#spider-man fic

[hellsburners]

yellow sunrise

summary: you and peter take things to the next step. pairing: teacher!peter parker x librarian!male reader word count: 2.8k warnings: fluff, a bit of angst, eventual smut, protected sex, top!peter, bottom!reader, tears were shed you guest how, peter is a good boyfriend..kinda? a/n: part 2 to orange juice^^

masterlist | more peter parker

The past few weeks have been very good. Peter would occasionally visit you in the library with packed lunch, you tried to do the same but cooking was never really your strong suit. You would spend lunches eating together at the library talking about stuff going around the school, Mayday, and the library. He also took you to a new science museum in Brooklyn, the two of you stood in awe as you saw new advances in science and technology.

Mrs. Diaz, the head librarian, took note of your good performance for the past months and has said that she will give a good word for your promotion. You and Peter went out on a drink that night to celebrate. You have also stayed in touch with Mayday, the three of you would watch movies together, go to parks, and it was like you were bing included in their small family.

On the way home from work, you were carrying an Ikea bag full of art materials since the library department settled on joining in with halloween decorations. You planned on cutting up colored paper into some decor. It was cold tonight, so cold that you zipped your jacket over your two seaters as you went to a bodega to grab a sandwich for dinner. The old man in the cashier took your order and you gave him 6 dollars in return. The heavy blue bag sinking into your skin makes it hurt a little. A small TV, like the box ones with antenna, near the cash register was playing the news. 

BREAKING NEWS: Multiple assailants attack a bank in Queens. The villains known as The Sinister Six attacked a local bank seeking the presence of the web-slinging hero, Spider-man. The assailants are identified by their aliases, Boomerang, Beetle, Shocker, Overdrive, and Speed Demon. Four hostages were seen in the premises but a final number has not been confirmed.

The old man gave you the sandwich and you went hurrying to your next block. A few corners from the bodega you saw smoke billowing in the street corner to your place. The beetle flying with her pink wings as Spider-man came swinging after her. A crowd of people surrounded the bank, police on hold to barricade them. You knew how dangerous this was but you’ve never seen Spider-man in person, and there he was.

Spider-man was wounded by sharp boomerangs that flew across the sky. There were five villains against one Spider-man. You saw the hostages leave the bank from Spider-man distracting the criminal, some were wounded and coughing from the smoke. Your mind went to Peter, is he safe? You tried to dial for his number but no one answered. Spider-man took the Sinister Six one by one, the crowd cheered for him. 

With worry dragging on your foot you hurried home. You kept on dialing for Peter’s phone, still no answer. In your peripheral you could see a shadow creeping up behind you. You tried to walk faster but the man’s hand was already on your shoulder. “Nice phone you got there kiddo,” the masked man said. Your heart raced, he was holding a short kitchen knife. “Come on now, give it away or else I’ll hurt ‘ya!” the man swung his knife at you but you quickly fell back. You ran yelling for help as he stood up to run after you.  

“You know, I was on my way home from the bank earlier but I heard some yelling and then I see you Bernard,” the man perched in a streetlamp yelled. A masked man in red and blue, Spider-man. He flicked his wrists and webs stuck to the thief’s arms binding them together. He swung down and bound the thief’s legs too. He wrapped him in webs and stuck him to the pole. Spider-man picked your phone from the man’s pocket and gave it to you. 

“You saved my life,” you said.

“Yeah, just your friendly neighborhood Spider-man,” You couldn’t help but stand in awe. “By the way, this street gets a little dark at night, prone to pickpockets so I suggest you go through the other street it's safer.” 

You were speechless in his presence but you managed to utter another thank you. Spider-man made sure the man was stuck to the pole and swung again. You rushed to your apartment, no more stops, you promised. Your phone rang the moment you got inside, it was Peter. 

“Peter! Oh my god I was so worried, are you okay?” you put your stuff down, unzipping your jacket afterwards. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry I couldn’t pick up your phone. I was doing some laundry,” you let out a sigh of relief. “How about you, are you okay? I saw the news.”

“Well, I almost got robbed. But Spider-man saved my life!” you could hear sirens outside your winds and in Peter’s, his being a bit louder. “Are you outside?”

“Oh, I just got in. Have you eaten?” he said, diverting the topic. Your eyes glanced at the paper bag in your bag, the contents flattened, some sauce leaking through the paper.

“Well, my sandwich got smushed so I’ll try to salvage what's left of it.” he laughs.

“I’m gonna call you later, I promised Mayday I’ll let her show me her new drawings from art class,” you felt relieved knowing he gets to talk to her. Whenever Mayday is even mentioned in conversation a weight would leave his shoulders.

✎𓇢𓆸

You snuggled up in bed wearing a worn out shirt and gym shorts. You were reading a book, your eyes weighing in as you turn a new page. Your phone rings, Peter was a man of his word. You pick up the phone, Peter says he was just getting into bed as well. He groans as you hear him get down in the soft cotton sheets. 

“Sorry, did I bother you?” he said. You assured that he didn’t since you love hearing his voice, especially before sleep. It was comforting. “So, how was this Spider-man? Did you finally feel like you met the man of your dreams?” he says jokingly. 

“We actually kissed as he went down on his webs. It was very romantic,” you retort.

“Is that so?” he says, his brows raised. He was being playful. “That's all you did? Next time let me watch.”

“Okay, you voyeur,” you chuckle. “Snooping around me and Spider-man.” you gave him a bossy tone. You both laugh from the sheer childishness of your conversation. 

“You know what I want?” his voice lowers to a gravelly hoarse whisper, like a morning voice. “I want whatever Spider-man is having.” You giggled. Peter and you have been tip-toeing on taking things to the next level. You’ve made out before, gotten to some touching, once you even straddled him while making out, but nothing more than that. Peter would always seem to restrain himself. 

“You want to get hurt too? Didn’t know you had that side in you, Parker,” you hear Peter groan as he changes positions in bed. 

“Would you,” Peter muttered, his voice was shaky, like he was just caught in a lie. Blood rushed through your veins. Whatever scared Peter scared you too. “Would you want to stay with me tomorrow night? I don’t know, I felt like it was time.”

Oh.

He went there, you thought. You weren’t in a rush, in a way you felt scared that doing this would change the dynamic you two had. From being flirty coworkers to something more serious. You bit your lip, thinking about the words that came out of Peter’s mouth. “No pressure of course. I’ll move at whatever pace is most comfortable for the both of us.” he said with a voice that you felt was his sincerest. 

“I’d love to. I’m excited actually,” Peter was shocked with your answer, he said he was happy and would make sure you were comfortable. 

✎𓇢𓆸

Peter told you to come by his apartment by 9pm since the faculty had its quarterly meeting and would probably finish late. He also said that you should wait for his text before you came, so as not to spoil the surprise, whatever that meant. So you sat on your couch, dressed for the occasion. You made sure everything was good, you looked presentable, showered, flossed and brushed your teeth, you even used your more expensive perfume a friend gave you for your birthday. You looked at the clock ticking and moving its hand at you.

For what felt like forever the clock went from 6pm to 7pm.

And then 8pm.

Then 9pm.

Then it was 11:30pm. No text. No call. Nothing.

You started to feel shame, like someone had undressed you in public, or took away your shoelaces and tied them up together. It was embarrassing, you felt like this was bound to happen. That Peter was bound to disappoint you somehow. That giddy feeling was temporary and it was pulled under you like a rug, hitting your ass on the hardwood floor like an idiot.

Thud!

You went on your feet to check the loud sound that hit your window. You took a kitchen knife and slowly crept your way to the window. The window was open, the wind blowing on the curtains hiding the shadowy figure creeping on you. You heard the figure groan. You slowly saw the man come in. Clad in blue and red spandex, the lean man entered your home. He was unmasked, a man in his 30’s with a slight stubble, his brown hair a tousled mess.

“Peter?”

He looked at you with his large brown eyes. His face had a light cut on his cheek. His gait was weak the way he walked towards you. You couldn’t fathom whatever was in front of you. Your chest heaves from thinking. How long has he been doing this? Is that why—

“Hey, I know what you think,” he gestures for you to calm down. 

“You have no idea of what I’m thinking about right now.”

“Just put the knife down and we can talk. Can we talk?” the both of you sat down on your small dining set, your chairs parallel one another. “I’m sorry I was late and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

You made the calculations in your head, Spider-man has been a hero of the city for 17 years. Peter has been doing this for that long? You stared at him speechless. He looked at you with the same sad puppy eyes he would always do, his brows raised and furrowed, his bottom lip protruded a bit, his shoulders relaxed. “I didn’t want to risk your safety.”

“But why show me now?”

“Well, to be honest, I think I got hit pretty well so I couldn’t swing back home.” he smiled. “But most importantly I wanted you to know. So you have the option to stay or to go.”

“Why would I do that?” you said, your arms crossed, your brows furrowed with confusion. Peter looked down on his hands on the table. You could see tears forming under his eyelashes. “Why would you make me choose?” You stood up and took his hands, you held them in your palms, warm and calloused. He looked up at you. You take your thumb and wipe his tears. “I choose to say Pete, because I want to. You’ve been this city’s hero for years. And I’ve looked up to you most of my life. I know you’re capable of protecting the people of this city, but I want to be here to support you. Be the guy who takes care of Spider-man when he’s hurt and to make the man underneath the mask feel loved.”

Peter stood up, his body towering over you. He placed his hands on each side of your face, bending down to place his lips on yours. It was a tender kiss, tears falling from Peter’s face. You bring him to your bedroom, his arms wrapped around your waist. His gloved hands occasionally peered under the hem of your shirt touching bare skin. He tries to grab the zipper on his nape, he struggles a bit, the two of you laughing. You helped him unzip the suit. Your eyes wandered through the landscape of his back, wide and muscular, yet it also showed who he was when the city called. Scars left and right, some new, some old, and yellowish bruises around his ribs.

Peter, now only wearing his black boxers, sat down on the bed with you standing in between his thighs. He peppered your neck with kisses. He started to pull on the hem of your shirt, lifting it above your head. Your shorts and underwear came after. With his hands now placed on the back of your thighs, he gestures for you to straddle him. Doing as you’re told he starts to caress your ass, his large hands hugging them fully. 

Peter pulls you back, his back on the bed while you towered on top of him. Your arms both at the side of his head supporting your weight. You could feel Peter’s erection stirring inside his underwear, you rub yourself on the hardness, his eyes fall back as he curses. “You’re unfair,” you said, pointing your eyes at his underwear. Peter smirked, pulling his underwear until it was at his ankles.

You started to stroke his cock while leaving kisses on his neck, your room filled with the sound of grunts and moans. You go down to your knees at the edge of the bed. You take his cock inside your mouth, you hadn’t realized it was the mouthful. Saliva coats his hardness while it goes in and out your mouth. Peter sits on the edge of the bed, his hands running through your hair. 

“Fuck, you’re so good.” Peter moans.

“Language Mr. Parker,” you jokingly said before continuing your task. Peter’s noises began to become louder, the grip he had on your hair became tighter. He taps your shoulder, his chest heaving, you ease down releasing his wet cock. The head throbbing and red, white liquid already forming at the tip. 

“Do you have condoms?” Peter asked. You stood up to take the condoms and the bottle of lube in your nightstand. Peter takes your hand and brings you to the bed, your positions now reversed, with your back to the bed while his body towers over you. He kisses you once more before he puts the condom on his dick, stroking it with a palm full of lube. 

“You ready?” he whispered to your ear. You nod, he puts a lubed finger to your hole, preparing you for his erection. With a slow thrust of his hip he sheathes himself inside you. You both let out a loud groan. You take him to you, kissing him more to ease some of the sting. After your body has acclimated to the pressure, Peter starts to push his cock in and out of you, the pressure begins to turn into pleasure, your eyes welling with tears. Peter starts to suck on the skin on your neck, not enough to mark but enough to make you a whimpering mess under him. Peter’s hands find yours, your fingers intertwined as he places them beside you. His thrusts were deep, the strokes long, you felt so full of him, his body, his scent, his essence. Your body surged with pleasure. 

He starts to stroke your cock, your arms now wrapped around his neck. Your mouths become slopier by the second. You tell him you were close, he tells you the same. With his thrusts becoming more erratic your muscles clench making your hole tighter. Peter groaned from the sudden tightness. Your arms wrapped tighter on his neck, his face on your ear letting out profanities. At the moment your moans, his hip and yours, gave out the same rhythm. The pleasure fills you up with intensity. The two of you at the same time called out for each other’s name as you climaxed. 

✎𓇢𓆸

You woke up from the scorching heat of the sun on your bare skin, the room filled with yellow light. The window was open and Peter was gone. You stood up to take your shirt and your shorts, stretching your neck before getting a glass of water. In the dining table you saw a paper folded into a flower with a note next to it.

Had to go do something, duty calls (also because I stink). I didn't want to wake you because you looked so peaceful,but I will see you later I promise. Thoughts on swinging around town with me? It’ll be fun I promise! I had a great night by the way. I love you.

-Peter. 

interactions are greatly appreciated btw if u liked this fic and want more send me a prompt and i'd gladly make something from it :>

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[starlordsandrockets]

The Bet

pairing: college!Peter Parker x Reader: 18+ , fake dating

word count: 9k

summary: You find yourself in attendance of a Gala with Peter Parker as your (fake) date. The two of you end up making a bet: Peter tries to make you fall for him by the end of the night.

a/n: sorry, i found myself in the worst case of writer’s block i’ve had in awhile. ANYWAY, i hope this makes up for it

“All I’m saying is that you’re going to look ridiculous,” Tony spoke. The rim of an almost empty glass of whiskey sat against his smiling lips, “Even Nat’s bringing a date and you two are two sides of the same coin. I don’t see how you can’t put up with a man for just one night,” Your gaze made him choke on his drink slightly, “or, or a woman?” He questioned, unsure of the reason for your deadly glance.

“I-I could get a date,” You stuttered, bringing your own glass to your lips. You crossed your legs, the black dress sat tightly against your knees. A pair of equally dark heels sat on your feet. The shoe dangled off your elevated foot, “I just chose to go stag, more of my vibe, you know,” You laughed it off.

“You’re a real lone wolf,” Tony spoke, “Are those still called bitches? Or is that just dogs?”

“Fuck off,” You groaned, finishing off your glass, “I’ll find a guy at the gala, alright. Spare me,”

“No, spare me,” Tony spoke, placing a hand on his chest dramatically, “Stark bringing along a virgin of an intern. All brain and no game,” He almost slurred, “But I guess that modest dress makes you kind of sexy in a mysterious way,”

“Forgive me for not breaking out my little black dress,” You told him, “It’s a gala. At an art museum, it’s not like we’re going to some night club”

“Oh, we’re not?” Tony questioned, “Then why are you totally pregaming with me right now,” He poured you another glass of whiskey with a shit eating grin.

“It’s the only way I can deal with you,” You admit with a smile, “This way you get a little more tolerable,”

“Glad we’re on the same page,” Tony spoke, raising another glass. However, his toast was cut short as someone caught his eyes, “Ah! Pete! Perfect, absolutely perfect,”

You turned your head, your loose, y/h/c waves twirling, “Come on, Mr. Stark,” Peter spoke, a sigh passed through his lips as he noticed Tony’s buzzed state, “There’s still like, an hour ‘til we leave,”

“Yeah! Perfect, enough time for you to have a drink with us,” Tony smiled, walking towards Peter. He took hold of Peter’s arm, dragging him into the lounge.

Peter wore a black suit, nothing fancy besides the luxury brand Tony had paid for. His hair was gelled into place and it made you laugh to yourself, “What?” Peter questioned as he heard you almost giggle. A subtle blush sat on his freckled nose. A drink found a way into his hand as he stared at you, “Mr. Stark, you know I won’t feel a thing from this,”

“Humor me, kid,” Tony spoke, “Er- us,” He motioned towards you.

You were reclined on Tony’s expensive couch as you bounced the heel that sat loosely on your foot, “Please, I’m being held here against my will,” You spoke, making Peter smile. You extended your arm, placing it on the back of the couch. Stretching, you pinched your shoulder blades without a thought. However, Peter’s thoughts were racing, the position pushing out your chest, drawing all of Peter’s attention to you. He did not think you could consume any more of his thoughts than you already did, but here he was. Knocking back whatever liquid was in the glass Tony had given him, he swallowed it in hopes of also swallowing his dirty thoughts. As he expected, it did not work.

“Y/N needs a date tonight,” Tony spoke as you took a large sip, making you instantly choke. The action was not comical, like in the movies and books, but had you embarrassingly gasping for air and coughing up a lung, “As charming as she is in this very moment, do you think you could do me a favor and not let her show up like that,” Tony spoke, “She’s my intern and I’d hate to have her overshadowed by me, and Pepper, of course. So what better than my intern showing up with my totally-not-an-Avenger, and totally real intern,”

“Are you sure this isn’t another, against her will sort of situation?” Peter questioned as you continued to cough, physically unable to say no.

“She’s not objecting,” Tony placed his hand on Peter’s shoulder, giving him a drunken shake.

***

“After the carpet, I’m finding the drinks and leaving your ass,” You spoke, “I don’t care if people think I’m alone, okay.”

“Yeah… right,” Peter spoke as he sat next to you in the long limo. The two of you sat somewhat isolated from the others. The group was paired off and in their own world, leaving the two of you to realize just how alone you really were, “Me too, I wanted to come alone anyway,”

“Me too,” You added, repeating your previous claim. Your hand found the vodka cranberry that the limo’s bar provided, “I’ve always been alone,” You informed as you brought the glass to your lips, “Why start now,”

***

You felt your stomach turn as the camera flashed. You had yet to place a single one of your black heels on the red carpet of the gala and you instantly regretted the drinks you downed to calm your nerves, “Hell no,”

“You’ll be fine,” Peter spoke, “They probably won’t even bother us if Mr. Stark’s around, not to mention everyone else,” He spoke, “Literally everyone but us,”

“That makes me feel so much better,” You almost laughed, “Thanks,” Your word was blunt. You were used to being in others' shadows. You rushed before Peter, wanting to spend the night the way you were used to: alone.

“Hey,” Peter spoke, unsure how he had upset you. 

Since Peter could remember, you had always been standoffish, never reaching out for company at the compound. Always shutting yourself off in the lab, you would get your work done and leave if it was not too late of a drive. You would crash on the couch whenever Tony refused to let you leave after 1am. Tony never wanted to feel guilt of you overworking yourself in the lab only for you to fall asleep at the wheel on your drive home.

Peter recalled the sight of you sprawled out on the lounge’s large couch, a blanket tossed over you as it barely covered your exposed skin. Peter could not help falling for you after he caught that sight more than a few times. He had helped you through a few too many drinks, holding your hair as you emptied your night into Stark’s million dollar toilet. Peter was unsure if you remembered nights like that.

Peter knocked into you, bringing him back to reality as you stood frozen in front of the flashing cameras, “You’re Tony Stark’s intern, aren’t you?” Someone from the crowd questioned, voice booming over the other shouts, “Is it true you work on the Avenger’s upgrades?” The man asked.

“Y/N calls all the shots for Avengers’ upgrades,” Peter spoke next to you. Your head spun, not only from the attention, but towards Peter, “I- They’d be lost without her,”

He was not wrong. You fixed nearly all the flaws you found in Spider-Man’s suit. They were only flaws due to Peter’s way of thinking. Tony had designed the AI with himself in mind and not Peter, “Smile,” Peter whispered in your ear, sending a shiver up your spine. You could barely see, the white flashes blinding you. Reaching out, Peter placed his hand on the small of your back. Your lips parted, about to snap a sarcastic remark at Peter’s advancement, however, you felt his clammy hold through your dress’s thin fabric, making you smile.

***

“So,” You said, “You’d be lost without me?” Your question teased Peter as the two of you finally made your way into the gala’s main room.

“I can admit it,” Peter spoke, “I don’t have some weird complex like you, or Mr. Stark,”

“Don’t compare me to Tony,” You told him, still a little buzzed from not only the alcohol in your system but also the camera flashes, “God, if I get that bad kill me,”

“If you didn’t fix my suit, I might have by accident,” Peter admitted. He had eventually gotten the hang of his suit’s AI, however the changes you had made allowed him to fully master his potential, “but, yeah,” His words were smooth, “I would be lost without you, honestly,”

“Including now?” You questioned, now realizing you did not wish to face the night alone. Especially now that you have seen the amount of older men that would surely harass you if you found yourself alone, “so, leaving you behind would be a terrible idea,”

“Absolutely terrible,” Peter played along, a smile threatening to curl his lips. He knew your games and when you were hiding your true emotions, “I’m not sure if I could make it through this boring gala by myself. You’d be doing me a huge favor,”

“Yeah?” You questioned, “Then you owe me,” Your eyes searched for any amount of food you could ingest before you had more drinks to get you through the night.

“How is that fair?” Peter laughed, however, he had not made it known that he knew the facade you were putting up, “You know what, fine,” He gave in, “I owe you, whatever you ask,” As soon as the words left his lips he caught you smile, “No, no, no,” He rambled as he heard you laugh.

“Oh you can’t take it back,” You laughed, “This is going to be fun,” Peter followed you at your heels as you searched the huge gallery for food or drinks, “Maybe I’ll hold this over your head for a while,”

“Y/N,” Peter groaned, meeting your eyes. His regret faded as soon as he saw your smiling eyes and grinning lips. He was just glad that you were having a good time.

“Miss Y/L/N,” Your name was called out, attracting your attention as well as Peter’s to a man who seemed to be in his late thirties. He was cute. Peter must have read your mind, or maybe caught on to your swooning gaze, as his hand found the small of your back once again, “Pardon my interruption,” the man questioned Peter’s touch.

“No interruption,” You spoke, stepping out of Peter’s warm touch, “Just simply company, to get me through the night,” Peter stiffened at your words but your back faced him, unable to see the consequence of your claim, “Y/N Y/L/N,” You spoke, extending your hand.

The man smiled at Peter’s misfortune, “I’m glad to have caught you, I’m the gallery’s director,” He watched as your eyes lit up for a moment, “Phil Weston,” Phil introduced, “I was wondering if we could rent some of your work. Give you your own exhibition,” He watched as you stumbled over your thoughts before him, “Or should I be going through your assistant here?” He motioned towards Peter, “That’s what you are right?” He almost degraded.

“I’m a little more than that,” Peter spoke, unable to shine light on just how important he truly is. But you knew, he was sure you would back him up.

“Sure,” Phil spoke, “Well, Y/N,” Turning, he retrieved a tall glass from a woman who appeared behind him mid conversation. The glass of champagne made its way into your hand, your rings knocking against the thin glass. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small card, “Here’s my card,”

“Thanks Weston,” You smiled around the glass. Sticking the card between your two fingers, you flashed it to Peter, “Keep this safe for me,” You jokingly instructed, “assistant,” You heard Phil laugh as he departed.

“You’re ridiculous,” Peter spoke, not taking the card out of your grasp. The dark paper still waved in front of his face.

“Me?” You questioned with a bat of your lashes, with a smile you took a large sip of your drink.

“I know we’re playing a part here,” Peter spoke, “but you’re just standing there while that guy humiliates me,”

“I’m not playing a part,” You told Peter, “I call the shots, remember. And you owe me, I could have said something but then you’d owe me even more,” Alcohol coated your words as you studied the Avenger. A laugh bubbled between your lips as you began to tuck the business card into the small purse that sat at your side, “Forget it, Parker,” You informed, finishing off your champagne, “just help me find something else to drink,”

“I think you should eat something,” Peter spoke. Watching you walk away from him he reached out, taking hold of your wrist, “I mean, with how much you’ve been drinking,”

“Are you worried about me?” You asked with a sly smile, “I know you’re my fake date, but you don’t have to act like it,” Your eyes found a large table ordained with finger foods and drinks, “but I’ll humor you,”

“I just don’t want you finding yourself doing something you regret,” Peter spoke, thinking of Phil. He knew that you had more confidence when you drink. Hell, he hated it. You flirted with Peter almost every time you had one too many but in the morning the two of you could be mistaken as strangers, “Or make a complete fool of yourself,”

“That so?” You questioned as the two of you crossed the tiled floor of the museum.

“Wouldn’t put it past you,” Peter spoke from where he followed at your heels, “Little do you know, I have a decent amount of blackmail on half the compound. Sure it sucks that I can’t get drunk like the rest of you but, not going to lie, I think I have more fun watching you all make fools of yourselves,”

“What are you, a masochist?” You tease as you turn to him, drink in hand. You caught Peter’s stern glance, “Right, right,” You raised your free hand, retrieving a small sandwich, “See, food,” You stuffed the sandwich between your red lips, “Yum,” You spoke sarcastically, mouth full of food.

“How’d I land such a classy date?” Peter questioned, taking a drink from the table. He knew the alcohol would not affect his system but he did not want to look out of place.

“You wish you could land me,” You washed your food down with a large sip of wine.

“Ouch,” Peter spoke around his wine glass. He was unsure if he was just experiencing placebo from the wine but found himself speaking with newfound confidence, “I could land you… if I wanted,”

“Yeah?” You laughed, “I’d like to see that,” You admitted. You would be lying if you said you did not find Peter attractive. You have seen him at work, in the gym, you have seen him change in and out of his suit right in front of you. Peter might have not known but each time, you glanced at his toned body and mentally drooled. You would not mind if Peter pursued you, you just knew better. Peter was awkward and did not show much interest in you until tonight. He was just doing you a favor, keeping you company. He never spoke to you in the compound besides when he needed to, or when he said hello whenever the two of you passed each other in the large building, “But I know better,” You smiled, “know you better,”

“You think I won’t?” Peter questioned, watching you shrug your bare shoulders. He watched as another glass found its way into your hand, making his job a lot easier. You were a horny drunk and he was about to use that to his favor.

“Are you betting me?” You questioned almost excitedly, “Is this a bet? Please tell me you’re giving me another thing to hold over your head,”

“Sure, it’s a bet,” Peter spoke, taking another sip of wine, “But you have to be completely honest with me. No burying your feelings for me,” He informed, “Any time I ask, you have to tell me exactly how you feel,”

You almost gagged, but Peter was right, you should play fair, “Fine,” You rolled your eyes, feeling yourself begin to sway, “When’s the game start?”

“Right now,” Peter spoke, finishing off what was in his glass. Setting it down, he took yours from your grasp watching you shoot him an angry glance, “and you need to start off by telling me exactly how you feel about me,” His words were smooth, somehow forgetting that he normally had to build up the courage to just say hello to you but in this moment he was closing the space between the two of you, “I want to know what kind of a chance I even have,”

“I don’t think you have to work too hard,” You smiled, your lips beginning to numb. You stared up at Peter. Your eyes were able to count almost every freckle on his boyish face and god did you want to kiss them. Kiss him, even, “I’m kind of drunk,”

“Yeah,” Peter smiled, “I figured that much Y/N,” He whispered as if it was a secret.

“And it’s making you look cuter,” You whispered back, watching your words shoot through his heart like an arrow, freezing him in his tracks, “Even cuter than before,”

“Good to know,” Peter muttered to himself as he watched you take the wine glass back from his hand, your fingers brushing against his clammy hand.

***

“How’s the lone wolf holding up,” Tony questioned as he had excused himself from a conversation Pepper found herself in; checking in on you and Peter, but mostly you. Tony’s eyes followed you as you swayed, Peter’s hand supporting your lower back, “I see you’re holding her up,” He motioned towards Peter as you took another sip of wine, “How much has she had,”

“I lost count, but you know her,” Peter spoke, “She’s almost as bad as you,” He somewhat joked, watching Tony smile.

“I’m fiiiinne,” Your voice drew out, “I’m just bored, so I’m drinking. Sue me,” You groaned, turning to Peter, you studied him and how close he stood next to you, “Can we go dance,”

Peter’s eyes widened as he met Tony’s gaze. Tony sent him a suggestive gaze, “Yeah Pete,” He smirked, “You two should go dance, that’d be a much easier way to hold her up,”

“Pleaase,” You almost begged, “I can’t drink if I’m dancing,” You set your glass down, throwing up your hands in your defense.

“I guess that’s true,” Peter agreed, “Excuse us,” He spoke to Tony who sent him a lovey-dovey look, “Mr. Stark, please,” He muttered, leading you away from Tony and to the gala’s live string quartet.

“I love the violin,” You drunkenly gushed, “I’ve always wanted to play,” You twirled out of Peter’s hold as you entered the floor, bumping into a couple who slowly swayed to the sound. A laugh bubbled from your lips.

“I’m sorry,” Peter spoke, “Sweetheart, be careful,” He played along with your roles for the night.

“Hm, sweetheart?” You questioned as his hands fell against the fabric of your dress, “Out of all the pet names, you pick sweetheart?”

“What? You want me to call you dear? Like we’re sixty and unhappy,” Peter’s claim made you laugh, “I know better than to call you baby,” He spoke quietly, watching your nose wrinkle, “That’s what I thought,”

“It’s just so formal,” You teased, “I thought the gala was formal enough, but sweetheart? I’m swooning, darling,”

“Ah, darling,” Peter spoke as you brought a new pet name to light, “I still think sweetheart fits you,” The two of you moved in sync without a second thought as your conversation could barely be heard over the romantic strings.

“I know,” You smiled, “I’m a delight, the sweetest at the compound,” You played along.

“No,” Peter continued, “I think that’s Mr. Stark. But you’re a close second,” He spun you in his hold. His eyes studied you as you twirled before him, your hair bouncing as you smiled, a laugh falling between your lips. Your red lipstick no longer sat evenly on your skin from the amount of drink you had. Peter wondered if he should tell you, wondering if you wished to reapply the seductive red shade, however his eyes took you in instead, “You’re pretty,” The words slipped almost silently past his lips.

In an attempt to cover his claim, Peter pulled you back in, making your head spin. His action was quick, or so you thought, maybe you were just drunk, “Did you- did you just?” You stuttered, somehow his quiet claim made your heart flutter slightly. Peter’s dominant hand left the small of your back as it found its way to the side of your neck.

“How do you feel about me right now?” Peter questioned, it took everything in him to hold your eye contact, his body begging his gaze to fall to the necklace that sat against your skin.

You stared into his brown eyes, his gaze reflected sickly sweet puppy love back into your lone glance, “You called me pretty,” Was all you managed to speak, lost in Peter’s imploring gaze.

“Yeah… yeah I did. And how’d that make you feel?” Peter questioned, “Do you like it when I call you pretty?” He was no longer hesitant, realizing you probably will not remember most of the night, in the morning. Peter stared at your stunned expression, taken aback by his words, “You’re not saying no,”

“I’m just-“ You stuttered. The room twirled and you were unsure if it was from your moving feet or Peter’s sweet words. Returning to Peter’s hold, your hand fell to his chest defensively.

“I-I didn’t think you could get any prettier,” Peter spoke, words intertwining with the playing strings. Clearing his throat, he attempted to recover from his stuttered claim. Although he we determined to win your bet, you always managed to make him nervous, “Your hair looks nice curled and your eyes,” Peter rambled, “Your eyes are somehow making me more nervous than usual,” Your gaze was soft and intent, “and your dress,”

“Spare me,” You spoke, “Tony already gave me shit,” Your fingers fell from the fabric of Peter’s suit, touch trailing. Hand falling, it smoothed over the curve of your hip, “I guess I should have gone shorter,” Your eyes found a handful of women in short dresses.

