#mcu imagine
jin0 · 2 days ago
Your Friendly Neighborhood Sensitive Spider [TASM!Peter Parker]
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Summary : Peter's senses are really easily overwhelmed. He always finds comfort in you. This time you're the reason of his sensitivity.
Pairing : TASM!Peter Parker x Reader
Warning : 18+ ONLY, Minors DNI, smut, pure smut really, i can barely remember the plot, it's just filth, creampie, handjob, masturbation kinda, overstimulation, manhandling, titty worshipping (a teenie tiny bit), a lot of cum omg ?? genuinely, this is pure fucking smut, only that
A/N : did i write 10k plus words of smut ?? maybe... enjoy this because school is starting again and i bitch decided to pursue an education instead of running away in the wild
Peter had always been very awkward with people and human interactions in general. It all came from his very good capacity to figure people out by simply looking at them. He was an incredible judge of character even before the spider bite and after that, it all turned into something else. That awkwardness of his had been turned into sensitivity, or even oversensitivity. He was easily stimulated by sounds, movements or smells and he had to learn how to live all over again.
Adaptation had been difficult at first but quickly he found tricks to work around life as discreetly as he could. One of these was you. You were the most efficient thing he ever came across when it came to calming his sensitive senses.
When he met you he’d could vividly remember having a terrible migraine because of the violence of all the noises around him. He had retreated to a secluded room, in an abandoned building on campus. He used it regularly to hide and was surprised to see someone in the room, you. You were sleeping on your bag and he wanted to leave but when he focused a little more, he was surprised to not hear a thing. He couldn’t hear the noises around except the sound of your soft breathing sounds.
He was absolutely flabbergasted, so much so that he rushed to you and kneeled in front of you to make sure he wasn’t going crazy. He even checked your pulse for you, completely ignoring your boundaries or personal space in the process, but making sure you were alive at least or not doing something to his brain. Weirdly enough, you had woken up a little surprised but not worried by the tall man looking frantically over you.
When you asked if he was okay, he leaped backwards. The whole move was very strange and when he thought about it, it was no wonder you’d guessed he was Spiderman. You had this effect on him, this hold on his senses and his mind, you just made it all so calm and effortless. He felt like he was seating on a cloud with soft satin pillows, heavy comforters and your soft legs wrapped around his waist. This was his happy place and every time he thought about it, he thanked his heightened senses for granting him the ability to feel it as if it was currently happening. He could feel the heat of your thighs on his palms, the scent of your collarbones and your soft and supple breasts serving as pillows for his face. You were his peace.
You made him feel so good, his entire body went numb to a point of losing the ability to think rationally. He remembered the things he would do when you two had become friends. Some random guy would scream and he’d start playing with your fingers. He’d be walking with you and a gust if wind would blow, his first instinct was to pull you towards him to have a little bit of your body heat. The sunlight would be too bright sometimes, he’d hide his face in the crook of your neck.
You’d grown use to it overtime, welcoming him with open arms. You had been able to understand the things that triggered him and would sooth his at the best of your capacities. Your favorite thing to do was bring his head to your shoulder and caress his hair softly while shushing him in a low voice. The low sounds brought him comfort and managed to drown everything around. You didn’t understand how but science wasn’t your things so you didn’t try to figure it out.
Peter’s need to physically feel you to be generally okay and able to go through his day without being the absolute worst often expressed in surprising ways. These ways you discovered them slowly, each and everyone of them slowly revealing themselves at the most random moments possible.
Again, you’d guessed he was Spiderman because this need to feel you prevailed over common sense. It happened on a Thursday night, you’d been writing an essay for one of your classes when you noticed the shadow of a figure in the distance. When you turned around, it quickly hid behind a wall. Now, the red fingertips and the fact that you lived on the fourteenth floor told you who it was very easily. You were no stranger to Spiderman and his weird way of appearing everywhere you were, but having him in front of your window was very new. Paying more attention to his physical shape, it was very familiar to you. Too familiar. You didn’t even think before pulling on his hand and bringing him towards you with a surprised expression mixed with a smile.
The moment you uttered his name, he wrapped you in his arms, falling on your floor and rolling around. He ripped his mask off and rubbed his nose on the crown of your head, inhaling your scent. He refused to lie to you, probably because he was incapable of doing so, and honestly, you already knew so he saw no point in fighting the truth. That night you stayed on the floor for a few hours before snuggling under your covers, still tangled in each other.
Now, to go back on topic, Peter Parker was one sensitive man just like he could find relief in you, you could also make it ten times worse for him at times. In these situations, you were the main trigger to his sensitivity and that he figured it out on one of the most random days of his life. On that fateful day he felt like he would die if he didn’t fuck you raw.
This had to be the worst fucking day possible to have superpowers. Genuinely, he was ready to trade body with whoever would be up for it. From the moment he woke up, he felt like his skin was burning all over. Covered in sweat and twisting uselessly, in hope of finding a little bit of peace and cold, he moaned out your name, begging for you to suddenly appear and save him.
"I... Fuck... I need my bunny... Where is she...?" He groaned, rolling around and searching you.
He’d managed to pull himself together just enough to get up and get ready but getting ready had been exhausting, his entire body feeling heavy and still burning as if he hadn’t spent twenty minutes under the most freezing shower ever. While on his way to the train station, he noticed that his senses seemed to be dulled, the sewer stench common to the streets of New York weirdly absent. His vision was blurry enough for him to need his glasses, he was hearing everything but it sounded like he was wearing earplugs and everything he touched felt sticky but distance. He was practically certain to be hallucinating half the things he thought he had touched.
Looking up from the floor, his head to heavy to be raised, he was attacked by something so familiar and good. The comfort he craved on a regular and specifically today. There you were, as beautiful as ever, your headphones wrapped around your head and your eyes looking off to the distance.
"Bunny..." He said softly, immediately feeling better.
He was pretty far from you, far enough to not usually be able to smell you but today he could. So distinctly, he felt dizzy the moment he took a big gulp of air. He could distinguish it all, separating each of the different things resulting in the most addictive smell he’s ever smelled in his life. The citrus from your body soap, the tropical fruits from your hair creams, the vanilla from your perfume, all of it was so vivid, attacking his nostrils and pulling him with force towards you.
He was like a lifeless being, incapable of thinking or seeing anything around him. He was surprised he didn’t fall or push anyone, skillfully dodging everyone around. He looked weird but clearly right now, it didn’t fucking matter, he needed to get to you. When he did, he couldn’t even speak, he simply grabbed your hand, pulling you towards him. He cradled your soft cheek, the warmth of your skin spreading against his palm.
His vision wasn’t blurry anymore, he could see very well, better than ever actually. He could also hear everything perfectly fine, most of everything being you and the sound of your heart beating, your breath speeding up or your blood rushing around your body. He could hear all of this vividly, all of you, alive and looking at him with that deadly smile of yours. He was crumbling, slowly sinking inside himself because of you. You were killing him, with your entire being and that he loved it. He’d never get enough if it.
"Fuck... Bunny, my bunny..."
He seemed to not give a flying fuck about the fact that they were outside, in public, in broad daylight and pulled you in for a desperate kiss. His lips covered yours in a matter of second, folding and molding around the shape of your mouth and sucking in the sweet taste of you. Shoving his tongue in your mouth, he held onto your jaw tight, forcing it open wide for him to invade you further.
You small hands were gripping on his shirt, trying to push him away slightly but failing miserably because you wanted him too. You always did anyways but you knew when was the time. The Peter kissing you right now, was scouring through your mouth, looking for you to fill his ears with those delicious sounds that only you could make. You knew what he wanted, he was moaning and groaning in your mouth and you could feel disapproving looks on your. You did what was best for you and your dignity, biting his tongue enough to hurt but not too much.
"F-Fuck ! Why ?! Need you bunny..." He whined, reaching towards your lips again but being stopped in his track.
"I know baby, but you can't just swallow my face in public... I promise I'll take care of you later."
When he groaned in displeasure, whining lowly before diving towards your lips again, you had to stop him dead in his track, laying a hand flat on his chest in a commending motion. He looked at you straight in the eyes and you noticed how far gone he was. It’s like he wasn’t there all together. He often got like that after sex but you a simple (not so simply, really) had him desperately needing you in the middle of the street. Something was clearly off but you would wait it out, maybe he would be back to normal in a few.
He was, in fact, not back to normal in a few. It actually got worst, way worse. By the end of the day, he felt like he was ready to pass out. His entire body was on fire, burning as if drenched in lava and he could barely move. He swung home because it would be faster but practically died hitting a few too many windows on the way. The moment he saw his apartment, he thanked his past self for keeping the window open and threw himself on his floor.
It felt cold and so comforting, he rolled himself around for as long as he could. Quickly, his long body covered his floor in heat and it became unbearable to deal with too. He threw his bag on his bed, completely ignoring the possible state of his laptop and other things. He let his cheek rest on the surface and let his body relax, feeling completely numb but a little better. The reoccurring memories of the day and the state he was in were playing in his mind. For the first time, you weren’t relief, you were the problem.
He had thought that his minor episode this morning, would be temporary and quickly dealt with. It was not. It increasingly got worst, his senses focusing entirely on you. He suffered through long hours of lectures, your scent sticking to his clothes and drowning him in need. He felt like you were everywhere on his, multiple versions of you clinging to his skin and whispering sweet and sultry words into his ear. He couldn’t feel you, skin hot and covered in this warm glow that broke him apart. He could barely see anything, the image of your sunkissed skin shining so bright he felt like he was floating around the sun. You were the sun to him anyways so it wasn’t too far from the truth.
It was like you were a siren, singing your best song to him, bringing him to his knees, ready to run away to the farthest corner of a forest and worship you for as long as you’d allow him near you. You were like an oasis in the hottest dessert there was, draining his life force. God, he was so fucking far gone, he could barely remember his name before yours.
“Pete ? You okay baby ?”
Jolting awake, he frantically looked around when your voice resonated in his head. He let out the neediest whine of pleasure mixed with happiness when he saw your gorgeous face come in view. There you were, looking down on him with worried eyes. He reached up, grazing his fingers on your cheek, nose and then lips softly. Parting them with his thumb, he shuddered when your breath hit his skin. You looked at him with sweet innocent eyes and he thought that would kill him but when you moaned through a whisper, practically inaudible to the average ear but not his, he jumped back, away from you.
He covered his face with his hands, muffling a scream that hid a desperate moan. What the actual fuck was going on with him ?! What was his fucking problem that he had to run away from you because touching your lips drove him crazy ?! He had to be mentally broken or something cause he felt his cock harden and violently twitch in his pants. Starting to breath heavily, he looked around his room for clothes to wear, he needed to change. Anything but fucking jeans honestly.
Reaching for them, he rips them away from his laundry basket with a hoodie to go with it before running to his bathroom and locking himself in. He let out a heavy breath, shivering in comfort at the feeling of the cold tiles under him. He delicately started to peel off his clothes, quickly coming to the realization that each time he brushed against his skin, he’d moan like a fucking idiot. He could feel your fucking scent on them and it’s like his clothes were begging to stick to his skin. He was going absolutely fucking crazy, last time this kind of shit happened, he’d been bitten by a radioactive spider specifically designed to give him superpowers. Maybe he had been bitten by another spider without noticing, that would be pretty logical considering the fact that the only thing he truly fully focused on here was you. Maybe the spider liked you as much as he did.
Once he’d finally managed to get rid of his clothes without moaning too loud, preventing you from hearing him, he sat on his floor, panting loudly, cheeks red and hips moving on their own. He could see the stain of his sensitive cock, dripping cum on the fabric of his boxers. Looking down towards the pulsating bulge, he could practically see your fingers wrapping around him and he instantly winced in both pain and pleasure at the thought. He cupped his thick girth and rubbed it against his warm palm, begging for it to go back down. He was moaning at each of the heavy rubs he’d leave on himself, your name sounding more and more like a plea than anything else. He was begging for you, cursing himself for not feeling so conflicted. He was ashamed of himself, red in embarrassment at his own actions but also feeling deprived and needy for more.
When he felt his hot cum spill out of his cock and cover his boxers, he let out a sigh of relief, eyes crossing at the wave of pleasure spreading through him. He let it all sink in, taking time to relax a little bit before going back out there.
“Peter ? You okay in there ? Do you need my help ?”
He snapped his head towards the door, his relaxation dissipating quickly and being replaced by his previous mood. He was back to square one, needy and pulsating in his pants like a fucking teenager, at the simple sound of your sweet, sweet, sweet angel like voice. You wanted to help, because you were that good, perfect even. A perfect, perfect girl for an imperfect boy who was being crushed under the weight of his heightened senses and the rough consequences they had on his sex drive.
You could help. You could save him even, oh that you could. You and those sweet lips of yours, you could help him greatly. You just needed to get on your knees and let him fuck your throat so hard, you’d feel your own vocal cords move against the tip of his cock. Or did he want to fuck that sweet velvety pussy of yours with his tongue ? Yes he did. He wanted to taste your insides, attach his tongue to your walls and engrave that honey taste in his head. He wanted to bury himself in you too, oh god he wanted that. He wanted to burn your feel on him, god he was ready to carve your name in his skin. It would heal but he wanted you wrapped around him, he wanted to be absorbed by you, completely nestled in your body, in your DNA.
He was fucking insane, completely off his rockers. He needed therapy and a shit load of medication clearly. Maybe a mental institution too, maybe that would fix him, if he could be fixed. If he wanted to be fixed. He was obsessed with you, his body craving your entire existence like an asthmatic would crave air. He was absolutely gone, lost in the ocean that you were, so wide and big and tempting. As anyone ever wanted to drown ? Because he did, he wanted to drown in you.
Quickly shuffling around to get rid of his boxers and slipping in the sweatpants, he opened the door to be faced by your worried face. He gave you his best smile (he looked absolutely fucking crazy) before swerving around you, trying to avoid touching you or breathing in your scent. He’d need to take extra precautions to not let you see through his desperation to fuck you.
As soon as he started his little scheme to appear normal in front of you, he was attacked by a new wave of arousal, heat burning him from the inside and jumping out of his body like a violent beast. Looking at you, smelling you, hearing you, all of this was tickling the salacious thoughts in his mind. They were bringing those images lf your naked body rubbing against his to life.
Come on Peter…
Don’t you want to play with me ? My pussy missed you so much.
Felt so empty without you and your cum Pete…
Please baby… Please, suffocate me… I want your cock in my throat…
Peter… Please love, look at my tits… All pretty and lonely, they need you…
I need you… Don’t you need me Peter ?
God, fuck… Yes he did ! Yes he needed you ! More than anything ! He couldn’t express the visceral need he had to scream than he needed you at the top of his lungs. He was ready to lose his voice and vocal cords to say that he needed you wrapped around him. He wanted to feel you all over, be in you skin, invade your every cell.
Thinking like a beast in heat, he couldn’t handle the additional feelings invading him when he noticed that he could feel your arousal. He didn’t know where it came from and honestly, he couldn’t care less. All he knew was that he was smelling the sweet scent of your leaking pussy and he was very close to jumping on you and feasting on your wet folds until he quenched his thirst. He was desperate, for release, he needed you to heal him, save him from his misery.
