a drink.”

“Dude c’mon, get to the story.”

“Oh, ummm, so after I got my drink I heard a lot of noise coming from the other room, so I went in there. And you were dancing on a table.”

“Was I good?”

“Umm, well, yeah.”

“I was joking.”

“Oh, okay, so there were a bunch of people filming, and it was getting bad because you were taking your clothes off.”

“Oh god.”

“So then Bucky comes in.”

“What the hell was Barnes doing there?”

“He saw what was happening on Snapchat. So he came in and he put your clothes back on, then he saw me and asked me to bring you here. He said if I touched you he would kill me. I got the impression that he likes you.” Having no idea how else to express yourself, you break out into psychotic laughter. Peter looks confused.

“Do you two have history or something? I’m very lost.”

“Do you really wanna know?”

“I mean, yeah.”

“Alright, well it all started two years ago.”

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@cjand10