“No-” His voice was almost desperate, “no- I mean. I like this dress,” He watched you raise your brows, eyes narrowing. Peter pulled you closer to him, building up the courage to express his next claim, “I’d rather think about what’s under it,” His voice was somehow smooth, “rather than seeing you in a short dress,”

“Y-Yeah?” You questioned, looking up at Peter’s blushed complexion. You felt your system warm, the alcohol still having an effect over you, “Want to see what’s under it?”

“W-What?” Peter questioned, his dancing pace slowing, “Y/N,” He laughed nervously. You were doing it again, being a horny drunk, “You’re drunk,”

“And you’re winning,” You admitted, “as much as I hate to say it,” The two of you stood on the dancefloor as the others danced around you. Your hands found their way to Peter’s chest, snaking up to his neck until your fingertips brushed against his warm cheeks, “You’re hot,”

“Y/N,” Peter spoke your name, as if he was trying to make sure that all of this was not a dream.

“Bathroom,” You interrupted.

“What?” Peter questioned, wondering if he heard you correctly, “Bathroom?” He watched you nod, feeling nerves rush through him, thinking all that alcohol finally caught up to you, “Yeah- yeah okay,” He helped you navigate your way off the dancefloor.

“Slow down,” You spoke, a little out of breath from keeping up with Peter’s gate in your heels.

Peter felt your fingers tickle against his skin, not realizing he had grabbed your hand to lead you through the crowds. He felt his confidence begin to crumble as he grew further and further away from the crowd.

The two of you traveled down the museum’s large stairs to the lower galleries and bathrooms. You felt the room begin to spin as you attempted to navigate the large concrete steps, “Shit,” You laughed, “These stairs are going to kick my ass,”

“Here,” Peter spoke, his hand fell from your hold. Reaching out, he wrapped an arm around you.

His hold steadied you but equally weakened your knees. Peter’s fingers dug into your shoulder as you looked towards him.

“What?” Peter questioned. Your gate slowed as you studied his face. You never thought he could get more handsome, but here he was helping you down a large staircase like you were some princess in a giant castle. 

Did that make him the prince? Of course it did.

“I’m fucked,” You laughed, your claim was under your breath, however Peter’s hearing still picked up on it.

The claim, unknown to him, was because you found yourself falling even harder for him; however, he thought you were about to get sick. Slipping his free hand behind your knees, he easily scooped you up, literally sweeping you off your feet.

“What are you-“ You felt your face heat up at the sudden advancement, “What if someone sees- there’s cameras-“

Peter did not respond, he was far too focused on getting you to the bathroom. The remaining flight of stairs passed quickly under his shiny black shoes. Turning the stair’s corner, he brought you to the bathroom door that was tucked under the concrete stairs.

“What-What was that?” You questioned, hands gripping Peter’s shoulder, while the other found his hand that gripped underneath your thigh.

“I- What? What do you mean?” Peter questioned right back, “I thought you had too much to drink,”

“I just wanted to freshen up,” You stared back at him, realizing just how close the two of you were.

“Oh,” Peter spoke, embarrassment reddened his ears as he stared right back at you. Walking towards the wall, he pressed your open back against the concrete wall.

“Pete-“ You vocalized as the cold wall touched your heated skin. Your back arched away and towards him in his hold. Realizing your tone, your gaze fell to the floor.

Peter watched as your chest rose and fell heavily in front of him. The skin of your chest was peaking out with each intake, and it silently begged for his lips. He wanted to kiss you- well, he wanted to kiss you every moment he spent with you- but especially in this moment. Rounding his shoulders he brought his face in front of your downturned gaze. He grew closer and closer with each passing moment, eyes fixed on your own. He breathed a shaken breath, palms growing sweating as he inched closer to your lips.

Like ripping off a bandage, Peter was quick and rough. His lips pressed against yours, pushing you against the museum’s wall. You groaned against him in response to the impact, before kissing him back slightly. However, before you could fully reciprocate, you heard a pair of heels descending the stairs.

“Peter-” You stuttered against his lips, hands pushing against his chest. You buried yourself further into the wall in an attempt to escape his advancement, “Get- Let go-” You watched as your words finally registered in Peter’s brain, his hands dropping you to the floor. You struggled to keep your balance in your black heels. Without a thought, you turned and rushed off into the bathroom.

You placed your hands on the porcelain sink as you stared at yourself in the mirror. If you were not wearing makeup you would have probably splashed your face with cold water, or hell, you would have even slapped some sense into yourself. Suddenly the sound of the bathroom door made you stand up straight. You did not dare to turn your head, to check if it was Peter. You watched as a woman, a little older than you, smiled at you through the mirror. You gave her a weak smile in return, head still spinning in response to the kiss.

You needed to pull yourself together. You were slipping right into Peter’s grasp, not that it was a bad thing, you were just way too competitive. You wanted to win. Opening your small purse, you removed your lipstick. As you applied the shade to your lips, you were far too lost in thought. Staring back at yourself, you were surprised to see that you had mindlessly applied the satin formula.

The woman who had made her way into the bathroom now stood next to you at the sinks. You rubbed your lips together, blending the color evenly, “Having a good night?” You questioned her, preparing yourself for any conversation you would have with Peter.

“Oh yes,” She smiled, washing her hands gingerly, not wanting to bump her diamond bracelets against the porcelain, “I’m sorry for asking- you probably hear this a lot but, what is it like working for Tony Stark?”

**

Peter rocked up and down on his expensive dress shoes. You were taking fairly long. Peter had already calmed himself down in the men’s room after your heated kiss. But now, he knew he would have had time to relieve himself instead. What was wrong with him? It would not have been the first time he had touched himself to the thought of you, but it still felt wrong.

He kicked at the concrete floor, frustrated that your kiss was interrupted so quickly. Suddenly, Peter was pulled out of his thoughts as you exited the bathroom with the woman. You laughed beside her as you locked eyes with Peter, “It was a pleasure talking to you, Y/N,” The woman smiled, lightly setting a hand on your arm, “I’m sorry for keeping her,” She spoke to Peter.

Peter nodded out of courtesy as the two of you watched her climb the large stairs, “What was that about?” Peter questioned, taken aback by the sound of his own voice.

“Oh,” You spoke almost too casually, “She was asking me about Tony. Wanted to know what he’s like outside of the public eye, you know?”

“Yeah?” Peter laughed slightly, “I can imagine you only said nice things,” He joked, knowing how you and Tony bicker, “Obviously,”

“Oh of course,” You joked back. You reached out, placing a hand on his arm. You watched Peter laugh beside you, leaning into you, and that is when you remembered the kiss. You must have visibly stiffened because it caused Peter to freeze as well.

“Y/N,” Peter spoke, watching you hesitate to meet his eyes.

You wanted to touch him, pull him against you and into the kiss that was so rudely interrupted. You wanted him to fill your free time, to watch his eyes squint whenever he smiled at your crude, dry humor, “You win,”

“What?” Peter questioned, laughing slightly. Then it registered, the smile faded on his lips and a slight red flush occupied his ears and cheeks, “Oh,”

“Yeah,” You nodded slowly, “It pains me to say it, but,” You groaned, “God I hate this,” You felt Peter’s fingers tickle the skin of your wrist. Your gaze flashed to the skin on skin contact and then the bathroom door.

“What?” Peter questioned again.

“Peter,” You motioned towards the door with your eyes.

“W-Wha- No! Y/N,” Peter stuttered, “No,” His voice was assertive as you almost pouted in front of him.

You bounced on your feet, silently pleading with him. He stood his ground, “Fine. But maybe I’ll change my mind later,”

“I don’t think you will,” Peter spoke, watching you physically wither, “Come on,” He took your hand and began to lead you up the staircase. You reluctantly followed at his heels, dreading what was to come next.

***

You have made it through three separate conversations with complete strangers, all while Peter’s hand rested on the small of your back. To make matters worse, you now locked eyes with Tony. The fake smile that once parted your lips completely faded in his presence, “The kid still needs to be holding you up?” Tony teased as you gave Pepper a genuine smile.

“Pepper, I don’t know how you put up with him,” You spoke, “Sadly I’m sober,” Tony raised a brow at your statement, watching Peter’s hand return to his side.

“I’m surprised she didn’t bite your hand off,” Tony smiled as a woman approached your group with a tray of champagne, “Thank you,” He spoke to her before he passed the group glasses. He brought his lips around the rim of the thin glass, “You starting to warm up to my intern?”

“He’s tolerable company,” You smiled back, taking a large sip of champagne, “Couldn’t say the same about you though,” The tension between you and Tony hung in the air as Peter and Pepper both apologized to each other silently.

“Why don’t we get some air,” Peter suggested, hand returning back to you. He watched you finishing what remained in your glass before giving him a pressed smile.

“Sure,” You nodded, “Nice seeing you Pepper,” Your eyes did not dare fall over to Tony. You watched his hold tighten on Pepper as Peter’s did the same to you.

The two of you made your way towards a secluded exit, avoiding the paparazzi that waited for everyone outside, “Can’t you just play nice for a night?” Peter questioned after your long silence.

“It’s not like- He does that shit on purpose,” You spoke, motioning back towards the door you found yourself outside, “He always has something to say- something to get under my skin. And it’s not like you stepped in and told him to stop,”

“I like seeing you all worked up,” Peter spoke, not realizing how his claim sounded until it passed through his lips. You looked up at him, “Not- Not in a weird way- Well-“ He stuttered. Peter did like it in a weird way. He liked seeing you flustered.

You watched Peter stumble over his words, his gaze falling off of you, “Mm,” You hummed, your tone was teasing.

“I said not in a weird way,” Peter spoke, watching you lean into his, studying his blushed skin, “Y/N,”

“How then?” You questioned, “I’m dying to know,” Bringing your fingertips to a hair that hung against his forehead, pushing it back into his gelled hair, “Your hair looks so dumb,” You teased.

Taking your wrist, he brought you around the building’s corner, out of sight from anyone who would exit the door. He listened to your mumbled complaints before he took hold of both of your arms. Peter pushed you against the concrete building. The cool surface made you hiss before Peter’s hands snaked up your arms to your face. He cupped your cheeks roughly as he brought his lips to yours for a second time.

And you were so glad he did.

Your hands found his black tie, tugging on it. You loosened the fabric, feeling Peter sigh out of relief. You do not know why you started undressing him, but now your fingers fumbled against his white shirt’s small buttons, “Hey, hey,” He almost laughed against your lips, “Slow down,”

“I just want to touch you,” You admitted, pushing aside the white fabric, studying the soft skin of his neck and chest.

“I thought you loved Prada,” Peter joked. He watched you study the suit. Your eyes scanned his body before falling right back to his skin. Little did you know, Peter had asked Tony specifically for a Prada suit after he heard you obsessing over their latest campaign.

“I-I do.” You spoke, “But… I told you- You win,” Your hands held both sides of his shirt’s collar, “Swing me somewhere,”

Peter watched as you pulled yourself closer, your eyes studying his lips. He was clearly an idiot, not acting on impulse. Peter had wanted you for so long, and he hated how this was all happening now, “I, I don’t have my suit on me,” He rambled, watching you pout in front of him. Words mumbled past your lips as you tried to protest, “It’s not like I can just swing you off as Peter Parker, Y/N, I’m an intern tonight. Right? So I can’t just swing you through the city to do whatever I want to you,”

The words fell from Peter’s lips, making yours curl into a subtle smile, “What would you do?”

“What?” Peter questioned, watching you lean back against the building.

“You’d do whatever you wanted to me?” You repeated, “What would you do to me?” Peter stood, disheveled in front of you. His once pressed and buttoned shirt was wrinkled by your hands.

Peter took a step back from you, “Please,” He mumbled, fixing the collar of his shirt. Your eyes studied him before wandering, “What?”

That is when you spotted Tony’s empty limo.

“Y/N,” Peter’s voice warned as you took hold of his wrist.

“Please?” You questioned, dragging him towards the parked limo.

“Someone will see,” Peter argued back, however, he still allowed you to drag him into the lot of limos and cars.

“Yeah, in a self driving, tinted, bomb and bullet proof limo,” Your words were sarcastic and the two of you neared the limo, “Friday,” You spoke, reaching out to the limo’s hidden keyboard.

“Y/N,” The system responded, “How may I be of service?”

“Unlock the limo please,” Your hand slipped from Peter’s wrist to his sweating palm.

“Mr. Stark has installed a security protocol for you entering the limo,” Friday explained, making you scoff, “The question is: Who is the world’s greatest boss?”

Your lips pressed into a line as you dreaded answering the question, “Tony Stark,”

“Incorrect,” Friday spoke, making you groan out loud.

Your hold on Peter’s hand tightened, “He made me say it and then- and then he just made the answer some bullshit I won’t figure out-“ You felt Peter’s fingers slip between your own, calming you for a moment, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“Hey, Friday,” Peter spoke, “Hey. It’s- It’s me, Peter,”

“Hello Peter,” Friday spoke.

“Yeah, h-hi. Would you be able to let us in please?”

“Of course, Peter,” The two of you watched as the limo door opened.

Turning towards you, Peter studied your annoyed expression, “Still want to go in?” He questioned with sweaty palms.

“I’m not letting Tony kill the mood,” You scoffed, bending your shoulders in order to enter the low limo, “I bet he planned this,”

Peter followed you, listening to your mumbled complaints, “Friday, could you go offline? Please?”

”Of course Peter,” The system spoke, “All audio and video recording will be offline until further instructions,” You whipped your head towards Peter, pampered hair twirling slightly, “Uh- Unless you don’t want to do anything anymore,”. He felt his heart rate begin to accelerate as you crawled towards him on the leather seat.

“I thought there was so much you wanted to do to me,” You teased, watching Peter’s shoulders stiffen slightly, “Unless you don’t,”

“I do,” Peter spoke at an embarrassing rate, “I mean… yes,” His words slowed as he studied the fabric of your dress. His gaze trailed over the dark fabric until it found your neckline, the fabric dripping as you leaned in front of him. Peter quickly brought his eyes to yours, not knowing which sight made him more nervous.

“Okay,” You responded. Picking up your knee, you brought it over Peter’s legs. You slowly lowered onto his lap, “This okay?” You felt as if your heart could pound out of your chest.

“Yeah,” Peter chuckled nervously. Your actions were killing him and he did not know if he would be able to hold back. Peter felt the weight of you on his lap, hoping you would not feel just how hard you were making him. Bringing his hands to your thighs, he pushed past the soft fabric of your dress. The fabric pooled around his wrist as his hands trailed up your legs, “shit,”

“Peter,” His name fell quietly past your lips as you placed your hands on his chest, fingertips on his collarbones. You heard him hum in response to his name, “What- What are you going to do?” You attempted to keep up the act, however, being this close to Peter was making you crumble.

“R-Right,” Peter breathed out, feeling his lungs shake as he took in a sharp breath. He studied the skin of your neck as you stared at him. Peter closed the space between the two of you, lips finding the skin he had been studying. His kisses varied, some soft yet some hungry. Peter’s lips parted, his kisses becoming more sloppy as his fingers dug into your plush skin coaxing a whimper from your lips.

The limo air hung heavy with every heated kiss and breath the two of you exchanged. Bringing your hand to Peter’s head, your fingers took hold of his hair. You pulled him away from your neck before you brought your lips to his. Your kisses were equally as hungry and making up for lost time. Hands still exploring his hair, you raked through the gel that held it in place. 

You let out a sigh of relief as you messed with Peter’s gelled hair. A slight smile curled on your lips as you kissed him, “What?” Peter questioned, lips not even an inch away from yours. His eyes studied your smile, teeth appearing between your lips.

“Your hair,” You spoke, leaning back to study it, “Did Tony tell you to wear it like that?”

“N-No,” Peter replied, “I always put gel in. I just used more this time,”

“Yeah well,” You played with a piece of hair that hung out of place, “I like it better like this,”

“Yeah?” Peter smiled.

“Mhm,” You hummed, fingers running through his locks.

“Then I guess I’ll have you do my hair for the next gala,” Peter added.

“Okay,” You answered quietly, eyes now falling to his lips.

“Alright,” Peter smiled, leaning back into you. His lips found yours once more, finding the rhythm the two of you previously shared. 

Peter had no idea how he ever survived this long without kissing you. The feeling of your body and lips pressed against him was enough to drive him insane. He melted against you, fully giving into you. His touch continued to trail up your skin, fingers now tracing the curve of your hips and waist, “Y/N,” Peter breathed out, “Are we doing this? Because I feel like I’m losing my mind-“

“Y-Yeah,” You stuttered, coming back to reality, “We better hurry before Tony realizes we’re gone,” You watched as Peter’s brows furrowed for a moment, “What?”

“I want to take my time with you,” He admitted, “I’m not really a quickie kind of guy,”

“Quickie? What are you, a teenager?” You teased slightly, “You can have me when we get back to the compound,” Peter’s gaze fell from your eyes to the tinted window out of embarrassment, “Yeah? Sound fair?”

“Yeah,” Peter spoke, hands leaving your waist and falling onto the fabric of his dress pants. The sound of his zipper made you realize that you were actually about to fuck him and none of this was a dream, “Let’s make this quick then,”

You brought your lips to his in a rough kiss, pushing Peter’s back fully against the limo’s seat. You raised yourself off of Peter’s lap, allowing him to push the fabric of his pants down his thighs. Suddenly, you felt Peter’s finger push your underwear aside, finger running through your wet folds. This caught you off guard, making you jump, body freezing against him.

“You’re so wet,” Peter almost laughed, “How long have you been like this?”

“The Prada got me pretty quick,” You admitted slightly.

“Yeah?” Peter smiled, “It wasn’t the fake dating?”

“S-Shut up,” You stuttered as Peter’s touch returned for another swift motion between your legs, “We d-don’t have time for this,” You spoke, hoping Peter’s teasing would cease as embarrassment flooded your cheeks.

“Right, no foreplay,” Peter spoke, “Not that you seem to need it right now,” He teased, watching your brows furrow, “Right, right,” Peter spoke, pulling a condom out from the inner pocket of his suit jacket.

“You, you brought a condom?” You stared at the foil in disbelief, for some reason Peter’s action stirred the butterflies that sat in your stomach.

“Y-Yeah,” Peter admitted, “I have one on me if I ever think I have a chance with you… and also when I don’t,” Opening the condom, he attempted to distract himself from your quiet laughter above him.

The laughter continued to bubble past your lips. You were not laughing at Peter, but at how stupid you were for waiting this long to act on your feelings. Somewhere between your laughs, Peter had rolled the condom down the length of his dick.

“What?” Peter questioned your laughter as he pushed the fabric of your underwear aside.

“N-Nothing,” You stuttered, catching your breath from your laughs, “I just- I feel like I don’t deserve you,”

Reaching out, Peter covered your mouth. He somehow felt himself grow even harder as the claim left your lips. His dick bounced, attracting your gaze. You felt your face heat up as you took in the sight before you.

Removing his large hand, Peter caught you in a heated kiss. It was a kiss by definition, however it was sloppy and hungry with barely any rhythm to it. As you lost yourself in decoding it, Peter had lined himself up underneath you and began to enter you.

“S-Shit,” Peter stuttered at how tight you sat around his dick. You were so wet for him and he entered you easily, “fuck,”

“P-Peter,” You returned his stuttering, his name falling past your lips as you felt the size of him, “God- shit, you’re big,”

“Right,” Peter laughed as you gave him the classic, cliche line. But he was big and you were not sure if you could thank the spider bite for that or not. 

However, as the single thought crossed your mind, it soon left as Peter began to bounce you above him, his fingers digging into the skin of your thighs, “Ffffuck,” You moaned from the pressure of Peter’s hands combined with the rhythm he started.

“God you sound so pretty,” Peter groaned as his head tilted back against the seat’s headrest. Your hands, once bunching the fabric of his dress shirt, now traveled to his collar. Your fingers fumbled to unbutton his shirt, hungry for the sight of his soft skin.

As soon as the skin of his chest was visible, your shoulders rounded and lips attached to his collarbone. His skin passed your lips as your teeth marked him, earning a moan from his parted lips.

“Y/N-“ The pain from your mark making only made Peter thrust into you harder and faster, “shit,”

Your hands fell to either side of Peter’s head, holding onto the seat as Peter fucked you. Peter was still holding back, but at this strength, you were still going to be hurting in the morning. You bit into the skin of his shoulder, trying to suppress your moans that only grew louder; screams threatening to replace them, “P-Peter-“ You somehow attempted to speak his name.

“I-I,” Peter almost stuttered, “hate to say it but I’m really close,” He watched as you pulled your face out from his neck, now studying him. He was falling apart below you, everything about you making him weak. Somehow, he felt as if he was becoming weaker just at the sight of you, “Y/N,”

Peter looked as if he was holding on for you, brows furrowed as his teeth dug into the skin of his bottom lip. As you studied his lips, you decided to bring yours to his jaw, showering him in kisses. Some were sloppy and some were rougher than others as you attempted to help Peter over the edge he was holding onto, “Want you to cum,” You whispered against his skin, “Cum for me. Please?”

“S-Shit,” Peter breathed out. The curse rang with a slight laugh as you relieved him. With a few more rough thrusts, Peter filled the condom that was deep inside of you, “I-I wanted to last longer,” He informed, however his claim was cut short by your lips finding his own.

“Later,” You reminded him, “If you still want to-“

“I do-“ Peter interrupted. Clearing his throat at his desperation, he spoke again, “Yeah, yeah I’d like that,”

“Yeah,” You smiled, “I’d like that too,” You studied him as you still sat on his lap. However, that is when you remembered where you two were, “Shit-“ You raised yourself off of his lap. A shutter traveled through you as Peter quickly exited you.

“W-What?” Peter questioned awkwardly as the filled condom fell against the fabric of his shirt. Pulling it off of his dick, he tied it off before tossing it in the limo’s trash.

“How long has it been?” You questioned, nervousness rushing through you at the thought of the gala being over.

Your question made Peter’s shoulders round, wishing the limo’s seat would engulf him, “Was… was I that bad?”

“What?” You questioned as you collected yourself, looking out of the limo’s tinted window, “Wh- No- No. I-I meant how long have we been in here,” 

“Oh,” Peter spoke, attempting to make himself look presentable as well, “We should get back to the gala, “Hey- hey Friday, could you come back online please,”

“Of course Peter,” The system spoke as you placed your hand on the limo’s handle.

“W-Wait- hold on I’m almost-” Peter spoke but his claim was interrupted by your low voice.

“Maybe we shouldn’t get out at the same time… in case anyone sees,” Your words were cautious as if you were dancing around an insult, “Anyone being like the media… or-”

“Or Phil?” Peter questioned quite quickly.

“You know what I mean,” You spoke back defensively, “We don’t need any attention drawn towards you or a Stark controversy,”

“I know,” Peter responded, however you were already halfway out of the limo’s door.

Stepping into the cool night air, you took in a sharp breath. You did not mean to hurt Peter’s feelings, but it was just second nature to you. You always said the wrong things and somehow found yourself in arguments, but Peter was the last person you wanted to upset.

“Needed to cool off?” You heard Tony’s voice call out.

“Not now,” You groaned, however you dropped the attitude as you saw the rest of the group not too far behind him, “Party’s over?”

“Yeah you missed it. Where’s Pete? Was he holding your hair after all those drinks?” Tony asked, eyes scanning for Peter. You walked back towards the limo, hoping to warn Peter of the group’s presence before they could catch up. Opening the door you stuck your head into the vehicle, “I’m surprised Friday even let you in there,” Tony spoke as he approached you from behind. He waited for a remark from you. After all, he programmed the question just to mention you, however you were silent. Sticking his head in, he caught the last glimpse of what exactly was going on in his limo.

You pushed Peter away, who as soon as you entered the limo had caught you in a quite passionate kiss, “Not- not now-“

“Do I even want to sit in this limo?” Tony’s voice questioned, making you jump away from Peter’s hold. You sat down, putting a seat between the two of you, “My limo, may I add. God, I don’t even want to think about what you two did in here. And where you did it”

“Mr. Stark,” Peter spoke, the group’s presence unknown to him after he stopped you in your tracks as you entered the limo to warn him, “We didn’t…”

“Yeah Pete, real convincing,” Tony looked around as he climbed into the limo,  calculating where the safest place to sit might be, “Could you please just let me know if I’m about to sit in the splash zone or something,”

“I…I swear to fucking god,” You groaned, fingers now rubbing circles into your temples, “Can we all just get in and leave?”

“Why?” Tony questioned, attempting to hold eye contact with you as the rest of the Avengers piled into the limo, “Is there just something you’re dying to finish when we get back?”

“If something did happen tonight, shouldn’t you be glad? Took them long enough,” Natasha spoke, giving you a slight grin. Her red hair, once pulled back taut, now had a few loose pieces that fell against her cheekbones, “Plus, spare me. I’m getting a migraine from all that wine,”

“I’m trying to spare you” Tony spoke, fingers falling against his chest. Raising his opposite hand, he flashed the foil wrapper that sat between his fingers, “I don’t know what seat is safe,”

“Peter,” You groaned, covering your eyes as Tony tossed the wrapper towards you. You rubbed your temples as you heard Peter stutter from where he sat on your left.

“I mean,” Tony spoke, pouring himself another glass of whiskey from the limo’s bar, “I didn’t think you’d actually do it. Good for you kid, she’s way out of your league,” Taking a sip, he looked towards you. “So much for lone wolf,”

#peter parker #peter parker fanfic #peter parker fic #peter parker fan fic #peter parker fanfiction #spider-man #spiderman smut #peter parker smut #peter parker x reader #spider-man fanfiction #spider-man fic #spider-man fanfic #spider-man smut #spiderman fanfiction #spider man fanfic #spider man fanfiction #marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel fic #marvel smut

[redskull199987]

Homecoming

Hobie Brown x female!reader

Word count:1.7k

Warnings:slightly getting hurt, some nudity, but it's fluffy in general 

Summary: atsp!spoilers, this sets place before the major events of atsp, but it still features some things from the movie, so spoiler warning to be sure. 

You were the one and only Spider-Woman in your dimension for about three years, when you met him. Hobie Brown. It didn't take long for you to join the Spider Society. And it took even less time for you and Hobie to fall in love…

Masterlist

Today was probably the worst day, you had in weeks. It felt like everything that could possibly go wrong, eventually went wrong. 

It was supposed to be an easy mission. Go in, get the villian, get out. But obviously, it didn't work out that way.

Miguel had teamed you up with Gwen and Pav today. Not that you minded, but you usually went on missions with Hobie, so it felt unusual. 

Nevertheless, everything went perfectly fine, until you were supposed to leave the universe to get the villian to the HQ. 

You had no idea why and Miguel had yet to figure it out, but your watch malfunctioned and send you on a journey through several universes, you weren't supposed to visit. It took the entire day and finally after fighting off one too many villians, that weren't yours, Miguel finally got to you, stopping you from helplessly traveling around. 

After you and Miguel returned to the HQ, Pav and Gwen immediately went to apologize to you, while latching onto your arm, pulling you to the infirmary. You told them over and over again, that it was not their fault, but you knew your friends. They were always worried. That's what friends are there for after all, you thought to yourself, as the nurse inspected your wounds. 

Fortunately they weren't that serious. You just had a laceration on your head from a pretty nasty fight with a Doc Ock variant and some scrapes and bruises here and there from the day of running around random universes. 

"We're really sorry, Y/N", Gwen mumbled and petted your shoulder, as your wound was being cleaned. 

"It alright, Gwen. Don't worry, you guys", you smiled and nudged Pav slightly. The boy was sitting next to you, leaning his head against your shoulder. He was yours and Hobie's best friend here by far. Sometimes it felt like you two had adopted him. 

Instead of trying to talk to him, you just ruffled his hair and smiled at him. That seemed to lift his spirits at least a little bit.

"Should we take you home?", he offered, as you were finally dismissed, a bandage adorning your head now. 

"Nah, I'm staying over at Hobie's tonight, so don't worry.", you smiled, promising the two of them that you were fine. 

You were about to say your goodbyes as you saw the pained look on Gwen's face. It took you a minute, but then you realized that she probably didn't have anywhere to stay for the night. She couldn't return to her universe and she didn't want to disturb you and Hobie. 

"Hey Gwen", You said and as you hugged her, you pushed the keys for your apartment into her hands, "You can crash at mine today, if you want." 

She smiled thankfully and hugged you once more, much tighter this time. 

"Thanks", she mumbled into your shoulder. 

You only petted her back:"Of course. Oh and, leftovers are in the refrigerator if you get hungry." 

"I really appreciate it, Y/N", Gwen said once more before finally opening a portal to your world and stepping through it, waving one last time at you and Pav before she finally disappeared. 

"And you're sure, you'll be fine?", Pav asked, as you hugged him now too.

You only chuckled:"I'm fine, don't worry." 

He nodded understandingly:"Say hy to Hobie from me." 

"Will do", you laughed and waved at him as he left to his world. 

You Were alone now. The HQ was pretty much empty at this time of the day. The only light you could still see came from Miguel's office. He practically never left. You debated for a second, if you should go to him and thank him again, but you decided against it. Your aching muscles screaming for a bed. 

Finally pulling your eyes of off Miguels office, you looked at your watch and hoped that it wouldn't malfunction again. You cautiously tapped in the code for Hobie's universe and after a few seconds, a portal opened in front of you. 

"Here goes nothing", you mumbled to yourself, pulling your mask back over your head and stepping through the portal. 

You didn't even realized that you had closed your eyes, until you opened them again. Much to your liking, you were greeted by the familiar city of London, adorned by various street arts, you had grown to love over the months. 

You breathed in the cold night air, as you made your way through the city, swinging from building to building. You heard the sirens of the police and thought about stepping in whatever fight was going on, but for once in your life, you just wanted to get home. 

After a couple of minutes of more swinging around, you finally reached Hobie's apartment. And in typical Spidey Manner, you entered through his bedroom window. His room was shrouded in darkness , but you could see light coming from the bathroom. 

"Hobie!?", you called out for him, as you stumbled over to his bed, flopping down shamelessly. 

"Babe?", you saw his head peeking out from the bathroom, a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth. As soon as he saw you, he discarded it and made his way over to you. 

"Are you alright? Are you hurt?", he asked, seemingly worried, "Gwen told me about what happened but I couldn't come help you, I was on a mission with Peter B." 

You finally sat up, pulling your mask down, but before Hobie could panic about the bandage on your forehead, you assured him, that it was fine. 

"Don't worry", you mumbled, "I'm fine, just tired." 

"C'mon", he smiled and nudged your shoulder, as he stood up again. You slowly followed him to the bathroom. 

You squinted your eyes at the bright light, leaning your head against Hobie's shoulder. 

"Pav says hy", you mumbled, as he helped you peel out of your suit. 