Rubbing his long body on the mattress, praying for a little friction to free him from his torture, he whined when his skin brushed against yours. Your exposed thighs, soft against the back of his hand, he could feel the heat of your body on his. That heat, he could recognize it anywhere, it was even frightening how he found himself seeking it. Burning hot like lava and turning his entire being into a pile of ash, you were like a volcano. That heat, he couldn’t get used to it, he was responsible for it, that lust pumping through his veins every time you touched you. You were needy for him but you could contain yourself. Now he couldn’t.
Laying his heavy head on your exposed thighs, he rubbed his nose on your flesh, inhaling the scent of your core and drinking it the aroma he could taste on his tongue. His mouth was watering at the thought of your drenched folds coating his lips and entire face. He wanted you to sit on his face, right now.
He distanced himself, practically falling off the bed and ripping his sweatshirt off before throwing it in a corner if the room. That was probably a stupid move on his part because he was now shirtless, erection in full view for you to see and fawn over. You always enjoyed the whole gray sweatpants thingy but never that much until Peter. With him it was a whole different story, no amount of boxers would be able to hide what he had to offer and clearly he opted for the no boxers alternative.
Biting your lip, you hoped he couldn’t see how drenched your panties were already. You were a terrible person maybe. Your boyfriend was in pain, suffering from an unknown illness and needed as much comfort as he could get but you still found time to drool over his barely covered body. You were, indeed, a terrible person.
Looking at him with an amused smile, you slid your hand in his hair, scratching his scalp and soothing his inner turmoil a little. He couldn’t understand what was going on and he didn’t feel like it right now, you could feel that. You knew he needed you but you didn’t want to press him, you wanted him to come to you. And seeing how touchy he was being, you knew you wouldn’t wait long. You jumped slightly when he violently ripped himself away from you to crawl to a corner in the room.
“Oh my fucking God ! Peter are you okay ?! Do you need me to call somebody ?! Maybe Gwen, she has medical or scientific expertise !” You blabbered, panicking at his sudden actions
“No ! Please no ! Do not call… Call anyone… I’m g-good…” He begged, eyes screwed shut and trying to peal his clothes off as if the were his skin.
He threw his head back, resting it against the wall and spreading his legs wide. He couldn’t move anymore, he was breathless, horny and exhausted. If he moved, he felt like he was in a burning shower the water sucking out every drop of water in his body. He was desperate now, or at least more than he was before. He couldn’t handle this sudden new development in his body. He didn’t care if it meant he was dying or something, he just wanted help.
You got closer to him, placing yourself between his legs and laying a hand on his thighs while the other cupped his cheek tenderly. You were worried, hell probably more than simply worried. He could feel it, and he could feel your throbbing cunt from where he was. It was as if your body was vibrating at a frequency that only him could feel and it was torturing him. You were like a siren screaming in his ears to tell him that you needed him to fuck you badly. He who found comfort in you most of the time was being tortured by you too at the moment. The irony of the situation was very unpleasant.
“Baby, please… Tell me what you need... I can’t stand watching you get all weird and sickly without being able to help… I’m not the best scientist but I got Google for that… Please let me help.” You pleaded with that deadly sweet voice. He was being physically suffocated by the honey that your voice was, drowned like a bee that got too close to Paradise.
Looking at you, his brain suddenly shut off completely, the fight against insanity lost miserably. He fought long and hard but clearly, this enemy was too strong, the enemy was you after all. He looked down at the prominent bulge showing through his sweats, if we could call this a bulge. He couldn’t distinctly see the shape of his girth through the fabric, practically begging to come out. He hissed, almost painfully, at the vibrations of his member, looking up to your sweet face in awe.
He was practically crying for help, anything to calm him down. He was conflicted, wanting you close but knowing that it would only make him feel worse. He retreated further in the corner, wrapping his body in his arms and blinking back the weird haze he was in. His breath was loud and short. It sounded strained and come out with difficulty, as if breathing made him suffer. And it did, every breath he took, carrying with it the memory of what you tasted like. He could feel your taste in his mouth when he breathed and it would rush down straight to his cock every time.
“P-Please… Please I can’t… I can’t do this a-anymore… I can’t stand it…” He cried softly. Your worry skyrocketed and you tried to get closer to hug him tight but he jerked, rejecting your hands on him. “I… I need… I need you to leave… Or to just… J-Just let me fuck you… I promise I’ll be good, and I’ll clean you up after but please… Choose for me…”
You looked at him with loving eyes, the worry dissipating and allowing you to nod slowly towards the option he was silently begging for you to pick. Letting his body move on its own, his large hands slid under the hem of your skirt, taking two handfuls of your ass and hoisting you up effortlessly. You yelped, your hands shooting up to his shoulders as he sat you on his lap, carefully positioning your core over the wet patch formed by the tip of his cock. He bit the inside of his mouth, keeping his own needy moans to himself as his started grinding against you.
“P-Pet-“ He was quick to shut you up, two of his fingers finding refuge in your hot mouth, pressing down on your tongue.
“Don’t… Don’t fucking say a word…” He groaned, looking attentively at your bodies moving in sync. “Fuck… Do… Do you have any idea of how much I wanted my cock stuffed in that pretty pussy of yours today…? I barely got though the fucking day, thinking I was going fucking crazy… Never been so fucking sensitive before, fuck…”
His free hand grabbed your waist, holding it tightly and pushing you down harder. He couldn’t feel the pulsating of your folds on his bulbous tip, body your centers, leaking and wiping over the other. He should’ve been ashamed by the wet patch on his joggers but he was too busy focusing on the thought of you riding him while he kept his mouth stuffed with your panties.
He groaned in pleasure, a little louder than he was already doing, when he felt your soft fingertips on his wrists, wrapping tight around it to pull your fingers out of your mouth. He looked up at your face and felt his body melt under your gaze, eyes soft and loving but also sharing pure lust and pleasure. He couldn’t see them try there hardest to not cross in pleasure, something you did that absolutely drive him crazy.
Whining into the palm of his hand, you licked the tip of his digits sensually before diving them low against your body. You ‘et go of his wrist to let him do what he wanted, simply lifting your skirt to show what he’d been truly looking for.
“Oh fuck…” He exhaled, looking down at you as if you’d shown him the Holy Grail. His fingers slid under the elastic of your panties slowly before ripping them off of your body in one singular motion. Caressing your exposed hips and your uncovered ass, his fingers dove down on your folds, sliding in between the flesh and stroking his fingers back and forth. You threw your head back in pleasure, his thumb rolling around your pulsating clit.
He was absolutely mesmerized, practically forgetting everything around him. His fingers were drinking in the sensation of your juices coating his fingers. His senses were on alert but not for danger, for more of you. The needed to feel you all over, to have you wrapped nicely around him, sucking out every drop of energy and possibly life even. He was ready to give his life force to you at this exact moment. Was he okay ? Probably not. Did he really care ? Absolutely not.
Raising you up once again, he threw you over his shoulder, inhaling the scent of your wetness coating your inner thighs. His fingers were quick to come play with your exposed mound, gathering your slick and licking it off of his fingers. He walked, painfully hard erection visible through his sweatpants still and ready to be tended to. That would need to wait, for now, Peter needed to do something first, he’d been thinking about it for too long to simply ignore it.
Laying you on the mattress, on your back, you watched attentively, finally able to fully see his face. He looked absolutely magnificent even when the exhaustion was clear on his features. His lips, red and plump, were parted, air coming out in heavy breaths while he tried to focus. His face was flushed, red and sweaty, he tried to calm himself down, you could feel it. He was battling with his needs.
When you reached up to him, he pulled you forward by the wrist, forcing your chest against his as he hungrily kissed you. Your lips tasting like sweet, fresh berries, he bit on your flesh and swallowed the surprised moans coming out of you. How could you not be surprised when the man you loved was practically swallowing your face, ripping the literal oxygen out of your lungs ? You couldn’t, not when he was acting as if the universe had deprived him of you.
His hand slid down your back, pushing you against his chest and pressing his lips further against yours. His tongue, warm and wet, was diving deep in your mouth, licking as far as he could reach and sucking in your delicious taste.
He was overwhelmed by the sensations he was feeling and the ones you were feeling. He could feel it all, everything was ten times worst than usual, everything was enhanced. His senses were being drowned by your intoxicating scent, your sweet taste, the soft feeling of your skin and the siren like sound of your voice. All of you was pushing him down a cliff, hell, he was jumping down himself, willingly and expecting the result eagerly.
“P-Peter… Peter wait… C-Can’t…” You moaned in his mouth, trying to pry him away from you, loosing air fast. He didn’t let up, taking your jaw in hand and keeping you close to him until he felt you truly loose air.
“Sorry…” He apologized without really meaning it. He was staring at your lips and probably wanted more of them but you were panting hard, trying to catch your breath in his arms.
Ignoring you, his kept himself busy by rubbing his nose against the veins of your neck. His nose, inhaled that specific smell that only you had, trying to engrave it into his senses.
Suddenly straightening himself, he swallowed hard, as if he was on the verge of tears. You observed his movements, your eyes doubling in size, when he ripped his sweatpants off of his own body and tossed the shredded fabric on the floor. You were so surprised, you couldn’t even pay attention to his throbbing cock, pulsating against his stomach. You didn’t know if you should’ve focused on that or the fact that the act in itself had you clenching your thighs desperately. You sometimes forgot how strong Peter was and all the things he could do to you if he wanted.
Feeling how aroused you just got at the display of physical strength, he gave you one of those dopey smile he gave when either tired or extremely horny. You loved it so much, you wanted to coo at him but he was quick to remind you of his true intentions. Grabbing your wrist, he brought your hand close to his girth and exhaled in pleasure, eyes rolling to the back of head when your fingers wrapped around him.
“Ugh… Fucking hell bunny… You’re killing me…” He whispered, voice breathless before you’d fully done anything.
You instantly knew what you had to do, his heavy shaft pulsating in your closed fist. You admired the shape of his cock, red and covered in past strings of cum, still leaking out of his tip. You could feel the blood rushing through it, the veins bulging out and vibrating on your skin. You looked up, meeting his dark eyes, telling you (more like begging or ordering you) to do something, anything. He would take anything from you.
You started stroking his cock, smiling with pride when he moaned your name loudly. It was strained, almost stuck in his throat, but he pushed it out at the feeling you’re your skin on his warm cock. He was finally reaching peace, getting closer to salvation at each of your moves. You got closer to him, still moving but changing pace to go faster, and laid your free hand flat again his chest. You felt his abs flex understand your fingers. He looked down on you, ignoring his hips as the started to fuck your fist nice and slow.
When you started pecking his exposed chest, he knew he would spend the rest of the night doing the countless obscene things he had in mind. He bit his lips, keeping in tears of pleasure that were threatening to spill out of his gorgeous brown eyes but letting the desperate moans come out without a care in the world.
He felt dizzy, from both pleasure and his eyes jumping between your hand on his dick and your lips on his chest. You were pecking high, living butterfly kisses on his collarbones before sliding lower on his torso. You were still looking up at him and he was slowly dying inside, feeling big load of cum about to burst out of his oversensitive cock.
“You okay baby… It’s okay… I’m here love, do what you want…” You muttered, your voice hitting his skin and traveling through his body at the speed light.
“Ah… Aahhh fuck… Please… Please I’m begging you… Please…” He didn’t know what he was begging for honestly but he just needed you to do something, anything. He was begging for anything from you, anything you could give he would take how of love and pure lust.
Holding the back of your nape, he caressed your nape tenderly, his hips still moving and fucking himself inside your closed fist. His moans echoed louder around the room, perfectly in sync with the movement of your wrist and the soft kisses you left on his skin.
Seeing his cum shoot out to cover parts of your face and your covered breast drove him even deeper down the hole of insanity he was sinking in. Vision so blurry he was certain that he would faint soon, he let loose, loud and lustful moan escaping his swollen lips. Both red like cherry, you looked up at him as he unconsciously kept moving his hips against your palm.
You felt it, he needed more and he wouldn’t need to tell you, his stiff and throbbing cock would do the job. But you were prevented from really doing anything or even thinking clearly about what you wanted to do to him. He took control fast by lifting you off the mattress and carrying you against his chest again. He took you place, sitting down on the bed and putting you on his lap.
He was moving with both control and pure instinct, looking like an animatronic, wired and programmed to work a certain way. He was indeed, working fast and eagerly, searching for the next target of his assault to your body. He was served with everything he craved the whole day and could barely think about where he wanted to start.
His dilemma was quickly resolved by the subtle moan that escaped your beautiful lips when your when your leaking cunt rubber against his veiny girth. Feeling the wetness coat him all over, he couldn’t help but drool shamelessly at the thought of having it in his mouth. Yeah, he wanted you to sit on his face still. So he laid on the covers and at your confused glare, he simply pulled you by the waist all the way to his face.
“Oh my fucking God ! Peter what the fuck are you doing ?” You exclaimed, worried that you’d suffocate him to death. He had super strength but still very much needed to breath.
You seemed reticent but did not move, keeping yourself above his face rather than sitting on it like he desired. When he tried to pull you all the way down, you glared at him, pushing his hands away from your body. Deciding against the rational part of him that refused to manhandle you, he let the primal need in him to have your sweet juices pooling all over his lips take over.
Grabbing your wrists forcefully in one hand, he wrapped his arm tight around your waist, forcing you to move at his will.
“Listen to me and listen to me well bunny.” He ordered, looking both controlled and wrecked. “I’ve spent the entire fucking day feeling everything you felt times fucking ten and not even you could calm me down. The only fucking thing I want right now is that sweet pussy of yours all over my mouth so either you sit on my fucking face or you run away as fast and far as you can before I actually start considering doing all the most disgusting and unsanitary things I have in mind.” He threatened, eyes big and dark, showing the absolute lack of restraint behind them.
You stared at him, completely in awe at the bluntness of his words. Peter gad always been pretty honest about the things he wanted to do to you, never ashamed to tell you how hard you made him on a regular. But here, he looked too fucking tired to even speak it, wanting to act rather than explain himself. This Peter would clearly do all the dirty things you wanted him to do more, the things he’d rarely try, too scared of hurting you.
He looked at you, unmoving but still holding you with a firm grip. He wasn’t going to move until you gave him an answer, or at least he thought he wouldn’t until you arched your back and tried to bite back a moan. Oh yeah, he was way past thinking clearly or asking for permission now. Now when your pussy was calling out for him.
In a few swift movements, you ended up fully sat on his handsome face, quickly losing the fear of crushing him when his wet tongue slithered between your folds. You threw your head back and arched your back once more, this time fully screaming your pleasure in the comfort of his room. Your hand grabbed pieces of his hand, pulling on it at each flick of his tongue. You could only shake over him, feeling jolts of electricity run through you when his breath hit your clit.
“Oooh ! P-Peter, fuck ! A-Aaahh… F-Fuck me !” You wailed, wiggling on him and quickly regretting it when it only made his tongue move deeper inside you.
You’d never expect for his breathing to do this kinds of things to you but here you were, moaning his name louder and louder, chanting it like a prayer even. His firm grip on your thighs made it all too much for you feeling the pad of his fingers burn through your skin. You would feel his hands for days, that was for sure. Even more when you knew he wasn’t anywhere near ready to let you go.
As the minutes passed, they quickly turned into hours. Hours sitting on your boyfriends face, fucking yourself on his tongue.
He’d kept his abuse constant, needing a little more each time you came. He was hungry for more, turning into a very distant version of himself, one that couldn’t control himself and his urges. His five senses were all pointing towards you, focused entirely on you and the pleasure he was giving and receiving from you. Feeling your full thighs around his face, tightening a little more each time he let his tongue wander towards your clit, he couldn’t keep himself from getting greedy. He tried to think but his mind was blank, only knowing your name and the different ways he could use to please you.
“F-Fuck ! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck ! Oh, fucking God, Peter !” You moaned, biting your lip hard enough to draw blood.
His face was red and had been red for a while now but it was also glistening under the lights of the room. He was messy and needy, letting your juices coat as much space as possible on his face. You scent was overwhelming, burying all there was around under you and your aroma. He was going to remember how you smelled for days, maybe weeks and if he was lucky, it would last for even a few months. He’d have in engraved in his brain if he could, he was already contemplating not showering to keep your sweet scent on him for as long as possible.
You were now completely bare, your naked body rubbing riding his mouth at the best of the capacities you had left. You were exhausted and your thighs had given up on supporting you a while ago. Trembling and tender, each time you tried to pull away to let him breath a little at least, he’d responded with a deep grunt and bit your inner thighs as a warning that you listen to diligently. You weren’t going to risk cumming from it once more, the first time violent enough for your clit to throb at the memories only.
One if your thighs had been free from his iron grip on it but your skin was left shaped like his hand for a few seconds before returning back to it’s normal state. When he looked up at you and saw your swaying breasts, he needed to see more. He ripped your blouse open and took it off your body before tossing it somewhere. He was about to do the same to your bra but you stopped him to take it off yourself, remembering how he’d ripped your panties and skirt off of you. Poor clothes, you liked them. They would be missed.
When your exposed tits came in view, he freed one of your legs to wrap his slander fingers around your soft and warm flesh. He palmed it vigorously, eyes still trained on you and watching each of your reactions attentively. You were crying his name in pleasure, grabbing his wrist when his thumb started twirling around the pointing bud. He couldn’t help but need more. He’d never been this greedy before and each record he would hit would be topped a few minutes later.
He sucked and swallowed your slick, feeling it run down his throat and allowing him to fill his stomach with you and you only. You were the only meal he needed, the only one he wanted. He was reminded of that fact a little more each time you came hard on his face, the beautiful memory of you squirting just as destructive for him.
“P-Pete ! Baby, p-please… Please just… J-Just aaah ! Ah, fuck, oh fuck ! Oh, God, please ! Please ! P-Peter, peter ! Oh fuck, Peter !”
He smiled under you, his name never sounded better, never sounded sweeter. He was groaning and grunting into your wet mound, letting your folds quiver on his mouth, his tongue still gathering your juices with enthusiasm. He was only made to pleasure you at the moment, completely disregarding his aching cock. He couldn’t even feel it at this point. He was still throbbing violently and he was redder than before. The veins around him were pulsating more than even, strings of cum leaking out if his tip.
He wasn’t touching himself and you couldn’t touch him either but he was still cumming as much as his body could, white creamy ropes coating his chest and your lower back to drip over your ass. He could see it in the mirror in front of the bed. He had stopped counting the amount of times you came or the amount of time he did. He simply let it happen, moaning desperately in your cunt each time. His body had started to act on its own, sensitive and searching for more raw pleasure to feast on.
Tears of overstimulation were pooling out of your eyes, silently crying as he moved your hips on his own to ride his face, your eyes crossed and rolled to the back of your head. You were being tortured, his soft lips, wrapping around your clit and sucking onto it again as he felt you violently shake, sign of another orgasm coming fast.
“Oh god, oh god, oh god, o-oh fuck ! Oh, no, please, please, please, please ! P-Please I can’t take it !” You begged loudly, you wouldn’t be able to take another orgasm. You knew you wouldn’t, your poor body wouldn’t be able to take it.
You were crying out for it to not happen but your body was moving in the other direction, hips jerking and thrusting yourself on his tongue. You couldn’t take more but he wasn’t asking for permission anymore, he needed it, craved it desperately. Your cum all over his face, he would get it. And he did. You bounced on his tongue, letting it twirl inside your walls and suddenly be covered by a waterfall of your wetness.
“A-Ah ! Fu- Oh god, fuck ! A-Ahn Peter ! Peter, Peter, Peter, Peter, Peter !” You sung, loud enough for anyone who paid attention to hear.
He did, he paid attention and his cock couldn’t take more of this, you broken voice crying out his name in both pleasure and sensual agony. You came hard and fast, and so did he, hot cum shooting out oh his sensitive head and falling on your back. The vision of your back covered in him did something to his brain, he had a new interest, finally.
Your body fell limp in his arms, head bobbing around as if you were unconscious and you couldn’t support yourself anymore, you were fully broken now. Poor bunny, he wasn’t done with you. He needed more, but the little voice in him that could still think things through promised to take good care of you for the next days. That was if he was finally calmed down and if you allowed him to touch you.
You leaned back, supporting yourself on his chest and slowly cried at how wrecked you were. You’d made fun of him internally earlier and now you were probably worse than him. You whimpered softly when his groans his your sensitive center. When his hands grabbed your waist, you were scared that he wasn’t done eating you out, you couldn’t take more honestly. You weren’t even sure that you wanted him to fuck you now. Maybe, you didn’t know. Your brain was too scrambled to think about it.
Suddenly laid on your back, your boyfriend wrapped your arms around his neck as he kissed your forehead, cheeks and nose. His lips lingered on you and brought a wave of warmth all through your body. You felt comfort again, peace and quiet.
Kissing the side of your face, his current mission was simply to call you down a little before stuffing himself deep inside you. He was still too out of it to function properly, his body still running purely on instinct. He simply did what his oversensitive senses told him. They told him you needed to be calmed a little, and that’s exactly what he would do.
He was fast to feel a wave of need take over in his mind. Brought at a crossroads, he had the choice between ruining your sweet cunt again and probably be banned from touching you in the future, or lock himself in the bathroom and try and call his aching member while you slept. Rational Peter would’ve chosen A while also considering B, because he was a considerate boyfriend. Now, Irrational Peter was an animal clearly, incapable of pushing his urges away and thinking things through. He was choosing A without a second thought. He’d make it up to you however you desired.
His lips wandered lower, finding your breasts and taking one of your nipples between his teeth while your other breast was vigorously squeezed by his other hand. Drunk on the feeling of your warm flesh in his mouth, he sucked long and hard, his tongue rolling around the sensitive bud before letting go in a wet sound and turning towards the other. This time, he only used his mouth, ha ds wandering lower to palm the flesh of your ass and thighs. He was close to cumming again, just from the things he was doing to you and he wanted to make sure that make you cum with him.
Standing straight, he grabbed the back of your thighs and rubbed his erected girth on your swollen clit. Your cries of pleasure erupted again, only fulling his thirst for whatever you had to give. Yeah, we already established that he was greedy.
“P-Peter please… N-No… No more edging… Please baby, I-I… I promise I’ll be good... Please... No more ! Please, d-don’t tease me no more !” You sobbed softly, clawing at his lower stomach, to pull him forward but also push him backwards.
Looking down at his own cock, he watched it drip droplets of cum on your folds, he was hypnotized by the vision. He backed up slowly, still holding your thighs apart and positioned himself at your entrance. You whined and squirmed beneath him, trying to get him inside as soon as possible. He chuckled lightly at your eagerness before thrusting deep inside you in one rough move.
He let out a groan, mouth falling open and eyes crossing as they rolled to the back of his head. He was feeling everything all at once, close to cumming only from this. He tried to get his thoughts together but he couldn’t, it was so hard, you felt so good. So, so, so good. He was keeping tears of pleasure to himself, cock so sensitive, he felt like it would explode. He lowered his face and his eyes juggled between your face and your pussy, swallowing him whole and ripping away all he had. Yeah, take it all, take everything from him.
Backing up, he repeated the motion, stretching your insides and engraving the feeling of his pulsating veins on your warm velvety walls. His pace only got quicker from there, the sounds of your cries of pleasure only matched by the sound of his skin slapping against the back of your thighs. The sensation was burning your sensitive body, still tender from the grip he’d kept on your flesh only minutes ago.
Your vision was unfocused, eyes going everywhere frantically, searching for something to focus on, to keep you steady. You couldn’t look at him, not now, not when you were so weak to his every move. Everything he did to you was piling up, all the emotions and sensations crumbling on you all at once. You could barely process one that the next was erupting inside you. You knew that if you looked at him, his expression would only make it worst.
You always loved how he looked when he was fucking you but it was ten times more arousing for you when he was overwhelmed, which was practically all the time. He’d always groan your name louder and louder, big brown eyes drowning you both in a pool of lust. You couldn’t even deal with the memory of his face.
“F-Fuck… You feel this bunny ? My fat cock… It’s spreading you so wide… Bet you can feel it all the way in your tummy…” He groaned, leaning forward and pecking your puckered lips.
You were always needy for his kisses and he was always glad to give you as many as you wanted. He was yours to play with, and you always did so much for him, he would never refuse you anything, out of gratitude, boundless loyalty and love. He chuckled at the thoughts he was having. He could still find it in him to be a sap, even when his brain could barely process daily words or actions at the moment. Love would do that to you.
His body got closer to you, lowering himself on you and plowing deeper and harder in your tight heat, living for the various ways you’d scream his name.
“P-Peter ! Oh, oh my… Oh fuck, more ! Peter, more please more baby ! More ! Peter please !” You sobbed into his ear when he nestled his head in the crook of your neck to bite your collarbones hard enough to leave a mark.
He was close, dangerously close. He was actually surprised he managed to hold out for that long, and just as surprised that you did the same. Working himself inside you, he started sucking on your skin and biting it all over, one of his hands letting go of your thigh and placing itself on your stomach to press your belly. He could feel the tip lf his cock violently poking through.
Pushing your legs on your chest, the change of angle gave him access to the perfect spot inside you, the one that would have the neighbors complaining despite the diy soundproof padding of his apartment. He would probably need to invest on a new bedframe too, the one he owned currently, threatening to split in too as his rough hip thrust made the bed shake and slam on the wall. Lucky him, he was holding you, if he’d been holding the head if the bed, he would’ve ripped it apart himself.
“Oh god, oh, god, oh Peter, God ! Please, I’m s-so, so fucking close oh please !” You begged, tears spilling all over your flushed cheeks.
“F-Fuck… Bunny, please, give it to me… Come on bunny, one more… Just one more…”
Your high came surprisingly fast, surprising the both of you and raining over you in a sweet shower of pleasure. You arched your back, biting one of the most obscene noises you’ve ever made. You gripped on the bedsheets, ripping them apart too in the process. You’d barely processed your own orgasm that the man above you followed quickly after, filling you up with him cum, warm and thick, coating your walls and invading your entire being.
You whimpered, breathing with difficulty and trying to gather yourself. You couldn’t, not when he was still holding you and still going. You looked at him as if he’d grown a new set of arms and three heads. He attempted leaned down, kissing the side lf your jaw and chuckling in your ear when you whined in displeasure.
“Sorry baby… I’ll take good care of you, I promise…”
“I… I hate you…” You sobbed silently. Yeah, you should probably cancel your plans for the rest of the weekend.
Many hours later, you didn’t understand how you were still standing, or in this case, kneeling. Holding yourself on all fours, your body was rocking back and forth, at the rhythm of his thrust inside you. You could do it anymore, you couldn’t take more, nothing in this world could take this much, human or not. This man was insane, this was evident now.
You would need to make a run to the pharmacy for the morning after pill. Your birth control could definitely not take the amount of cum he’d fucked in you, and you loved him but neither of you were ready for a baby, even if you enjoyed the thought of having one and the process too.
The sheets were ruined, cum and drool all over them, adding to the many holes you both tore in the fabric. No washing could save them either, he’d get new ones and hopefully they would get treated better.
Peter was probably just as wrecked as you but clearly not exhausted in the slightest and definitely not bothered by the state if his body. His skin was covered in various marks that could’ve been given by some kind of enemy he fought in his red and blue costume. You’d given him these marks, biting on the skin of his collarbones, his jaw, his ear, his shoulders and honestly anywhere you could reach. He’d let you mark him however you pleased, a small price to pay for what he did to you. Even the bloody lacerations on his back were definitely worth it to him.
He felt a little guilty but never enough to stop, not when you sounded so good moaning his name. Nothing could get him down that high he’d been stuck in the entire day. He tried to calm himself down at times but nothing would be enough, nothing would quench his thirst for you and your body.
Gripping on your hip and slamming his cock deep in you, your ass bouncing on his lower stomach, he could feel himself cumming once more. He watched you reach forward, as if trying to run away, you’d done it a few times already and he pulled you back by the ankles each time. Your face fell, burying itself in what was left of the sheets and bite into them hard, saliva soaking them a little more when your mouth fell open and a scream hit the mattress.
“Good… Good girl, just one left… Only one left and I'm letting you rest baby…” He groaned, leaning over your back and kissing your nape tenderly.
“Aaaahhh… N-No… C-Can’t… N-Not anymore…” You muttered, voice broken and incapable of thinking about coherent words to moan.
His balls slapped against your folds, the sound of your wetness and his cum vibrating in his sensitive eardrums. He could still hear and feel it all, his senses pushed to the maximum of their capacities and suddenly going completely silent. He reached forward too, fingers grazing the soft skin of your arm to intertwine with yours and hold your hand tightly. His free hand wrapped around your middle, pulling you towards him. You soon both came, just as hard as you’d previously did, both your juices spilling out of your sensitive hole.
Your moans and his grunts quickly turned into loud sounds of breathing, your heavy breathing resonating in the room. He leaned his head on the back of yours, feeling a sense of calm and peace he’d craved for a long while. He was finally feeling better, all calm and not as overwhelmed as he had been previously.
A suddenly ray of light caught both your attention, your heads snapping towards the window. Your eyes widened as you saw the sun rise and peak through the window. You had fucked the whole night. The entire night, you had been turned over and over, your body stripped bare and abused non stop. The whole night. You sobbed in desperation and disappointment too. You didn’t really know why you were disappointed but you were, probably at the lack of self control. You boyfriend, on the other hand, was keeping in a laugh he knew would get him in trouble.
“I’m sorry… So sorry bunny… I’m so, so, so sorry… I promise, I’m sorry…” He muttered, kissing your neck tenderly.
You knew he only meant it partially, never truly sorry for the things he did to you. He loved how wrecked he made you and loved how dumb you got for him, he would get just as stupid for you. In thus situation, he’d been stupid horny from the beginning.
You both fell to the side, facing the window and the rising new day. You were starting to feel the exhaustion fall over you all at once and so was he. He yawned and you did the same, nuzzling your face in the pillows. His hand rested on your stomach, caressing it slowly and trying to massage your aching parts. He pecked your cheek tenderly, smiling to himself at how great of a girlfriend you were. Finally, he was calm again, after practically breaking your body, he was okay.
You would probably put him on a sex ban for the foreseeable future and it would be deserved. Now he understood why you were the one calming him down when overwhelmed by the world : you were the one with the common sense. When the spider parts became too much to handle, you’d handle it for him.
“Pete ?” You called out after a few minutes of silence.
“Hum ?”
“You feelin’ better ?” You asked softly, still looking out for him by being as quiet as possible.
He exhaled in your neck, feeling his heart thump in his chest. He was so in love for you, he could barely think. You were genuinely the best, still carrying about his wellbeing when you were hanging on the last ropes on consciousness. He raised himself slightly to bed himself forward and kiss your lips.
“I’m fine bunny… I might just need to do a few researches in my dad’s stuff, we wouldn’t want this whole thing to happen again, would we ?” He chuckled lightly, voice deep and resonating.