Hobie chuckled, knowing that your friend would've found a way to greet him, even if they didn't see each other today. 

"Of course, he did", Hobie grinned, as you had finally made it out of your suit. 

"Wanna take a shower?", he asked. 

"You joining me?", you smirked, a bit of your cheekiness returning now that you were reunited with your boyfriend. 

"If you ask like that, my love", Hobie smiled, turning the shower on and discarding his t-shirt and sweats on the floor. You watched as he stopped under the steaming water, letting it run over his head with a sigh. 

It didn't take you long to join him. You leaned into him, as the water ran down your body. 

"Your bandage", Hobie smiled, pointing at the soaked gauze on your head. 

"Can probably take it off now anyway", you muttered. 

"Here, Let me-", Hobie mumbled, carefully taking it off for you and throwing it out of the shower, perfectly hitting the trash can thanks to his spider senses. 

"Thanks", you mumbled, lifting your arms around his neck. You softly kissed him on the cheek, feeling Hobie's hands rise to rest on your waist. 

"I missed you today", Hobie mumbled, as he rested his chin on top of your head, starting to slowly sway to a non existent tune. 

"Missed you too", you agreed, burying your head even deeper in his shoulder. 

You heard him chuckle at your antics and he lightly pulled back to look at you. You had barely time to say anything, as he leaned down to plant a soft kiss on your lips. You sighed contently. Finally feeling his lips on yours again, made the whole day suddenly seem worth it. 

Almost out of breath, you finally parted. You only looked up at Hobie and smiled. He had a dreamy expression on his face. Like he was in heaven. Something that you rarely saw. 

"Let's go to sleep", you said, pecking his lips one more time, before turning the shower off and stepping out. 

You almost instantly felt a shiver run down your neck at the cold air, but Hobie came to safe you, wrapping a towel around you from behind. 

"Thanks", you smiled, drying yourself. 

After finishing your evening routine and getting into comfortable clothes, Hobie had of course given you some of his, you finally found yourself in his bed, snuggling up to each other. Both of your suits Were discarded on the floor, Hobie's guitar was standing at the other end of the room and for once in a while, you felt like a normal human being. 

"I love you", you mumbled into Hobie's chest, as he hugged you tightly. 

"Love ya too, Hun", Hobie smiled and softly kissed the top of your head, "Now sleep, you deserve it." 

You wanted to complain, but your tired eyes voted against it, so you only got comfortable, pulling Hobie even closer to you and it didn't take you long before you drifted off into a peaceful slumber, Hobie not taking long before doing the same. 

Bonus:

As you woke up, you were confused, as to why you didn't find Hobie next to you. It took you a few minutes, for your body to completely wake up, before you realized that you were laying on the floor. You sat up, looking around confused. You couldn't help but giggle, as you spotted the culprit, who had pushed you off of the bed. 

You saw Hobie laying in the bed, his arms and legs spread out like he was a seastar, snoring softly. His pillow was laying next to you on the floor, the blanket barely covering him still. 

With a small grunt, you pushed yourself up, but instead of going to the couch in the living room or starting to make breakfast, you simply laid down on top of Hobie. He shuffled for a second, but eventually pulled your body closer. You nuzzled your head back into his shoulder, enjoying the slow morning with your boyfriend. 

#Spider-Man #Spider-Man edit #Spider-Man fic #Spider-Man os #spider man atsv #Atsp #across the spiderverse #Marvel #marvel studios #marvel comics #Hobie #Hobie Brown #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x y/n #Hobie Brown fic #Hobie Brown os #Spider punk #Miles morales #Miguel o'hara #Gwen Stacy #pavitr prabhakar #peter b parker #edit #oneshot #x reader #female!reader #female reader

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

as it was

pairing: peter parker x sister!reader

WC: 3K

warnings: small mentions of anxiety, maybe some cursing, just no way home angst. there is no physical description of reader, so you could read this as adopted!reader or however.

summary: you feel like there’s something missing from your life when may dies. you just aren’t sure what that thing is.

A/N: i started this april 11, 2022. something just came upon me to start writing for this draft again. i dont live in nyc so ignore all directions. my own gif (that’s why it’s shit)

@alecmores my editor💗

been in the drafts since march 25

masterlist

You were sitting in front of her grave.

The cold chill of New York winter settles into your bones. The trees were barren of any leaves with autumn having left a few weeks ago, no snowfall yet thankfully. The grass has been freshly cut along with some watering causing you to sit in a bit of wet grass, at least your coat was taking the moisture.

You brought some new flowers, just some simple white roses. The other flowers have been slowly wilting since your last visit, and you never want to have dead flowers resting with Aunt May’s grave.

As you replace the flora you sit back on the ground with the wilting stems staying in your hands to keep you from fidgeting around and picking the grass as you talk to her. You try to visit once a week, but sometimes you can only come twice a month because it will just hit you really hard one day that you have no one left, no immediate family anymore. The closest you have to any type of family is Happy Hogan, MJ, and Ned, which is kind of weird because when you think of your memories that involve the three of them, something is missing, a piece of a puzzle that won’t fit in its place.

“How are you today, may?” The wind just blows the hair around your face in different directions.

“I started to work at the Peter Pan cafe with MJ. Sometimes we have shifts together, but honestly, it’s kinda rare since it doesn’t get too busy there. The boss is an older man who’s lazy and has a snippy attitude for no reason, but it's an easy job. Don’t have to worry about my anxiety kicking in.” You stared down at your gloved-covered hands that clutched your crossed legs. Your lips rolled together as you let the silence cover you, thinking of what else to mention.

“Uh… Happy. Happy- he misses you, I miss you. He- uh… he took me in, unofficially adopted me. I’m thankful for him cause if I had to do all this- this, I don’t know, just I’m thankful he took pity on me and didn’t leave me to the wolves. MJ and Ned said they would’ve taken me in, but I think they just said it out of friendliness.” You shrugged your shoulders at the thought.

You perked your head up and glanced around the cemetery. Dozens of headstones, some having more grandeur stone carvings with angels or whatever. Fallen autumn leaves tumbled and kicked across the grass, sticking to trees or headstones before a breeze pushed them away and further off. It seemed you were the only person visiting a loved one at the moment, you wished someone accompanied you, but you liked being with May by yourself.

“Oh, uh, school. Probably want to know about school. I- I- I think I’m gonna take a gap year. Process and readjust to everything and I know if I was doing school I wouldn’t give my all and I don’t want to let you down. Plus, I need money and so I’ll probably need to work a few jobs- wanna help Happy with bills so he doesn’t feel stuck with me.”

A puff of air left your lips as you rubbed your arms up and down your biceps to get a good warmth back into your bones so you could stay longer. With a lick to your lips and a furrow to your brow, you hesitantly spoke a thought that’s been sitting on your tongue for a while, only feeling brave to speak them towards May.

“Ever since you- since you left… something has felt… off. I- I don’t even know what feels off, just that I’m missing something- someone in my life. But I don’t have anyone else. Mom and dad were gone too soon for me to remember their faces, Ben passed away a few years ago and then all I had was you. May... you’ve been my mom, you are my mom. And- and when the blip happened and we came back, that was the scariest thing I’ve ever experienced. Feeling like you were gone for only a minute but then people are telling you that it’s been five years and half the population turned to dust… but you came back and I felt safe again. And we got back into some normal groove again. And then hearing that you got into an accident and were killed-” your throat started to choke with restrained tears, “I’ve never been more scared in my whole life.”

You let a cry free before pulling yourself back in, wanting to continue your rant, “but, what I’m trying to get at… something feels out of place. I feel like someone is missing from the giant picture, memories feel like they’ve been edited- cutting out that person from our life, my life. Memories with MJ and Ned feel weird, and memories with Happy feel weird as well. Like trying to think about how the two of you met… something is burned away. I- I don’t know, probably just trying to find something to focus on.”

Your eyes met the dark stone, the words May Parker engraved with her date of birth and death. Your shoulders sagged, you were just talking to air about a nagging thought. Should probably look into getting therapy.

“I should start heading back, Happy’s probably worried about me.” You dusted your jacket and pants clean of any grass, might have a few wet spots soaking the fabric.

You stuffed your hands into the jacket pockets and just stood, not making an effort to leave just yet. There was a crunching of leaves that soon filled the quiet and you didn’t think anything of it, it could have been another visitor or Happy who came to visit and take you home, which happened a few times already. But when you looked in your periphery, it wasn’t someone at another grave and it wasn’t Happy. It was a boy.

Out of curiosity, you turned your head enough to get a proper look at the new arrival. You eyed him from head to toe, never seeing him around before. He looked to be about your age, just a teenager. A beanie covered his head, he wore a blue puffer jacket with a few stripes at the top with simple jeans and sneakers, nothing standing out. But there was just something about him…

“How did you know May?” The mystery boy spoke. It took you off guard, “huh?” Was all that came out. He cleared his throat and jerked his chin, again, “how- uh- how did you know May?” He turned to you before turning away.

“Oh, she- she was my aunt. Well, my mom really. Lived with her when I was young.” You stopped there and it was silent. You counted to five before asking, “how did you know her? If I may ask?” Your manners popping in.

The boy was quiet, eyes set on her name. He sniffled then wet his lips, “feast. I knew her from feast. She was- she was nice, always kind to everyone. She was like the mother I never had. I’m glad you had her as family.” His voice cracked on the word family, something you noted but didn’t push for further.

“Yeah. She was always looking out for the little guys.” A smile to your lips. “Was it just the two of you?” The boy asked then backed tracked, “only if you feel comfortable saying. Sorry, it just- it just slipped.”

You looked at the boy. He wasn’t fidgeting, but you could tell from his eyes that he was nervous about something. Your eyes just wandered over him, sure it may seem rude but you couldn’t help it. It was like a magnet was pulling you and you couldn’t resist the hold it had on you. You thought about lying to this stranger, but you didn’t. “Yeah. Well, it wasn’t always just the two of us. She had a husband, his name was Ben, and he’s buried in his home state. But he got shot during a robbery about… a decade ago… blip time difference is weird.” You mumbled off, realizing he died five years ago for you but with your dusting, that added an extra five. The boy agreed with a light chuckle, it warmed you.

“What about you? Any family still with you?” Bouncing back on his question.

His eyes drooped a slight frown on his face, “uh…no. No family, just me.” His eyes caught yours before, once again, looking away. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to-“ “Oh! No, it’s- it’s fine. I was asking the questions first anyway.”

You rolled your lips as you swayed on your feet. Neither of you decided to speak, just stood beside each other as you stared at the headstone and listened to the leaves falling. You wanted to look at the boy again but withheld yourself from doing so.

“I should- I should head home. But it was nice to meet you…�� you trailed off hoping he’ll present his name. “Peter… Peter Parker.” He held a smile at the last name.

“Huh, funny coincidence. I’m (Y/n), Parker obviously.” You bid Peter a smile goodbye and turned your back to make your walk to the subway.

“Hey! Uh (Y/n)!” You heard the shouts and the crunching of leaves beneath his feet as he hurried to catch up with you. You stopped your steps and looked at Peter as he stopped a few steps away.

“Do you… do you take the subway?” “Yeah…”

“Do you mind if I walk you? I just- I would just feel a lot better knowing you made it safely plus I think May would… sorry- sorry. Only if you want, of course, I mean you just met me and-“

You stepped closer and touched his arm, “hey, it’s fine. I would like the company. Plus, it’s just the subway, you’re not walking me to the front door.” You shrugged at the end before nodding your head to the iron gates.

-

The two of you traveled down the busy and packed streets of New York. Shifting and turning your bodies so you didn’t bump into anyone, especially someone who wasn’t in the right mood that day. The walking was quiet at first, two strangers who just met and didn’t know what boundaries were already drawn. You kept making glances at Peter beside you before looking away, at the sky or the buildings around you.

“Are you in school?” Peter was the first to ask, once again. You were thankful he took the first steps.

“Oh, well I’m eighteen so I’m about to graduate high school. And I was planning to go to college, out of state or in state, not sure. But after May… I’m taking a gap year. Want to get my bearings first before I focus back on school… How’s your academic future?” You eyed him as he watched you talk.

“Uh, well I’m eighteen as well. And something happened during the school year so I kinda have to start senior year over again. I was planning to go to MIT for college, but that’ll just have to wait.” He scratched his nose before stuffing his hand back into his jacket pocket.

“Another coincidence. Two of my friends are going.” You saw the smile Peter tried to hide from your comment.

“Do you have a job, Mr. Parker?” Already giving joking nicknames.

You didn’t notice the stiffness to his shoulders or the sadness that glazed over his eyes before stuttering, “uh, I’ve applied to a- a few different jobs. Kinda hard- not a high school graduate so my options are limited. Gotta look for the desperate places.”

“But those are kinda sketchy. Not the safest.”

His attention was on you, “yeah, well, I can handle myself.” He nudged your arm and pulled a smile from you as you shook your head. “What about you? Any sketchy jobs?”

“Not sketchy, just boring and quiet. I work at a small café with my friend. An easy job since I have anxiety.” You keep your answers vague with enough detail.

Silence came back around. Cars honking and people talking to each other or over the phone. Couples holding hands or looped around each other.

“Anyone special in your life?” Was your first question to come to mind.

You weren’t sure if the flush was due to the low temperature or the abrupt question towards Peter, who’s still a stranger, about if he was seeing someone.

“No, no. I- I had someone, but she left me. For the best, I think.”

“Why is that? Secretly with the mob or something?”

He laughed, “Nah, nothing like that. Just… I'm broken and a mess. Don’t want her dealing with… all that.” He made a circling hand gesture. You just hummed.

You weren’t paying much attention to your surroundings so you didn’t see the group of kids running and pushing into everyone coming your way. So with a tight hold on your bicep and a yank, you yelped and looked around. Peter pulled you behind him and you followed his eyes as you watched the kids pass as they shouted and yelled.

“Stupid kids.” You muttered before continuing your walk. “Thank you, for pulling me.” “Oh, it’s nothing.”

You were only a block or two away from a station.

“What about you?” “What about me?” “Anyone special?” He had a playful tone to his words. You just shrugged your shoulders.

“I’ve never been anyone’s first choice. I stick more to the shadows anyway, used to get bullied, so I keep my head down and mouth closed,” you looked to see if he was listening, and he was, “also, I’m kinda a hopeless romantic. Romance books, love songs; especially Taylor Swift's love songs, and a few rom-coms. Anyway, what I’m saying is that, no. No one special, probably not for a while. But maybe that’s okay, maybe I’ll find ‘the one’ when it’s time.”

Peter didn’t respond to your words. You smacked a hand over your face.

“What? What’s-“ “I just spilled my random thoughts to you, who’s still a stranger.”

You pulled your hand away and ran your fingers through your hair before moving it to your pocket for warmth. You looked at Peter and you were just full-on staring, eyes roving over his side profile or his face if he looked your way before facing forward. A tilt of your head came up.

“You know… maybe it wasn’t a coincidence.” You kept looking at Peter. “What wasn’t?” His eyes were on his feet.

“Meeting each other.” And you looked away just as Peter almost tried over his feet even as he watched every step. You kept walking, not aware of the cogs turning in Peter’s mind as he processed your words.

“What- What do you mean? How isn’t this a coincidence? I think it was just lucky timing.”

You threw a hand out as you talked, “What I mean is… maybe May sent you this way. Two people she knew and cared about, both lonely and without a family around. Plus come on, your last name is Parker. That's just crazy. I don’t know, just- it’s just crazy!”

You smiled at the boy as you crossed the street and walked down the crowded and smelly stairs leading to the subway. You checked to see if Peter was still with you and when you saw he was pushed back by a few people, you moved to the side and waited for him to meet your side. You flashed a smile when he reappeared and you both continued on your walk toward the entrances. You checked to see if any cops were around and seeing none you hopped over the spinning entrance, Peter a second behind.

“What train do you take?” “A train, you?” “F for me.”

You thought this meant that the two of you would split up, but Peter walked with you and stayed by your side as you waited for your train to arrive. You checked your pockets to make sure you had your phone, wallet, keys, and headphones, along with your taser and pepper spray that Happy bought for you. You texted Happy that you were waiting for your train and should be home within the hour.

After about thirty-five minutes you heard the screeching of wheels on tracks and saw the lights glow into the station. You turned to Peter with a smile, “well, looks like my ride's here.” He nodded at your words and he opened his mouth and then closed it. You stayed back seeing if he’ll say the words on his mind.

As the train got closer and he didn’t say anything you decided to be the first to speak. “Would it be okay if I get your number? I- I know we just met, but… you seem like a good friend.” You cringed a bit, it was almost like a terrible pickup line. And you weren’t hitting on him, it just felt gross to even think that.

“Yeah, yeah. I’d love to have a friend.” Peter stopped your worrying thoughts. You passed him your phone and then he passed it back before pulling his out and showing a text on his home screen.

You started towards the open doors and passed the rushing people and with a quick turn, you called out to Peter and he looked your way waiting to hear what you needed to say before you let the subway whisks you away.

“Stop by feast when you can. We can always use the extra hands and May would be thankful.” And before you got any reply you walked further into the metal tub and took a seat, sticking an earbud in and pressing play on an album you’ve had on repeat.

Already planning to visit May tomorrow after your morning shift to talk about your new friend. And Peter would keep watch from a distance and when you left he would speak with May quietly. Promising her that he’ll keep you safe and be your friend, maybe not your brother never again, only in his mind.

…

#peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker #peter parker x (y/n) #peter parker x female reader #peter parker x sister!reader #peter parker x sibling!reader #peter parker angst #peter parker fluff #spider man homecoming #spider man far from home #spider man no way home #mcu reader insert #mcu imagine #mcu fanfiction #mcu #spider-man #spider-man imagine #spider-man fic #spider-man fluff #spider-man angst #spider-man x reader #spider-man x fem!reader #tom holland #tom holland imagine

[int-writersmind]

I Hate Christmas, Peter Parker! {Part 1}

Peter Parker x f!Reader

It’s simple: You don’t see what the big fuss is all about surrounding Christmas, but Peter Parker thinks that this is unacceptable and puts you through step one of a multiple step list to make you fall in love with the holiday. 

Warnings: Fluff

Word Count: 1.7k

Author's Note: I decided to put a Christmas song suggestion for immersion, not b/c I'm currently in love with Laufey right now...

~

“You what?!” exclaimed Peter, quite loudly.

“Jesus, calm down,” You lean forward, just slightly, over the table, careful to not tip your mug of half decent hot coffee. “All I said was that I don’t really like Christmas that much, that’s all.” 

“You Grinch! You Scrooge!” Peter throws his hands up in an over exaggerated motion, he looked like an oversized toddler. Peter puts on a slight pout as he leaned against the wall, feet outwards, looking over the rest of the coffee shop. “I-I mean, you live in New York City, this place practically invented contemporary Christmas!”

“Now that’s an exaggerated statement.”

“I know that,” Peter turns back to you, folding his hands on top of the table. “But there’s a reason why so many Christmas movies are set here, why so many Christmas events are here. It’s because Christmas is just better in NYC!”

“More like Christmas is more annoying in NYC.” You gently pat Peter’s hand before downing the rest of your drink. “Peter, babe, honey, I’ve lived here my whole life don’t you think I don’t know all this?”

“Yeah, babe-honey, so have I. It’s why I love the holidays.”

“And that's why I hate the holidays!”

~

You thought Peter would grow bored of your Christmas conversation on your way out the coffee shop and down the street, but he only continued his long rant. It was the first day of December and with the new month came the sudden spark of festive, holiday flare, much to your chagrin. The addition of a new holiday drink at your favorite coffee shop had sparked the conversation in the first place. Peter had ordered it and once you decline the same, suddenly came the sudden barrage of questions. 

The two of you held hands as you continued down the long city sidewalk, Peter using his other hand to gesture wildly about Christmas. You decide that enough is enough and pull Peter off to the side, dodging tourists with tons of shopping bags. You reach out for Peter’s other hand, bringing it down with the other, squeezing ever so gently. “Listen, Peter, I appreciate how passionate you are about Christmas, the holidays and what-not, but there’s nothing you can say to convince me to suddenly fall in love with this time of year. This feeling has been there for years.”

Peter looks into your eyes and for a minute it seems as if his attention is elsewhere until he jolts in surprise, eyes widening to match. “I’ve got it!”

You can’t help but roll your head back in defeat. “Oh no…”

“Maybe you're right,” Peter squeezes your hands, bringing your attention back to him. “Maybe there isn’t anything I can say to you to convince you that Christmastime is the best time of year, but I can do things instead.”

“Oh Peter! You naughty little reindeer..” You tease.

“I don’t mean that!” Peter quickly kisses your grinning face, “That could be on the list only after–”

“After?!”

“Only after you complete my list of activities that will definitely, 100 percent make you fall in love with Christmas and everything that comes with it.”

“Oh, you have a list?” You cock one eyebrow up.

“Hypothetical list, it’s being finalized.” Peter pulls you in close, his hands resting on the small of your back, your hands resting on his chest. “But I think I know what to do first. Do you have a Christmas tree? Decorations?”

“Tree, yes, my roommate left one before she left. Decorations…no, I’m sure my cousin has some extra, I’ll stop by after work today.”

“Ok, I’ll meet you at your place later tonight?”

“Yeah, and–,” You move in closer to Peter, eyes shut, lips millimeters away from each other. “Your little list is not gonna change my mind.” You kiss him gently, one hand resting on his cheek before pulling away, Peter slightly chasing you back. “See you tonight.”

~

“I can already tell i’m gonna hate this” You hold up a shiny red, classic looking ornament by the wire, looking at it as if it was dead fish caught on a hook.

“What?! You have the easy job!” Peter calls back as he clicks the last piece of your ex roommate’s Christmas tree together.

It was night now, Daylight Savings causing the city to look later than it actually was. The two of you had stayed committed to this little game of Peter’s. After calling your cousin about picking up some spare decor (which she eagerly shoved into your arms), and lugging the oversized box on the train back to your place, Peter showed up with a determined expression and a carton of egg-nog. 

You take out the other ornaments from their box, inspecting each one, before setting it off to the side. Peter saunters over and plops on the floor next to you, going through the rest of the box to find more decorations for the tree. “This feels tedious.” you say, looking at all the stuff you laid before you.

“Oh c’mon, this will be great.” Peter says as he untangles some garland.

“That’s what you said about the egg-nog.”

“Yes, yes I did say that, but to be perfectly honest, I’ve never tried egg-nog until today so…that’s on me.”

You smile at him as you take the final ornament from the box in hand, a golden ball that had swirls molded into the plastic. “Ok let’s decorate this stupid tree.”

~

Half an hour in, with tolerable Christmas music playing in the background, the tree was finally starting to come along. You and Peter stood on either side of the tree, hooking various ornaments on branches. As the last ornament looped on, Peter went over to the box to pick up the garland he detangled earlier as you stood back and admired the tree. 

“See, beautiful.” Peter said coming up from behind you.

“What, me? Of course.”

Peter just rolls his eyes as he hands you one end of the garland, you each start to place it around the tree, passing the end from one hand to the other. “Doesn’t this remind you of being a little kid, putting up all your favorite ornaments?”

You just shrug your shoulders, “The older I got I just dreaded putting up the tree. It’s started out fine of course. But then someone puts the wrong ornament somewhere, or one side of the tree lights are not working, a favorite ornament gets broken…boom arguments. Mom, Dad, pissed at one another, little ole me just trying get the hell out of dodge.”

Peter gets the end of the garland, securing it at the bottom of the tree. “Sounds like…an experience.”

You just smile at him as he comes to stand next to you. The two of you look at the tree, its soft, golden white lights, the shiny, almost sparking ball ornaments on each branch.  “No, no, it’s ok, my parents love each other, but they're just…really good at arguing with one another. I, personally, don't care for it, so I try my best to avoid it.” You reach for Peter’s hand, interlocking your fingers with his. “After my dad accidently broke one of my favorite ornaments and got into a fit with Mom, I just decided it wasn’t worth it anymore. Swore off decorating Christmas trees.” You lean your head on Peter’s shoulder. “It’s funny, I wasn’t even that mad that it broke…”

“What was it?” Peter rests his head on yours.

“Some old time-y phone box, something silly I saw at a Christmas pop-up when I was like 6-7 years old.”

The two of you just stand there in the silence for a moment.

“Pick a new one.”

You move your head off Peter’s shoulder, turning to look at him, “What?”

“Pick a new favorite ornament.” Peter answers, “You don’t have to keep it forever, but it can just be your favorite for this year.”

“Hmm, fine.”

Your eyes skim over the tree, you land on the red ornament before jumping to the golden one, before your eyes find something much more garnish. A little ceramic coffee cup, what better to remind you of how you ended up here. Decorating a tree for the first time in years with your boyfriend who’s hellbent on getting you to like the holiday again.

Your fingers wrap on the ornament, lifting it off its branch, “How about this?”

“Prefect.” Peter says as you hold up the ornament in hand, the light glinting off the piece. Peter tosses something in the air upwards, shooting some webs to stick it to the ceiling. You put the ornament back in its original spot before looking at Peter. “Oh, wow what’s that?”

You look up, mistletoe dangling crookedly. “You know those things are poisonous right?"

“To eat, not to kiss under,” Peter pulls you in close by the waist, eyes darting from your lips to your eyes. “Plus it’s fake.”

Your own eyes glance at Peter’s mouth before looking back at his eyes, “Just because I didn’t run away from decorating a tree, you think you deserve a kiss?” You smirk, a hand going to the back of his neck.

“Oh come here you little Grinch.” With a soft hand on your cheek, Peter pulls you in for a kiss. Those lips, which you became so familiar with, soft and warm, sweetened by the eggnog, engulf yours. His tongue entering yours, playing with yours like it did so many times before. This action was so common, kissing each other was almost like second nature, but sometimes–like moments like this, it almost felt like kissing for the first time, but better. Kissing someone you could really trust, someone who really cared about. It was gushy and corny and everything else that people made fun of, but it was so worth it.

The two of you break off the kiss, foreheads resting on one another.

“So, step one of your list completed?” You ask.

“Nah.”

Your head shoots upwards, looking at Peter with a confused look, to which he chuckles at.

“We still have the rest of the apartment to decorate.”

You groan, falling limp in Peter’s arm. It was all for show of course, but you had to commit to the bit, letting all your weight on to Peter’s one arm. You knew not matter what, he wouldn’t drop you. “God I hate you.”

~

Hello there! Thanks for reading Part 1 of this multi-part X-mas fic that was definitely not inspired by me at all hahaha... Anyway, I'll post on Sundays to get this series done by Christmas but no promise, but expect weekly uploads at the very least. Also this is meant to be mostly Fluff but if you Naughty Reindeers want some Spice/Smut I'll think about it 😉. Alright bye Void!

{Read Part 2}

#peter parker fluff #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker #peter parker x you #christmas fic #christmas fanfic #spider man fluff #spider-man fluff #spider-man fic #spiderman fic #spider man fic #spiderman fluff #christmas spider-man

[disaster-writer]

Princess of Asgard, Goddess of Mischief

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Peter Parker instantly falls for the Princess of Asgard and the Goddess of Mischief and decides to show him a few tricks she has up her sleeve

Word Count: 8.3k

Rating: X 18+

A/N: Things have been changed around from the canon storylines in the MCU, Peter is 21 and a college student

A/N 2: I do not have a taglist

There weren't enough words in the Asgardian language to describe the amount of rage that burned in your veins, hell there weren't enough words in any Midgardian language for that matter. 

After everything he has done so far, after every failure, he still has the audacity to keep trying.

Your father was an ambitious man, you'd give him that. But even his ambition wasn't enough to save him from his own offspring.

The click of your heels against the linoleum floors were sharp and clipped as you moved with a purpose. Wisps of hair tickling your face that you couldn't even be half bothered to put back in place, which in of itself was out of character for you as your appearance was always perfected down to the very last strand of hair. But after the hellish trip through the rainbow bridge as well as your current situation, all you could be bothered to care about was making sure your father knew how much of a fool he was.

Only an idiot tries to take over the same place twice. 

The air of the Avengers compound was stale down in the cells. Everything you had seen so far was monotonous and boring. You knew not to expect much coming to Midgard but it was an even bigger let down than you were originally led to believe. 

You had't met the Avengers yet, too pissed at your father to waste another second not reprimanding him, so you had Thor lead you to him straight away. You passed empty cell after empty cell with Thor in the lead, until he came to a stop in front of the cell which contained Loki.

You stood in front of the glass cell, arms crossed. Your father raised an eyebrow and pursed his lips.

"I see you agreed to the arrangement then."

"I did," you jutted your chin out, "No thanks to you."

"You should have stayed home-"

"No. You don't get to tell me what I should and shouldn't do. You lost that privilege after your first attempt at conquering Midgard."

Loki narrowed his eyes, "I am your father--"

"And yet here I am, fixing another one of your messes," you said with a mirthless laugh, gesturing around you. 

He shut his mouth, and finally addressed his brother, "What's the next step now, seeing as you kidnapped your own niece."

"I didn't kidnap her. She agreed to this to help you," Thor said seriously, clearly offended that Loki would accuse him of kidnapping you. "They'll release you within a month. (Y/N) will remain the ward of Midgard for a year, as long as you can prove that you will no longer be a threat to this realm."

Loki snickered, shaking his head. "My own daughter in the hands of a bunch of Midgardians...” he trailed off. “I appreciate the gown you chose for today."

You tsked, "I figured someone should properly represent your name if you were going to keep pulling these stunts," you replied, gesturing to the expensive Asgardian gown you wore in his colors. Green with golden detailing.

"Perhaps you should try having more faith in me-"

"I do have faith in you," you snapped, "But It is your missteps that continuously lead to your downfall."

It was quiet for a few beats until Thor broke the silence, "She should meet the others now."

"Very well," Loki nodded, "Be prepared for them all to be very unpleasant, especially Stark. He thinks he's funny."

"I'll visit you later father," you said, turning to walk back down the hall, "Oh," you stopped, throwing over your shoulder, "If you ever put me through the pain of believing you were dead again, I'll kill you myself." You stalked back down the hall, not checking to see if Thor was following.

Loki looked at his brother, "That bad?"

"She was inconsolable. You broke her heart, brother," he said with a shake of his head, "You broke all of our hearts."

Loki looked back to your retreating figure as Thor now followed, staring regretfully after you.

***

You were stuck in your head now, deep in thought after seeing your father for the first time in a long time. 

Thor had told you that the Avengers had gathered to greet you and discuss the next steps from here. It truthfully sounded like a very boring affair, more so when you thought about the more productive things you could be doing back home.

In fact, that was the thing that irked you the most about these Midgardians requesting this of you. They must have been under the impression that your time wasn't important, as if the title "Princess" and "Goddess" were simply just for show.

Eventually a man came into view, waiting outside two large doors. He grinned upon seeing both you and Thor.

"Nice to see you two finally bothered to show up," he laughed.

"I apologize for keeping all of you waiting, Stark. She wanted to speak to her father first."

Tony lowered his glasses, giving you a once over, "Why? Planning on getting the band back together?"