“No thank you. I’ll take the running away option next time.” You responded, side eyeing him. You loved him but absolutely not, never again (or probably at least once, it wasn’t that bad).
For the rest of the day, you caught up on sleep, still attached together and when he woke up, he found his father’s researches, discovering the cases of heats that spiders would go through, specifically the kind that bit him. Turns out, when location a pray to mate with, they get overwhelmed by a the sensations felt by the other, feeding of this connection to know exactly what to do. His already sensitive senses turned towards you only and seeking to please you.
Good to know, at least he knew that next time, he should read the entirety of his father’s researches instead lf skimming through them. Luckily, Peter was a fast learner. And he had the heightened senses to help.
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epiphany-of-a-madwoman · 2 days ago
Peace | Wanda Maximoff
Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader
Genre: Fluff
Words: ~2K
Summary: Everything was falling apart in the outside world, but when she's with you, nothing could be more perfect.
Note: STOP TRAUMATIZING MY BABY MARVEL! LET HER BE HAPPY, OKAY!?! Anyway, let me know if you'd like to be tagged in my future works and send any requests you might have! :)
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It’s soft, the sunlight that trickles from the windows, peaking through the airy pale curtains that lazily dance.
There’s a breeze in the room, so mellow and sweet that it feels more like the gentle caress of a lover. The room is quiet, nearly completely so, besides the slow and steady breaths Wanda takes, eyes firmly shut as she lies almost entirely motionless beside you. She’s angelic, with gossamer hair that’s messy and tangled, fanning around her pillow like a silken halo. The corners of her lips pull into a smile, cheeks flushing a rosy red that’s a stark contrast to her moonlight pale skin. Running wild in her dreamscapes full of unbridled bliss.
Like a star, she’s a celestial entity more complex than you could ever grasp, with a beauty that burns cold like ice. But when she smiles that radiant smile, eyes lit up with a grin that covers most of her face, she’s more like the sun. With threads of daylight that banish any darkness and demons. And she’s within reach, within your grasp at any given time
It's been months since the Avengers disbanded, and months since you and Wanda have been on the run. It's stressful, to say the least. Constantly having to be on edge takes its toll on you. Never feeling like you could relax, constant fear that you'd be caught and thrown back into prison. Paranoia follows you like a shadow, always visible in the corner of your vision. Everywhere you look, east and west, there's enemies, patiently waiting for a fuck up.
And sometimes you wonder what would've happened if you never did what you did; if you'd signed the Accords and left it at that. But those thoughts are immediately wiped away whenever you look at Wanda. Because no matter how hard the waves crash down on you, you could swim through anything with her by your side. She's a roaring fire that keeps your brittle heart warm, staving away resentment that would start to build inside of you. Because the Accords would've meant a life without Wanda, and that just wasn't worth the illusion of freedom.
You felt used, getting discarded the moment there was no more apparent use for you. It felt bitter, a sour taste lingering in your mouth. But Wanda never shows the same antipathy. She remains optimistic, focusing on what she has rather than what's been lost. Sometimes her integrity makes you feel small, like your bitterness is wasting her honor. And you've told her such. She would simply roll her eyes, and pull you close, washing away every fear with a single kiss. And then she'd reassure you, 'I'd never want anyone else; spite and all.'
And slowly, the layers shed, letting go of the past and putting all of your focus on now. Tightly holding onto the lazy mornings and quiet nights you share with Wanda. Cherishing every breathe you get to take with her near.
And in a weirdly twisted way, you were grateful to be on the run. If you were still an Avenger, sitting in the tower and going off on missions every other week, you wouldn't have these moments with Wanda. There would always be something more pressing, something more dangerous. But in the small little secluded home, tucked deep in the remote parts of Sokovia, there's only you and Wanda.
A sanctity of peace that is just for the two of you.
“Good morning.”
You turn your head, looking over at Wanda’s stirring form. Her green eyes, hazy from sleep, watch you like a child who’s just seen a puppy in real life. The pure unadulterated joy on her face, with a smile like daylight after a series of dark nights, has your heart fluttering wildly, like a bird stuck in a cage. But it’s a good feeling, a warm feeling you never want to forget or lose.
“Good morning,” you respond, a sweet giggle bubbling from your mouth, with a stupidly large grin stuck to your face. You lean down, planting a soft kiss on the corner of Wanda’s mouth, savoring the feeling of her soft skin on your lips. The smell of vanilla and peach invades your senses, leaving you dizzy in the head.
“Good morning.” Wanda whispers, voice raspy and hoarse, sleep lacing each syllable.
“You already said that.” You laugh, quietly, almost like you're afraid that any loud noises will break the secret world you’ve created with just the two of you.
“Did I?” Confusion crosses her face, nose scrunching up in the most adorable way, her head tilting slightly to the left, like a puppy dog.
“Yes, you did.” You can’t help the laughter that continues to bubble out of your mouth or the way your lips are permanently set in a wide smile.
“I guess that’s just the effect you have on me,” Wanda says, a matching grin pulling on her lips.
“Sweet talker,” you say, an accusing tone in your voice. But the smile on your face and the light in your eyes keeps the words from being harsh.
“I’ve been told I’m good with words.”
“Oh really?” You raise a brow, lips pulling into a smirk. Wanda simply nods, leaning her head closer to yours. The both of you lean closer until your foreheads meet, leaving their lips only centimeters apart. Neither of you moves closer, just allowing yourselves to get lost in the moment of peace. Both of you have been plagued by uncertainty the last few years, it’s nice to steal away these moments of calm while they can. Who knows when they’ll be taken from this heaven too. Thrown back into the reality of being superheroes in a world that seems to constantly need saving.
Your eyes are shut, breaths shallow, and falling in sync the longer they stay this way. You open your eyes first, tracing Wanda’s face with your eyes, committing each curve to memory. You notice faint freckles you’ve never seen before. They’re near invisible, not many of them littering her rosy cheeks. Without thought, you raise your hands, using the lightest touch to trace the freckles, connecting them as if they’re constellations. At first, Wanda tenses, the touch unexpected, but quickly she melts into it, sighing softly.
“Did you know you have the tiniest freckles?” you ask. “Right here,” you touch one of the freckles. “--and another here, here and here.” As you speak, you gently prod each spot, as if to emphasize your point.
“I did,” Wanda replies, eyes still shut. “They were more noticeable when I was a child. My brother used to constantly tease me for them.”
There’s a somberness in Wanda’s tone that is only ever reserved for speaking about her family. Pietro's death still follows her like a shadow, looming in the brightest of days. But it’s not as heavy as it used to be. You’ve alleviated some of the weight, breaking it down until it was bearable to carry. And she'll never forget that. Even if fate interjects, separating the two of you, the sun would always seem a little brighter because of you. A field of daisies covering her fondest memories of you.
“They’re lovely.” You lean forward, fingers gently moving to hold Wanda’s chin, you press your forehead against Wanda, the tips of your noses gently brushing. You relish in the feeling, Wanda’s breath becoming yours as your chests rise and fall in sync. Mild heat flashes through your body in the most pleasant way possible.
“Thank you,” Wanda whispers, the words tickling your skin, causing a faint giggle to bubble out of your mouth. Wanda watches you with a sweet smile and lovestruck eyes. This moment is perfect, and both of you wish they could stop time and stay here forever. But that’s not realistic, not with the cards they were dealt.
Silence encompasses the room again, neither of you speaking.
There is a delicateness in the quiet; a silence that only comes from two people who deeply understand each other. A calm and serene feeling floods the room. And you could spend years trying to put it into exact words how you feel, but you’d forever remain unsuccessful. It lulls you into security, sleep lurking in the corner of the room. Warm and fuzzy feeling cocoons the two of you like a blanket, holding you tightly together.
“What did I ever do to deserve you?” Wanda's voice is quiet. You open your eyes, silently watching her. Her eyes are still shut, face undisturbed, as if she never even spoke. But the question hangs in the air.
“What do you mean?” you ask. Wanda stretches her body, a soft sigh leaving her mouth as she does. Then her eyes are open, looking at you with a hazy gaze.
“I just, you’ll never have peace if you're with me. There’s always going to be something that will get in the way,” Wanda says, her voice somber, a crease in her forehead. She’s been thinking about this for a long time, it would seem.
“Hey, you forget that I’m an Avenger too. I can handle anything that gets thrown at us,” you say, desperate to quiet the fears in her head. You move closer, placing a hand on her cheek and tracing her face with the pad of your finger.
“I know you can handle aliens or arms dealers. But what about everything else. It's been years and I still don't understand my magic, it’s dangerous. I'm dangerous. What if I hurt you?” Wanda says.
“You won’t hurt me,” you say. fervor in every word you speak.
“You don’t know that,” Wanda says, the volume of her voice slightly rising. There's fear in her voice, desperation in her eyes. She doesn't want you to slip through her fingers like everything seems to.
“But I know you, Wanda,” you say, hand moving up her face, brushing away the stray red hairs that brush against her face. “And I know that I’d rather spend the rest of my life with you than get a guaranteed peaceful life with anyone else.”
She sighs, but says nothing else. Your brows furrow, fingertips dancing in her hair. It hurts to see her this way, so terrified that her happiness won't last. But you understand. Nothing good seems to last forever in her life.
"Talk to me Wanda. What's wrong," you say, speaking softly and gently. You want her to verbalize every fear, so you can wipe each and every one of them away.
She takes a deep breath, taking a moment to gather her thoughts. And patiently, you wait. You'd wait a million years if that's what it takes. All you care about is Wanda, and making sure that she's not falling apart on the inside.
"I've lost everyone else in my life. I can't lose you too," she whispers, a stray tear falling from her eyes. Quickly you wipe it away with the pad of your thumb. There's a somber look on Wanda's face, all her worst fears bubbling to the surface.
"You won't. You know me Wanda, I'm too stubborn to die," you say, a teasing tone lingering in your voice.
A bark of a laugh leaves her mouth as she sniffles. "You are the most stubborn person I know."
"Exactly," you say, smile as blinding as the blazing summer sun. "I don't know what will happen in the future, but I do know we have this moment. And I wouldn't trade this for the world."
Wanda’s eyes flutter shut, eyelashes delicately kissing the tops of her cheeks. She takes a deep breath, calming the heavy beating of her heart. Slowly, the tension leaves her body, the small creases on her forehead smoothing out. Then she slowly nods her head, opening her eyes a moment later.
“Do you mean that?” her voice is quiet, any doubt or fear completely erased from her tone. Instead, it’s hopeful, as the first rays of light after a lifetime of winter.
“I do.”
A large grin grows on her face and you mimic it. She moves closer to you, entangling a hand in your hair. Then her lips are on yours; soft like a feather and sweet like a fresh peach. The sensation is intoxicating, pulling you under like a sickly sweet wine. She lingers on your senses, even after she pulls away. You’d never be clean of her, even if a hundred years pass and you never see her again. It wasn’t terrifying in the way it used to be. Instead, it was soothing, to be so completely wrapped up in someone who reciprocated your intensity.
“I’m so lucky to have you,” you whisper, breath tickling Wanda’s face.
“Let’s just stay here forever,” Wanda mutters. You smile, the whisper of a giggle leaving your mouth. “Let’s never leave and forget that anything else exists.”
“Deal,” you say. “I love you.”
A million butterflies soar in your stomach, the smile on her face heart attack inducing. Her eyes are sparkling, reflecting ethereally in the soft light from dawn. You were never religious but if you were, you’d abandon it the moment Wanda entered your life. Without a thought you’d worship her like a false idol, losing all sense in her. You’d write a million poems all about her and it would still never be enough. But you’d do it, if that’s what it takes to help her understand just how weak and at peace she makes you feel.
“I love you too.”
Tags: @theperfectlovestory
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tricksterlokilaufeyson · 2 days ago
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lesbian-deadpool · a day ago
Yelena: How long does your ideal hug last?
Y/N: 38-45 minutes.
Yelena: That’s really impractical.
Y/N: You said ideal, not realistic.
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lovelybishop · 2 days ago
nerf sword || wanda maximoff x reader
summary: you ask wanda if she can curse a nerf sword.
word count: 142
prompt(s): “do you know how to curse a nerf sword?”
warnings: not proofread
requested by anon.
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“hey wanda,” you walk up to the table she’s sitting at, nerf sword in hand, “do you know how to curse a nerf sword?”
wanda puts her fork down, “no love, i’m sorry. do i even wanna know why you’re asking this?”
“well, i just really like it when you use your powers.” you smile as you feel heat rise up your neck to your face, “especially when it’s stupid and silly things.”
wanda chuckles as she stands up, going to holding your cheeks.
“you are to sweet, love” she places a gentle kiss on your forehead as you smile softly.
“i love you wanda.” you look into her eyes, “with or without powers.”
“and i love you y/n.” wanda then places a gentle kiss on your lips, “even when you ask me if i can do ridiculous things with my powers.”
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onegayastronaut · 2 days ago
Dating Thena Would Include...
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Meeting Thena when she was out on one of her travels around the world
Thena was amused by the fact that you didn’t seem to be intimidated by her silence and would usually talk to her about your day
While everyone else might have assumed she would be bored by the trivialities of regular life, she wanted more of that with you and came back every day
Going out on dates and Thena insisting on paying for everything
Usually Thena just sits and watches you eat whenever you go out
She is a huge cuddler, but will deny it if asked
You knew that asking her for details about her life was useless, and that she would tell you about her life when she felt ready
She started developing feelings for you despite her hesitance, and eventually asked to move in with you
Teaching you how to fight because “you are currently pitiful at defending yourself”
She can get really quiet sometimes but you’ve gotten used to it
Gilgamesh is glad that someone other than him is around to take care of Thena
Phastos makes you special bracelets so you can defend yourself
Sersi ends up physically altering you so that you can also live forever and be able to travel with Thena
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jackie5656 · a day ago
With; Frank Castle (Punisher)
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A/n: alright watching daredevil has led me to this. And yes he is a mass murderer but he has a pretty good cause so…yeah. Thank you all so much for the recent love. I appreciate it more than you know, enjoy!
Warnings: A lot of angst bc it just makes sense, long haired Frank (aka read at own risk) HAVENT PROOF READ YET BUT POSTING ANYWAY
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The incessant sound of the pouring rain relaxes your nerves. Your apartment is practically pitch black, only illuminated by the television and the moonlight outside. The clock below the screen you’re currently entranced by reads 12:30, and you curse your anxiety that’s currently keeping you awake. You’ve seen Harry Potter plenty of times, but it happens to be a comfort movie of yours that makes the rainy evening feel less lonely. Max, the pitbull you and your boyfriend have taken in and come to love, is curled up at your feet. You adjust yourself, giving him a quick pat before checking your phone for what’s probably the hundredth time in the past couple days.
You and Frank had gotten in an argument. It was trivial, he’d come home after a long day of who knows what and you had just started dinner after a long day of work. You’d left the door unlocked, something he’d reprimanded on multiple occasions. He was paranoid, and sure he had a right to be. But you were tired, and he’d tracked snow into the house because he’d forgotten to take off those damned boots that you’d reprimanded him for a billion times. So you’d both been exhausted, overworked and overwhelmed with life and had ultimately taken it out on each other. A multitude of small grievances had built up and it ended up in a fiery combat of quick-witted, childish digs at one another. He’d left your shared apartment just as soon as he’d arrived, snatching his keys off the counter and muttering a “I’m going to cool off.” Just in time for the pot of boiling water on the stove to boil over, in which you’d burned yourself in the effort to turn it off. The water had stung even more than his angered gaze, the pain of your singeing skin and heavy heart had caused you to burst into tears. Max, who’d been hiding out in the bedroom, slowly padded over to nudge your shaking legs with his snout.
That’d been a couple days ago, and Frank had yet to return from his drive. A year and a half ago, his sudden absence wouldn’t have surprised you. But that was before you had gotten together, and since then you had made sure to establish proper communication. If he ever got caught up with ‘work,’ he was supposed to send you a text or give a quick call to keep you in the loop. And he’d done a great job the past year. Though much like your absent-minded forgetting to lock the door, he’d sometimes forget to update you.
But this was different, you always agreed to never leave each other without a grievance being solved. Never go to bed angry at one another, never leave the house without a kiss goodbye, in case it was the last time. He promised. And sure, it was a little morbid. But you’ve both lost a lot in life, so good-termed goodbyes were important.
You cringed at the taste of copper stinging your tongue. The swollen piece of lip which you’d been chewing on these past two days had finally broken skin. You dab at cut with the sleeve of his crew neck enveloping your body. You were pissed, but the collar still smelt like him, and you missed him. A lot. Max’s head perks up at the sound of keys jiggling in the (locked, you asshole) door. He scrambles from the couch, crossing the short distance to the front hallway just in time for the door to swing open. The sound of boots dropping to the floor almost makes your lips quirk into a smile, one that dissipated the second you read his body language. He’s soaked from head to toe, heavy breathing no doubt from racing up the four flights of stairs it takes to get to your home.
“What’s wrong?” Your eyes follow his towering frame race around the apartment.
“Where’s the duffel bag I bought you?” Alright, at the very least a ‘hey, sorry for ditching and scaring the shit out of you,’ would have sufficed.
“Bedroom closet, why?” You repeat your questioning, following his tail when he heads straight to your shared room. Tossing folded sweaters onto the floor to get to the few bags that sit at the top shelf of the closet.
“Alright. Where the hell have you been asshole? And what the hell are you doing?” You step in front of him the minute he turns to place the bags on the bed. He stops just in time not to tackle you, gabbing at your shoulders so you don’t fall. His eyes are focused, but you know him enough to see the panic behind them. It makes your stomach drop.
“Sweetheart, I know we’re not on good terms right now-”
“Understatement of the year.” He only sighs, ceasing his hurried movements as his eyes lock with yours. Hands moving your hips to grab your attention.
“You have every right to be pissed at me. And you can chew me out later. But baby, we need to get out of the city for a couple days. I have a cabin upstate that we can go to-”
“Wh-what are you talking about? What happened?” He sighs again, reminding himself of the doghouse he’s in that will only get worse if he’s angered at your interrupting.
“I can tell you everything in the car, but please help me pack so we can get going.” You scoff, arms shooting up to rub at your temples with an exhausted huff. His heart wrenches, and he hates himself for what he’s put you through.
“I’m sorry baby, for a lot of things. I know this isn’t fair.” His hands move to hold your head, moving his head to force your eyes on his. “But please, help me get some bags together?” Your eyes try to avoid his big, brown, frustratingly convincing ones as you attempt to remove yourself from his grasp. Your hands wrap around his wrists to pull them away, but he forces your bandaged one back to his hold.
“Hey, hey. What happened?” His tone is soft, the one he only uses around you. His fingers trace the intricate gauze pattern, one you only could have learned from patching his up so many times.
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” You almost regret the words the second they leave your mouth, heart wrenching at the hurt that envelopes his face. He tightens his grip on your hand, too stubborn not to get an answer. You only sigh, averting your eyes from his to surpress the tightening of your throat.
“I burned myself. Not a big deal, it was small.”
“I was making dinner, water boiled over. Really it was nothing.”
“And you took care of it correctly?”
“Ran it under cold water for ten minutes. Made sure it was clean. Applied aloe and re-applied every other hour. Took Advil. Not my first rodeo.” He forces out a small huff of amusement, and a part of you wishes he wouldn’t let you go. Reluctantly, you pull away. Putting as much space between yourself and him to keep yourself from embracing him and forgetting anything even happened. His stomach drops at your cold nature, though he knows it’s well deserved.
You work in silence, mind racing with essentials you’ll need, along with a few of Max’s favorite toys and treats. Frank darts around the apartment and gathers his own necessities, checking the amount of ammunition in the various artillery hidden around the house as if it’s second nature.
You’re out the door in minutes, Frank holds an umbrella over your head as you triple check the bags, he doesn’t even seemed phased at the freezing rain that pours down on him. You’d tried to get him to get under the umbrella to no avail. The bastard was stubborn, especially when it came to chivalry.
The drive is silent the first 20 minutes, Max lays sound asleep in the back as you sit in the passenger side. Texting friends and family about a ‘surprise trip’ Frank planned for the weekend. He studies you, the overwhelming guilt he’s been feeling these past days multiplying at the notion of you having to lie to your loved ones. He’s put you through this, and he can’t forgive himself for letting you love him.
“Can you tell me what’s going on now?” Frank glances from the road to look at you, his grip on the wheel tightening.
“It’s…Honestly safer you don’t know.” He winces at your amused scoff, throwing your arms up in exasperation.
“Are we still doing this? You’re gonna get into trouble and take us to some safe house I had no idea existed after disappearing for three days?” He purses his lip, you’re partly satisfied you’ve left him speechless. “It’s not even about you not telling me what you got into, honestly. I know you’d prefer to keep me out of it.” You admit, nursing the sides of your head at the feeling of an oncoming migraine. “It’s the fact that you went A-wall. You know how shitty that is?”
“Y-yes. Yeah.”
“Obviously not, or else I wouldn’t have been worried sick these last few days.”
“Can you just let me-”
“What, explain? You lost the communication privilege when you left without a fucking word. Or at the very least, a text letting me know you were safe. You were alive.” Your voice breaks at the end of your sentence, and Frank swallows to suppress the rage that boils in his stomach when he sees a tear slip down your cheek. He hates to see you cry. Despises when he’s the one that’s caused it. “Are we far enough to stop?”
“The house is another hour out.” Frank looks in the review out of habit, glancing over at your trembling form.
“Can we stop for a second?”
“I’d feel better if we got to the house-”
“Pull over.”
“I said no, damnit!” His fist collides with the dash board, you and Max jolt at the sound.
“Francis Castiglione, pull this car the fuck over!” Fury makes your blood run hot, you’re too overwhelmed to think straight.
Now, Frank Castle is not a man that lets anyone force him to do something. Ever. Unless, of course…it’s you. Muttering a series of unintelligible curse words, he swiftly pulls the car to the side of the road. Not expecting you to throw open the door and jump out of the truck and onto the side of the road. Thundering rain beginning to consume your clothes.
“Jesus Christ. Max, stay.” He immediately follows you, yelling after you to cease these antics. “Hey, hey! Don’t walk away from me? You hear me?” He’s yelling over the rain, pissed off at your unpredictable actions. You spin on your heel at his words, trudging through the mud to close the space between you.
“Oh, so you don’t want me to walk away? Don’t want me to up and leave when things get hard? Well welcome to the fucking club.”
He shakes his head with a scoff, crossing his arms over his chest. “That’s not fair. You know that’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it? We agreed when we moved in together to never abandon each other. To work through every argument and never leave angry, ever. You promised, you fucking promised me! Did that mean nothing to you? You think it’s okay to leave me pacing the fucking apartment for days on end, pleading and begging that you’d walk through that door? You’re a liar, and you betrayed your word. Betrayed me.” You poke at his chest to emphasize your words, teeth clenched with rage.
“You think I want this for you? I can’t keep an eye on you if I’m out of the city, I need you to be with me so I know you’re okay. I hate that you have to be involved in this, and I fucking despise myself for putting you through all of this. You deserve better, I know that!”
“But I chose you! What makes you think this is one sided? I knew what I was signing up for when I fell in love with you, I chose this! But I can’t do this if you just randomly go A-wall like that! You can’t even begin to imagine how scared I was. This incessant, debilitating nausea while I sat beside the police radio.” You shake your head with a cold, disingenuous laugh. Biting down on the cut on your lip and cringing at the pain. “I’ve memorized your fucking height, weight, any other descriptive features if god forbid you were found dead. You can’t do that to me Frank. I mean I physically will not be able to handle that again.” You choke back a sob into your soaked sleeve, arm shooting out to prevent his embrace.
All he wants is to hold you. To beg you to forgive him for what he’s done. He won’t ever deserve you, but he’ll fight like hell to make it up to you. He reaches for you again, taking a small step back when you shove at his chest.
“You don’t get to hug this better! You promised, you promised me. And you fucking left me!” Warm tears mix with the freezing rain running down your skin, and your hits get harder, more desperate as your body racks with sobs.
“Hey, stop it. Just stop, please.” He’s able to grab hold of your wrists, pulling your trembling frame to his. Wincing when you struggle in his hold.
“You promised.” You mutter through chattering teeth. The adrenaline and anger finally succumbing to the cold.
“I know, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Frank is sure he can feel his heart split in half, getting on his knees as your legs give out. You’re exhausted, not having slept more than in hour in three days has finally caught up to you. And every bone in your body begs for rest.
“Please don’t leave again. Not like that.” You shove your face into his neck, allowing yourself to hold him for the first time in what feels like forever.
“I won’t, I’m sorry sweetheart. So fucking sorry.” He mutters into your drenched hair, vowing to himself to never do this to you again.
Eventually, he gets the two of you back into the car. Pulling you into his lap in the passenger’s seat. Silently greeting a very concerned Max. Brows furrowing when the dog stills at his touch. He shakes it off, grabbing the fleece blanket from the other side of the back seat and wrapping you in it.
“You’ll catch a cold.”
“I’m fine Frank.”
“Just let someone take care of you for once, yeah?” He says sternly. Tugging the fabric around you tighter and rubbing your back to warm you. Relieved you’ve managed to calm down.
“We’re soaked.” You hiccup a laugh between cries and feel him chuckle under you.
“So much for the fucking umbrella. Your crazy ass is gonna catch your death running out like that.”
“Can you blame me? You’ve managed to drive me nuts this week.”
“No, I blame me. I’m sorry baby, really.” He mumbles out the last part between kisses to the crown of your head, petting Max’s head that pops between the two front seats to check on you. Max looks to you for permission, only licking Franks hand when you give him a curt nod.
“You’re only gonna love on me when she says it’s okay? You’re a traitor, you know that you mutt?” Despite his aggressive words, he plants a kiss to the dogs head, who licks at the rain droplets on your cheek.
“I told him we were mad at you. Your loyalty lies with mom, huh buddy?” You scratch at the special spot behind his ear with a smile. For the first time in days, Frank feels warm.
“I missed that.” He mutters almost to himself, not expecting you to look up in question.
“Missed what.”
“That pretty smile of yours, could kill me.” He whispers out, thumb tracing your bottom lip gently.
“Smooth, Castle. You’re still in the dog house. Max gets your side of the bed tonight.”
“Okay, that’s fair. Let the kiss-ass have my girl for the night.” He nudges Max’s side with his elbow, chuckling when the dog only licks at his ear. You sigh, finally warming up with the help of their presence. In the middle of an empty road in up-state New York, in the middle of the night, you’re a little family. A fucked up, undoubtedly dysfunctional, but nevertheless loving family.
You take the rare occasion of peace to study him. The small light on the roof of the car is all that illuminates Franks face, your eyes trace each and every one of his features. Your favorite scars, the shadows and highlights of his beautiful silhouette. You’re still both soaked, but you don’t think you’ve felt this comfortable in a long time. Absentmindedly, your fingers trace his sharp jaw, grabbing his attention from Max as his tired eyes reach yours.
“When was the last time you slept?” You mutter through hooded eyes, stoking his bruised jaw. He glances at you, eyes leaving you to look back at the rain pattering on the road ahead.
“D’know, never sleep well when you’re not there.” He confesses simply, subconsciously pulling you closer to his chest.
“Feeling is mutual.” Is all you can muster through a heavy yawn.
“Close your eyes baby. Get some sleep.” He orders through a gentle kiss to your cheek. You shake your head, despite your eyes being closed already.
“Don’t want you to have to stay up and drive alone.”
“I won’t be, I have Max. And besides, you need the rest more than I do. Sleep for me, please. Cant have you losing any more rest because of me.” He runs his thumb over your eyebrows and cheekbones, knowing it sends you to slumber almost instantly.
“Y’sure?” You move closer into his neck, gathering as much warmth as you can from him.
“Positive.” He doesn’t even have to carry on before you’re fast asleep, no doubt exhausted from all that’s ensued.
He turns on the radio as the storm carries on. Taking a few minutes to ensure you’re fully asleep before shuffling out from under you to start driving again.
“C’mere Max. Keep your mama warm for me.” The raven-haired man softly pats the space beside you. The dog does as told, stepping over the glove compartment and curling into your side now that Frank’s fully reclined your seat. He rests his head on your thigh, shuffling closer into you as if he’s also trying to enjoy the newfound warmth.
The storm has finally ceased once the car pulls in the gravel driveway. Quietly, Frank leaves the car to give the quaint cabin a once-over. Ensuring it’s clear of any unlikely danger before heading back to get you and your bags. He’s careful not to wake you, slipping one arm under your knees and the other just below your arms. You don’t stir until he’s placed you on the bed, pulling off your shoes before going back out the door to get the bags. Max follows him each of the two trips, making sure to stay by his side as any hood guard dog would. When Frank returns, you’ve remained passed out, damp clothes still on. Reluctantly, he puts a hand on your waist to wake you, smiling when you finally stir.
“You’re gonna get sick in this wet clothes, hun.” He speaks softly into the shell of your ear, chuckling when he’s successfully woken you with the ticklish feeling.
“Let me get sick then.” You grumble into your pillow, groaning when he rises from the mattress and tugs your ankles to get you to the edge of the bed.
“Just get out of those and put this on. Then you can go right back to bed, yeah?”
“Mmph.” He rolls his eyes fondly at your grumpy demeanor, beginning to change into new clothes of his own. Watching as you discard the garments he’s laid out for you on the bed that belong to you. Ruffling through his bag to find one of his long-sleeves and a pair of boxers.
“Y’know, you might as well start buying mens clothes in my size if you’re just gonna steal all my shit.”
“Not the same.” You quip instantly, collecting the both of your discarded piles of clothes and searching the dim house.
“Where’s the washer and dryer?” He chuckled to himself, taking the clothes from you and heading past the kitchen.
“Forgot you’ve never been here.” You trail behind him, surveying the rooms curiously. It’s definitely bigger than your apartment, but not as large as the average home. You lean against the doorway as he starts the load of wash, too focused on the task to notice you studying him.
“Get back to bed.” He fiddles with buttons, muttering a curse under his breathe at the old machine. You step in front of him, easily turning it on with a triumphant smirk.
“Show off.” Is all he says, the two of you smiling when you come to face him. Running you hands trough his now dried hair. Without thinking, he leans into your touch. Humming as his hands reach your hips.
“We should both go to bed, we need the sleep.”
“I still have to unpack some things. Then get a few affairs in order.” His eyes wander around the room, and you can practically see his mind running with unnecessary tasks.
“Nope, you’re going to bed. We can worry about it in the morning.”
“We’re safe, right?” You raise your brows knowingly, continuing massaging his scalp as he nods. Brown eyes blinking increasingly slow as you work.