"Excuse you?" You deadpanned only making him laugh.

He turned to Thor, "I can see where she gets her humor from," he said sarcastically, before finally introducing himself, "I'm Tony Stark. You might know me as Iron Man, I don't really know what names get around on Asgard or wherever."

"I'm not familiar with either."

"Ouch. I'll pretend not to be offended. Ready to meet the others?"

"I suppose."

"Then let's go Game of Thrones," he said, turning around and heading towards the closed doors.

"My father warned me about your humorous wit," you said sarcastically.

"Good. I wasn't sure he noticed."

Stark pushed open one of the meeting room doors, holding it for you and Thor. You were immediately greeted with the sight of numerous costume clad superheroes, the sight made you roll your eyes and once again think about what you could be doing back home instead.

You stalked to the front of the room wordlessly, with not a single misstep, presenting yourself elegantly.

Thor took his spot beside you as Tony stood opposite of you. The others in the room were quiet, you knew they were assessing you. Your father had tried taking over their realm twice so you understood that judgement would be all that you received during your stay.

So you wouldn't give them anything to judge.

Thor grinned beside you for the first time since the meeting with his brother.

"This is my niece (Y/N) Lokidottir. Princess of Asgard, Goddess of Mischief." Thor spoke the words with pride. He always had, he was convinced that raising you was his brother's best accomplishment.

You took the few moments of silence following your introduction to study their eyes and even you had to hand it to some of them, a few had eyes cold as stone. The red head and the one with the metal arm specifically. But there are always a few that communicated everything with a simple gaze.

Your eyes landed on the smallest male in the room. The look in them was not a foreign one. You had many suitors back on Asgard that would sing praises about your beauty daily, and the look in this boy's eyes was the same... maybe a bit more... pathetic. It made a smug grin fit itself on your face.

Stark finally spoke. 

"You can add Ward of Midgard," he laughed.

Your smile fell.

"Anyway. As I explained earlier, our arrangement with S.H.I.E.L.D. is to detain Loki for the next month or so before sending him back to Asgard. If he can play nice for the next year he can get his daughter back." You noticed the one with the shield shaking his head. It was nice to know that not all of them agreed with these terms. "If he can't, we keep her until he can. Until then, I came up with a few precautionary measures for our new house guest."

You stiffened, "I was not told about this."

"That's because I just came up with them this morning." Tony said, opening a folder. He began passing out its contents, "I've come up with different shifts for everyone to keep an eye on her. That way she'll be under constant surveillance by at least one person."

"Why weren't we told about this earlier?" Natasha asked., clearly annoyed.

"Is no one listening? I just came up with it."

"I'm not doing this," Bucky said, "I have better things to do than babysit an alien chick-" You raised your hand, making Bucky's metal hand clasp over his mouth and everyone turn to you in shock.

"'Goddess of Mischief'" you said, "It will serve you well to remember it." You dropped your hand, releasing him.

It was silent... until it wasn't, "And that is why we're doing this babysitting protocol. She's Loki's daughter, she needs to earn our trust."

"I can assure you, (Y/N) is very trustworthy," Thor said, coming to your defense.

"You also said you trusted your brother," Steve spoke up.

"Yes but (Y/N) is different. She'd never hurt anyone."

"My mouth hurts," Bucky muttered to himself.

"Again, she earns our trust first," Tony said. "Anyone with 'Mischief' in their name needs a trial run. Now onto this schedule..."

You rolled your eyes... Perhaps being on your best behavior was going to be more difficult than you had previously thought.

***

Quite honestly... Peter could have fainted when he saw you. He didn't even notice ha had stopped breathing until he coughed from the lack of air.

He felt like someone should have warned him better, because when Tony said, "Come meet Loki's kid later," did not count as a heads up.

This whole situation just felt so fucking unfair all of a sudden.

And being the devastatingly hopeless romantic that he was, he could only form one coherent thought:

You were fucking ethereal

You were so beautiful Peter felt like he could cry and scream about it, and he wouldn't be surprised if someone actually has before.

And the chill that he got when Thor introduced you, was enough to make him worship you -- a goddess.

Peter was quite convinced that he would be making a shrine to you as soon as he got home that night.

Peter swallowed nervously, his grip tightening on the fabric of his jeans.

Sam raised an eyebrow, "You cool Peter?"

He blinked in quick succession, only partially being broken from his trance, "Huh- yeah..." He suddenly trailed off when you looked directly at him. 

Your gaze was intense and he could have sworn he watched a flash of green flare in them, making him gulp.

Sam whistled lowly, noticing the small interaction, "Someone's gonna be dangerous for you... Can't say I blame ya though." He hummed, eyeing you.

Tony's voice suddenly cut into Peter's mind, "I've come up with different shifts for everyone to keep an eye on her. That way she'll be under constant surveillance by at least one person."

Right there.

That was the moment Peter retained nothing else, only trying to comprehend that he was going to have to be with you alone multiple times that week.

Peter would remain in a daze for the rest of the week, only staring at his name on the schedule that Tony handed out at the meeting:

PETER PARKER: FRIDAY 3pm-10pm,  SATURDAY 3pm-10pm, SUNDAY 3pm-10pm

He couldn't even be mad how late his shift was on Sunday when he had an 8:30 class the next day, because let's be real, Peter had the chance to be alone with the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life.

The day came a lot faster than he had anticipated, but he guess that's what happens when you float through the entire week on cloud nine.

But now Peter felt like he was laying at the bottom of a pit. 

His heart beat quickly with anxiety the entire day, his palms were sweaty, and he was completely tongue tied making it embarrassing enough to talk to classmates that day that he didn't even want to think about how he was going to embarrass himself in front of you later that afternoon.

But soon enough, it was 2:50, and Peter found himself back at the Avengers compound to "babysit" you.

He licked his lips nervously as Happy led him into the building.

"What's got you all worked up? Well- more than usual?" Happy threw over his shoulder, noticing how fidgety Peter was acting, "Is it your tingle? The spider-tingle?"

Peter shook his head, not finding it in him to come up with a clever quip, "No."

"Is it because you need to watch Loki's kid, because she's really not that bad to handle, but I can get someone to cover your shift if--"

"NO!" Peter shouted, suddenly widening his eyes and clearing his throat at his little outburst.

Happy turned around in surprise before clocking in on what was going on based on Peter's composure, "Oh, I get it. Word of advice, because I know you're gonna do it. Don't talk too much, she doesn't like talking. Just let her read her books and you'll be on her good side."

Peter's eyes shined at the advice, "No talking, got it."

Happy turned back around, proceeding towards the library where Peter assumed you were currently in. "And another piece of advice," he said, reaching for the door handle, looking down at Peter before opening it, "Don't even think about going for it. She's Loki's daughter, kid. And just as terrifying."

Peter pursed his lips, "...She's also related to Thor, so..."

Happy scoffed, "And inherited none of his traits." He opened the door, letting Peter go in first.

Peter noticed the back of Bucky's head as he walked into the library, but only for a second as his eyes landed on you.

And again, the sight of you took his breath away. He was almost hoping that he hadn't remembered you correctly and you weren't even a quarter of how beautiful as he thought, but he was proven oh so very wrong.

You laid across one of the couches in the reading area, leaning against the arm, in one of your beautiful Asgardian gowns. The light from the windows filtered into the room, forming a halo around your body.

You looked like a goddamned renaissance painting.

It was then that Peter took in what was happening, and... well he wasn't sure if he really understood what was happening.

"You two are still at it?" Happy asked, shaking his head before turning to Peter, "I swear, every time Bucky has to watch her the two have a staring contest the entire time. I think they're trying to figure out who has the more intense stare." Happy then walked over to you both, waving a hand in front of Bucky's eyes, "You're off duty Buck, you can both blink again. Also Steve invited you to go train with him once you were done here."

Bucky grunted before standing up. He noticed Peter on his way out and raised a brow, muttering a "Good luck" which sounded like he had absolutely no faith in Peter to survive the next seven hours alone with you.

"Right." Happy nodded, "(Y/N)'s free to go to all the common areas, her room, and the bathroom. Stay out of the labs, away from the cells. Thor is her designated escort to go see her father so you have no business being down there. Anything else, just ask F.R.I.D.A.Y. Sound good?"

Peter just nodded, not being able to take his eyes away from you as you stared back at him.

Happy looked back and forth between the two of you, "Good lord," he sighed, "Don't forget that you're on camera (Y/N)," he called over to you before taking his leave.

Now it was just you and Peter. You watched as he tentatively took a seat where Bucky had been previously sitting.

He gulped again, eyes flickering all over the place, feeling uncomfortable under your gaze. It was a weird feeling for him to be speechless, but he couldn't form a coherent thought around you.

You finally looked away, reaching for a book that you had placed on the table beside the couch you were on. Your fingers carded through the pages until landing on the page Peter assumed you must've left off on.

It would be silent for the next half hour before Peter finally found it in him to speak up.

"What are you reading...?" He asked cautiously. He knew Happy said you didn't like talking, but it felt weird to sit in complete silence the entire time.

"Game of Thrones," you hummed, and dear God... he forgot how euphonious your voice was considering he only heard you speak a few sentences earlier that week. "Stark keeps calling me 'Game of Thrones', and I don't like when people below me speak things that go over my head."

Peter laughed awkwardly, until he realized you weren't joining him, making his awkward chuckle turn into a cough. "Yeah... that sounds like Mr. Stark."

It was silent again... and Peter was starting to regain his uncontrollable urge to speak again.

"So uh... what were you and Bucky doing?"

You hummed, "I like Bucky," you said, not answering his question, but hey, if you were willing to talk, Peter wasn't going to stop you. "There's a lot of pain in his eyes."

"And you like that?" Peter asked suspiciously.

"I'm partial to broken things," your eyes looked up from your book, once again locking with his, "Tell me Peter... are you a broken thing?"

Peter spluttered as he felt an uncontrollable heat crawl up the back of his neck, and once again, he found himself unable to form any words.

You cut off his broken stutters, "I see pain in your eyes too, different... but it’s there."

"I mean-- yeah I guess. Who doesn't have a story, right?" He chuckled uncomfortably, "I don't think anything I've been through compares to Bucky's past though, y'know? Maybe that’s why it looks different? Or something, like you said—“

"You talk when your nervous," you noted.

"Wha- yeah, I guess I do--"

"Do I make you nervous?"

Peter's eyes widened and he truly felt helpless under your gaze as you waited for his response, "Um... "

"Why do I make you nervous?"

Peter bit his lip, looking away from you, "Well... you're a Princess... and a Goddess from another planet. I'm not really sure how to talk to you."

"From what I heard from the others, that's never seemed to stop you before."

Peter looked at you with wide eyes, "Have-- Have you been talking about me with the others?"

"Yes," you easily admitted, "You intrigue me Peter Parker. From the moment I saw you in the meeting room."

Peter felt like a fish out of water, mouth falling and closing shut as he searched for the words to respond to that. He almost didn't want to believe you, it felt too surreal. "Why would I..."

You shrugged, "You're different than the others. I can tell you have a kindness your friends do not possess."

He thought back to all the times he showed villains mercy where he knew the other Avengers wouldn’t, and he was to compelled to agree with you, just a little bit, "Maybe a little... but the others are heroes too."

"Come here."

"What?"

And for the first time, Peter saw you smile and if you were pretty before, he was sure he was going to have to take a few days off in order to cope with how pretty you were now.

"I said, 'come here'," you laughed gently.

Peter took a shaky breath and nodded, walking over to you as you swung your legs over the couch to make a space for him while placing your book back down. He sat on the opposite end of the couch so that there was an empty cushion between you and you laughed once again at his tentativeness. You moved over, the side of your body pressing against his as he gulped, staring straight ahead of him.

You gazed at his side profile for a moment, and you did have to admit-- this Midgardian was quite cute.

Most of the men back on Asgard were too proud for their own good, and you found that too much pride made a man insufferable... but Peter? Was a breath of fresh air.

You promised not to get too ahead of yourself though as he still was a Midgardian. At least now you couldn't fault your Uncle for finding some sort if interest in that Jane woman he had told you so much about.

"I like you Peter."

Peter turned to look at you, eyebrows drawn together in utter confusion, "But you barely know me," he said, voice high pitched and flustered.

"And you barely know who I am, however that hasn't stopped you from being attracted to me either," you said challengingly.

"Are you-- Are you saying you're attracted to me?" 

You studied him, a silence filling the air between the two of you. Your faces were only a few inches apart and you wanted to attempt something, so you leaned forward and--

A sudden shock of Peter’s spider sense going off caused him to jump backwards, back bending along the arm of the couch, staring at you with panic as he assessed that yes, you had just leaned in to kiss him.

Peter continued to gaze at you with his panic stricken expression, as your face slowly morphed into a look of glee, and he could have sworn your eyes flashed green again with magic.

"You're fun," You said breathlessly, "You are nothing like the men back home." 

You placed a hand on his shoulder to draw him in once more, before saying, "I would like to get to know you some more Peter Parker."

"Are you gonna try to kiss me again?" he rushed out.

"Would you like me too?"

"Yes-- No-- I mean-- I don't know what the protocol is here."

"There is no protocol. I may be a ward of Midgard but I am still the Princess of Asgard and Goddess of Mischief. I will be gone within a year. So would you like to kiss me before I go?"

He bit his lip, contemplating the correct answer before slowly nodding.

"I would like that too." you grinned, before an idea came to mind. You hadn't seen your father in quite a bit due to Thor being busy, so you decided to use this as an opportunity, "But first, I need a favor from you Peter Parker."

"S-sure, anything."

"I would like to visit my father."

Peter's face dropped, "I'm sorry Princess but I can't do that."

"I know you're not supposed to, but my Uncle has gone back to visit Asgard a few days ago and I haven't been able to see my father since I first arrived and I am asking you because I think you are kind enough. The others would never take me to visit him."

Peter looked away, contemplating his options. You were right in saying that the others would never let you see your father.

"Can we wait until your uncle-- I mean, Thor, comes back?"

You sighed, leaning away from him and Peter immediately missed your closeness, "I suppose. However he isn't meant to come back for quite a bit. My grandfather, Odin, will be waking up from the Odinsleep in a while, and my Uncle needs to be there for Asgard until that time comes. I'm worried I won't be able to see my father before they free him by the end of the month."

"Oh... Then, maybe, just for a short while, I could maybe accompany you in the cells--" he conceded.

"You would?" you asked, immediately leaning in close to him again, "I would only need a few minutes and you could stay with me the entirety of the meeting. Then afterwards... I would like to get to understand you better Peter."

Peter found himself nodding like a lovesick fool. "Okay..." Suddenly he remembered what he would need in order to get you down there, "It's not going to be easy. I need to find the code for the cell room and there's going to be guards."

"Well... perhaps if you would allow me. I could bewitch the guards so that we could sneak past." Peter suddenly narrowed his eyes, so you backtracked seeing as you were willing to do whatever need be in order to see your father once more, "Unless you would like to do it another way? I won't use my magic if it makes you feel uneasy. I only want to see my father before he leaves, not get you nor I in any trouble."

Peter nodded, "As long as you don't hurt them then I guess it's fine."

"Of course."

"There's also the issue with the cameras."

"I can bewitch them as well."

"Alright then," and slowly Peter started smiling at the prospect of going on a little adventure with you. "First we need to go into one of the labs to find the code. I'll have to hack into S.H.I.E.L.D.'s database to find the passcode but it shouldn't be too hard. I had to do it before and it wasn't too bad."

You grinned, "Perfect."

You followed Peter as he led you to one of the labs as he refused to let you out of his sight-- you assumed he wanted to do something correctly since he would be breaking multiple rules for you.

It didn't take long for him to find the passcode, thoroughly impressing you as you couldn't even begin to understand the complexities of their technology. And he was leading you down to the bottom floor in no time, making sure to point out all of the cameras along the way.

Peter didn't even need to ask you to bewitch the guards because he immediately noticed a green fog in their eyes the moment they came into view. He glanced back at you a bit nervously but seeing as his Spider-Sense hadn't been triggered by you, he figured that you really weren't planning anything.

He felt bad not trusting you as you had seemed sincere when speaking to him along with Thor vouching for your trustworthiness, and he knew he shouldn't judge someone based on the actions of their parents, but you made him nervous... but again that could just be because you were so fucking pretty.

Punching in the passcode, Peter shoved the piece of paper he wrote the numbers on into his pocket before leading you to your father-- well, it was more like he was wandering the cell blocks, looking for Loki seeing as he had never been down here before.

As Peter stumbled around, you stalked down the hall with a purpose, Peter not missing how elegant your walk was.

And soon the two of you were in front of your father's cell.

Loki was sitting up on the bed once he noticed your approach, and he raised an eyebrow as he looked from you to Peter.

Peter felt a chill run down his spine as Loki studied him.

”Where’s Thor?”

You quirked a brow, “Have you forgotten already father? He had to leave for Asgard a few days prior.”

”Right,” He nodded, glancing at Peter briefly, “I presumed you were just avoiding me.”

You laughed, “Of course not. You should thank Peter for allowing me to see you before you leave.”

”I see… Are you that Spider-Boy…?” Loki asked.

Peter shifted on his feet, glancing back at you, “It’s Man. Spider…Man.” He finished awkwardly.

”Ah…” Loki nodded, turning back to you, “How have your accommodations been?”

”Fine I suppose. Stark has his men watching me around the clock so it could be better.”

Loki scoffed, ”They’re infantalizing you.”

”Yes, but I can’t blame them. You haven’t set a very good example so I can see why they don’t trust me.”

Loki rolled his eyes, moving onto the next thing, “I need to apologize to you. I would have liked to do it in private but seeing as I won’t see you for a year, I should do it now.”

“Go on,” you nodded.

“What I did to you was… unfair. I should have let you know, but I didn’t and what’s done is done now, and I can’t take away the pain I caused you for my ruse. So… I’m sorry.”

You jutted your chin out, holding back the tears that pricked behind your eyes at his words. You gave him a curt nod. “Unfortunately I cannot accept your apology, but I do thank you for it… I care about you deeply father, so I ask you to please, never pull a stunt like that again… or at least tell me before you do.”

”I promise.”

You nodded once more, knowing that his word to you was the only word he would never go back on. 

“Good. We’ll be heading back now.”

”Very well. I love you (Y/N).”

The words sounded foreign. Despite the obvious care you both held for each other it was simply not in your natures to voice them, but sometimes, very rarely, he could ignore what was ingrained in him.

And so could you.

”I love you too father. Have a good night.”

After you bid your farewells, you and Peter were taking your leave.

Peter was quiet as he followed you out with a feeling of guilt weighing heavy on his heart.

He had been so distracted by your appearance and fancy titles that he had almost forgotten you were human— actually he wasn’t sure whether you were human or not, but you clearly had feelings and your situation was truly dawning on him.

He felt like an intruder, watching the interaction between you and Loki, almost like it wasn’t meant for his eyes and ears. But he knew that whatever Loki had done, it had hurt you. And as selfish as it was Peter liked seeing this vulnerable side of you.

”Let’s go to my room.”

”Huh—?” Peter asked, staring at the back of your head, “Are you sure?”

”Yes.”

”Are the guards—“

”They returned to normal once we were out of sight,” you said as you stepped into the elevator with Peter.

”What floor—“

”Go to the library first. We need to make it seem as if we were leaving from there.”

”Right.”

Peter did as you said, going to the library where you two had assumed your earlier positions before you stopped bewitching the cameras. From there, the two of you left to go to your bedroom.

Once there, Peter watched as you situated yourself on your bed while he stood awkwardly by the door.

He noticed the look in your eyes now seemed distant than they were earlier. Peter understood that he didn't know you very well-- in fact, he had only known you for about four hours in total but even still, he had a feeling that this faraway look in your eyes was not who you typically were.

"Can I... ask you something?" Peter asked with hesitation, shoving his hands in his pockets as he looked around your barely lived in room.

You blinked, almost as if remembering he was still there, "Yes."

"I don't mean to pry but... what did Loki do to you? It just seems like something happened between the two of you," he said, fumbling with his words.

You pursed your lips with a hum, debating whether or not to share your sob story with him. But you guessed that after you left you wouldn't be seeing him ever again so... why not?

"I don't know what Midgard knew of my father's antics before he tried conquering Midgard again, but he faked his own death."

Peter nodded in recognition, "Yeah, I actually did hear about that."

"Yes... and he lied to me too."

"He didn't... you believed he was dead too?"

You nodded, "I believed he was dead for years... So imagine my surprise when my Uncle comes to me, telling me my own father who we both believed to be dead-- who we held a funeral for, was captured on Midgard and I was to replace him as Midgard's ward in order to free him." You continued, "I’ve seen him for one of the first times in years,  just to be without him for another year." 

You stared across the room and Peter continued to gaze into the distant look in your eyes. He found it quite ironic how you were saying you liked broken things when Peter could see that you were feeling just as broken.

But suddenly, you snapped out of it and looked up at Peter.

"But enough about that. I'd prefer to hear you speak instead. Come, sit." You invited, patting a free space on your bed.

Peter walked over, starting to feel a little bit more comfortable around you as he sat at the end of the bed, leaving more than enough space between you both.

"You called yourself Spider-Man?" You asked, remembering what he had said when you both visited Loki.

"Yeah," Peter grinned, "That’s my um, alias.”

”I see,” you hummed, “You seem to be much younger than the others.”

”Yeah, when I was 15 I got bitten by this radioactive spider and it gave me superpowers, so I kinda got into the game pretty early on.” He shrugged.

”What kind of powers did you receive?” 

“Oh y’know… super strength, speed, flexibility… I guess that’s the normal stuff when you think of super powers.”

You moved closer to him, making him blush even though there was still plenty of space between you both. “Did the bite make you humble as well or was that always apart of you?”

Peter blushed harder, laughing awkwardly as you fixed him once again with one of your intense gazes.

”I-um— I dunno,” he stuttered, before finding himself into another one of his ramblings, “Another cool thing I got though is this spider sense, so I can like tell when I’m in danger before something happens.”

This really piqued your interest, “Really now? To what extent?”

”I’m not too sure… like one time I was able to tell the milk was spoiled before I drank it, and like before… when you leaned in, I knew you were going to kiss me, that’s why my reaction was kinda, uh, violent…” He trailed off.

You quirked a brow, “So you think I’m dangerous?”

”No!” He yelped, “It’s just— I was able to tell you were going to do something kind of, I dunno, but it’s like I think you kissing me would have surprised me which is why it triggered my spider sense— do you know what I mean?”

You laughed at his desperation, “So, if I tried to kiss you again, would you move away?”

”Um… No?”

You hummed, placing a hand on his shoulder and gently pushing him down.

”W-what are you doing?” 

“Relax Peter. You’ve been on edge for hours now. Are you usually like this?” You asked. 

Peter eyed you warily, allowing you to push him down onto your bed, gasping when you straddled his lap.

He jerked up onto his elbows, looking frantically around the room, “Are there cameras in here. If Mr. Stark sees this then—“

”Shh,” you hushed, placing a finger on his lips, his wide eyes meeting yours again. “I’ll take that as a yes. And no, there are no cameras in here.”

Peter felt even more on edge now. You were setting off his spider sense with whatever you were planning making him feel stuck between a rock and a hard place.

On the one hand he knew he shouldn’t be doing this, this was technically fraternizing with the enemy seeing as you were Loki’s daughter and Mr. Stark didn’t trust you yet but on the other hand… here was a goddess practically throwing herself at him.

You placed both hands on his chest and pushed back down again and he allowed you to.

You leaned over him, placing both hands on either side of his head, your hair draping down around his face.

”You look scared Peter.”

”I’m sorry.” He rushed out in a single, high pitched breath.

”Don’t be,” you lilted, dragging a finger along his jaw, “I find it endearing. The boys on Asgard are always so full of themselves, it’s nice to see how… compliant you are. It is doing wonders for my ego right now,” you said with a laugh.

Peter gulped, his entire body was tingling, especially where you kept stroking his skin. And he swore, waiting for you to kiss him was driving him mad as the anticipation was almost too much to handle, so instead he found himself leaning up and crashing his lips to yours instead.

You reciprocated immediately, pushing him back down to the bed as you took control of the kiss. His lips were completely to your mercy as you kissed and nipped at them.

”There’s… something about— you,” you said in between kisses, “That makes me feel… powerful.” 

“Oh shit,” Peter muttered at the feeling of his hands being restrained by magic. He broke the kiss, looking at his hands, then back at you. A soft unrestrained whimper escaping him.

Peter clearly had no idea what he was getting himself into, but he was starting to realize.

“Oh my God,” Peter hissed, jerking his hips up as you shoved your hand down his pants, “Princess, I—“

”I’m very impressed,” you hummed, squeezing his cock, “Back on Asgard there are many rumors about Midgardian men being small, but I can’t say that about you.”

Peter’s face grew ten times more red with your comment, moaning as you squeezed him.

”Wait— Princess, if you keep doing that, I’ll—“

”That soon, huh?” You said with a laugh, quite enjoying the helpless and desperate look on his face, “Very well,” you let go of him, pulling your hand out of his jeans. “I wouldn’t want to spoil the fun too soon.”

Peter felt a rush of air enter his lungs once you let go, chest rising and falling rapidly. “I’m sorry,” he said once again.

”For what?” You asked with a raised brow, “There are plenty more activities we can partake in first. I’m actually quite interested in seeing what your mouth can do. Care to show me?”

Peter swallowed nervously, “You mean— you want me too…?”

”Would you like to?”

Peter found himself at a loss for words, only being able to nod frantically in agreement.

”Wonderful,” you giggled, climbing off him.

You situated yourself on your back, leaning up on your elbows.

Peter watched as you pulled up your dress and spread your legs… for him.

He must’ve fucking died and gone to heaven at that point. 

Peter also thought that this must have been his reward for dealing with all the grief and pain he had endured in his life.

He sat up. Staring at your cunt— you hadn’t even been wearing underwear this entire goddamn time.

Peter was struck with the sudden need to make you feel good. He wanted to prove to you that yes— he was so much better than the boys back on Asgard. He would do anything for the Princess of Asgard and Goddess of Mischief to be hooked on the pleasure only little Peter Parker from Midgard could provide.

He would have done anything for you in that moment just to prove he was good enough.

He tentatively made his way between your thighs. You leaned up further, pressing your lips against his briefly before muttering, “Get to work.”

Peter stared back at you with a puppy-like gaze, bright and completely under your control.

He did as you said and laid down on his stomach. 

Your cunt was only a breath away, his cock twitched realizing how wet you were— you wanted him.

Without any more hesitation, he dived forward, dragging his tongue against you. He relished the moan that left you upon licking your clit.

He moaned at your taste, he was sure that he’d never get enough of it now. He wrapped his arms around your thighs, tongue focusing on your clit.

You laid back with a gasp, fingers tangling into his brown curls. This wasn’t exactly part of the plan for today, but you’d take it. He was much better with his mouth than you were expecting.

You bucked your hips against his mouth and gave a harsh tug to his curls, making him whimper. “Use your fingers,” you ordered.

He did as you asked without a moments hesitation, letting go of your thigh to press his fingers into you, immediately curling his fingers to find what he was looking for.

”A little more— ah, there,” you gasped out in bliss as he continued to thrust his fingers into you while sucking on your clit.

Peter stared up at you. You were so fucking gorgeous he was sure this was a dream.

Your mouth fell slack as you moaned out his name, eyes screwed shut and toes curling. He was doing this. He was the one making you feel this good right now.

Peter nearly came in his pants, untouched, as you opened your eyes and locked your gaze with his. 

Eyes smoldering and intense, even more so than they had been earlier, almost making him freeze in his spot if he wasn’t so determined to make you cum.

And you did.

While moaning his name.

Peter worked you through your orgasm, letting you buck against his face until you became limp, laying against the bed as you panted.

Peter pulled his fingers out of you, making you whimper. He then pulled away from you, his mouth and chin covered in your slick.

”You taste really good,” Peter said breathlessly, moving up your body.

”Do I?” You giggled, clearly in a much better mood. “Care to give me a taste then?”

”Yeah,” he breathed, leaning down to press his lips to yours again.

You were nearly too much for poor Peter Parker to handle as he hadn’t felt his spider sense calm down since this began.

Your fingers toyed with the curls at the nape of his neck, lips moving against his lazily after your orgasm.

It only took you a few moments to get back into the game as you pushed his hoodie down his shoulders. He eagerly pulled it off, tossing it off the bed.

He broke the kiss, tugging his t-shirt off and making you giggle.

”You seem very eager,” you commented, eyeing his chest and abs.

”After that— yeah.”

You sat up, fingers trailing up his arms. “I really must say that you are full of surprises,” you hummed, thoroughly impressed with how muscular he was. “I think it’s your turn.”

You sat up more, pushing him back onto the bed so he lay on his back, once again straddling his hips and giving you an even better view of his upper body.

You rolled your hips, making him grunt and feel how hard he was.

Now, growing up, Peter learned an important life lesson.

If something seemed to be too good to be true, it usually was.

His crush asking him out in ninth grade was a prank.

Spider-Man seemed like a pretty sweet deal until he realized that he’d nearly die and get his loved ones killed many times over.

The time the Princess of Asgard and Goddess of Mischief seduced him?

Turned out to be apart of a fucking scheme.

“What is going on here!?” Peter suddenly heard, and none other than from Nick Fury as the door was violently thrown open.

You looked up to find Stark, Thor, and the rest of the Avengers standing in the doorway. Tony’s arm wearing the arm of his suit, palm open and ready to shoot.

”What!?” Peter yelped, sitting up and pushing you off him.

”Loki’s missing,” Tony suddenly said, “And we had a feeling it might have something to do with his daughter considering you two were no where to be found on the camera system.”

Peter’s head snapped towards you, eyes widened in panic.

You sighed, your shoulders sagging as you climbed off the bed. 

“A shame really,” you hummed, looking back at Peter, “Things were really about to get fun.” You turned back to the Avengers. “Next time, it would serve you well to take your own advice Stark. If you ever meet someone with the word ‘Mischief’ in their name. Don’t trust them… and Uncle,” you looked at Thor, “I do apologize, but it had to be done.”

”Then it’s too late?” Thor asked defeatedly.

“What’s going on?” Tony asked, aiming his question at Thor, “Why do you Asgardians always talk in riddles?”

You only smiled and with a wave goodbye and a flare of green light… you were gone.

”Where’d she go?” Nick demanded furiously of Thor, the others now waiting on him.

”That wasn’t her,” Thor answered, “That was merely a replication of her. Her true self must have slipped out and freed Loki… I would imagine that they are both off Midgard by now.”

"Her true self must have slipped out, huh?" Nick Fury repeated accusingly, now staring at Peter, "I wonder how she managed that."

Peter's mouth fell open as everyone now stared at him. "Okay. I know this looks bad--"

"Looks bad?" Steve hissed, finally speaking up for the first time, "Tony being caught playing with S.H.I.E.L.D.'s new weapons 'looks bad'. Not only did you let our only assurance that Loki wasn't going to attack Earth escape with him but you were about to--"

"In the kid's defense," Bucky started, cutting Steve off, "She probably could have done that to most of us, her tactics seemed kind of... foolproof."