“Then we’re going to bed, cmon.” He doesn’t fight when you tug him back to the kitchen. Two of you laughing when you try to remember which door led to the bedroom. He pushes at your hips to lead you the right way, not surprised to see Max curled at the bottom of the bed.
He can eventually fully relax once you’ve all settled in. All doors and windows double-checked to ensure they’re locked. When you settle in on your side, an arm wraps around you to pull your body close. You shift to face him, leaning into the hand that strokes at your cheek.
“I’m sorry.” Your heart wrenches at how solemn he sounds in the dark of night, pulling his hand to your lips to kiss his rough palm.
“I know.”
He sighs, and despite the lack of light you can feel his eyes on your lips. Tension building when he inches his head closer to yours.
“Frank Castle, are you trying to kiss me?”
“When you’re in the dog house?” Your tone is teasing, but it nevertheless adds to his frustration when you let him chase your lips. He lets out a ‘hmph’ silence filling the air after you release a small laugh.
“…Please?” He whispers so you can just barely hear, a smile enveloping your features as you nod. Letting your lips collide for what you realize is the first time in days. He seems to realize at the same time, deepening the embrace with a satisfied smirk. You’re the first to pull away, both breathing heavily to capture air.
“Alright, go to sleep Castle.” You press a gentle kiss to his jaw, shuffling your head into his chest with a contented sigh.
“Yes mam.”
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Stranger in White | Vampire!Wanda Maximoff x F!Reader
Prompt: Historical/Modern Setting
Words: 1157
Fandom: Marvel (MCU)
A/N: I mean... Not sure where I was going with this, but I started reading Carmilla again. Might make a part two.
Summary: Living in a country broken by war and sickness, you were inclined to accept your fate, alone within the walls of the now empty estate. Would it ever be possible to see it flourish again in this lifetime?
You paid no mind to the raging storm outside, resuming your work on your estate affairs as the rain continuously pelted your windows. After the last piece of document, you dropped your pen and sighed, flexing your cramped digits. There was much to be done. After an illness swept through your humble country of Sokovia, many had succumbed to it, including your family. There were distant relatives that still remained, but given where your father and husband stood in their family lineages, there was only so much that was left to you.
Also, with your husband’s family’s unfavorable track record in the past and your tiring attempts to turn their image around as well as your refusal to marry into another family just to keep the estate afloat, you surmised that the lineage would have to die with you. Not much of a loss as the royal families have been losing control while the country fell into chaos.
Staring out the window, you almost missed a lone figure approaching the estate. It was hard to notice with the heavy sheets pouring down from the sky, but the sudden burst of lightning illuminated the ghostly white clothing and for a split second, you thought the figure was looking straight at you. They disappeared from your line of sight, leaving you to wonder if you were seeing things. It wouldn’t have been the first time.
The head maid, one of the few staff that remained, knocked softly on your door before entering. Unlike your husband, you weren’t too strict on stiff propriety. She stood before you and gestured towards the door. You could see that she was flustered. It had been a long time since the estate had any guests over.
“Who is it?” you asked.
“She claimed to be Countess Wanda Maximoff,” she said, her face twisting into a frown.
“I am surprised as well, my lady, but I do remember hearing Count Maximoff having a young daughter that had never been married off. All I know is that he and his son had passed during the war, leaving her alone to tend to duties as head of the estate. I’ll bring you to her.”
You got up, gown swishing around your feet as you followed her downstairs. “How did she get here? This storm is not suited for traveling.”
She grimaced. “She walked.”
“Excuse me?”
“She’s soaked to the bone, dress soiled and muddy. She wasn’t even shivering or paid any mind to the state of her dress. Poor thing. I wonder what made her travel all the way here. Why alone?”
“We’ll find out soon enough.”
The two of you stood outside of one of the large study rooms, the doors left open just a crack. You could see the woman’s silhouette, outlined by the warm glow of the fire and her hair an orange and red like the flames themselves. Her head turned as the sound of footsteps approached, her side profile revealing some of her sharp features and the paleness of her skin.
“Thank you,” you told the maid before entering the study room.
The young countess had turned her attention back to the flames in front of her, her knees drawn up to her chest with a towel wrapped around her shoulders. You slowly sat down next to her, listening to the crackling of the fire before looking over at your guest. She was quite beautiful. It was unfortunate that the war had been unkind to her as well. You could imagine how many suitors were lining up for her hand.
She turned to meet your gaze, unwaveringly. There was an air of confidence around her, self-assuredness, that you had sensed from many women who had been given more power and control than others and knew exactly what to do with it. Though, most of those women were older and experienced in how to fulfill their proper responsibilities while knowing how politics work. This countess gained the full responsibilities as head of estate not too long ago. Who was she exactly?
“You were the nearest shelter I could find,” she began, “You have no idea how grateful I am to find this place.” She looked around the room, then up at the portrait with you and your late husband. “Had he been taken by the sickness as well?”
“Yes,” you said somberly. “It was quite sudden…”
“Was it?”
The cynical tone in her voice made you flustered. “Why, yes, I…”
“You do know where this sickness came from, don’t you?”
“Well, I am no doctor, my lady-”
“Call me Wanda.”
You hesitated, then slowly tested it out, “Wanda…” She smiled. “It is not my place-” she raised an eyebrow at you “-But I… There was a thought that crossed my mind that maybe… maybe it was from the war.”
You paused, waiting for her reaction. This was not the type of conversations that other ladies of the house would engage in. If anything, they would have shut you up. Instead, there was a ghost of a smile on her lips, but it could have been a trick of the light. She nodded for you to continue.
“As soon as Ultron’s army stormed through Nova Grad, everything changed. I… I may have read a thing or two from the family doctor’s books. You see, people from foreign lands with environments vastly different from our own have a high chance of introducing something like a bacteria that is also foreign to other lands. Living in such environments, there is no effect on the foreigners. Our bodies, however, are not familiar with such bacteria and could have varying reactions to it.”
Wanda nodded. “Exactly. Once Ultron was defeated, Thanos’s army came in and practically destroyed what was left of this place. The culling. He made the mistake of believing that Sokovia was easy to take now that our strongest soldiers were dying or weak, but what remained was the survivors, the ones who would not make the same mistake again, the ones that grew even stronger and rose from the ashes. Sokovia is a ruined country, yes, but with time, it will rebuild. I know it.”
You shook your head, turning back to the fire, the charred wood reminding you of the destroyed buildings in Nova Grad. “Time, yes. Years upon years. As if I’d live long enough to see it. This family I married into… generations of known corruption and greed. There is no way I can fix any of it on my own. Not in this lifetime.”
There was a shift on your right, the sudden press of cold skin making you jump. At the time, you figured that it was from the rain. Thinking back now, you should have known that the fire would have warmed her skin by now. Her touch certainly made your skin feel warm instead.
Wanda leaned towards you, her breath brushing your ear and making you shiver. “I have infinite time,” she whispered, a cold hand wrapping around your shoulder and squeezing it with a startling grip. “Do you want it, too?”
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novamirmirsblog · a day ago
Fading Memories
Word count: 1839
Request: Yes
Genre: angst
Warnings: possible tears, sad nat
A/N: y'all got a fluffy Loki fic, now have an angsty Natasha fic. Also, I cried while writing this and then realised I'm on my period so just know that I wont be rereading this anytime soon so any mistakes are just gonna have to stay for a while :) also blame @simpfornatasharomanoff for the sad ending. She had a choice and two of the three choices were happy but bestie chose the angsty one <3
Something was wrong.
"Morning Y/n." You snapped out of whatever daze you were in, smiling and greeting Steve. "You ready to train some new recruits?"
"As ready as I'll ever be." That one sentence bought everything back. How could you have forgotten something as important as training potential future SHIELD agents? No matter. You remembered now and that was what was important.
The thought scratched inside your brain, growing stronger each time you tried to ignore it. It took hold of you like a slow cough. It was a tickling sensation first, barely enough to pop up on your radar, but the tickle grew. It grew until you weren't just forgetting names, but faces too. They grew blurry in your mind.
"Babe can you pass me the salt?"
You were sitting in a restaurant opposite... damn it Y/n. You remembered that you loved her. You remembered all the holidays you went on, telling her you loved her for the first time, all the risky missions the two of you had pulled off and yet you had no idea what her name was.
"Sure." You smiled at her and continued your meal.
The conversation washed over you. You worked out that this was clearly a thing the two of you did regularly and the intimate lighting reaffirmed your thoughts that you loved this woman. She really was stunning and you sat there trying to recall how the two of you met.
At first, you knew the names and faces were wrong but as the scratching of 'something is wrong' got louder, the worry caused by these mishaps faded away until you didn't remember what was wrong in the first place.
"Y/n you really need to remember to put the milk back in the fridge."
"What do you mean? I di-" you stopped as Tony held a bottle of room temperature milk, waggling it at you.
"I might be a billionaire who made profits from wars but we have to reduce our waste!" He teased playfully. All you could do was try to retrace your steps as you thought back to how you could have forgotten.
"Damn Y/n, maybe this is a sign to cut back on using the milk." Sam laughed joining in on the joke.
"Leave her alone. Like you don't constantly leave cereal out or the toilet seat up." Natasha came and stood next to you defensively, wrapping her arms around your waist and nuzzling into your neck.
You relaxed instantly but that niggling thought of something being wrong wormed its way back.
You were getting worse. You knew you were but you held on to the hope that because you knew you were getting worse, there was still time. You were sure Natasha had noticed. She was constantly waiting behind you when you cooked, pretending to be reading when in actuality she was making sure you didn't leave anything burning. You thought Steve picked up on it too, always berating the team if they made fun of you for forgetting things. You were no longer allowed out on missions. The excuse was that you were more valuable left behind to work on intel or mission planning. You didn't remember to question it.
"We need to talk about Y/n."
"Not now Steve." Natasha bit back. She didn't want him breaking the delicately created lie she was living.
"Natasha surely you can see it. Sometimes it's like she's not even in the room."
"I'm not talking about this." Natasha got up, refusing to acknowledge your worsening condition, convinced that you would be fine.
A new thing had begun to grow alongside the the scratching thought of something being wrong. Fear. You were terrified of being found out, of not being found out, of suddenly being somewhere you didn't recognise surrounded by people who knew you but you didn't know them. God you hoped this was reversible.
"How did we meet?"
Those 4 little words shattered Natasha's heart completely - and how could they not? Not when she knew what was coming next.
She had known for a while there was something not quite right with you. It started off with little things like losing your keys when they were in your hand, or forgetting to lock the door. The things started to get bigger. You were forgetting to turn off the stove, or that you had sparring, or that this was your room. She had only started to worry when you completely forgot Steve's name. You had pulled her aside after a conversation the two of you were having to ask her what the 'blonde man's name was'. Natasha could reason away any doubts with the twisted logic that comes with loving someone but she couldn't anymore. Not when she was fading slowly from your memory.
It was then that she realised something was seriously wrong.
Some days were good, perfect, back to they way things had been. These were the days that Natasha clung to with all her might. You remembered how the two of you met, the missions you had been on, your first kiss, her name. But these moments were fleeting and becoming less and less common. Natasha knew what was next. She knew.
On selfish nights when Natasha was sleeping in the room next to yours she wished you had a concussion. Wished that while you would have forgotten her because of the concussion, that you would fall in love with her again. She hated how she felt both hollow and so full of sadness she thought it would suffocate her. She had visited countless doctors months ago and the all told her the same things - that it was irreversible, that it would only get worse, that you would eventually have to be put into a home that could facilitate your needs. Every single doctor looked at her with such sympathy it made her sick when she told them your age. You were too young to have to experience this.
Natasha hated one doctor in particular. It was the third doctor she visited. The doctor told her that while early onset dementia is confusing and scary for those experiencing it, it is nothing compared to the pain Natasha will feel. She told Natasha that there are worst things yet to come and then she handed her a bereavement newsletter. That pissed her off. You weren't dead. Natasha explained that much. The doctor just gave her a sad smile and said that the person who fell in love with Natasha was dead.
The days where you awoke from your fog were getting closer and closer to none. Wanda took a peak inside once. Natasha had come to her, eyes raw from crying and cheeks flushed, and begged her to see if there was something she could do. There wasn't. Wanda saw the muddled confusion you lived in and knew you needed to go somewhere where you could be properly taken care of. She knew it was going to break Natasha but there wasn't anything else left to do.
You didn't even realise you were no longer with the Avengers, the group of people you used to call your family. You had no idea who the blonde man that came to visit you every Saturday was. You didn't recognise the man with a greying beard who claimed to be Tony Stark, telling him there was no way - no way he could be your friend because he was too old to be him.
Whenever one of the Avengers visited, they would always have a redheaded shadow. She never entered the room no matter how often the nurses encouraged her. She just couldn't. Sometimes, she would just wait in the car, not even able to enter the building you now called home. She would see her fellow Avengers come out of that building with tears in their eyes and watch as they wiped them away before walking over to the car, putting a false smile on and explaining what fun conversations they had with you.
Today was important. You knew it was. You had the date circled in your calendar. December the 3rd. It was important. You were getting more and more distressed as you realised you couldn't remember. Why couldn't you remember? It was clearly circled for a reason. The nurses watched as you paced your room. They had seen this enough times to know when to step in and when to let you pace.
The name was fleeting and felt fragile but you were sure that was what you were forgetting. You walked over to the nurses.
"I want Natasha."
When the phone call came through from the care home Natasha picked it up immediately. She drove over right away when a new trainee nurse told her that you wanted to see her, that you had remembered her name. Natasha refused to let the excitement be dampened down by the fact she knew this was only fleeting.
"Tasha." You smiled at her, hugging her tightly. "Happy Birthday." you whispered into her ear, tears threatening to fall from both of you.
"You remembered." Natasha let out a watery laugh.
"Well I circled the date for a reason. Come on, let's go on a walk."
The two of you walked around the facility's garden holding on to each other, carefully placed kisses on cheeks, noses, foreheads were littered throughout the walk. You had stopped by a large willow tree drooping over a lake.
"I like to come here. I think it's because it reminds me of that holiday we took to... um..." You frowned, concentrating with everything in you.
"Yes! That's it!"
"You don't even remember me, do you?" Natasha refused to look at you.
"Not most the time. I remember that someone is missing, that something is wrong, but I don't remember you specifically. I remember that I love you though."
Tears rolled down Natasha's face, her breath stuttered and shook. You wrapped your arms around her, quietly comforting her as she let it all out.
"Natasha I'll never forget that I love you and I think I will love you until the day I die but you need to move on. It's not fair on you. You should be with someone who remembers you - not just that they love you."
"I don't want anyone else."
You just kissed her temple. There was nothing you could do to help her. You were a shell of the person you used to be and Natasha needed to realise that.
You didn't ask for her again.
That was the last time Natasha saw you. Sure, she visited countless times, always hopeful, always vulnerable, but that was the last time you were truly you. Sometimes there were glimpses, a flash when Natasha would mention a crazy story or when Wanda would bring your favourite food but it would be gone as quickly as it came.
Something was wrong and it would haunt Natasha for the rest of her life.