Nat shook her head, "We need to debrief this properly. Everyone in the conference room, Tony get Bruce, I'll get Clint, and Peter... put your shirt on." She quickly stalked off with a few of the others following behind.

Peter stared at the ground, sitting guiltily under Nick, Tony, and Steve's glares, "She's right." Fury said, "We'll review this and figure out what our next steps are," and finally the last of them were leaving.

Peter buried his face in his hands and swore that if he ever saw you again he was going to... well he didn't know what he was going to do yet, but he sure as hell was fucking pissed and humiliated.

***

"Let's go," you muttered, pulling your father along with you and giving a nod towards Heimdall.

"Why are you in such a rush," Loki asked, wondering why you seemed so apprehensive.

"I doubt Thor will think we came to Asgard but we can never be too sure-- My plan isn't over yet."

Loki quirked a brow, "You set up more than just our escape?"

"Of course."

He hummed, walking with you towards the kingdom, "I’m impressed."

"I'm just glad you picked up on my lie about Thor's whereabouts back in the cell."

"That quirk in your brow wasn't as subtle as you think, however you did a nice job in choosing the weakest of the Avengers."

You shrugged, "He’s a young and naive man— they all think the same. Show them a pretty face and there’s only one thing on their mind. I was able to slip this from him without him knowing," you said, raising the piece of paper with the passcode that he had shoved into his pocket earlier.

Loki tsked, “I don’t want to know what you got up to with that boy, but I will assume that you did what needed to be done. What's the plan now?"

"Well, I figured since this entire situation stemmed from you wanting to rule a realm then... you'll rule Asgard."

"And how are we accomplishing that?"

"You will pretend to be grandfather." You said.

"And what will you do with your grandfather then?"

"I'll take care of that. You just focus on ruling Asgard.”

”Hm, I guess you take after me more than I thought.” He hummed.

You didn’t respond, now focused on figuring out how to proceed with the next phase of your plan.

That, and trying to ignore the way your mind kept wanting to think about the Midgardian boy and how he made you feel.

But just like every man you felt for before, you’d crush each and every one of those feelings… you had a much more glorious purpose to live up to after all.

#mcu #marvel cinematic universe #mcu fic #mcu fanfiction #marvel cinematic universe fic #marvel cinematic universe fanfiction #Peter Parker #peter parker x reader #Peter Parker fic #Peter Parker smut #Peter Parker fanfiction #tom holland!peter parker x reader #Tom Holland!peter Parker #Tom Holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x reader #spiderman #Spider-Man fanfic #spider man fanfiction #Spider-Man fic #Spider-Man x reader #spider man x reader fic #Spider-Man smut #peter parker smut #Tom Holland smut #Spider-Man x reader smut #Peter Parker x reader smut #Tom Holland x reader smut #Loki #MCU Loki

[promiseofthepremise]

Something like a Supercut

the 9th and final part in the Supercut series

23 chapters | 130k words | rated M

For so many years Michelle had never been able to wrap her head around the way Peter grew so accustomed to swinging from such great heights, hurtling through the air at speeds that would make one of Tony Stark’s fancy sports cars weep.

Michelle hadn’t understood it either, on any of the many occasions Peter had taken her for a swing, had tried to introduce her to this thing that made him feel free, this thing that felt like home.

But now she spends a third of her nights sitting out here with him, high above the rest of the world and she understands better that when you grow up falling from the sky, standing on a ledge is something like nostalgia.

Anyone living in this here and now, the world at the end of itself, Michelle thinks they all understand a little bit better these days, what it’s like to become who you are while falling from the sky.

OR: It’s Avengers: Endgame, except Peter Parker is twenty-nine years old and the clock is ticking.

#my writing #spideychelle #petermj #petermjane #spider-man fic #mcu fic #here we go (: #yes all those little photos are from previous moodboards i got sentimental don't @ me about it!!!

[spiderversebigbang]

Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning:

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Fandoms:

Marvel Cinematic Universe

The Avengers (Marvel Movies)

Spider-Man - All Media Types

Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Relationships:

Peter Parker & Sam Wilson

James "Bucky" Barnes & Peter Parker

Clint Barton & Peter Parker

Clint Barton/Laura Barton/Natasha Romanov

Characters:

Sam Wilson (Marvel)

Tony Stark

Peter Parker

James "Bucky" Barnes

Clint Barton

Steve Rogers

Natasha Romanov (Marvel)

Thor (Marvel)

Bruce Banner

Additional Tags:

Homeless Peter Parker

Peter Parker Needs a Hug

Peter Parker Gets a Hug

Protective Sam Wilson

Protective Bucky Barnes

Protective Clint Barton

Smart Peter Parker

BAMF Peter Parker

Hurt Peter Parker

POV Sam Wilson

POV Bucky Barnes

POV Clint Barton

sam makes god tier brownies and you can fight me on this

Nerd Peter Parker

Sam Wilson is a Gift

Domestic Avengers

Protective Avengers

Identity Reveal

Spider-Man Identity Reveal

peter parker slowly realizing that people actually care about him

Not Spider-Man: No Way Home Compliant

Dead May Parker (Spider-Man)

Whump

Deaf Clint Barton

GUYS EVERYTHING WITH PETER IS PLATONIC/PARENTAL DONT BE WEIRD

SHIELD Agent Laura Barton

guys i lied sambucky have a situationship

Language: English

Summary:

When Sam found Spider-Man slumped against the dirty wall of an alleyway, he never imagined how much the vigilante's presence would affect the entire team. He couldn't find it in him to care.

When Bucky helped Spidr- Peter. When Bucky helped Peter after what had to be a traumatic event, he never thought about how much the teen could grow on him

When Clint broke into Sam's apartment at 3AM, he was just looking for blackmail. He didn't notice the younger figure in his initial scan of the apartment, but hell will freeze over before he lets Stark adopt Peter first.

TLDR: Peter gets two new uncles and a dad, but it's not who you think

*previously titled 'can we skip to the good part'*

#spider-man #spider-man fic #fic rec #signal boost #fic promo

[ziracona]

[[On a Superhero short fic kick. I was incorrectly spoiled on events for the PS4 Spider-Man, but the ideas never left my head, so have some non-canon-compliant Harry. This is about a year after the game. Same setup, only instead of Venom experimentation, Norman used a form of the Goblin serum to try and cure Harry. Didn’t go great. Has been trying to improve on and fix ever since. While Norman was out of the country to clear up Devil’s Breath Geneva convention violation allegations, Oscorp kept getting attacked and desperate, and for multiple very bad motivations and without Norman’s knowledge, permission, or approval, woke up and set Harry loose to destroy some evidence and buy time, since doped up on serum he’s essentially a heat seeking missile. Pete as Spider-Man stopped him, but not before Oscorp got what they wanted out of the stunt. Peter is now dealing with the fallout and trying to process what happened to his friend.]]

-

-

“Peter?”

“Uh—yeah, sorry. Hang on a second.”

Doing his best to mentally run through the half of the security system he’d memorized at light speed, Peter Parker slid back out of the vent he’d been in and launched himself up two stories in the elevator shaft, landing precariously in a far corner away from the pressure sensors on the lab side.

“Okay. Good now. Hi, MJ.”

“You okay? I mean, that’s what I called to ask about,” came her somewhere-between-worried-and-suspicious voice, “but I mean, right now? You’re not taking a call in the middle of a fight again, right?”

“No, no,” said Peter hurriedly, trying to wedge himself into a more comfortable position as an elevator passed.

“Is that construction?”

“No, it’s an elevator,” he replied, “I’m fine, really. Just trying to stay out of sight and overhearing-range while on the phone.”

“Okay,” said Mary Jane, not entirely convinced but convinced enough to drop it, “Look uh. I guess that doesn’t matter. Not like I could stop you anyway. I just wanted to know how you’re doing?”

…Ah. Right…

“With…Harry…”

Yeah. He swallowed. Okay come on. Now is the time to say something, Peter. This has been like 10 seconds of silence so far and it can get worse.

“Uh.”

“Look. I-I don’t mean to pry, and if you’re not ready to talk about it, that’s fine, of course. I just… I didn’t have anyone to talk to about it, and I know I’m upset, and I just thought. With you…”

Funny. He almost never heard MJ rattled. It was actually reassuring to him. Good to know somebody else felt it too. His shoulders relaxed a bit and he shifted again in the little corner, taking some weight off his back by wedging his knees against a post.

“I uh. I’m not doing great,” he answered truthfully. She was quiet on the other end. “I just…I can’t understand what happened.”

Peter wished he was outside. He wished he could pace and swing around while talking, work some of the energy out, but that would mean re-dodging about eight layers of Oscorp security, and he’d really come too far to go back now, so this was it. Wedged into a tiny corner of an elevator shaft about two feet from a pressure sensor that would put the whole building on lockdown if his foot slipped.

Good thing my feet are sticky, he thought, trying to rouse his spirit, and then with a grimace, Great. Even my quips are suffering…

“I’ve gone through everything I know about eighteen times in my head,” he continued, thinking it over a nineteenth as he did, “And it just…it wasn’t him, MJ. I-I mean, it was—I saw his face. But before? When we were fighting? It wasn’t him. It wasn’t Harry. I don’t…”

For a moment, there was quiet.

“…I’m so sorry. First Otto, now Harry. I can’t even imagine. This has been a terrible couple of years for you.”

“I—“ He hesitated, remembering. Running images of Otto through his head, images of the fight just yesterday, with Harry. “It…that’s not what. I mean…” he tried slowly, worried somehow about her reaction to this. “I mean it really… Wasn’t him. Not like Martin Li, not like Otto. Not like a change. It was like he was…possessed. He didn’t say anything the whole time. And his eyes…”

How to even explain it though?

He thought… if. If it had been like Otto, he would have known. A part of him would have unconsciously recognized Harry’s movements, his voice, something. But no part of him at all had been anything but shocked when the person he was pummeling had finally stopped hitting back and gone still in the wreckage of an automobile plant, and he’d torn the mask off to see…

Honestly, his first thought had been that it was Chameleon somehow. His second Mysterio, and he was hallucinating. He’d wondered if he was crazy before his brain had pitched him the suggestion that it might actually be Harry Osborn in the battered body armor beneath him.

And God, he’d been so terrified he’d killed him for a second he hadn’t been able to feel his own heartbeat. Peter had never once actually tried to kill anyone he fought, and he’d still been terrified this would be the one time he’d messed up and given a hit too hard.

He hadn’t. And Harry was okay. No. Not…okay. Alive. But-

“His eyes?” echoed MJ in confusion.

“Yeah,” said Peter, trying to come back down to reality, “they were…I only saw them for a minute, right at the end, and again, when Oscorp was transporting him away for treatment. But they were glowing. Not brown anymore either. Yellow. He didn’t…look like him.”

His voice had gotten so small.

He hadn’t meant it too.

MJ was quiet.

“…I’m sorry,” she said finally, and he could hear she meant it, “Do you know anything yet? What happened? Where he’s been?”

“Not much,” said Peter, trying to wall feelings back up so he could operate again, “Oscorp said a lab accident of some kind when he was getting treatment, and they’re taking him in to try and fix it.”

Which, thank God not the Raft. He didn’t think he would have been able to bear that. But…

“I…I don’t buy that though. He shows up, sure a kind of motivationless seeming attack, but it ruined the buy-out, and the Oscorp investigation at the same time. Even with their stock taking a hit too, their competition got the worse end of this, and they’re at least stalled from what Yuri expected to be a devastating run-in with internal affairs. Now, they have a perfect excuse for any documents that go ‘missing’. Probably nothing will happen with legal action after that at least until Norman’s back in the country.”

“You think he’d use his own son like this?” asked MJ, aghast.

“No! I would have thought it was about the only thing he wouldn’t do! But after last year…?”

Yeah. After last year, everything about Norman Osborn was more questions than answers.

No. Not about Norman. About…everything.

And that was what he was really afraid of. He wanted to say he knew it hadn’t really been Harry—and he did know it. He believed it. But. Last year had shown him what he knew…what he believed in, it wasn’t always true.

And there could be consequences…

“Right…” said MJ, sounding like she was following the same mental path internally.

“Anyway,” said Peter, hoping to divert her attention back to the present, “I’m going to see if I can’t dig up more. Something like this doesn’t just happen, and I owe it to Harry. To know.”

And to believe it couldn’t have been him. He owed Harry that too. He had to try.

“…Okay,” decided MJ, sounding determined herself, “I’ll do everything I can to dig things up on my end too. Let me know how it goes.”

“Sure thing,” promised Peter, relieved.

“And Peter-“ she called as he went to disconnect, “I’m really sorry.”

“…Yeah.” Said Peter. “Me too.”

There was a click as the line disconnected, and Peter turned his gaze back the way he’d just come. Quick two-story drop, swing into the vent, third from back on the right. Back in business.

It wasn’t like it was the hardest infiltration he’d done in the last year, but uh. Oscorp security was no joke. They’d really beefed it up since everything with Martin Li. Guess that uh. Figures.

Still, he was through the worst of it! Sort of…

Even with an advanced study of the security before going in, a degree in science, and an ability to sense danger and stick to walls, it took Peter another hour somehow to find what he was looking for. Oscorp’s labs spanned many, many floors, with varrying levels of security, and the blueprints did NOT match the interiors! No they did not. Which was extremely frustrating, and against city codes but hey! Not the worst work development for him in recent memory. Backtracking in narrow pipes wasn’t exactly fun or quick, but at least no one was shooting at him.

The place was such a maze in comparison to the blueprints he’s seen that Peter had almost given up on his last trek through yet another story of lab equipment being the right security route to follow and been about to turn around and try another floor, when he’d seen a very impressive amount of oxygen containers being carted down a hall, and followed a sudden hunch. And the cart.

It had payed off. The oxygen had been weaved through halls at what to Peter felt like random, and been left by a huge set of reinforced titanium doors, but he’d had a feeling, and Peter had taken another fifteen minutes to spoof the security system for the four seconds he needed to make it through the motion sensors in the exhaust vent leading in, and it had all been worth it, because he’d found him.

The room was long, with low ceilings and more consoles and lab stations than it seemed like there could possibly be something to do with. About eighteen little centrifuges, incubators, testing sites, printouts, backup power blocks, several types of animals in cages in a corner, data screens, computer banks, a massive microscope, and a lot of things even he couldn’t name at a glance. Near the far end of the room was a large empty tank of green-yellow liquid.

There were people in lab coats all over, some at stations, and a big clump of about eight around a console at the far end of the room.

“-he’s going to literally kill us,” one of the scientists nearest him was saying to another in undertones.

“No, by the time he gets here, we’ll have someone to hang out as responsible for the little incident with his son, and we’ll have gotten some actionable results here he won’t have to know how we got, and that’s going to be the only thing he cares about,” answered the other in a ‘and stop talking about this forever now please’ tone of voice.

“Besides. He’s tied up internationally in court. Even for this, he won’t be home for a month, maybe two, three,” said another.

“You haven’t seen him really determined,” said the first again, “There is nothing the man won’t do.”

“I have, and that’s how I know there are things even he can’t do,” answered the third again, “Now can we please focus on getting those actionable results? Because if we don’t, she definitely has a point.”

Okay. Kind of a huge relief to hear for once it sounds like Norman wasn’t involved in something. At least there’s a line. But, I’m definitely in the right place now, so…where’s Harry? It was the right spot for sure. There was Harry’s name, medical history, and bio readout splashed up on a handful of the screens people were working at right below him. It had to be here, right? Or close anyway. Had to.

Careful, Peter slid along the vent system installed for sucking chemicals in or out of the room in an emergency that ran straight down the center of the lab, for once too intent on searching to be thinking about what would happen if there was a spill while he was in the vent, like he usually would have.

Come on, come on!

He hesitated about halfway down the long rectangular room, noticing a screen near him. It wasn’t at a great angle for his neck, but he could make out the words.

Harry.

‘Experimental serum,’ ‘enhanced physicality,’ ‘heightened aggression,’ ‘triggered adrenal response,’ ‘fractured mental processing.’ He skimmed fast, hitting highlights.

Harry…. God. How? How did this happen! Nothing here about that at all.

It was infuriating.

At least I was right, he thought, not sure if it was okay to be reassured by this or not, since the results looked…pretty grim, according to that, you would have been completely out of your head… when … you…

He saw him.

The eight scientists gathered around a console weren’t just gathered around a console at the far end of the room. They were encircling a tube about seven feet long and three and a half feet wide, filled with the same fluid as the big empty tank, and just big enough to hold a human being in it. Which it did.

It was laid sideways like a battery, plugged into the console, and inside was Harry, laid on his stomach in an oxygen mask and chains.

It was everything he had not to break through the roof the second he saw it.

He couldn’t understand why.

You’ve seen lock-ups before, Pete. You know how hard some of them can be to contain. He destroyed four buildings yesterday. You knew he’d be locked up somewhere.

The calming himself down with logical reasoning thing was not working.

He-he couldn’t even tell if Harry was awake. His eyes were half open and glazed over, floating there—IS HE DEAD??

Panic flooded him.

One of the doctors moved a control on the console and the chains around Harry’s wrists and ankles retracted and pulled taut, immobilizing him, and it was suddenly very clear he was alive and awake, because his eyes snapped open, glowing a bright yellow that’s as unnerving to see, and he started thrashing madly against the chains and trying to slam a knee or elbow into the side of the tank, furious, unintelligible sounds coming from beneath the mask. Almost instantly in response, something shocked him. Peter couldn’t tell where it had originated from, but he’d seen enough people tazed to know what was happening as his friend suddenly jerked and started to convulse, then went limp and still hanging in the liquid like before, eyes shut.

Crap crap crap; Harry. I-

Th-there was nothing to do, but…wait. Watch. He didn’t want to. He wanted to jump down there and start breaking things, but. …He couldn’t. For all he knew, they really…were…helping him. Just because he didn’t like it, didn’t mean…

…

It was hard.

Peter was there for hours. Watching, listening. trying to understand. It was unbelievably miserable.

It didn’t matter this wasn’t the first time someone he’d liked and respected was in cuffs; it didn’t matter this wasn’t the first time he’d seen someone he knew become someone he didn’t. It was different. It was worse. And it was…wrong.

They were experimenting on him. And sure, okay, they had to. They had to figure out what was wrong, to fix it. But not like this!

Nobody talked to him. No breaks, no rest. Not even for meals. Just an IV in an arm and oxygen in a mask keeping Harry alive, trapped submerged in that tiny tube he wouldn’t have even had space to get to his knees in. Sometimes, Harry was out of it, or straight up unconscious. Sometimes, he was awake and struggling, only to get shocked into submission again. Sometimes, he seemed to get shocked down before he’d tried to do anything at all, just to make sure he wouldn’t throw off whatever test they were running. After a while, he quit fighting except to try and pull away from them, while they remote operated robot arms and drew blood and other DNA samples, tried things, tested serums, response times, stimuli. It was exhausting even to watch, and he hated it. Norman never would have allowed this! Whatever his faults, one of them was not using Harry as a lab rat. But. He wasn’t here. The conversation Peter had overheard played again and again in his head as he tried to think. They were right. Norman couldn’t be back for a while. Even if he knew, even if Peter somehow got footage and sent it to him, and it actually made it there, and he believed any of it, all it would probably do is put him through hell.

Which mean he didn’t know what to do.

By the end of his day of listening in, skimming screens for info, and snagging data off drives, Peter was sure of a few things though. One, whatever had happened to Harry, it had happened at Oscorp, and they’d known about it long before yesterday. Two, whatever he’d taken seemed to have had some impact on his neurological condition—at a guess, Peter had to assume that’s why he’d taken it in the first place. They weren’t sure of the full affects though. All they knew for certain was that any time he was awake, the drug kicked in and he was unpredictable: out of it, and dangerous, and unstable, and a lot stronger than a normal human. Three, whatever the drug was, it had not finished altering his DNA yet, and the submersion in the tank was to stay off further changes. And four, whatever they were doing to try to ‘help’ him now, they’d made little progress in the last year with Norman there, and whether or not they actually could do any of what they’d said now without him, their methods without oversight were anything but humane.

And he wasn’t going to stand for that.

He knew that much for sure. Risky or not, Harry needed help. Actual help. Not this. He wasn’t going to sit by, and wait for it to be too late again. He wasn’t going to try to let a problem fix itself and hope. Not with his best friend.

Which meant the only question then was what exactly to do.

He couldn’t just…break him out and take him to a hospital. Oscorp would have him back within the hour. He couldn’t rescue him give him to…anyone, really. There was…no one left anymore he knew to go to for help who’d know how. He couldn’t just break him out and let him go, either, though, because God knew how conscious of himself Harry would be, or what kind of damage he might cause out of his head—let alone what law enforcement might do to him after yesterday if they caught him like this.

Which…meant it was leave him, locked in a tank he could barely move around in to be experimented on by the people who’d sent him out as a weapon 24 hours ago, which wasn’t an option, or…

Oh boy.

-

-

It was dark.

Cold.

He couldn’t fall asleep. Harry had tried. But he was so tired his brain wouldn’t. It was running four seconds of memory in an endless, feverish loop and he couldn’t think, couldn’t not think enough to sleep, couldn’t anything.

At least they’re gone, the most conscious part of him thought, wanting to curl up and whimper, but too tired to move.

Who were they? Why? Why why why why why WHY WHY? I don’t—I don’t—I can’t! I-

Movement.

Adrenaline flipped on and Harry opened his eyes wide, irises yellowing and flickering to a glow in the pitch black room as he stared out at the empty lab.

Empty?

No, he thought, fear kicking in like he’d been stabbed with a syringe of it, Something’s there.

The restraints were slack now, with no one there, and he could move just a little, so he pushed himself up as much as he could in the tube and looked.

Nothing. No—

There!

Movement again. Where had it gone?

What’s out there? His anxiety deepened, and he placed his palms against the glass, leaning, trying to see.

It was so quiet.

Why would something be here? What do they want? What do they-

He turned his head left again and in deep shadows about fifteen feet back was Spider-Man like he’d aparated.

Harry jerked back, scream muffled through the mask, instantly hitting the back wall of the tiny glass cage keeping him trapped on his side.

The towering figure raised its hands and called something, but Harry didn’t hear it through the pounding in his ears.

No no no no no no!

Memory after memory from yesterday slammed into his skull and he doubled over and covered his right eye with a palm, digging his fingers into his forehead trying to push back against the pain. He’s going to kill me!

He could see it. He could feel the impact of a foot against his chest, and fists on the side of his face. Remembered the pounding pain again and again, this thing on top of him, until he’d hit his head so many times he’d lost consciousness.

Why?! Help! I—

Movement again. It was coming closer. Panicked, Harry flung his arms and legs against the glass of the tank, trying to break it and get out. Immediately, intense pain shot along his back as the cage tazed him, but he kept trying, too scared to stop—god it was almost on top of him-!

I can’t get out I can’t get out!

Spider-Man was there then, and Harry flung his arms over his head and curled up, recoiling as much as he could and shuddering as electricity ran along his body and fear pumped in his veins.

No no no not again not again.

“It’s okay! Please—I promise I’m not gonna hurt you. I’m trying to help.”

The cage was not snapped in half, and he was not dragged out of it and crushed like he had anticipated. It took a few seconds, but he registered this past the pain in every muscle from the shocks, and thudding of his heart in his ears, the fear in his throat. It took him another few seconds to realize Spider-Man was speaking to him.

“Please! Just—Try to stay calm, okay? That thing shocks you any time it senses a mood spike or adrenaline rush.”

W-What?

Harry lowered his arms enough to see the masked person past them. Spider-Man was inches away, gesturing as he spoke. Harry shuddered involuntarily, mind replaying again and again the way getting his face beat in had felt.

“Okay,” said Spider-Man, “Okay! Good. Uhm. There’s really no easy way to do this. I’m gonna get you out of there, and an alarm is going to sound, and then we’re probably just going to have to wing it, okay?”

Before Harry could think about what any of the words his frantic brain had half-heard had meant, the masked figure wound up a kick, and fractures cascaded along the glass tube in front of him. Harry yelped and tried to drag himself back and away, but there was nowhere to GO in the tube. Spider-Man swung and kicked the glass again, and this time little spurts of liquid shot out from the webbed glass cracks. Harry didn’t see the dent in the glass. He flinched and saw the foot connect with himself. Felt the way his ribs had. The way they still hurt.

Ah ah ah ah!

Electricity sparked along his back, sharp and furious this time, stronger, and he collapsed against the floor of the tube with it in surprise, twitching. Why why why make it stop make it stop!

It hurt; it hurt it hurt it hurt it hurt! Couldn’t—move! Couldn’t…!

The glass shattered, and he was knocked out with the remaining water, catching halfway to the floor as his restraints snapped taut and hung him there painfully.

“I-I got you!”

He could barely see, couldn’t think at all. Muscles still twitching. He felt the restraints snap, and landed against the floor, suddenly struggling to breathe.

“Here.”

The oxygen mask came off, and he could breathe again. There were sirens sounding. Lights flashing. He didn’t understand why. What was going on. Where am I?

O-Oscorp? Why? Everything felt unreal, but that didn’t make him less afraid of it.

When he looked up, Spider-Man was there, kneeling beside him, an arm on his back, and the terror kicked back in full throttle.

With every ounce of strength he had, Harry shoved off the masked figure and stumbled up, running blindly.

He heard, “Wait!” called after him, but didn’t even process the word through the adrenaline, and he tore through the lab with all his might. No plan. No exit. Just adrenaline and fear and desperation.

Something snagged a foot and he slammed forward into the ground and felt himself being dragged back.

No no no!

Twisting frantically onto his back, Harry saw web wrapped around the chain on his ankle, saw that thing reeling him towards it like he was trapped on a hook.

Anger overwhelmed him and he screamed, reaching blindly for the nearest thing—a computer console, and chucked it at him. Spider-Man dodged, but he let go to do it, and Harry scrambled to his feet and tried to run again, only to be hit in the back by something and knocked to the ground.

Spider-Man was on him then, a knee on his back, and Harry screamed and tried to twist around and kick him off.

“I’m sorry about this!” called the thing on top of him.

There were voices, close. Shouts. Louder sirens. Harry was seeing none of it past three days ago. Past being trapped under this thing and the way it had felt when the visor had shattered with a punch and cut the skin by his eyes, and frantic, he twisted onto his back and swung up at Spider-Man only to have a web knock the fist back and pin it to his body. He struggled, trying to get it free, but the thing spun him, winding a web around his arms and legs like a rope, and then dragged him up and flung him over one of its shoulders.

The doors opened at the far end of the lab. Harry was paralyzed for a second, overwhelmed with different memories at the sight of the people in white coats, the men in body armor with guns. The sting of needles, electricity running up his back, chain digging into his wrists, cold, confusion, anger. So much anger.

He lost time to it. Everything seemed frozen in his head, and then time came back and he was at the far end of the room, and Spider-Man was kicking through a wall and running, carrying him with him.

Fury took over and he lost time again to it as he started to fight against the bonds, brain registering only fragments. Labs, gunshots, flashing lights. Some huge drop in a shaft, an office, and then Spider-Man was swinging through a window and he was free-falling, tied up and slung over a kidnapper’s shoulder, and he came back as the anger gave way to fear again.

He screamed, and started to struggle, and felt Spider-Man’s grip slip for a second, and realized to his horror that if he broke free now, he would fall eighteen stories and flatten against the pavement, and went perfectly still, eyes squeezed shut and trying not to shake. There was nothing else he could do. Fight: die. Submit: …and what?

I don’t understand, I don’t understand! he thought desperately, overwhelmed, the sensation of falling coming again and again sickeningly with his eyes squeezed shut, afraid to look as Spider-Man held onto him and swung through the city, Why? What do you want! Why is this happening? What are you going to do?

He didn’t know. He didn’t know anything, except that he was scared and alone. He had been scared and alone for so long, he could barely remember anything else.

Something had happened three days ago. He couldn’t remember. But something really, really bad. And Spider-Man had hurt him, a-and if being locked up hadn’t been enough to satisfy him, then…?

He was scared.

They stopped, finally. He felt Spider-Man land on solid ground, and after a few seconds with no change in that, he let himself open his eyes. Still afraid to move. Harry didn’t recognize the place. An underpass? A tunnel? Something dark. Spider-Man went right to a wall and tugged a piece of cardboard graffiti aside, and there was a door behind it. He keyed in a code, and stepped in quick, Harry still slung over a shoulder, and then they were just in the dark.

There were about two seconds of blackness, and then a light switched on, and Harry felt his stomach drop as the pitch black space lit up and became a lab, with a tank of liquid a very familiar color in a corner.

Despair submerged him like he was already locked inside it again, and he stayed still, too overwhelmed to accept the situation, to think at all.

Nothing but fear.

No no. Please not again. Why. Why?

Spider-Man got to the center of the room and laid him on the floor, and Harry stayed limp, listening, trying frantically to find any way out of this, and coming up blank.

What is he going to do to me?

He wanted to cry. He didn’t want to die yet. Here, alone, without seeing his dad or his friends. He. He wanted to get out. He…

“Okay. Sorry, let me get that.”

Harry barely registered words at all, as Spider-Man knelt and started to pull the webbing off. Just lay there, shaking. Thinking about the tank and the pain in his ribs and his eye. And then his upper torso was free, and with a sudden surge of desperation, Harry lashed out and caught the Spider in the side of the head with a yell.

It had been a lucky shot, and his second swing wasn’t so lucky. Spider-Man caught the fist and dragged it back against the ground, then snagged the other and pinned him down as Harry frantically thrashed and writhed beneath him.

“No!” he shouted, finding his voice for the first time, “Let me go! Stop!”

“Harry! Please!” tried Spider-Man, struggling with him, “Don’t—Just stop! It’s okay!”

Harry could hear the chains still on his wrists dragging against the concrete floor as his kidnapper tried to hold him down.

“Get off me! Help! Please!” shouted Harry, “Help!”

“Harry! Harry it’s okay!”

“Please! Somebody!”

“You’re okay! —Harry it’s me!” Spider-Man let go of one of his arms for an instant and ripped his mask off. “It’s me! I’m not going to hurt you! You’re safe! I promise! I promise.”

Harry stopped and stared.

Above him, Spider-Man cautiously let go of his arms and sat up a little, worried face looking back.

“…Peter?” asked Harry in broken disbelief.

Peter Parker nodded.

…he…

“The…whole time?” he asked.

Peter nodded again. “Yeah.”

Harry shot up and flung his arms around Peter and clung to him.

He felt Peter freeze up, but all he could think was his own relief.

“Peter,” he cried, burying his head against his neck.

There was a second, and then he felt Peter’s arms close around him and hug him back.

He had never felt safer or happier in his life.

“Pete, I don’t know what’s going on,” he pleaded, unable to stop crying in relief, “Something’s really wrong with me.”

“I know,” came his best friend’s voice, steady and reassuring as always.

“I-I’m so sorry; I think I hurt you,” he stuttered, “when—I-I don’t remember why we were fighting, but-”

“-Me too,” cut in Peter worriedly, “I’m really sorry—I had no idea it was you.”