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starfirette · a day ago
Spider-Man & His Amazing Friend | mcu! peter parker x firestar! reader
✽ masterlist | requests are closed | DID ANYONE ELSE WATCH THE SPIDER-MAN CARTOON WITH FIRESTAR AND ICEMAN?!?!? AND DID ANYONE ELSE MASSIVELY SHIP FIRESTAR WITH SPIDER-MAN??? it was literally called Spider-Man and his Amazing Friends, I lived for that shit 😫 anyways I might consider making this a very causal series, like a bunch of firestar! Reader fics that can also be stand alone!!! If that seems interesting then let me know!
✽ if you like this fic, or want more like it, take the 2022 revamp survey!!
✽ tags: @thelovehashira143
✽ here are your warnings: fem pronouns + some angsty moments + found friendship + awkward tension + there's only one bed + cuddling because the radiator breaks and it's freezing + y'all almost kiss
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"Angelica Jones. You're my mother. No, no, that's...phew, I'm your daughter. No!"
With a groan, you punched yourself in the thigh. What a load of malarkey. At this rate, she'll shut the door in my face.
Looking intently at the mirror, you attempted again. "Angelica Jones, you're my mother," you tell your reflection.
Despite the importance of the situation, you couldn't help but notice that the mirrors in the Residence Inn did wonders for your figure.
You pinched the sensitive skin of your thigh, trying to summon up tears. It didn't work, so you turned on the faucet and splashed some water over your face. "You're my mother," you sniveled as best as you could. This is stupid. Now you felt like you were auditioning for Broadway. And failing for that matter!
You wiped your face and gave your reflection a dirty gesture, as if for some reason the glass was the one to blame for your pathetic acting skills.
You shuffled across the hotel room and slid your feet into your ballet flats. Toes wiggled inside. You could feel that shoes falling apart. The shoes trailed bits of foam behind them. You tapped the toes against the floor; excess shoe sprinkled around and you cringed at the sight. Perhaps new shoes should become a priority.
You opened your wallet to count the cash left inside, and you decided that at least twenty dollars could be spared for a new pair of sneakers. They didn't have to be fancy. They just had to be better than what you were currently wearing. Twenty subtracted from seven fifty. That leaves seven hundred and thirty dollars left in your wallet, rubber bound together suspiciously, like the main characters in the mobster movies.
You'd come to New York City with one thousand dollars left in your pocket, all in hopes of finding Angelica Jones, the woman you suspected to be your biological mother. To say that you had some questions for this woman was a stark understatement. Angelica Jones had left you behind as a baby. With that, you had no qualms. You'd found a family, Mandy Gwilym and her little sister, Megan. Mandy raised you like any mother would, and she came into custody of her little sister when you were just around twelve. Megan was just like a sister or a cousin to you. Mandy's efforts were appreciated. You were always loved and always comfortable. Always fed and clothed, warm and snug. But now that you've turned twenty one, you made it a goal for yourself to at least find Angelica, if not the other answers to the questions you had.
You dug in your jacket pocket for your lighter. The blue bic tube lit with a flame and you held it up to your tongue for comfort. Other people smoked cigarettes or vaped to keep their stress away. You, however, liked to light the tip of your tongue with the flame of a lighter or a match. It didn't hurt or scar you. It felt nice. It offered a catharsis that you suspected would be similar to actual smoking.
This was one question you had for Angelica Jones: What's up with the flame retardancy?
Yes, you are indeed flame retardant. You're a lot of things. That opens to gateway to all of your other questions, which have to do with your unique abilities.
You muted the flame on your lighter and place it back in your jacket pocket. You patted yourself, mentally tallying your lighter, your wallet, and your hotel key.
The address that you found for Angelica Jones is in Queens. As you left the hotel, your hands buried in your jacket for warmth, you prayed that this Angelica Jones was the real one. You had found at least four so far, met them all, and was let down at the fact that they were just random women with your mother's name.
The cold sliced against you when you left the hotel lobby, snow flurries landing on your skin. You struggled to breathe for a split second. Your body needed a minute to adjust. Winter sucks for a warm blooded creature as yourself. Warm blooded, though, doesn't seem accurate. Hot blooded.
Your blood always simmers.
You trekked along the sidewalk for ten minutes before giving up and hailing a taxi.
You shivered in the back seat, sitting on your hands to warm them up.
"Address?" the driver asked.
"Uhm..." You struggled. "Thirty sixth street, Astoria, please?" Did you say that right? You'd never actually taken a taxi before.
You must have said it right because he nodded silently and merged back into the main road. You watched out the window as the snow flurried to the city below. It'd be nice to live here. So much to do. So much to see.
You didn't have a cell phone, so you watched the snowflakes flurry down the side of the window. You put your flat palm against the pane. The precipitation on the other side melted, drizzling down the sides of the car, leaving a clear patch for you to look through. The city certainly bustled with life. Mortality teemed at the edges of every place and corner around you, be it a mother with her child on the main road or a rat scurrying to a warm hole in the walls.
Flickering your eyes over every person, you let your senses roll back, and you could see the thermal signatures of the bodies moving about. This ability only worked on living things, which usually happened to be people, animals, and plants. It worked with bacteria, in the event you were viewing it beneath a microscope. This talent never proved to be particularly useful because you never had a reason to actually use it.
It was more of a bad habit then anything else.
Twenty minutes of self reflection seemed like a nightmare in theory but you managed to survive the drive. You felt like a proper adult when you passed the money through the acrylic divider. "Thank you," you said before slipping out of the car. You looked up at the apartment complex before you. Snowflakes drifted down, sticking to your eyelashes and sizzling away.
You could feel your muscles twitching around both of your kneecaps. Anxiety. It's a bitch, you think as you dig around your pocket for your bic lighter.
You lit the flame on the tip of your tongue, trying to focus on the mission ahead of you.
"Damn," someone called out to you, a guy your age, walking past. "You that freaky in bed?"
You quickly shoved your lighter in your pocket. "Fuck around and find out the hard way," you replied. He howled with laughter but moved on.
People in New York sure are bold!
You approached the complex gates, your fist tight around the lighter. The sign posted on the stone walls showed the names of the current tenants.
"Blah, blah, blah," you said, counting the names down the list.
Angie Jones was posted! You punched the buzzer, ringing apartment thirteen.
You waited for an answer which ultimately never came. You pressed the buzzer again, holding it for a couple seconds too long, just to be annoying. Maybe she'd realize you weren't going to leave without an answer.
Your disappointment was beyond measure. All this way, just for her to not even be home? You sighed, resigning yourself to pathetically kick the gate.
Once more, you decided. You pressed the buzzer.
Your mouth twisted into a deep frown as you played with your lighter. I'll have to come back tomorrow, you think. You flickered the lighter's flame over the tip of your fingers as you looked up to the apartment building, trying to guess which window belonged to Angelica "Angie" Jones.
You didn't see anyone so you walked away. You didn't notice that Angelica Jones watched as you did.
Walking back down the street, you thought bitterly about the lack of information you'd gotten today. You considered today's mission a bust. Although, you'd only been hoping to have found her. There was no real factor assuring you that this would immediately work. You'd simply gotten your hopes up. Perhaps that's why you were so disappointed.
As you walked, the sky grew cloudy. Snow started to fall harshly, stinging your bare skin as you walked against it and the wind. You were gasping for air. Your chest ached with every breath and you finally decided to duck into the first place that you could.
The little coffee shop had a handful of other visitors. There was an electric fireplace humming in the center of the shop, pluming heat outwards. You tried not to moan in delight when you felt the waves flickering over you.
The tables were free for you to choose from, so naturally you tried to sit as close to the fireplace as possible.
Behind the counter were three workers, all looking bored with nothing to do. No one wanted to be out in this weather. But you weren't the only one seeking solace from the snow.
A few other patrons were loitering at the tables.
You approached the order counter, looking across the menu for something warm and sweet to keep you going. You were in desperate need of a pick-me up. Your failure with Angelica Jones today hadn't been your first. You'd traveled across Canada, England, and most of America to find your Angelica Jones. Not every woman with that name had given up a baby. You often felt as though you were looking for a needle in a haystack. There are too many women with that name.
"Can I have a large white chocolate mocha, please," you asked as you dug for your wallet. You pulled a twenty dollar bill from your rubberband stack.
"You mean venti?"
Your brows pulled in confusion. "A what?"
"A venti," the girl responded, smacking her gum as she stared you down. "We don't serve larges here. Only venti."
"Fine. Give me a 'venti'," you said, using your hands to add some dramatic flair to the phrase.
She didn't look pleased as you passed her the bill. Despite her attitude, you left some of the change in the tip jar. Kill her with kindness. Hopefully.
She made your mocha with a flat line posted on her mouth, so you weren't exactly counting on tasting the love and care she'd put into it, like the cafe's motto assured you she would. Maybe you should take down the framed set of words.
You were able to snag a seat right beside the cafe's fireplace, as you'd so hoped. You took a long gulp of the mocha. Perk of being a weirdo was that it's virtually impossible to burn yourself. Hot showers and freshly made pizza rolls did nothing to you.
You played idly with your lighter as you entertained yourself with scenarios. A smartphone would be really handy right now. You flashed your lighter and stuck the flame against your open palm. This habit proved to be your downfall because there was a young man, probably your age, staring at you. Embarrassed, you quickly shoved the lighter in your pocket.
"I smoke crack," you told him.
He blinked, the surprise on his face evident, then laughed. "You're joking," he finally noticed. "It's a cool magic trick."
You wanted to smack yourself. That would have been a better excuse.
"Yeah, thanks," you said. Cue an awkward sip of your drink. Dirty habits kicked in, and you immediately side eyed the guy to take a small glance at his thermal image.
For a moment, you saw something strange. You feigned dirt in your eyes so that you could rub them, let them readjust, before taking another examination. Something in his Thermo was flickering, like a flashlight stuck in the bottom of a pool. You could hardly sense it was even there. Only fragments of its image was available for you to see.
You willed his Thermo away. You couldn't tell what it was, but you also didn't care.
You drank the rest of your coffee in a gulp. The hot drink flowing through your chest, into your belly, felt like a boost of energy. Others would acquaint it to cold water on a summer's day. Though you do like cold things, be it water or ice cream or a dip in a freezing pool, such things weren't as satisfying or refreshing as someone else could think.
You didn't glance at the guy beside you as you gathered your things, all of which being your wallet and your old coffee cup. Again, no phone, so that meant no entertainment like that guy apparently had. But as you tossed your cup into the trash can, he watched.
Out the door, into the cold, you buried your hands into your jackets to attempt to brave it. The weather was bitter and strong, and it was so close to killing you. Not literally, but it certainly seemed like it took a physical toll on you. This hadn't ever happened before. Although you had noticed an increased strength in your abilities over the past few weeks, even months. Perhaps your powers progress with your age.
You raised an arm towards the street and waved it, trying to track down a taxi that would stop for you. There were hardly any. The drive from the hotel to here had been twenty minutes. How long would the walk be?!
Finally seeing no other way out, you ducked into an alleyway. As you shut the large, metal gate behind you, you realized this could actually be the perfect place for a recharge. No one could see you, here, you thought. You'd been caught twice today. Twice. The guy outside the apartment, and then the guy in the coffee shop. You were getting sloppy.
You huddled in the corner of the alley, which had already accumulated a good few centimeters of snow. You felt like a stray cat as you huddled for warmth, squatting so you wouldn't ruin your pants. You took your lighter and sniffed the flame through your nostrils, then puffed the flames back out your mouth. The smokey flavor ran through you like a comforting embrace. The only embrace you'd have, now. You left Megan and Mandy behind. You weren't sure you'd be able to go back to them after this trip. The seven hundred dollars in your pocket wouldn't last another two days. Not in New York City.
You'd downgrade to a motel or something tomorrow.
But after that?
You might have to stay here. You had no way of contacting Megan aside from letters, but it wasn't as if she could send mail to public addresses.
You continued to snort then huff the flames like a lonely dragon.
From a bird's view, your actions were blatant and clear.
Peter Parker could see you from the roof's edge. He followed you from the coffee shop down the street, all because that sixth sense was ringing in his ears. Something about you had been off, and now he knew why. You weren't just a magician, nor were you even a crackhead like you'd dumbly excused. You were something like him. Something on the brink of inhuman, but not quite there. Peter initially figured you were a threat. But then he watched you cry.
And then, he knew better.
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You did end up checking out of your "fancy" hotel, which was really only $120 a night. You figured for someone who had an actual bank account and a salary would fine that just fine, perhaps even a good deal.
You hauled your suitcase behind you, the small thing on wheels acting as your treasure chest. Everything you owned was currently in said treasure chest, like your money, now depleted to a heart breaking five hundred. You don't have much time. With heavy shoulders, you hauled yourself back to the cafe from yesterday.
Today had no snow, which was great, but it was still cold enough that everything remained frozen. Your shoes were slipping over the ice, the damn flats remaining to be your biggest enemy. A still, you hadn't gotten a pair of shoes. You figured that it wasn't really a big deal. You had to save the money for real emergencies. Sliding over the icy sidewalk didn't constitute emergency use.
Going back to the cafe was more or less an excuse to get another one of those yummy mocha things, and the woman at the counter today was a lot nicer than the other. She didn't berate you over the terminology as you ordered white chocolate mocha. When you got it, you inhaled the steam, feeling dreamy, and thanked her. You stuffed spare change in the jar and you were suddenly struck with heartache. You wanted to give her more.
If you lived here, you'd visit everyday. You'd even be a regular. You'd make friends, even maybe meet someone, like a bad boy who wears leather jackets and speeds on a motorcycle, or a preppy girl with strawberry lip gloss and a nursing degree. But these were all archetyped characters you'd seen on TV. They likely didn't exist in real life.
You dragged your suitcase back to the table, near the fireplace, that was open. Today, the cafe was bustling with customers, and you felt lucky to have snagged such a nice spot.
You took a long drink of your mocha and you hummed in delight.
"Isn't that a little hot?" someone asked.
You looked to your side, then up at the face of the tall, though fit, figure who was now looming by you.
Your delight immediately dropped, and you could imagine your emotional meter now read 'nervous.'
It was the guy from yesterday! The guy from the cafe, to be exact, who had seen you lighting up your tongue like a crackhead.
He simply smiled at you. He was cute, you realized with horror. You'd actually embarrassed yourself in front of someone so cute.
He must have just come inside because his Thermo was steadily rising. He was growing warmer as he stood by you, his hands clenched in his pockets.
"You running away from someone?" he asked, his voice layered with humor as he toed your suitcase. You glanced at it, then back to him. "I'm a crack dealer," you said. Dammit! All your excuses somehow involve the use of crack, and one day it was going to get you in trouble.
His Thermo showed his cheeks lighting up as he laughed, the blood rushing to his face with genuine humor and affection. You felt yourself wanting to cringe. Seeing a person's emotions, the way you literally could, was always much too intimate. Watching the way he literally lit up in amusement was just too jarring.
"Is that the only response you can give?" he asked, jamming his hands in the pockets of his jeans. Looking him up and down, you could gather some idea about the sort of person he is. He dresses nicely, with bootcut jeans and a thinly knit sweater, with a flannel collar poking out. His hair wasn't slicked back today like it had been yesterday. He had curly brown hair that looked so fun to just run your hand through. He was cute, he really was.
"I'm Peter Parker," he introduced himself, holding a hand out. You reminded yourself to be wary as you accepted the handshake. "I'm Y/n," you said in turn.
"I'm also not a crack dealer," you added. "Or a crackhead."
"No worries," he said with a grin. "Where are you heading to?" he asked. He was smooth, you had to admit, and that was strange, given that his Thermo showed him to be extra flushed, especially in the face.