“Thank you. Thank you thank you thank you,” said Harry, digging his face in deeper against Peter’s neck and holding onto him like it was the only thing keeping him alive, “I thought I was gonna die there.”

“Never,” promised Peter worriedly, “I’d never let that happen.”

“How did you find me?” asked Harry, finally opening his eyes.

“As soon as I knew it was you, I just stayed close,” said Peter, “Followed Oscorp. I’m…so sorry I didn’t know. Th-that you were sick, and this whole time you’ve been missing…”

Harry loosened his grip enough to sit back so he could see Peter again, and smiled at him. “How could you have known?”

Peter smiled back, and he looked so sad and so happy and so relieved and so worried all at the same time, that Harry wasn’t sure what it meant.

He felt worry blossom in his chest again. “Pete… What’s going on?” he asked, glancing behind him at the tank, and around at the equipment with some growing unease, then back at Peter. “W-Why am I here? Why do you have that?”

Peter followed his gaze to the tank, and his expression became worried. Which was not reassuring.

He wouldn’t hurt me. This is Peter. He wouldn’t.

“I…nobody told you?” asked Peter, something in his expression breaking, “Did they tell you anything?”

“O-Oscorp?” checked Harry, “No. Or…I-I don’t remember.” Trying to remember hurt.

“Okay,” said Peter slowly, thinking, and looking very upset. There was the faint clink of metal from the snapped chains as he took Harry’s hands gently in his own and looked back at him. “There’s some kind of drug Oscorp had you take. I think because you were sick. It’s altered your DNA, but, not exactly like they thought. It’s why you can’t remember much about fighting me. It kicks in hard with adrenaline and some emotional responses, anger especially. But it hasn’t finished altering you. They haven’t figured out a way to counter it or get it out, but the stuff in the tank, it keeps the serum close to inert. Buys some time to try to find an antidote before it gets worse. I’m…so sorry they didn’t even explain why they were doing things.”

Drug…?

A flash of pain dug into the right side of his skull, and he let go of Peter’s hand to clutch his forehead.

“Har?!” he heard Peter call worriedly, felt a hand in his back.

“I-I’m okay,” he managed, fingers digging into his skin, “I’m okay. Sorry. I…”

“Are you sure?” asked Peter, anxiously helping him straighten back up.

No?

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly.

Words replayed in his head, memories, bad ones, and he took the lab in for a third time.

“So then…” he asked with a sinking feeling, eyeing the oxygen tanks and the monitors, “This is all for me.”

“I’m…sorry,” said Peter, sounding truly miserable, “I didn’t know what else to do. I thought, this way I can help. We can find a cure, and Oscorp won’t find you, and…I know, it still sucks, but.”

There was something about his expression, and Harry felt sick. He turned his head to take in the tank again. A little box. A little glass cage. He felt a shudder run down him. Something worse. “P-Peter,” he tried, looking back at him, “Did I hurt people?”

Peter looked so taken aback by the question.

“When I…when we fought. And…I-I can’t remember. But. I hurt people, didn’t I?”

Peter didn’t answer, but from Peter, that was its own answer, and Harry felt his heart crumble to dust.

He looked away, down at the floor.

“Har…” said Peter hesitantly.

“It’s okay,” said Harry quietly, trying not to think, “I’ll go. I don’t want to hurt anyone else.”

“Har…I won’t—…I wouldn’t make you. You know that, right?”

He looked up at Peter, and smiled. It was good to hear him say that. He hadn’t been sure.

“Thank you,” he said again, still feeling sick at the thought of going back in a tank, “For everything, Pete.”

Peter smiled back at him, and he was overwhelmed.

He put his arms around Peter again and pulled him close, burying his face against Peter and trying to soak in the feeling so he could remember it. He didn’t want to let go. He didn’t want to go back.

“Harry,” said Peter after a second, almost gently.

“I-I know,” said Harry, clinging tighter, “I’ll go. I will. I promise. Just, please. I haven’t been out in a year. Just another minute before I go back in there. Please.”

Peter was quiet. He felt arms close around his back and return the embrace again.

“I was going to say I think it’s okay if we wait a little. I need to get a read on the mutation rate outside the tank as a baseline anyway. Maybe we could get a pizza, some real food, just. Sit for a little bit,” came Peter’s voice.

Harry hugged him tighter, trying not to cry again.

He nodded.

“Okay,” said Peter quietly, and there was a smile in his voice, “Just let me know when you’re ready, and I’ll go grab us one.”

“Thank you,” managed Harry, eyes shut. Afraid opening them would wake him up, “for saving me.”

Peter leaned his head against Harry’s.

“I missed you,” said Harry.

“I missed you too,” answered Pete.

#spider-man Ps4 fic #spider-man fic #Harry Osborn #Spider-Man #Peter Parker #me writing #parksborn #I wanted to write about Peter dealing with betrayal after Otto and loss and his own beliefs and I’ve always loved what he and Harry have #and wanted to write about pain and fear and healing and themes they’ve had together since the OG

[hellsburners]

orange juice

summary: you're a new library assistant in an elementary school and you cant help but fall for the cute teacher visiting your desk. pairing: teacher!peter parker x librarian!male reader word count: 2.2k (im being ballsy with these fic lengths its actually fun) warnings: none really more of fluff a/n: was in a fluff writing mood :> (might get a part 2 if it gets received well)

masterlist | more peter parker

You did everything by the book, literally. There was a handbook resting on the front desk of the library with everything you needed to do as an assistant. You took the books back to the shelves and made sure it was in the right order. You tidied up the library computers making sure every unit was logged off and the chairs weren’t a mess. You also took note of orders from the teachers, some lists from Mr. Jones, Mrs. Longford, Mr. Hayward, and Mr. Parker. You stretched your arms and legs, cracked your neck, and gave a little prayer to the universe that you wish your formal first day will be good. 

Ding! 

The bell on your desk pinged. A man, probably in his early 40s, stood in front of you. He wore a loose shirt with a pale pink tie, his hair was brown and sparse. 

“Mr. Parker?” 

“I’m sorry, I’m Roy Jones, from the math department,” he responds. You gave an embarrassed oh and gave him his stack of books. 

“Sorry, it’s my first day.”

“All good kiddo, you haven’t seen trouble yet, good luck on your first day,” Mr. Jones gave a kind smile before walking away. 

By 8:30 am the students came rushing to your door, you logged borrowed books, received returns, you even did the occasional hush to students being loud, it was going smoothly. The kid in front of you was borrowing a copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray, an excellent choice you thought. You scanned the QR code inside the book, logged in the student’s info and you kindly smiled while giving the book away. Hours passed of you sitting around, sipping on an orange juice box. By 11 am at least 3 students were studying. 

Ding! 

Oh. The man standing in front of you was tall and handsome, probably in his mid-30s, he wore a neat suit in neutral colors, and his brown hair was combed to the side. You placed your juice box down. 

“Mr. Hayward?” you traced your fingers on the sticky notes on your desk. 

“Parker, Peter Parker,” he replied. Shit, not again. 

“I’m so sorry Mr. Parker.” you shook your head. 

“First day, huh?” you nodded shamefully. He gave you a cheeky smile. 

“Yeah, I’m so sorry,” you took the stack of books with the label Mr. Parker on it. He reached out to take the heavy books, your fingers were slightly touching. Your cheeks warmed from the contact. There was a certain pleasingness in his presence. You scanned the pile trying to spark a conversation. “So you teach physics?”

“Yeah, 8th and 9th actually,” he carries the books in his arms, he may look lean but you could see the way his arms flexed under his suit. “Are you new to the city?”

“Well kinda, I was born here but my family and I moved out when I was 5. I figured coming here in the city could give me more opportunities,” his brows would raise while you talked, making you feel like whatever words came out of your mouth he listened to intently. “How about you? Did you grow up here?”

“I grew up with my aunt, went to Midtown for high school, and Empire State in college. So, yeah, full-time New Yorker here,” he chuckled. “My daughter and I still live in Queens too.”

“Daughter?” you said shockingly. He looked down at his toes, and he laughed again, that soft deep laugh. “Sorry, you don’t look like one”

“I don’t look like a dad?” he said.

“I mean you look pretty young,” you bit the insides of your cheeks. “I’m sorry I must have been taking up too much of your time Mr. Parker, ‘twas a lovely chat though.”

“Oh it’s fine, I’m on lunch break anyway.” you waved him goodbye and he reciprocates the gesture. “By the way, Peter is fine, just Peter.”

He leaves, and you sit back down on your desk, your heart beating a little too fast for your liking. Your knees felt funny like they were going to give out. Oh, god. You were crushing on the physics teacher. 

Before your shift ended Mrs. Longford called and said she couldn’t go to the library due to her pregnancy. You gladly said you would deliver her the books instead. On the way to her room, you couldn’t properly find her classroom, they all looked the same to you, so you went one by one, looking through the windows and checking to see if Mrs. Longford was there. By the eighth classroom, you could see him. Not Mrs. Longford, but Peter. He was demonstrating the law of inertia to the class, making a funny action of being hit in the hip by force, and the class laughed. He seems nice, and the students all listened to him, taking in every word of his lesson. It was admirable really, to have such charisma over a bunch of impressionable kids and use it to educate them. 

The bell rings, and a swarm of students floods the halls. The books in your arms fall as a student bumps into you. You cursed, bending down to pick them up while a pair of arms reached out to help you. It was Peter, he had ditched the suit jacket at this point, his shirt sleeves rolled up to show his veiny arms. 

“Thank you, I was looking for Mrs. Hayward’s classroom and I couldn’t find it,” you hugged the book while Peter carried the other stack. 

“Mrs. Hayward’s room is in the other wing. Don’t worry I’ll walk you to it.”

“Oh no, you must have another class, I can find my way.” you try to take the books but he moves away.

“No it’s fine, my day is done. Let me walk you to her room.” he smiles, again, that pretty Peter smile. 

On the way to Mrs.Longford’s room, you talked about your education, where you went to high school, and in college, and where you live now. The conversation later went to his daughter, Mayday, named after his aunt who has sadly passed. She was 5 years old and in first grade, a smart girl, he says. 

You reached the 3rd door in the left wing. Peter told you that the lady with short hair and red cat-eyed glasses was Mrs.Longford, the baby bump also verified his claim. You knocked, and she waved at you with a smile, you and Peter went in to bring the books. Peter and Mrs. Longford exchanged greetings and talked about an upcoming faculty meeting. You asked Mrs. Longford to sign some papers for the book requests she had made and she obliged. 

Peter walked you back to the library. You continued to chat about random things, your favorite food (he was pizza), your favorite color (he was blue), and your favorite movie (his was Interstellar). You unlocked the library and turned the lights back on. You went back to your desk and Peter took a seat at a nearby desk. You stared at him, arms crossed, legs spread. 

✎𓇢𓆸

Weeks passed, and Peter had been visiting you in the library. Usually, he’d stay to check student papers or read new scientific publications on the school computers, he was nerdy about stuff like that; but most of the time, he just stayed around to talk to you. He would talk to you about Mayday’s science project, which you helped him come up with. It was an iced tea stand presentation that used butterfly pea flower tea and lemon juice, and it changed the blue liquid to a bright purple. She won a silver prize, Peter says. 

Peter had mentioned before that Mayday lives with her mom and that she rarely gets to see her dad. You could see the way the line his mouth would make and how it would frown sometimes when he talked about her. You wanted to give him some piece of comfort, but every time he would smile because it was Mayday, it was his only girl. 

You were at your desk enjoying a sandwich with your favorite orange juice box, Peter sat on the floor next to you hidden from anyone who came to the desk. He, too, enjoyed a sandwich you made. You scrolled through your laptop, mainly on the news. 

“Hey Pete, have you ever seen Spider-man?” you said, Peter almost choked on his food.

“Spider-man?” He cleared his throat.

“Yeah, I mean you’ve been here your whole life you must’ve seen him right?” you took a sip of your drink. Peter thought long before he answered.

“No, I haven’t,” he whispered. 

“Boo! You’re boring,” you threw an eraser at him.

“Hey! It’s not my fault he doesn’t swing by my apartment once in a while.”

“Well, I wish he’d come by mine, take me into his arms as we swing away into the sunset,” you waved your arms around thwipping your hands like Spider-man. 

“You’re so silly,” he laughs, he takes a big bite of his sandwich, talking to you while chewing. “You know, Mayday’s been asking about you, she said she wants to thank the guy that helped her come up with her science project.”

“She said that?” you were touched.

“Well, I wanted to invite you, and she told me we haven't celebrated her win so why not invite the guy who helped her,” he finished his sandwich, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “You don’t have to if you’re busy.”

“Friday night right? I’m in.” You smiled.

You knocked at the light blue apartment door, you could hear some ruckus inside. Coming! A man’s voice yells. The doorknob turns and there he was, Peter Parker, dressed in a light gray sweater, the sleeves rolled up, and a red apron. Behind his leg was a little girl with light red hair. 

“Hey there, I’m glad you could come. This is Mayday,” she was shy but she gave you a little wave and a hi. 

Dinner started in a few. Peter served baked macaroni and a Caesar salad. Mayday brought a plate of cookies she made, without her dad’s help, she said (Peter shook his head). You brought a box of pepperoni pizza as per Mayday's (and Peter’s) request. The three of you talked over dinner about how proud you were about the medal and if she ever needed help you would gladly be there. 

After dinner, Peter took the dishes, you went to help but he insisted you not. You were left with Mayday in the living room, she was talking about her favorite book, a book about planets. Venus was her favorite, she says. You began to talk to her about the many books you have on planets in your library and if her dad permitted, you would lend some. 

“Do you like dad?” you were surprised. 

“Yeah, he’s nice,” you offered her a smile, and she gave you a curious gaze instead.

“Dad is always alone.” you looked back at Peter in the sink, the fabric stretching on his back.

“You’re here,” you stroked her hair. “Your dad always tells me stories about you y’know.”

“But when I’m with Mom he’s all alone.” 

“What are you two talking about,” Peter stands above you and Mayday, his hands on his hips. 

“We were talking about your hair. Mayday said you’re starting to look like a sasquatch.” Mayday giggles. 

A few hours later Peter took Mayday to bed. Mayday hugged you and told you goodnight. You bend down to hug her and she tells you to be Dad’s best friend, always. You were sitting on the couch with your hands on your lap. You looked around the place, filled with books and a bunch of Mayday’s stuff. It seems like Peter just lets her stuff stay there, so as not to forget about her presence. Your eyelids begin to fall as you let out a yawn.

“Sleepy?” he mutters. 

“Just a bit. My head is just filled with so many facts about space,” you made a mind-blown gesture, Peter laughs.

“She does that a lot actually.” Peter sits beside you on the couch, keeping his eyes on yours.

“She’s a lovely kid,” you smiled. 

“She is,” Peter sank his head on the couch, his eyes closed. 

“You think I’m alone?” he frowns. “I heard you two earlier.”

“I don’t think so. You have me,” you mutter. Your hands fall on your sides meeting his. He laces your fingers with his, you could feel the warmth of his palms with your cold ones. He chuckles. “It’s pretty late, maybe you should get some rest too.”

“You’re right, let me bring you home first,” you refused. 

“I’d be fine,” you assure him. 

You were outside the apartment. Peter was with you in just his flip-flops, his hand never leaving yours. “I had a wonderful night.”

“Me too,’ Peter said, he took his other hand and patted your hair. You looked at him with hooded eyes, his hand falling to your cheek. You inched closer, your face so close to his chest you could smell him, like an ocean breeze. His face gets close to yours, the moment seemingly getting more tense. His thumb rubs your hand, over and over, it calms you. Underneath the moonlight, your lips meet. A tender kiss weeks in the making. Your eyes closed and you lost yourself in him. Your lips leave him a few moments later, a smile plastered on both your faces. You hail a taxi cab and when one comes, you wave him goodbye. 

But you swore that night, the moment you entered your apartment, you swore you saw the Spider-man swing by, almost like he was waiting for you to come home.

part two posted here

interactions are greatly appreciated btw if u liked this fic and want more send me a prompt and i'd gladly make something from it :>

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[starlordsandrockets]

Snowed In

pairing: college!Peter Parker x Reader: 18+

Word Count: 4.4k

summary: Your plans to return home for the holidays were ruined by a snow storm. Now, you found yourself spending Christmas with Peter, the neighbor you had a crush on.

a/n: Many apologizes for the wait, I started this fic months ago to ‘get ahead’ but here we are lol... I’ve been super sick as of recent so if some of my writing doesn’t make sense, I apologize and will proofread it after a nap, lol.

Peter watched the snow fall outside his apartment window as he heard the sound of heavy boots climbing back up the stairs. Your groan hummed through the building’s thin walls. Slowly, he made his way to his apartment’s door. Placing his hand on the handle, he swung the door open, eyes shut. Opening his eyes, he took in the sight of you.

You pulled your gloves off of your hands awkwardly from where they were tucked into your large, black coat. You were laughing under your breath, however, your laugh stemmed from frustration.

“You… okay?” Peter finally questioned, announcing his presence. He watched you jump before slowly turning your head.

“P-Peter,” You stuttered, feeling your face heat up out of embarrassment. Your handsome neighbor now leaned against the doorframe of his apartment. A, clearly thrifted, sweater sat over a black shirt that peaked out from the neckline, “Yeah- Yeah I’m fine,” You dug into your purse, attempting to find your keys, “I just planned to head to my parent’s tonight- you know, for Christmas,” You watched him nod, taking in the luggage that sat at your feet, “But I’m snowed in and alone,”

Peter took in a deep breath, holding it. He knew you had no idea about what he went through and that your claim was harmless, however, it still hurt, “Yeah… me too,”

“You were going to your parents?” You questioned, not knowing anything about your neighbor, besides the fact that you had the biggest crush on him.

As soon as you heard that you had someone living across the hall, you just had to sneak a peek. You had your hopes up for a friend, or at least anyone besides an old man. To your surprise, it was Peter, and you found yourself hopelessly falling for him in a heartbeat.

“I, I actually don’t have parents,” Peter spoke, “I mean, I did- obviously,” He rambled, “They died and I lived with my Aunt but a year ago, she…” He still could not bear to finish that sentence.

“I-I’m sorry-” You turned back towards your door, “I should leave you alone now,” You laughed, “I didn’t mean to…” You stuck your retrieved keys into your door, “Have a nice night,” You shut the door behind yourself, leaving your luggage in the hall, far too embarrassed to retrieve it. Not until he left the hallway.

You stood there, back pressed against the door, sweating in your winter coat. You were an idiot- a bitch even. Why the hell did you ask him that? I mean, it was not like you knew. But on Christmas Eve, that was a new low for you. There was no way Peter could ever like you now.

Peter wanted to hit his head against the old, landlord painted door frame. Why did he say that to you? You were already upset that you could not see your family, so why did he make it about him? You did not even bother to grab your luggage, you would rather just get away from him. Peter debated turning around and just escaping into the cold night to get his mind off of you, however, he was afraid your things would get stolen from the hallway. 

That is when he heard your door creak open. He watched your head poke out from behind the white door, “Jesus Chri-” You gasped. Peter wondered just how long he had been standing there thinking about you.

“Sorry,” Peter spoke, “I just didn’t want someone walking off with your things,”

“Thanks,” You replied, your voice quiet. Reaching out, you watched as Peter stepped closer to you.

“Here-” Peter picked up your bags effortlessly, “I can get them- I didn’t mean to just dump all that on you before- About my family,”

“No- No! I’m the one who brought it up,” You stuttered, “It’s my fault and it’s almost Christmas and I was being an asshole-”

“Did you want to spend the night with me?” Peter questioned, interrupting your sentence, “I mean- Christmas- Christmas Eve and Christmas! Not like spend the night like-”

“Yes,” You replied, “I mean- Yeah, sure,”

”Cool cool,” Peter spoke through his nerves, “But uh- could we actually stay in your apartment?”

”M-Mine?” You questioned, staring back at your handsome neighbor.

”Yeah mines…” Peter trailed off. He really did not want you to find his suit, or his web shooters, or his scrap fabric from his suit, “I don’t really have much furniture, or food, or- well really anything,”

“Sure,” You nodded, “Yeah- yeah no problem,” You held your door open, allowing him to slip by with your luggage in hand, “Sorry if it’s kind of messy, I haven’t really been up to doing anything once I get home from work,” You were rambling nervously.

Peter took in your small apartment. It was much more decorated than his and it made him feel at home. He had always wondered what your apartment looked like every time he passed by you in the lobby or hallway, “It’s nice,”

“Yeah?” You laughed nervously.

”Yeah,” He spoke, “You have a couch and a bed,” He emphasized, watching you laugh. Your smile turned his stomach. He always thought you were pretty, beautiful even, and he never thought he would ever be in your apartment; Peter was surprised he even worked up the courage to talk to you.

“I’m sure you’re apartment isn’t that bad,” You responded.

“I don’t know, I’m kind of broke,” Peter shrugged, setting your bags down at the end of your bed. He studied the few stuffed animals that sat on your bed. A quilt was tossed on top of your bedsheets in an artfully messy way.

The old building’s poor insulation allowed a chill to hang in the room each time the wind blew outside. Peter’s head turned towards your window, “I was planning on taking a nice train ride home on the Amtrak,” You began to strip yourself of your warm outer layers, leaving yourself in a new sweater that you had bought recently. Part of you was glad you had no way out of Queens because now you were spending Christmas with the neighbor who you had a crush on since the day you moved in. And that is when you fully processed that Peter Parker was spending the night in your apartment, “I need a drink,” You spoke aloud to yourself.

Peter laughed at you quiet claim, watching you turn to look at him, “Sorry,”

”No, no-“ You stuttered, “Do, Do you want some? Spiked eggnog? Spiked coffee?” He watched you moved into the kitchen, watching as you began to make yourself a cup of coffee.

“Coffee’s good,” Peter answered, “Whatever you’re having is fine,”

“Right,” You spoke, “Sure,” You gave him a weak smile as you felt your cheeks heat up due to your nervousness. Peter now moved towards you, entering the kitchen.

Peter studied you as your back faced him. He felt his heart race slightly as he wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans, “Need help?” He questioned, watching you jump slightly, “Sorry,” Without a thought, he reached out, placing his hand on the small of your back. You froze in his grasp, the sound of the coffee machine brewing filled the kitchen.

Your heart was beating in your ears as Peter’s hand lingered a bit longer. The coffee maker began to spit hot coffee into your mug, allowing you a few more moments to collect yourself. As soon as the humming stopped you spoke, “Fine- It’s fine,” Peter’s hand fell back to his side. He watched as you reached up towards a tall cabinet. Your fingertips pressed against the glass of the large bottle of vodka.

“Here,” Peter spoke, reaching out. The front of his body pressed against your arm, making you jump. He watched as the bottle tipped, your fingers leaving the bottle’s surface. Instantly he caught it before it could fall towards you, “Careful,”

“Sorry,” You spoke, “Thanks,” You watched as he set the bottle on your small countertop. You studied his hands, his fingers were long and slender. The sight made your stomach flutter slightly as you longed for them to fall against your skin once again. Unscrewing the cap of the bottle, you poured the liquor into the black coffee, “Uh-“ You cleared your throat silently at the sound of your own awkward voice, “Sugar’s on the counter and the creamer’s in the fridge,” You pushed the mug towards your smiling neighbor, “I have peppermint mocha and hazelnut I think,”

“Coool,” Peter’s lips drew out, he moved towards the refrigerator although his eyes stayed on you. He watched you prepare another cup of coffee, your hands fumbling while completing the task. Finally grabbing a creamer, Peter studied it in his hand before closing the fridge. Pouring the cream into the black coffee, he watched the colors swirl as he grew lost in thoughts of you.

You turned your head, watching Peter stare into his cup. That is when you realized you forgot to tell him where the utensils were, “Sorry-“ You spoke, heading towards the drawer of utensils. Grabbing a spoon you held it out, in his line of sight, “Sorry,”

“What?” He questioned, snapping out of his thoughts his eyes fell to you.

“Here, to stir your coffee,” You informed him.

“Right,” Peter took the metal from your hands, watching you give him a weak smile before you grabbed the other cup that had finished brewing. You weaved around him in the small kitchen and it made his heart flutter slightly. Something about it felt comforting and it made him feel complete.

You returned to Peter’s side with creamer in hand, “What kind did you put in?” You questioned, watching Peter stir his coffee. Your eyes caught the shining metal as he brought it to his lips. His lips parted, as he placed the warm metal against his tongue, catching some dripping coffee.

“Hmm?” He hummed around the spoon, “Oh,” Peter muttered, the word freeing his once occupied mouth, “Hazelnut,” He answered. Without a thought, Peter placed the spoon into your mug. He watched you stiffen for a moment, unsure as to why, “Thanks for the coffee,”

“Y-Yeah,” Your eyes left the spoon’s handle and met Peter’s eyes. His warm brown eyes mimicked the swirling coffee that sat between the two of you, “You… want to watch something?” He nodded, lips around the ceramic mug, “The remotes on the coffee table. If you want to look for something to watch,”

“Sure,” Peter smiled, leaving the small kitchen and heading towards your couch.

You waited, hearing his cushioned footsteps cross onto the carpet of your living room. With your back facing him, you stirred your coffee slowly before taking out the warm spoon. You stared at the metal, your distorted reflection staring back at you as you recalled Peter’s lips around the handle. Then, you brought the same spoon towards your lips. The metal passed your lips, caressing your tongue as it did Peter’s moments before.

Did that make you a freak? You would take the indirect kiss in a heartbeat. You could only hope that Peter did not see your desperate action.

Replacing the spoon with the edge of your cup, you took a large sip of the hot coffee, “It’s A Wonderful Life?” You heard Peter question from the couch.

“Hmm?” You hummed, being pulled out of your thoughts of him. Turning your head, you studied the tv, “Oh- No, too sad,” You watched Peter’s head turn away from your gaze, “If we’re drinking, I’ll cry. Plus that movie is so long,”

“We have all night,” Peter reminded you, “Unless you’re trying to kick me out,” He laughed, hoping you still wanted to spend the night with him.

“No- No, I’m not,” You walked to the couch, taking a seat next to him, “I just, I really don’t want to cry in front of you. Please,” You laughed into your coffee.

“Fine,” Peter continued to scroll on your tv, “Elf?”

“A classic,” You responded, “Sure,” Staring into the cup, you drank the rest of the spiked drink, “Do you want more?” You asked, looking at Peter’s, half empty cup.

“I’m good,” Peter smiled up at you as you rose to your feet.

“Cooool,” You drew out, “I’ll be back then,” Turning, you visibly cringed at yourself. The movie began to play. Taking the bottle, you eyeballed a shot of vodka and poured it into your empty cup. Bringing it to your lips, you swallowed it, wincing slightly before you prepared yourself another spiked cup.

“I don’t remember the credits being so lonnnng,” Peter called out to you over the movie.

“I do,” You smiled to yourself, “That’s why I’m making another cup now,” Your gaze locked onto Peter as you saw him jump up from the couch, “What are you-“

“Do you have hot cocoa?” Peter questioned with a slight bounce in his step. He watched as a smile threatened to curl your lips, “What?”

“Nothing,” You tried to play off.

“Tell me,” Peter groaned, placing his cup on the counter that sat in front of you, “Y/N,” Your name left his voice in a whining tone. He leaned on the counter next to you, his body heat radiating against your skin.

“You- You say hot cocoa,” You spoke, giving in due to his close proximity.

“And what do you say?” His eyes studied the side of your face as you refused to meet his eyes.

You felt as the shot began to affect you, making you mentally curse. You waited for the coffee maker to begin brewing, however it was taking far too long, allowing an awkward silence to fall between the two of you, “Hot chocolate,” You informed, looking at Peter out of the corner of your eyes.

Peter stood next to you with a stupid grin on his stupidly handsome face and it made you want to scream. You thought that the alcohol would help you survive the night with him, but now you were second guessing yourself.

“Hot chocolate,” Peter spoke, imitating your voice, “Do you have hot chocolate?”

“Nope,” You answered, moving past Peter and towards the fridge, “Sorry,” You listened to him groan. He headed towards the couch, pausing the movie, “What are you?”

“I’m going to get some cocoa from the corner store,” Peter spoke, heading towards your apartment’s door.

“But the snow,”

“I…” Peter dug through his head for an excuse, “I’ll be super quick, don’t worry- I use the fire escape,”

“The fire escape?” You questioned, a laugh lacing your tone, “You’re insane. No, I’ll just go with you,”

“No- No trust me,” Peter spoke, “Stay here and… get some blankets for the movie,” He watched you stare back at him, “Do you need anything? From the store?”

“Just ‘hot cocoa’,” You somewhat mocked, watching Peter throw you a playful look.

“Yeah, you’re not coming with me,” Peter smiled before heading through the door.

You watched as he closed the door behind him, listening to the sound of his door unlocking from the hallway. A deep breath passed through your nose and into your lungs, feeling your shoulders relax.

Your fingers fell against the fabric of your sweater as you looked at the paused movie on your tv screen. Remembering Peter’s words, you headed towards a closet that you kept your spare blankets in. Pulling out a large blanket, you paused, realizing you would probably die from shock if you shared a blanket with him. Throwing the large blanket onto the couch, you retrieved a second, smaller one.

You turned on the lights of your small tree that was tucked into a corner of the room. More sets of string lights lit up that lined a few surfaces of your apartment. Staring out at the city through your window, you studied the heavy snow that fell, wondering how Peter’s trip was to the corner store. Dimming the lights, you allowed the string lights and street lights to provide a calmer ambiance.

Walking past a mirror, you studied your reflection. You should probably touch up your makeup and change into something more comfortable.

Gathering some loungewear, you entered your small bathroom to change. Setting the plush fabric on the closed toilet, you removed your sweater and jeans. Staring at your reflection, you slipped a pair of fuzzy brown pants over your black underwear. The alcohol that ran through your system convinced you to slip the matching cardigan over your bralette, showing a little skin under your cozy loungewear.

Leaning in closer to the mirror, you studied your light makeup a little closer. However, you were unable to reach for your makeup bag, hearing someone coming through your front door.

Opening the bathroom door, you peered through the opening. You hoped it was Peter and not a total stranger walking through the unlocked door. Your gaze looked onto Peter as he carried two small bags with him, “That was fast,”

“I told you,” He smiled, closing the door behind him with his foot, “Super quick,”

“Yeah,” Your voice was skeptical as you exited the bathroom, “I’m surprised you even made it out the front door,”

“What do you mean?” Peter questioned, walking towards your kitchen. He set down the bags and began to dig through them.

“I couldn’t get out to catch the train,” You laughed, “Not that it would have mattered since they canceled it anyway,” You studied him as you made your way to the kitchen. Not a single inch of him was wet from the snow.

“They must have shoveled or something,” Peter shrugged next to you. He searched his head for the next possible excuse he would have to use. It was not like he could tell you that Spider-Man swung by the corner store just to get the ‘super cute girl that lives across the hall’ some hot cocoa, or hot chocolate.

“Our landlord? Shoveling?” You stopped a laugh from bubbling past your lips, “You’re funny. Did you slip on some ice on your way back? Hit your head?”

“Nope, just swung by the corner store,” Peter spoke, holding back a sly smile.

Somewhere between the banter, a pot of water was heating up on the stove as the two of you emptied the packets into your empty mugs. The alcohol that was once warming your system began to fade as you felt yourself grossing more nervous by the second.

“Did you… did you want to play a drinking game?” You questioned carefully. You watched as Peter met your eyes, a smile playing on his lips, “What? We don’t have to- if you don’t want to that’s fine I just thought-”

“Sounds fun,” Peter laughed. However, he felt a bit guilty, knowing the alcohol would not affect his heightened system. 

“Cool,” You smiled to yourself, yet Peter could still study your face.

Before the tea pot could whistle, Peter took it off of its hot surface. His action earned your gaze as he poured the steaming water into your cups, “So are these the chasers or are you still spiking these?” He questioned with a smile that made your knees weak.

You were going to need all the help you could get, “Hand me the bottle,” You spoke, watching his smiling eyes close.

***

The two of you tipped back another shot, wincing, “You picked the worst possible things to drink to,” Before you could put the cup down on your coffee table, another keyword was spoken through the screen.

“It-It was the first one I googled,” You slurred slightly, feeling the alcohol’s effects, “You- Why are you complaining? You seem fine,”

“Do I?” Peter questioned from next to you on the couch. Stretching out his arm, he placed it along the couch’s back as he looked at you.

The two of you heard another ‘Santa’ come from the tv and regrettably reached for your cups, “You-” You winced as the vodka burned your chest, “Yeah. You seem fine,” You scooted a bit closer to him, your movements obscured by the alcohol in your system. The room moved slowly around you as you attempted to study Peter.

Embarrassed at your close proximity, Peter found the large blanket you had thrown on the couch, tossing it over your head, “Trust me, I’m feeling it,” He lied. However, his feelings for you were having a full effect on him.

Taking the end of the blanket, you tossed it over him, capturing him underneath with you, “I don’t beli-eve youu,” You slurred slightly, trying to locate him under the dark blanket.

“Y/N,” Peter spoke, hands beginning to sweat. He wanted to kiss you.

“Hmm?” You hummed, finding him after your eyes adjusted.

“How do you feel?” He questioned, watching you shift in front of him.

“How do I feel?” You laughed, the movie’s audio a deafened hum, “Wh-What is that supposed to mean?”

“Are you drunk?” Peter questioned. He did not want to make moves on you if you were not capable of saying no.

You shook your head, eyes falling to his lips, “No,” You vocalized, “just… more confident,”

“Mhm,” Peter hummed, lips pressed in a straight line as he nodded. He removed the blanket from both your heads, not realizing just how hot and heavy the air had been.

You studied your neighbor, a subtle blush sat on his skin, but maybe it was from the heated covers, “We missed a bunch of shots you know,” You spoke.

“Yeah?” Peter laughed, “Why don’t we just have some hot chocolate,” He emphasized the word, watching a smile curl your lips.

“Mm, yeah, hot cocoa,” You reached out towards the mug. It was positioned closer to Peter on the table, making you move a little closer to him on the couch.

Bringing the warm drink to your lips, it calmed your nerves. But that soon ended as you felt Peter adjust the blanket over the two of you. You stared blankly at the movie, watching it come to an end. You prayed for the movie to continue, not wanting to have to interact with Peter once again.

The credits began to roll. Your heartbeat began to race as you watched Peter reach for the remote, “I don’t think we would make it through another drinking game,” He almost laughed. However, he was just doing you a favor.

“Yeah,” You spoke, “Right,” Shifting under the blanket you felt your breathing grow irregular as you attempted to calm yourself.

“You okay?” Peter asked, hearing your heartbeat and staggered breaths from his spot on the couch.

“What? Yeah- yeah,” You lied through your teeth, staring at the paused screen.

“Your heart’s beating super fast,” Peter leaned closer to you. Taking a breath, he tested the water, “What d’you have a crush on me or something?”

“You-You’re funny,” You spoke, taking a sip of the remaining hot chocolate. You winced, the once hot drink was now cold. The thought of Peter knowing about your crush overshadowed the fact that he could sense your heartbeat.

“Why don’t we play a game?” Peter turned to face you, watching you nod from behind your mug, “like Never Have I Ever,”

“Mmm,” You hummed around the rim. Setting the cup down, your heart dropped with it, “Sounds suupper fun,”

“Come on,” Peter groaned, “It is fun,” He watched as you threw him an unconvinced glance, “You can even go first,”

“Fine. Never have I ever invited myself into my neighbor’s apartment to spend the night,” You spoke, waiting for Peter to put down a finger.

“Fine,” Peter gave you a forced smile, putting down a finger. “Never have I ever called hot cocoa, hot chocolate,”

You put a finger down, “Never have I ever gone out in a blizzard just for hot cocoa,” You watched as Peter shifted under the blanket. A smile crossed your lips as you watched him put a finger down.

“Why don’t we start playing fair,” Peter spoke, watching you physically groan.

“Finnneee,” You agreed, head rolling on your shoulders, “But I’ll need a shot so I answer,” Peter’s eyes narrowed at your comment, “I’m fine and you want me to play fair and me playing fair would be me, buzzed enough to admit whatever you’re going to start asking me,”

“Fine,” Peter crossed a leg over his knee as he watched you stand from your spot next to him, “Never have I ever drank because I’m too nervous to sit next to my neighbor,”

You fell silent, hoping Peter would just drop the claim. A shot found its way into your hand as you brought the small glass to your lips.

“Is your finger down?” Peter smiled from his spot on the couch.

You could hear the amusement in his voice and at that, you took another shot.

Peter watched as you returned to the couch slowly, as if you were regretting each step, “We don’t have to play,”

“No- No,” You sat back down next to him, but not nearly as close as before, “I took my shots just- let’s get it over with,”

“Good,” Peter threw the shared blanket back over your legs, “Your turn,”

“Right,” You looked at the two fingers you had already put down, “Umm,” You searched your head for a fair turn. Staring at the ceiling, you only heard Peter shifting closer to you on the couch, “Never have I ever…” Your eyes slowly fell to Peter as he stared back at you, “You’re making this harder than it should be,”

Peter placed his elbow on the back of the couch, his fist holding up his head as a smug smile crossed his handsome face, “Why’s that?”

“Because you’re staring at me,” You spoke, “and I can’t concentrate,”

“I’m just looking at you,” Peter spoke, leaning in a bit, “Do I make you nervous?” He watched as your gaze fell to the floor, “Mm,” He hummed in a confirming tone.

“No- no,” You spoke, looking into his brown eyes, “Peter- No! No-” Your words fell short as Peter extended his arm towards you, it now resting on the back of the couch.

“Okay, just wondering,” He toyed, watching you almost crumble before him, “Never have I ever, what?” He studied your wide eyes that stared back at him. God, he wanted to kiss you.

You took hold on the blanket, bunching the fabric in your hands as you searched for any words to pass through your parted lips. You watched as Peter’s eyes fell to your lips, where they lingered for what felt like an eternity, “wanted to kiss your neighbor,” The words were barely audible, spoken under your breath.

Peter attempted to hold back the smile that threatened to curl his lips, “How many shots did you have?”

“I don’t know why I said that?” You felt as if you wanted to curl up and die. You wanted to pull the blanket over you to shelter yourself from Peter’s eyes.

So that is exactly what you did. Pulling the blanket towards you, it covered your head, allowing you to sink down on the couch, “Y/N,” Peter almost laughed, his tone almost laced with pity. You were silent under the fabric, “...Did you put your finger down?” Peter asked, hearing you almost immediately whine.

Throwing the blanket over his head, he crawled towards you under the fabric, “Peter… please,” You raised your hands, rubbing your temples. The embarrassment ate away at you and you wished you had not taken those shots that made the claim roll off of your tongue.

“How else am I supposed to see if you put your finger down?” He watched as you shot him an unamused look from under your furrowed brows, “Fine,” Peter raised his hand that had two fingers down. He watched as you stared at his hand in the dim lit space the two of you shared, “If you didn’t put your finger down, you’re winning,” Peter spoke as he put down a third finger.

Your gaze left his hand and moved to his eyes. Parting your lips, you searched for the words while your eyes fell to his lips, “I…What neighbor?” You were not sure if you were just playing dumb, or if you had convinced yourself that there was no way Peter could ever like you.

“We’re like the only ones on this side of the stairs,” He laughed.

“Right,” Was all you could reply with as Peter inched, somehow, closer to you.

“Are you putting a finger down?” He questioned. You stared back at him and he studied every inch of your face. Your gaze had fallen, unable to look him in the eyes as you raised your hand. Peter almost held his breath as he watched your finger fall, giving him permission to make the first move.

So he did.

Before you could say a word, Peter’s lips found yours. His lips pressed against your own forcefully and hungrily as he waited for you to reciprocate.

Parting your lips, you let him in. The kiss deepened as Peter brought his hands to your face. His fingers trailed into your y/h/c locks before pulling on them slightly. Pulling you away from him, he stared at you, “I just wanted to make sure, before I kissed you,”

You nodded in his hold, “Yeah- Yeah… thanks,”

“Mhm,” Peter hummed, before bringing his lips to your neck. You jumped at the contact, a small gasp from your lips filled the stale air.

The space you shared under the blanket was dark and stuffy, the air feeling hot and heavy as Peter took the opportunity to explore the bare skin that peeked from under your open cardigan. You almost felt as if you were suffocating, Peter smothering you in affection.

Pulling the blanket off from over the two of you, you took in a generous breath of fresh air, “…Peter,”

At the sound of his name, he bit down on your skin, making you whimper, “Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” You responded almost immediately.

“Then what do you want me to do?” Peter questioned.

You did not have the courage to vocalize all the things you have dreamt of, “Whatever you want,” Whenever you found your mind wandering it was bringing you to Peter having his way with you.

“Be careful who you say that to,” Peter smiled against your skin, “You don’t know all the things I want to do to you,”

Peter’s claim made your knees weak, “L-Like w-hat?” You managed to push out.

Above you, Peter was pouring adoration. It was almost as if it fell, blanketing you in lust, “You want me to tell you?” He questioned, “or… I could show you,” Peter stared down at you, waiting for any sort of response but you would not meet his gaze. You crumbled beneath him, folding into yourself. You wanted to disappear and hide from the lustful thoughts that filled your mind, “Yeah?”

You nodded, face buried into your own shoulder.

“I need to hear you say it,” Peter spoke. He brought his fingers to the soft fabric of your pants, playing with the elastic band.

“Say what?” You managed to ask, looking at Peter out of the corner of your eyes.

“Tell me you want me to touch you,” Peter spoke, watching your eyes widen for a moment, “or kiss you, or anything else,”

“Peter,” You spoke, far too embarrassed to speak those words.

“Or I can stop,”

“No,” Shaking your head, you felt your face heat up from embarrassment.

“Right,” Peter smiled, “Then?” His touch trailed, dipping under the fabric.

“...touch me,” You breathed out, “Peter- please,”

“There ‘ya go,” Peter smiled, “Anything for you,” Hand moving down, it traveled between your legs over the fabric of your underwear. The fabric was soft, almost silk-like against his rough fingertips.

“Mm,” You whimpered as Peter’s touch was gentle, stopping right over your clothed clit. After a quiet laugh, Peter applied some pressure, fingers moving. A small moan made its way past your lips.

“That feel good?” Peter questioned, watching you finally stare back at him. Something behind your eyes shifted, almost as if you were handing him the controls. Your lips were parted as he waited for you to respond.

“Mhm,” You moaned, feeling Peter press down harder. You wished the barrier was gone, wanting to feel Peter’s skin on your own, “P-Pete,”

“What?” Peter asked, “Use your words sweetheart,”

“T-Touch me,” You stuttered.

“I am,”

“For-for real,” Your words were simply, dumbed down under the building pressure of your embarrassment. Peter looked at you, a smug smile on his lips as you fell apart at his touch. You wanted more.

Without a word, Peter’s fingers retreated back up the fabric of your underwear. You were afraid that they would not return, however, you held your breath as his fingers stopped at the waistband of your underwear. Pushing past the fabric, Peter’s fingertips were now lightly grazing your skin, making a shiver travel through you, hardening your nipples.

Peter had no idea how he was being so bold. Maybe because he was acting on his feelings for you alone? He had wanted to do this since you moved in, months after he had found himself all alone and looking for a place to stay. Everyone that once knew him had now forgotten and you were the first person he could start fresh with and he found comfort in that, and in you.

Moving past your clit, Peter’s touch kept moving lower and lower until he reached your wet entrance, “You’re so wet,” Peter almost laughed.

“S-Shut up,”

“It’s like you wanted this for as long as I have,” He spoke, absentmindedly.

Before you could reply, he dipped a finger into you, making you moan.

“So you want me to just touch you?” Peter questioned. He met your gaze from under your lashes. With each thrust of his finger your lashes batted slightly. His middle finger was only knuckle deep but you forgot just how long and slender his fingers truly were, “Hm?”

“Fo-for now,” You replied, focusing on his finger that moved in and out of you.

“Okay,” Peter said, “How’s this?” He questioned, a second finger finding its way into you. The action made you squirm, feet kicking off of the couch’s surface as if you were attempting to run off, “Need you to tell me, Y/N,”

Your heart was racing, rattling inside you as all of your thoughts scrambled inside your head. Surely any words that passed through your lips would not be cohesive ones, “F-f-fine,”

“Just fine?” Peter questioned, taking that as a hint to pick up the pace. So he did and his fingers dipped in and out of you with ease. The rhythm and speed sent waves of bliss through your system, feeling as if Peter’s action could bring you to climax alone.

“N-No,” You whimper, earning a confused remark from Peter, “Your-You’re gonna make me cum,”

“Good,” Peter smiled, “Need me to go faster, baby?” He watched you shake your head in agreement, “Want you to cum for me, okay?” Using his strength to his advantage, he fingered you as fast as you could take it, your quiet moans now became louder and breathy.

“Pe-Peter-” His name left your lips as you felt yourself growing closer and closer to your climax.

“You gonna cum?” Peter questioned, face now lowered. He placed a wet kiss to your jawline as he felt you nod against him.

With each moan that escaped you, you felt your head feel lighter. Peter was making you see stars in more ways than one.

“S-slow- slow down,” You barely spoke, “I’m getting lightheaded,” However, Peter did not stop. He was determined that he could make you cum beforehand.

Leaning back, he brought his other hand to your face. Covering your mouth, he continued to stimulate you, “I’m not going to stop til you cum,”

Your brows furrowed, eyes squeezing shut. You focused on the building climax that you longed to reach, “Peter-“

“Come on baby,” His words were soft as they pushed you over the edge. A smile crossed his lips as your moans became stuttered, “Therrreee you go,” From his tone, you could tell he was pleased with himself. His fingers did not slow as he worked you through your climax, “I can feel you cumming all over my fingers,” He spoke, removing his hand before placing it on the couch next to your head. With his new found leverage, he leaned over you, listening to the moans that still escaped your parted lips.

“You- You gotta stop-“

“But you’re cumming so good for me,”” Peter spoke smoothly in your ear. He watched you physically react to his sensual claim, crumbling next to him.

“I’m going to pass out,” You somewhat laughed, never experiencing this much pleasure before, or at least from just being fingered.

With that claim, Peter slowed his fingers before stopping completely. Then, he realized his strength had completely left his mind, “Did I hurt you?” Peter questioned, studying your face.

“N-No,” You spoke while attempting to catch your breath, “I just- it’s been awhile. And I normally don’t… cum from that,”

“Hm,” Peter hummed, leaning in and placing a kiss on your skin.

“What?” You questioned.

“Nothing,” Peter smiled back at you, “I’m just glad I could make you cum,”

A blush heated your skin as Peter talked about the subject so openly.

“Do you want to stop?” Peter questioned.

“S-Stop?” You asked, wondering what else Peter was planning.

“Or did you want to keep going?” He sat back, thighs flexing under the fabric of his jeans. Seeing the puzzled look on your face, a smile crossed Peter’s lips, “C’mere,” Sitting back against the couch, he motioned you towards him.

Crawling towards him, Peter helped you onto his lap. You swung your legs, straddling his waist. A smile sat on Peter’s handsome face as you studied it shyly. Your eyes followed each freckle that subtly peppered his nose, darker freckles dotted his soft skin, guiding your gaze.

“What?” Peter questioned, watching you study him a bit more intently now.

“Nothing! Nothing,” You quickly replied, embarrassment flooding through you now. You watched Peter laugh as he placed his hands on your legs. His touch trailed up and down, massaging your thighs. The soft fabric of your pants made him forget the weight of his advance, “Peter-”

Leaning forward, he brought his lips to your chest, kissing the skin above your bralette. Removing his hands, he brought them to the button of his jeans. Raising his hips, you felt just how hard he was, as he pushed the fabric of his jeans down his thighs.

His hands fell to the band of your lounge pants, pushing them down slowly, “This okay?” Peter questioned, “If you want me to stop,”

You wanted to reply, tell him how badly you wanted him but your breath caught in your throat. So you kissed him.

The kiss was forced, hungry and out of practice. You moved above him, allowing Peter to remove your pants, “I want you,” You finally whispered, lips inches away from Peter’s.

“Yeah?” Peter questioned with a laugh, “‘Gonna make you feel good,” Pushing his boxers, you watched his dick leap past the fabric.

His heated skin felt relieved by the room’s air, “P-Peter,” Your voice spoke over a sigh that passed through Peter’s lips, “do you… have a condom,”

“Yeah- Yeah,” Peter nodded. Reaching down, he dug his hand into the pocket of his jeans. He pulled out a small box of condoms, the kind that you see at gas stations.

“Did… did you get that at the corner store?” You almost smiled, “With the hot chocolate,”

“Yeah,” Peter spoke as he rolled the condom down the length of himself, “Why?”

“What a purchase,” You almost teased, watching Peter’s gaze shift. His once soft and considerate gaze was now far more dominant, which sent a chill up your spine.

Peter hooked a finger around your underwear, pulling them aside. As Peter lined himself up with your entranced you closed your eyes, preparing yourself for the size of him.

Placing a firm grip on both of your forearms, Peter pulled you down the length of him. A loud moan bubbled from your lips, making your cheeks heat up out of embarrassment, “Therrre you go,” Peter spoke as you began to move above him, “Shit- yeah, just like that,” You bounced on his lap.

You would be lying if you said you felt confident in your actions. However, it had been awhile since you had done anything like this. While you were lost in thought, Peter’s hands wandered over your skin, exploring every inch of you.

“You’re so tight, baby- Gotta relax,” Peter assured. His gentle hands began to slip your cardigan down and off your arms, “You’re squeezing me,”

“Sorry it’s- it’s just been awhile,” You informed him. You watched Peter, he looked as if your claim went in one ear and out the other. Fingertips tickled the skin that sat underneath the band of your bralette, “Peter-“

“Hm?” He hummed, pushing the fabric up and over your breasts.

Your hands flew towards your chest, covering your newly exposed skin. However, you were not modest for long, feeling Peter grab your wrists. Pulling your arms firmly to your sides.

Peter felt you struggle in his hold, making him smile. He used his strength against you and it turned him on. Within the struggle, you stopped riding, warming his dick, “Let me see you,” Peter spoke before realizing your lack of movement, “Did I say you could stop?”

“W-What?” You stuttered at his dominance. Before you could wait for his reply, his hold tightened on your arms, raising you off of him. Your brows furrowed at the strength of Peter’s hold before he pulled you back down on him forcefully. The sound of your skin hitting Peter’s echoed through your small apartment.

Peter moved you, your arousal coating his dick and making him fuck you with ease. His eyes found your breasts, mesmerized as they bounced with each hard thrust that entered you, “Fuckkk,” Peter groaned, “so pretty”

Your dim lite apartment echoed with the sound of skin and your loud moans. The string lights almost illuminated your skin, a slight sweat covering your body as Peter tossed you around above him, “Peter- I’m gon-“ The words could barely vocalize between your moans. 

“Hold on, need you to wait for me-“ Peter spoke, teeth taking in the skin of his lip. Picking you up and off of him, he heard you whimper. Throwing you onto the couch, he bent you over the back of it.

“What are you-“ You questioned, watching Peter move behind you. He pulled his pants down, kicking them off his legs before his hands returned to your skin. Cupping your ass, he rubbed your soft skin. His gentle touch was soon gone as it fell into the fabric of your underwear, beginning to rip them off of you, “Peter!”

He brought a firm hand down onto your skin, spanking your ass. With no warning he entered you again, coaxing a loud moan from your throat, “Want you to cum when I tell you to,” Peter spoke, “Don’t cum until I say so,” His thrusts were equally hard as fast, sending you further over the couch’s back. Your hands reached out behind you, fingers finding the fabric of Peter’s sweater, holding on for dear life.

Peter’s strength was almost unbearable, but you could tell just how close he was so you physically held on until he reached his climax, “Are you going to cum?” You managed to question. Reaching out, your fingers left his sweater, holding yourself off the couch, battling against Peter’s strength, “Please-“

“Yeah- yeah, shittt,” His head fell back slightly as he focused on chasing his high. You almost melted around him, filling Peter’s mind with the dirtiest thoughts, “I’m going to cum, sweetheart. Need you to cum with me, okay?” He watched you nod before focusing on your own orgasm as well, “I’m close- fuck I’m going to cum,”

“Mm please cum,” You begged, arms weak. However, you could not hold yourself up, body falling against the couch’s hard back, “fuck,”

Peter’s swears mixed with your own as he came, filling the condom that was buried deep inside of you. His hands fell, resting on the couch’s back on either side of you. Peter’s head felt heavy as it hung, eyes studying your ass as he pulled out of you slowly.

You groaned below him, sore from how rough Peter had been moments before.

“Sorry,” Peter spoke quietly, “Was I too rough?” You were silent below him, “I was, wasn’t I?” Dipping down, he placed a kiss between your shoulder blades. His kiss traveled to your neck, peppering it in kisses, making a shiver travel through your warm body, “Sorry,” Peter apologized again with a small laugh.

“You’re fine,” You finally spoke, your throat hoarse from your loud moans, “I’m just… sore,” You laughed. Sitting next to you, he helped you get more comfortable on the couch, “Peter,” You spoke, meeting his eyes, “I have a bed, it’s literally right there,”

“…Right,” Peter spoke, eyes leaving yours and falling onto the bed that was literally steps away, “I just… I really needed you,” He looked back towards you, unable to meet your embarrassed gaze, “and you also said how bad you wanted me, sooo,”

“I’m- I’m just saying,” You stuttered.

Awkward silence hung in the air as the two of you sat there.

“I should probably…” Peter trailed off, acknowledging the filled condom that still sat around him.

“Yeah- yeah,” You replied. He stood before you, giving you a small, and kind of awkward, smile. He walked off, disappearing into your bathroom and leaving you to reflect on what exactly just happened.

“How was that?” Peter asked, catching you off guard and making you jump slightly, “sorry,”

“No no I was just-“ You turned your head, “I was thinking about it. Not in a weird way- But how I’d think about doing that and it actually happened-“ Your lips shut as your words played in your own ears. God you sounded like a freak.

“You thought about fucking me?” Peter questioned, finding his spot next to you after putting on his boxers. He watched you crumble, turning your body away from him, “Nooo, no. It’s cute- I thought about you too, but you already know that,” You must have forgotten just how exposed you were to him right now, so he reached out, pulling your bralette back down and over your breasts, “I’m glad I wasn’t the creepy neighbor who thought about fucking you almost every time I saw you,”

“Straight to that?” You questioned, teasing him slightly.

“I know what foreplay is,” He joked back, watching you laugh, “but no, I think about eating you out a lot,” With that claim, he watched your eyes widen, making him laugh, “Maybe I could wake you up that way? On Christmas,”

“Christmas,” You spoke, remembering that you were supposed to be on a late night train back home but instead, you fucked your neighbor.

Reaching out, you grabbed your phone that was on your coffee table. Checking it, the time read 1:02 AM.

“Merry Christmas,” You spoke, eyes leaving the bright screen and falling into Peter’s warm brown gaze, “I kind of wish I got you something… you know since we just did all that,”

“Would…” Peter searched for the words in his head, “How about a date?”

“What?” You questioned. You were worried that tonight was going to be a one night stand, so Peter’s question washed a wave of relief over you, “You want to go out with me? Or I mean- like- a date. You want to go out on a date? With me?” Peter laughed as you rambled before him.

“Yeah,” Peter smiled, “I mean, that’s why I asked. Because I like you,”

“Oh, yeah- Yeah,” You spoke, “Yeah I’d like that,”

“Okay,” Peter laughed, bringing a hand towards your face. Pulling you close, he met you halfway with a sweet kiss, “Merry Christmas,”

#peter parker #peter parker fanfic #peter parker fic #peter parker fan fic #peter parker fanfiction #spider-man #spiderman smut #spider man fanfic #spider man fanfiction #spiderman fanfic #spider-man fanfiction #spider-man fic #spider-man fanfic #spider-man smut #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman fic #spiderman x reader #peter parker x reader #marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel fic #marvel smut

[spicler-man]

*slides this under a door to you*

https://archiveofourown.org/works/41900334

*you open the door. no one is there. it is unclear how this got under your door.*

#irondad #Iron Man #Irondad and Spiderson #irondad fics #spider-man #spider son #spiderson #spider-man fic #peter parker #peter parker fics #tony stark #tony stark fics #its 11pm and i am sick. enjoy

[ktwritesstuff]

Safe with You (a Spider-Man oneshot)

Title: Safe with You Fandom: Spider-Man films Rating: Explicit Characters & Pairings: Spider-Man x femme reader Word Count: ~5,000 Summary: Spider-Man sneaks into your apartment to teach you a lesson.   Notes: The “You” character is intended to be a plus-size woman, but the physical descriptions are fairly non-specific. Likewise, I think this will work for any of the Spider-Mans, but I am particularly partial to the renaissance of Andrew!Peter. Lovingly beta-read by @bs-fangirl Content warning under the cut. 

Tropes & Content Warning: dirty talk, dom/sub, dubcon, oral, p-in-v, roleplay, spanking, toys

Int. New York City. Night.

It was close to 11 in the evening and your building was mostly quiet.  It was one of the benefits of living in an apartment building populated mostly by seniors–your neighbors tended to take their hearing aids out and call it a night after the evening news.  You were just about ready to turn in yourself, curled up on the sofa with a cup of tea, snuggling your tortoiseshell cat, Matilda, struggling to stay focused on the next page of your book.

Your phone buzzed on the coffee table and you smiled at the text that illuminated the lock screen.  Tilly sprang to attention, stretching her back as you reached for the phone, firing back a quick thumbs up emoji before rising from the couch to place the phone in the charging dock on the counter.  

“Time for bed,” you announced, pacing down the hall.

You paused in your bedroom doorway.  The window was open and the curtains moved in the breeze; you almost certainly remembered closing it earlier in the evening.  You crossed the room, shutting the window and drawing the curtains closed.  In your peripheral vision, you noticed an unusual shadow in the corner.  

You turned to look and in one impossibly quick motion, the shadow took the shape of a person–a man–pinning you against the wall, clamping a hand over your mouth.

“Shhh. Don’t scream,” he warned.  “I’m not going to hurt you.”

In the dim light, the blackness of his figure took on hues of red and blue.  Two large silvery eyes glinted in the streetlight peeking through the curtains.  A face–a mask–you recognized.

“You’re okay,” he said.  “Don’t be scared.”

Your heart was pounding, but you nodded.  He let his hand drop from your mouth.

“You’re Spider-Man,” you said.  “I’ve seen you on TV.  What are you doing in my bedroom?” 

He looked down, chuckled.  His hands slid from your shoulders down your bare arms.  He looked back up.

“Who hasn’t been in your bedroom?” 

“I beg your pardon?” you snapped.  You tried to pull away but he held you by the elbows, his grip impossibly strong.

“I’ve been watching you,” he said, twisting a lock of your hair between his fingers.  “Getting your coffee, going to work, meeting your friends for brunch at that little place on West Broadway.”

He moved toward you, pressing his body against yours.  Your mouth was dry.  A bead of sweat rolled down the length of your spine.  

“I see you prancing around in your cute little dresses with your hair and makeup all done.  You want people to look at you, don’t you?  You’re just gagging for someone to follow you home.”

You jumped as he slammed his hand into the wall beside your head. 

“Aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you breathed. 

So yes, you occasionally enjoyed wearing black lipstick and lingerie as streetwear, but this was New York. You could prance around Williamsburg in your birthday suit and it would still be the least interesting thing most people saw all day. 

“That’s okay,” Spider-Man said, his tone softening.  “Because I’ve been following you. Looking after you.  You just wear your heart on your sleeve–even 20 stories up I can see it.”

You struggled to wrap your mind around the scenario as adrenaline flooded your body.  Spider-Man was watching you—stalking you. He had broken into your apartment because…you wore skimpy clothes, you liked to flirt, he was worried about you? It might have been sweet if it weren’t so completely fucking crazy. 

The bedroom door creaked open with a soft meow.  

“Shit.”

Tilly padded across the room without a care in the world and began weaving in and out between Spider-Man’s feet, purring loudly.

“Hey, kitty,”  he said, crouching down to pet her.  “Aren’t you a pretty girl?  I just have to borrow your mom for a little bit.”  He picked her up gently and walked her to the doorway to set her down in the hall.  

“Then you can have her right back, I promise.”  He closed the bedroom door and turned his attention back to you.  “Cute cat.”

“She doesn’t usually take to strangers.”  You stared back at him, transfixed.  

“Oh I’m not a stranger,” he deadpanned, leaning casually on the door jamb.  “I’m Spider-Man.”

You swallowed a lump in your throat.

“This isn’t the first time you’ve been in my apartment.”  A statement, not a question.

“I like to keep an eye on the place.  Make sure everything is secure,” he said, the sweetness in his voice dissolving as he spoke.  He moved toward you, towering over you, pushing you against the wall.  “I’m trying to keep you safe.  Which would be a lot easier if you weren’t such a stupid little slut.”

You made a soft, strangled sound in the back of your throat.  Your body was shaking from nerves or something else entirely.  You knew he was strong. He could hurt you if he wanted; if you let him.  

“It’s okay,” he said, taking your hands, holding them between his.  “I’m always going to keep you safe.  You should be grateful.”

“I am,” you stuttered, placating.  “Grateful.  Really, truly grateful.”

He let go of your hands.  You squeezed your eyes shut.

“You know,” he said, sounding strained. You thought maybe he was touching himself, but you didn’t want to look.  Not yet.  “I don’t think I believe you. Maybe you should show me.”

He took your hand, guiding it between your bodies to wrap your fingers around his cock, already half-hard, making you stroke his length until he was fully erect.  

“That’s more like it.”  He took your face in his hand, guiding your gaze up to his face.  “Do you know how many guys I’ve had to beat the shit out of for looking at you sideways?  And you can’t even lock your fucking window?  I mean why bother when you’re just walking them in the front door.”

He moved his hand just under your jaw, applying gentle pressure to the sides of your neck with his fingers.  Your legs felt like jello.  The complete loss of control was frightening and exciting.  The room was spinning and you gripped him harder just to remind yourself of where you were in space.

“You’re so big and strong,” you stammered.  “I’m just so thankful to have you looking after me.  Keeping me safe.”

Spider-Man grabbed your breast through the stretchy fabric of your nightgown, pinching the nipple to hardness.  Still stroking his cock, you wrapped the fingers of your other hand around his wrist, guiding his left hand from your throat to your other breast.  

“You like that?” he said.  

You nodded, panting out a yes as he palmed both breasts with his large hands.  You bit your lower lip in concentration, massaging his cock, running your thumb up the shaft.

“I like it, too,” he said.  “Soft.  Warm.  Heavy.”  

He squeezed your breasts, pressing into you, lifting them off the crest of your belly out from under the neckline of your nightgown to pinch and pull the sensitive nipples.  A knot of pleasure and panic was tightening in your core.  You let your head fall back against the wall with a soft moan.

Spider-Man laughed.  

“Your body loves this.  Think I can get you off just by playing with your tits?”

“I don’t know,” you panted, lifting a hand to his shoulder to steady yourself.  “Maybe?”

“Maybe,” he repeated.  He brought one hand to your face, putting his thumb in your open mouth.  You wrapped your lips around it, sucking instinctively.  The fabric felt like vinyl and tasted sour, but you didn’t care.

“Atta girl,” he said proudly.  “Get on your knees.”

You sank down, grasping his thighs to support yourself as your knees practically buckled at the order.  Your head was swimming as you swiped your thumb over the head of his cock one more time before lapping at the tip and taking him into your mouth.  He held your head–not forcing it, but firm.

“Look at me,” he said.  

Your eyes flickered up to meet his gaze–or what you thought was his gaze behind the mask–as you wrapped your lips around him.  You held the base of his cock with one hand, hollowing your cheeks as your lips slid up and down the shaft.             

“That’s my good girl.”  He ran his fingers through your hair, holding you tight.  

You moved slowly, working your tongue around his girth, flicking the band of tissue on the underside of the shaft with the tip of your tongue.  

“Feels so fucking good.”  He braced himself against the wall with one hand.  “Wish you could see how pretty you look down there, choking on my cock.” 

You moaned around him, stroking your hands down his thighs, scratching at the dense fabrics of his suit with your manicured nails. You couldn’t see his face, but you could feel the muscles in his legs flex and you knew he had to be close.  You’d make him come in your mouth and it would all be over.  

Just when you thought you’d be in bed before midnight, he pulled you off of him with a pop.  You whimpered as he dragged you to your feet.  

“Not done with you yet.”  He threw you face down onto the bed, hard enough that you caught air on the bounce.  

As he ripped your panties down you tried to scramble away, but he climbed on top of you, pinning your wrists to the bed.  You could feel his erection pressing against the small of your back.

“I wanted to do this easy,” he said, grinding his hips into you.  “We could have made sweet, gentle love tonight, but no.  You had to have it rough.”

He shifted his weight over you, releasing your right wrist to slide his hand under your belly, drawing you up onto all fours.  

You gasped as he slipped two fingers into your sopping pussy, curling them upwards, probing deeper without meeting the slightest resistance. 

“You are so fucking wet for me right now,” he said, almost laughing.  He withdrew his fingers and rubbed circles on your back.  “If that’s how hot you get sucking my dick, I can’t wait to see what happens when I fuck that sweet little pussy.”

You panted–desperate for air–as he dug his fingers into the soft flesh of your ass and pulled your hair.  Your back arched, dropping your belly toward the bed, aching, needy.

“What do we have here? Somebody’s been sleeping in my bed,” he said.

A strand of webbing shot across the room. Spider-Man yanked a framed picture off your desk, catching it in mid-flight to hold in front of your face. 

“Is that him?  Is that your boyfriend?” 

“Yeah,” you stammered, just barely managing to focus on the frame. 

“What a nerd.”  Spider-Man tossed the frame onto your dresser and grabbed a fistful of your hair.  “I bet he doesn’t touch you like this.   Does he know what a filthy little minx you are?”

He pressed his face close to your ear.

“You’ve been a bad girl.”

He ran a hand down your body to grip your ass. 

“Bad girls need to be punished.  You want to be punished, don’t you?”

He pressed his face into the back of your neck and moved his hands under you, pawing at your breasts, the softness of your belly, the pad of your mons.  You moaned, grinding your ass back against his crotch.

“That’s more like it,” he murmured against your throat.  “Now what do you think I should do with you?”

“Spank me,” you whispered, tentative, unsure.  

“What was that?” He dug his fingers into the delicate flesh of your thigh.

“Spank me, Spider-Man,” you gasped.  

“That’s what I thought you said.”  He sat back, slowly running his hands down your body.

“Remember I don’t want to do this.  But dirty little cock-sucking sluts need to be punished.”

A shudder ran down your spine as you braced yourself for the pain.  The first strike landed with a jolt.  Your elbows buckled under you and you scrambled to bury your face in your pillow to muffle your cry.  Involuntary tears sprung to your eyes as the hot sting bloomed across your ass with each slap.  On the third or fourth sharp blow his hand made contact with your vulva and you shrieked, loud enough that even your downy pillow didn’t have a chance at muffling the sound.  You collapsed on the bed, panting.

“Shh, shh, shh.”  Spider-Man pressed his hand over your mouth.  He lowered himself onto the bed beside you and stroked your hair.  “It’s okay.  It’s okay, but you can’t make that kind of noise.  You want to keep playing, don’t you?”

He wiped a fat tear from your cheek and you nodded, sniffing.  He ran his fingers through the velvety wetness of your swollen labia, his fingers slipping easily inside you. 

“That’s my dreamy, creamy girl.  You liked that, didn’t you?  You want this,” he said, a low husky whisper.  “I need an answer, sweetheart.”

“Yes,” you breathed.  What else could you say?  Your body had already given its answer; how could you deny it?  

He sat up and opened the drawer of your nightstand.  “I know you’ve got condoms in here.”  

He pulled the whole drawer out of the nightstand and dumped its contents onto the bed beside you.  Much of it was mundane: Tylenol, tissues, an extra phone charger.  Plus condoms, lube, and your not insignificant collection of toys ranging from your first-ever magic bullet, a glass wand, plugs and dildos in an assortment of shapes and sizes, and a few more powerful vibrators.

“Shit, girl, you a freak.”  

He picked up a tear-drop shaped plug with a chunk of polished rose quartz set in the flared base and held it in front of your face.       

“That’s nice,” he said.  “Never seen one like this before.  You wanna give it a go?”

You whimpered.  The thought of Spider-Man spreading open your tight pucker, stuffing you, plugging you while he fucked you from behind made your whole body shake. 

“Maybe another time,” he tossed it onto the floor.  “You choose.”

He swung one leg over you and twisted your left arm behind your back.  He fanned the toys out next to your face, making sure you could see each one.

“I’m a nice guy,” he said.  “I want you to enjoy yourself.  You show me which one’s your favorite.”

Your face felt hot and flushed.  A wave of exhilaration washed over you–the prospect of being laid bare. Disregarding your self-interest, your dignity just for a moment of pleasure.  You slid your free hand across the bed, wrapping your fingers around the pink and gold Sona.  

“That’s the one,” he said, taking it from your hand and turning it over to find the power button, evidently confused by the design.  “Looks like Birdo–you ever play Super Mario?”

You shook your head, incredulous.

“Whatever floats your boat, I guess.  I like video games.  I just got a Nintendo Switch.  I could let you borrow it some time.  I bet you’d really like Animal Crossing–”  

The vibrator whirred to life, surprisingly loud.  

“Player 3 has entered the game.”

He reached between your legs, pressing the tip of the vibrator just over the hood of your clit.      

The strong vibrations pulsed through the whole structure of your clitoris, like electricity sparking and unfolding from the deepest part of your belly.  You buried your face in your pillow as the sensation built and built.  Your toes curled.  The hammock of muscle supporting your pelvis clenched hard–once, twice, maybe more–you lost count as the sensation peaked and you went limp with a long exhale.      

Spider-Man withdrew his hand, sitting back on his heels.  “Was that it?”

You nodded, humming sheepishly. 

“Well that was quick,” he observed.  “Do we keep going?”

The orgasm had washed over you hard and fast, turning your brain to mush as fresh blood rushed to your vulva, leaving the soft folds hot and swollen and desperate.  You nodded again, murmuring something acquiescent.

“Okay,” he said.  “Get that ass back up for me.”  

Spider-Man lifted your hips up off the bed, but the moment he let go, your knees slid out from under you and you crumpled back onto the bed.  He tried once more, but your legs refused to support you.

“Okay,” he sighed.  “Give me a second. I got you, girl.”

He grabbed your densest pillow and slid it under your chest to lift your upper body and wrapped both arms around your midsection.  You heard the thwip thwip of the web shooters as the long strands of web made contact with the ceiling. 

You thought he would tie them off under you to create a sling, but instead he stamped the sticky ends of the webs onto the apron of your belly, lifting the weight up and away from your pelvis.  It was a strange sensation but not uncomfortable, the lift supported across a large enough section of your belly that nothing pinched or dug into your skin while still taking the weight off your knees. 

“How’s that?”  Spider-Man asked, placing his hands on your hips to rock you from side to side. 

He slid one hand through the crevice of your ass.  His thumb pressed against your anus as he slipped his fingers inside you.  Stretching you, massaging you from the inside as he swung you in small, lazy circles. 

“Looks like it’ll hold,” he said.  “Let’s put it to the test.”

He grabbed a condom off the bed and swept the rest of your things onto the floor.        

“Don’t look at me,” he instructed, turning your head so that your gaze was facing the mattress.  “Keep your head down.”    

You guessed he pulled the mask off, at least part way, because you heard the condom wrapper tear while he still had his fingers inside you, so he must have torn it open with his teeth.  

“Stay right there,” he warned, withdrawing his hand.  “Don’t move a fucking muscle.”

Your body trembled in anticipation as he pressed the head of his thick cock against your entrance.  You whined, trying to grind back into him, needing him inside you, harder, deeper, more.  A hand came down on your already tender ass cheek not as hard as before, but enough to make you yelp.

“I said hold still,” Spider-Man warned, holding your hips firmly in place.  “First you’re going to count to ten and then I’m gonna fuck you hard.  Because that’s what you want.  That’s what you need, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” you moaned.

“Then you better start counting,” he repeated.

“One, two, three–”

“Slower.”  Another smack–more of a pat this time–and you squeaked.

“Four.  Five–”

“Don’t forget to breathe.”  He ran his hands down the arch of your back, exploring the curves of your body slowly, attentively.

“Six…seven…”     

“God you look so fuckable right now.”  

“Eight…”

“Absolutely gorgeous.”  He walked his hands up the bed, his cock pressing a little harder against your opening as he leaned over you.  You could feel your pulse beating in your groin.  You bit your lip, resisting the temptation to press back against him.

“Nine–” As you peered under your arm you could see he had dropped the silver-eyed hood onto the pillow beside you.  You felt his lips against your shoulder, placing soft kisses on your neck.  

His tongue lapped the salty sweat across your shoulder girdle.  You moaned again, luxuriating in the feeling.  He buried his face in the crook of your neck–sucking, biting, kissing–sure to leave a mark, but you were not concerned with that now.  

“That’s my baby girl,” he whispered, close to your ear.  

On your “ten” he thrust into you all at once.  You cried out at the sharp pleasure-pain of being filled hard and fast.  Each thrust felt impossibly deeper, sending ripples of pleasure and heat through your trembling, pliant body.  

With your eyes still pressed closed, you reached behind you, groping for some kind of leverage.  Your fingers tangled in short, thick hair that curled around your fingers.  Not Spider-Man anymore–if only for a moment–he was just a man, your protector.  Yours.  And you were his.  You wanted him to use you, to mark you.  You held him with his mouth against your throat.  You felt like your brain had short-circuited, your mouth hung open in a gasp.   

“Don’t stop,” you pleaded.  He moaned against your skin.  The sound and the vibration of it sent a jolt of pleasure straight to your core.      

You were close to your climax, so close, you just needed a bit more to push you over the edge.  You slid one hand under your body, reaching for your clit.     

He grabbed your hand.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he tisked.  “You’re coming with just my cock in you.  Don’t care how long it takes–I’ve got all night.”

You didn’t know much about spider-based superpowers, but you didn’t doubt he had it in him.  The image that came to mind of Spider-Man pounding into you until daybreak was enough to push you over the edge.  As your muscles clenched around him, he came inside you and collapsed onto your back.  

The added weight and the sweat of your body proved too much for the impromptu sex swing as you both flopped onto the bed.  Spider-Man spent a long moment, with his face pressed against your back, holding you, breathing against you as your own pulse began to slow with the oxytocin flooding your sex-addled brain.

Finally, he stirred, pressing a hand gently over your eyes.

“Close your eyes,” he said softly.  

You nodded.  

He sat up and climbed out of bed.  You stayed on your stomach, obediently keeping your eyes shut.  You heard him go out into the bathroom–the rustling of the waste basket, the medicine cabinet opening, water running.  He came back out, set something on the nightstand beside you, and crouched down by the bed.  He ran his fingers through your hair as you held your pillow to your chest.

“Hey,” he said, barely more than a whisper.  “You good?”

You sighed and nodded; feeling still and calm.

“I got you some water.  Right here,” he said, taking your hand and placing it on the cool glass resting on the bedside table.  “Do you need me to do anything else?”

“Uh-uh,” you hummed, shaking your head. 

“Okay,” he agreed, touching your arm.  “Just take it slow.”

You heard him rummaging around on the floor, the thunk of the drawer sliding back into your nightstand, and smiled realizing he was cleaning up after himself.  

He leaned over, kissing your temple.  “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

You sighed softly, deciding to peek through heavy-lidded eyes just in time to watch him pull on the mask and slip out the window, carefully closing it behind him, becoming Spider-Man once again.

You laid in bed, spending a few moments in complete stillness, before beginning to re-introduce small movements.  You wiggled your fingers and toes, turned your head from side to side, stretched your arms and legs.  Finally, you found the strength to press yourself up to a seat. 

You took a few sips of water from the glass beside the bed.  You scanned your body–sore, but not injured–you placed your feet on the floor experimentally and pushed yourself up to standing.  A bit wobbly, but you’d had worse.  You did your best to straighten the twisted, stretched out jersey fabric of your nightgown, slipping the straps back up your arms.   

You put on your robe and went to the bathroom to use the toilet and splash some water on your face.  You really wanted a shower, but thought you’d better wait until you were more confident that your legs would hold you.  In the mirror you saw a purple bruise already blooming at the crook of your neck–ah, well–this was why God made concealer.    

As you came out of the bathroom, you noticed a familiar figure crouched on the stairs of the fire escape zig-zagging down the side of the building.  You went to the window and opened it to lean out to the alley.

“Peter, are you okay?”

“All good,” he called back, pulling the mask off over his head.  “Just catching my breath.”

“Do you want to come inside?”

He shook his head.  “I think I need a minute to cool off.”

You could see his face was flushed, he was breathing heavily.

“Mind if I sit with you?” 

Peter nodded and you took a seat on the windowsill, propping one foot up on the frame. 

“That was crazy, right?” he said, sliding down the steps to land beside you.  

“That was,” you sighed heavily.  “Fan-fucking-tastic.  I can’t feel my legs.”   

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asked, looking sheepish and unsure.  “I mean, not more than you wanted.”

“You were amazing,” you said, laying a hand on his arm. 

“Okay,” he sighed.  “I was worried–you screamed really loud.”  

“I was excited,” you laughed.  

“I thought we were gonna wake your neighbors,” Peter teased.  “They’d call the cops and I was going to have to explain to the 81st precinct that my girlfriend has a thing for Spider-Man so I dressed up like this to show her a good time.”

Peter took a seat on the landing and you swung your other leg over the windowsill.  He held your hands as you settled yourself down between his legs.  He wrapped his arms around you as you both gazed out across the skyline.   

“I’m made of pretty tough stuff,” you assured him.  “But I would have safeworded if I needed to.”  

“Okay, good,” he squeezed you a little tighter, resting his chin on your shoulder. “I just wanted to be sure.”

“Thank you for doing this,” you leaned back against him, craning your neck to meet his gaze.  “I had so much fun.  The whole spooky stalker thing was a really nice touch.” 

“You liked that?” he laughed.  “Could you tell I almost lost it when you were like ‘What are you doing in my bedroom?’”  You laughed at his imitation.  “I was like ‘Oh, shit.  How am I gonna play this?’”

“No, I loved it.  You did so good,” you said, squeezing his arm encouragingly.     

“I thought you were gonna slap me,” he laughed.

“I thought about it,” you said, pantomiming the gesture.  “But you said you wouldn’t be into it if I fought back.  So I had to reign it in.”

“Good,” he laughed.  “Because I would have jumped right back out the window.”  

“Well that would have been tragic,” you said.  “I know this was pretty far out of your comfort zone, but I hope you managed to enjoy yourself at least a little bit.”

“Well that was probably the best blowjob ever,” he said.  “I was pretty disappointed to have to cut that short, but–hey–I actually got you to come with just my dick, so I can check that off my bucket list.”  

You laughed.

“I do have one question though,” you said, tugging at the seams of his suit.  “This is like a jumpsuit, right.  How’d you get your dick out without taking the whole thing off?”

“Oh, sometimes I have long nights staking out a bad guy’s lair,” he explained.  “And you gotta stay hydrated, right? Otherwise your legs start cramping, but you can’t take off the suit to go to the bathroom…pee flap.  Boom.  Problem solved.”

“A pee flap?” you repeated, incredulous.  “Aren’t you worried about your dick flying out while you’re swinging around fighting crime?”

“Well, no, cause I added a snap.”

“You added a snap?  What are you, Martha Stewart?”

“Were you or were you not the one who wanted to fuck in the suit?  Don’t ask questions if you don’t want to know the answer.”     

“Yes, baby,” you laughed and ran a hand down his thigh. “You know how much I love having your massive cock inside me.  You make me feel so good.  You take such good care of me.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Peter said.  “Just don’t ask me for another round because I am exhausted.”

“I know,” you said.  “But it’ll be your turn to pick the next date night.”

You turned to look back at him, meeting his soft gaze with a mischievous grin.

“You know I know what you’re going to say, right?”  

He pouted.  “Girl on top?”

“I know you so well,” you teased.

“I’m sorry I prefer more vanilla sex, okay,” he laughed.  “I fight crime.  My back hurts.    Sometimes I just want to lay there and occasionally squish a boob.  I don’t think that’s too much to ask.”

You leaned back into him.  “I didn’t mean that,” you said.  “I love having vanilla sex with you.  I love being your girl on top.  I would do lights-off missionary for the rest of my life if it meant I could do it with you.”

Peter rested his chin on your shoulder and sighed heavily.

“You know,” you said.  “Even I had concerns how things would work out doggy style, but I was so turned on by that point my cervix basically ascended through the roof of my mouth.”  

“Well,” Peter cleared his throat.  “I aim to please.”

“Do you want to stay over tonight?” you asked.  “Take a nice, hot shower?  We can snuggle if you want, or I could give you a little back rub.”

“Yeah, that sounds nice,” he agreed.  “But just a back rub, okay?”  

“You got it.”  You smiled, stepping back through the open window.  “C’mon.”

Back inside, you could hear Tilly yowling and scratching at the door to be let in.  You opened the door for her and she ran to Peter, rubbing against his legs meowing and chirping happily.

“I swear, you’re the only one she’s like this with,” you said.

“Hey, Tilly,” he said, picking her up and hoisting her over his shoulder.  “I’m sorry I had to lock you out.  You know you can’t be in the bedroom during sexy time.  You get too excited and attack my balls.”

“That happened one time,” you laughed.

“Once was enough,” Peter glared at you, setting Tilly down on the bed.

“At least you know if I bring another man in here, she’s going to bite their balls.”

You picked up the photo on your nightstand–the two of you at the High Line posing in front of a mural.  You were smiling at the camera Peter was holding in his outstretched hand, but he was gazing back at you, pulling a face to make you laugh.  You replaced the frame in its designated spot at your desk.

“Hey, you know I didn’t mean any of that shit I said to you, right?” he said.  

“No, I know,” you assured him.  “And you know I don’t actually want a masked vigilante to break into my apartment and fuck me without enthusiastic consent, right?”

“Of course,” Peter nodded.  

“It’s just fun to pretend things are dangerous when you know it’s really safe,” you said.  “Like a roller coaster or a haunted house.  I always feel safe with you.”     

#spider-man fic #spider man x reader #peter parker x reader #oneshot #tasm!peter x reader #mcu spiderman X reader #tasm #mcu spiderman #andrew garfield #tom holland #tobey maguire

[int-writersmind]

I Hate Christmas, Peter Parker {Part 2}

Peter Parker x f!Reader

It’s simple: You don’t see what the big fuss is all about surrounding Christmas, but Peter Parker thinks that this is unacceptable and puts you through step two of a multiple step list to make you fall in love with the holiday. 

{Read Part 1}

Warnings: Fluff

Word Count: 1.2k

Author's Note: Not well edited will fix soon; Another Christmas song suggestion, a personal fave

That stupid little elf that greeted you as you left your apartment every morning was a reminder that Peter’s little list was far from being over. That stupid little elf, with it’s stupid little plastic face, creepy smile and knowing eyes.

“It’s an elf on the shelf, kids love them!” Peter said when he placed it on the way out of your apartment after the two of you spent way too many hours decorating your place. You hated to admit it, but you actually had fun. But the elf on the shelf was not the cherry on top that Peter was so keen on it being.

“You’re telling me that children actually enjoy the idea of some vile creature constantly watching them?” you responded.

Anyway, you were dreading whatever was next, it was the second week of December and there wasn’t any movement from Peter’s end. Granted he was pretty busy with his second life, dealing with a group of baddies that decided that this time of year was the perfect time for a group project of evil–Peter’s words, not yours. 

You were admittedly gutted, Christmas was far from being your favorite holiday, but at least it gave Peter an excuse to annoy you more than often, and more Peter was always better. But you knew and understood everything that came with Peter’s other job.

It was late now, soft snow was falling from the night sky. Anywhere else that would be magically and beautiful, the very definition of a White Christmas. But all you could imagine was the aftermath that came when it snowed in the city. Train delays, black ice, yellow snow, and that god awful gray snow that somehow, not matter how careful you were, your foot always found itself in. It wasn’t Christmas fault of course, annoying snow could come at any time over the winter (and sometimes Spring) season, but the damn thing was always linked to the holiday.

You were loss in your work, trying to catch up on some documents before the holidays caused everyone to not check their emails until the new year. You were snuggled up in some pajamas pants that once had a matching top and a raglan t-shirt from the men’s section. As you are sip from your hot chocolate, you don’t even notice the subtle tapping coming from your window. Alone on your couch, you just chuck up the sound to some apartment ambience. It isn’t until the tapping become more preseinset that you notice it.

“Oh gosh, sorry,” You say to Peter as you open the window, reaching for a hoodie as the brisk winter air rushes in. Peter just sits on your windowsill, pulling his Spider-Man mask off. Your little apartment was tucked in a strange corner of the city, one where most of your windows were facing a wall, some Peter never really feared that someone was watching the two of you.

“Good thing I wasn’t bleeding out.” Peter just swings his legs in, not fully coming into the apartment.

“Not this time at least” You respond, “So what’s up? Can you stay?” You gesture to the Spider-Man costume. 

“Oh yeah, the city’s quiet tonight,” He glimpses at the city behind him before returning this attention back to you. “I was actually here because of…the list”

You roll your eyes. “Really, and what could possibly be on the list that involves Spider-Man?”

“The Tree.”

You try to stifle a groan, he was talking about the Rockefeller Christmas Tree, the one Christmas tree that all sane native born New Yorkers knew to avoid like the plague around this time. Yes, yes, it was very pretty with its gigantic size, thousands of lights, and of course that enormous Swarovski star on the top. The tree was nice to view on TV during the tree lighting ceremony and through other people’s social media, but actually being there, in the thick of it, was terrible. The crowds, the cold, the totally unoriginal photo ideas. “Peter–”

“Now listen here Debbie Downer,” You make a face at Peter, who puts his hands up in surrender. “If we go now I bet you it will be a fun time.”

The two of you just stare at one another, “Fine, I’ll get my coat.”

About fifteen minutes later, Peter has the two of you swinging through the snow and cold, both whipping past your face and ears, causing a slight stinging sensation. The damn coat, hat and scarf did nothing to cut down on the weather’s feeling. 

Since the two of you started dating and some time after Peter told you the truth of him being Spider-Man, you had your fair share of swinging through the city moments. It didn’t mean that you were used to the feeling of constantly falling through the sky to only be pulled forward. Oh c’mon this is slow Peter once said.

Thankfully the journey wasn’t as long as Peter quickly lands the two of you on a rooftop across the street from the Tree. “See, not too bad?” Peter says.

“Sure, sure, sure, sure.” You answer back, sitting at the edge of the building, feet dangling over the side, it takes Peter a few moments before he sits next to you.

Now without a mask and spotting a brown bag, Peter sits next to you, nudging his shoulder into yours, you can’t help but smile as you pull out a Christmas tree shaped donut out the bag.

As you bite into the somehow still warm pastry, glancing at the tree and all it sparking glory before looking at Peter. “Two Christmas trees on the list Parker?”

“Well, this wasn’t originally the plan ok,” Peter scoffs as he bites into a Santa shaped donut. “It was going to be a whole day, with ice skating, tree viewing–”

“I’m just joking,”You lightly punch him on the arm, taking another bite from the donut. “I actually quite like this, just the two of us, here, looking at the tree. You get to like, actually enjoy looking at it without getting in any one’s way. “

“That’s true, just the two of us up here…how many people can say they saw the tree like this?”

“Well, probably everyone that lives in this building?” You both laugh as the two of you finish the donuts. You lean over and kiss Peter, savoring the sweetness from his lips. You can’t help but lick your lips staring at him as you do so. “Just so you know, I really appreciate this.”

“I know,” Peter’s eyes glance downwards towards your lips. “Does this mean you're starting to love Christmas now?”

“Hell no, but I can think of a few ideas that might change my mind.” You lean in, hands resting on his chest, pecking at his lips again.

“Not yet,” He moves just slightly away from you, “But I promise the next one will be worth it.”

Before the two of you kiss again, the lights on the tree go off, you stare a little loss at one another. “Peter?”

“No Spidey-Sense, nothing’s wrong.”

You pull out your phone and check the time—midnight “Guess it's much later than I thought it was.”

“God, same, I’m so tired.” Peter lets his head fall on your chest, you hold him in your arms.

“Come back to my place Spider-boy,” You gently run your fingers through his hair. “You’re freezing and I have a hot chocolate with your name on it. “

“Sounds good to me,” Peter looks up. “But only if we can watch a Christmas movie.”

“Of course.” You say with just a hint sarcasm

~

Sorry for the late upload and the short length just not in the right head space right now, but I'll live. try to get something up on Wed but no promises in case I forget. But stay with me pls!

Anyway, to lighten things up, what Christmas movie do you think Peter would pick?

#peter parker fluff #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker #peter parker x you #christmas fic #christmas fanfic #spider man fluff #spider-man fluff #spider-man fic #spiderman fic #spider man fic #spiderman fluff #christmas spider-man

[kitcat992]

“So...you got detention.”

Oh. My. God.

Peter dropped his head down onto his desk, a resounding bang accompanying the impact of his forehead to the plastic surface. He didn’t stop there — nope, he banged his head again, and then again, and then again —

Because the old, VHS playing, vintage CRT television was stuck in a loop.

This was hell. It had to be. He died — again — and this time he went straight to hell. Only, hell wasn’t full of flames and fire and torture. No, Parker Luck meant it was chock-full of Captain America’s painful, ironic, hypocritical lecturing.

Peter banged his head one last time, keeping it there as his lips all but kissed the dirty desk. There was no simply other way to explain it.

“You screwed up,” Captain America’s voice echoed through the otherwise quiet classroom, somewhat full of static when the P’s of his words popped. “You know what you did was wrong.”

Peter didn’t understand how tuition here could cost so much and yet they couldn’t replace the television from 2002. He didn’t know how many more popped P’s he could stand to hear before fixing the broken speakers himself. It’d been a while since he dumpster dived for computer parts, but it’d be worth it just for the sake of his sanity.

“The question is, how are you going to make things right?”

There was only one other thing louder than the PSA’s. Peter folded both his arms underneath his chin, peering his eyes over them to catch a glimpse of Mr. Wilson — sitting at the teachers desk straight ahead.

Peter had a good feeling he could leave detention this very second and the gym teacher wouldn’t even notice. He had his legs propped up, uncaring as his shoes sat directly on a few scattered papers left behind from the English teacher assigned to the classroom. If those papers were important, she’d definitely regret leaving them behind — Mr. Wilson’s tennis shoes scattered dirt from the track field onto the already crumpled documents.

He clearly didn’t care. Not as heavy snores came from his slacked-open mouth, jolting his body with each breath he took in. The man absolutely needed to be checked for sleep apnea.

Peter arched an eyebrow but otherwise stayed quiet — he wasn’t about to wake him up to tell him that.

“Maybe you were trying to be cool,” Captain America kept talking as Peter fought to keep his eyes from rolling to the very back of his skull. He wasn’t sure either eyeball would make it back to the surface. “Take it from a guy who’s been frozen for sixty-five years. The only way to really be cool...is to follow the rules.”

“Shut up,” Peter mumbled into the crook of his arm, turning his cheek over to press the side of his face there. If he smothered his face any harder, he’d be eating his own flesh. “You break the rules like, all the time, dude!”

The only response to his muttering was a loud snore from Mr. Wilson. And a crackle of static from the television as the VHS skipped over a few parts — but, Parker Luck be had, it just skipped right back to the beginning.

“So...you got detention.”

Oh. My.

God.

#fanfiction #fanfic #mcu fic #irondad #irondad fic #peter parker #tony stark #spider-man fic #spider-man #peter parker & mj #peter parker & michelle jones #spiderchelle

[elvain]

In The Bleak Midwinter

            But there was one hero who had never quite been welcome in New York, despite all he did for the city and its people. He put his life on the line again and again, no matter the cost and no matter the risk, for the city he had grown up in and for the people he loved. Nobody had ever really figured out who he was under the mask he wore, but it had never really mattered. To some New Yorkers, he was a hero – a man of his age, a pinnacle of American superhero history. To others, he was a menace and a vigilante. But there was one thing that he was always known as, to both sides.

            Spider-Man.  

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new fic alert! here is the link - please reblog, share, comment, etc. etc. :)

#spider-man #peter parker #gwen stacy #mary jane watson #flash thompson #harry osborn #the coffeebean gang #spider-man fic #spider-man fanfic #marvel 616 #marvel comics fanfic #writermk