"I'm visiting my mom," you replied. Not a lie, technically. You were going to visit her, eventually. You'd try to make a few pitstops along the way, like hopefully at a cheap motel. Your personal safety was a factor you had to consider, but given your abilities, you were allowed cut a few corners. You were sure you could hold your own against at least two attackers, maybe three. You did practice enough to do that, at least.
"Sounds fun. She a magician, too?"
You opened your mouth to respond before closing it. You pressed your anterior teeth against your tongue in an attempt to contain any outburst of emotion or thought. He's interrogating you, a voice whispered in the back of your mind. Though without any real identity, that voice was your confidant.
"No," you said with a teasing smile. Throwing him off would be easy.
"She's a teacher in Long Island. I just figured I'd stop in the city on my way. So much to do and see here, you know?"
Peter nodded in agreement, but you couldn't tell if it was working. His friendly demeanor hadn't yet changed. How the hell could you throw this guy off?
Perhaps you're just being paranoid, you think as you take a casual sip of your mocha. The warmth of it going down helped you to calm down. There's a strong possibility he just thinks you're hot. Right?
You looked down at your outfit. Your shoes, falling apart. Your jeans, stained and ripped, even at the crotch. Your shirt, once was white, but now yellow. And your jacket was irritatingly thin. A simple hoodie at most, but you'd survive if you could just keep drinking hot coffee and regenerate heat with your lighter. Flames were the easiest way to regenerate that energy, but smoke worked too. You called it your 'dragon breathing', the way you could blow fire out of your mouth. Though that's just one way to regenerate heat.
Reflecting on yourself, you decided that, no, he doesn't think you're hot. He's definitely interrogating you.
The conversation went along well following that. His idle chatter made a good front for flirting, but he just wouldn't leave you be. There had to be an ulterior motive somewhere, right? Those doe, brown eyes couldn't be as innocent as they seemed. His Bambi looks aside, what else could be a give away?
Your Thermo continued to flash in and out so you could keep check of his signature. The hotter he became, the faster his heart would beat. Perhaps if you made him nervous enough, he'd-
Peter's entire body flashed. His temp had taken a skyrocket, his whole body glowing with something you couldn't discern. Fear? Anger? Something was going on beneath that mop of curls.
You tensed, waiting for something to happen. Would he lunge?
"Obviously the Met museum is a great tourist spot," he continued to prattle. Strange, you thought. He was acting normal. Too strange. What is he trying to do?
There was a very sudden wave of madness enacting outside the cafe, right on the street.
Everyone within the cafe clamored to get a glimpse of what was happening, yourself and Peter included. You reactivated Thermo and found that his body was definitely on high alert. Soon, everyone else was too. There was a building outside, from the looks of it, an apartment complex, that had caught fire. The flames were licking high and people were scrambling to get out.
Peter's signature now matched all others. He'd been on high alert before anyone else.
People slipped out of the cafe, phones out to either call authorities or film the disaster as it happened before them. Peter used this opportunity to leave, too, sneaking out the door without so much as a goodbye. You'd be offended if you didn't think he was a freak. He's a freak that also happens to know you're a freak, and he'd likely followed you today to the cafe. Who knows what else he's seen.
With your suitcase in tow, you pushed past the thick throng of onlookers. Something about disaster just enthralled humanity, for some unknown reason. People these days like to watch something horrifying go down.
You were tempted to just head down the street. But damn it all, if that fire wasn't currently singing your name. Its energy called out to you.
Not only that, you realized, but there were people still inside.
Panic started to well up in your chest as you looked around: no fire, no rescue. No one on the scene. It's too soon, you realized. You were here too soon.
Peter Parker was now forgotten as you threw caution to the wind. You pushed your suitcase behind a nearby dumpster before running across the street. All traffic had now ceased as the fire was growing.
You pushed past the invisible barrier that people dared not to cross. You knocked against the heavy doors to the complex, pushing against the wave of victims that attempted to flee.
"Ma'am! What are you doing?!" a voice cried. You looked around, trying to pinpoint the booming voice that seemed to call out to you.
You couldn't see anything outside the blur of the people running past, shots of faces and noses, or punches to the arm. You maneuvered into the building. The heat hadn't precipitated towards the main levels, but you could sense it above your head. You sprinted towards the staircases, not wanting to risk getting trapped in the elevator.
"Y/n! Stop!"
You turned around.
A figured, clad in red and blue, was struggling to follow in the thick smoke that was leaking through the staircases. It was hard to see in, but the smell didn't bother you. You knew you'd be fine, but this guy?
"Get the hell out of here," you shouted.
He approached, and you saw an emblem of a spider on his chest.
"We should get out of here, you... Spider-Guy,," you informed him, waving an ignorant hand as you tried not to become too irritated.
He pulled off his mask.
Irritated was now a little dot in the distance. You were beyond pissed, and you couldn't help but secrete smoke out your ears.
Indeed, it was Peter Parker in that red-and-blue spandex suit, which, while making him look wonderful, didn't seem too comfortable. Or practical, now that you think about it.
"Get the fuck out of here, creep," you yelled at him, making him flinch.
"It's not like that," Peter said, arguing against the streams of curses that you spewed his way. You threatened to punch him. "Chill out," Peter shouted.
His Thermo was flashing again, like he was trying to get your attention. You blinked, your eyes being strained under all the blaring his figure sent out. He didn't seem to know he was even doing it.
"I'm like you," Peter said the moment he could get a word in.
You stared, incredulous. The dumbass in front of you was getting on your nerves, now, and you were simply willing to turn away.
"I'm being serious," Peter told you, grabbing you by the shoulders. You looked at his hand touching you and you shook it off, sending Peter a glare so vile it made his Thermo blanch.
"How do you even know-?"
"I can't explain right now," he said uneasily.
"Bullshit! Explain right now," you demanded, pointing a finger at him viciously.
Peter looked up at to the stairwells above, and his Thermo started to blare again. You rubbed your temples. "Stop doing that," you shout.
"Doing what?" Peter shouted back. He resigned to pull his mask back over his face as he gestured for you to get out of his way. "Just follow me or get out of here." He prepared to walk within the belly of danger.
You put a hand over his chest to stop him. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"I have to save these people!" Peter angrily stammered, waving an arm out towards the stairwell. He sounded like he was on the verge of possibly slapping you. You supposed you couldn't really blame him. Had you met yourself, you'd want to slap her, too.
With a raised brow, you looked him up and down. "Seriously? You think you have powers? Deadass?"
"Yes, deadass," Peter shouted, finally becoming exasperated. "Listen, I cannot explain this to you right now, but I know you have, like, powers. Or whatever. Maybe not exactly like me but somewhat."
"You don't have powers," you chided him as you followed him up the stairs, both of you breaking into a sprint. Your footsteps slapped against the stony steps.
"I do, though," he argued.
At the door, which proclaimed "LEVEL TWO", there was a surge of heat rolling beyond the surface. You could feel the waves of flames dancing too and fro, licking at every surface it could find.
"Easy there, bug boy," you said, pushing an arm in front of him. "There's fire on the other side."
He turned to stare at you. Though his mask could make no expression you could still sense the apprehensive "Are you kidding me" beneath it. "That's not my name."
"There's fire that way," you tried to explain.
"No shit."
He shook his head as if he were rolling his eyes, and his hands went for the doorknob. He immediately yelled out in pain and brought his hand back, cursing like a sailor.
You sighed and elbowed him away. "Told you," you sang as you turned the handle for him.
The heat wave that blasted over you both made him cry out one more time.
"Get behind me," you said, pushing yourself in front of him. The extreme temperatures glossed over you like wind in your hair. It was like a dip in the ocean for you. Spider-Dude stayed behind you, one hand on your shoulder, as you pushed through the debris.
"What's the goal, exactly?" you asked as you kicked past the burning walls that toppled down.
Spider-Boy shot something out his wrist, making you look back at him in surprise. It was like some sort of cable tie or rope. It caught the toppling debris and it was thrown away from you. Your heart had caught in your throat when it fell through a patch in the floor, making you realize just how real and daring this situation is.
"Thanks, uh, Mr Spider?"
"Not even close. The goal is to get as many people out as we can. That's our job."
You were half tempted to tell him you weren't trying to get a gig as a superhero, but before you could, a pillar crashed through the ceiling. Your breath caught in your throat, like the start of a scream, and you couldn't move. You waited for the pillar to land on top of you, crush you to bits, and-
Peter threw himself over you. Pinned to the floor, all you could do was watch in horror as the pillar fell over Peter's back, making him yell out in pain.
You pushed the hot metal off of him, struggling with the weight of it. The material of his suit had singed against his skin and you were horrified to look at such an injury. You clasped a hand over the injury before pulling back, realizing at the last minute you'd hurt him even more.
"Get out of here," you begged him. You dragged him to his feet, gripping his gloved hands. "I'll clear the building, I can do it."
But...could you?
His brute strength and tendency to sense 'things' before they happen couldn't completely match your 'resistance.' Really, what are you even doing here? What did you think you could accomplish?
"Breathe," Peter informed you, sounding slightly harsh. "You can do this but you have to work with me."
You clutched his hand tight, the way a knight might do with his trusted friend before going on an extravagant mission across England. You ignored the Crusades part as Peter nodded to you. You both ran across the debris, trying to work together to get across the hallway.
You scanned through the building with your Thermo, but there was too much debris around. The building was going to come down on you and it was going to very likely kill you. But, what better way to die than as a hero?
Ha! Hero, you think as Peter leads you to an apartment already engulfed in flames. You scanned across the room and found, beyond the licks of fire, two small figures huddling close together. You rolled up your sleeves, hoping they wouldn't be singed off of you as you dove straight into the fire.
Peter, not used to such displays, gasped and called out for you. He stumbled over his words, struggling not to reveal your name. Why? You weren't sure. Maybe he really did think he was a hero. Some kind of super vigilante, like, a human spider or something. Human Spider. That's a good name, you think as you kneel down. The flames licked high over your head. It crawled over your skin, stretching over you like it was trying to kiss and cuddle you as much as it could. Your hair burst into flames that defied all gravity, and every time you turned your head, you could feel the fire trailing behind you, like the tail of a comet. The flames soaked into your skin so that you were glowing, the insides of you bursting with what felt like the energy of a star.
Peter (Human Spider) busted into the room as soon as the way was clear. You fell against the door, taking a deep breath as you struggled to adjust to how much of that fire you'd just absorbed. It was the most you'd ever taken at once.
Peter scooped up both of the children that were inside, both of whom were sobbing and shrieking for Spider-Man to take them to their mother.
You guffawed and then laughed, wisps of smoke coming out of your mouth as you pointed at Peter. "You're not a man," you said as you two ran out. You absorbed the flame patches as Peter escorted both of them to safety.
"Don't listen to the silly lady," Peter told the kids, sounding only slightly irritated.
Out of the apartment, you all approached more silent patches of danger. You absorbed them. For every ounce of flame, your heart beat faster and faster.
"Are you a fairy?" the little girl asked you.
You brought your hand to your lips. "Don't tell anyone, okay? Are you kids alone in here?" you asked them as you escorted all three. "Is your momma safe outside? Do you know?"
"She was at the store," the little boy of the pair sniveled as she buried her head into 'Spider-Man's' neck.
"Your momma's okay," Peter (Spider-Man, oh my GOD, yeah right!) assured them. You both burst out of the building, released the kids, who instantly found their mother, who had been watching on, crying, before trying to sprint back inside. The door ways were blocked this time. Peter scooped you into his arms and slung out what you realized was a web.
The fire that burned on you, and in you, did not hurt Peter. You could contain it well enough so that to him you were like any other person. Your energy was literally burning the flames out, by now, and you were worried about what would happen once there were no more to give.
But as Peter swung you up, and crashed through the windows, you realized there was a plethora of free energy all around you. You inhaled all the flames you could in a feeble attempt to put the fires out. Whatever progress you made felt like a lot until you looked around and realized there was more than you could have ever dreamed of.
You were abuzz with energy as you bound down the hallway, moving faster and faster as Peter swept behind you, grabbing anyone he could see.
"We make a good team," you said, your voice breathless as Peter threw an old woman out of a window.
She was completely fine, though, all wrapped up and secure with whatever sort of webbing material Peter had coming out of his hands. You want to know what that is. You'd ask as soon as this was over.
You were in the midst of total euphoria; but the floor crumbled beneath your feet. You were close to falling straight through, likely to your death, but Peter wrapped his arms around your waist and swung you to safety. Looking back down, you could see all the way through to the stair well. You were in awe at the movement.
Smoke bellowed out of your hair as you two landed on the other side, tumbling over the hall's creaking floors. There was darkness there, as if the fire hadn't yet reached this part of the building. But you knew better. This fire had been smothered out by some other force, some force stronger than your element, and force that you were suddenly afraid of.
Don't put us out, a voice within you shrieked. Don't let the water snuff us out.
Clutching your chest, you recognized the voice was the same as the little one that came from your bic lighter.
It's fine, you assured them. Burn within me and you'll live on.
"Peter," you whispered. "I think it's over."
You two staggered, walking around the debris in the darkness, but your hair, your body, and even your veins, were like a torch of scorching light. Peter led you carefully around the complex, searching for any other victims while you heard some commotion.
"That sounds like-"
"Authorities," he interrupts. "We should give them a statement. Maybe even help them look for others."
You looked at Spider-Peter, aghast. "They'll see me," you said, your flames flickering blue just for a moment. You didn't notice this, but Peter did, and he stared at your features behind his unreadable mask. You were a scientific breakthrough. But even despite Peter's nerdy wonder, he did realize that you were knew here. You would be questioned and pressed for answers about things like your identity, or your powers. A scientific breakthrough. You might even be caught and taken in for some brutal experimentation.
"Come with me," he said. He pulled a pane of glass out of a tall window, the material crunching and dissolving under the torque of the webby material. He held a hand out for you, the silent beckoning making you cringe. The flaming glow on your hand flickered with hesitance. You feared the cold. But that was your fire talking. Not your real self.
Isn't it? a voice murmured. You hate the cold. You belong with us. You belong to the flames. Your inner battle raged as you hooked your arms around Peter. You looked back towards the apartment as Peter stepped out to the edge, looking over the entire street. This was the very top floor, after all, you think as you feel dizzy. You tucked your face into Peter's neck, nausea sweeping over you as Peter took a confident jump.
You felt the entire realm of reality fall from beneath your feet. Your stomach lurched, your heart stopped, and for a moment, all you could do was take a large breath of the cold, winter air as you and Peter plunged against it.
Onlookers were screaming below. Screaming Spider-Man's name and pointing at you. You couldn't tell if such noises were out of excitement or fear. What did the people think of Spider-Man and his new sidekick?
The fire of your hair sizzled out as Peter swung away from the building, and towards a more reclusive area of the city. Your glow was fading. Though you still burned bright, like lights were stuck under your skin, the warmth was being smothered. Smoke trickled out of your nose as you yelled in Peter's ear, "I'm going out! Stop! Stop!"
Your voice was filled with fear as you looked at the city below. Cars abuzz and pedestrians walking along the snow. The cloudy sky felt like a suffocating weight pushing on your chest.
No! a voice inside you cried, though the sounds grew smaller and smaller.
And then, you were just Y/n. You were shivering, your clothes singed and half burned off. Left into only jeans and old-granny bra, you were clinging onto Peter, hoping no one could see you from below. That would be a sight, wouldn't it?
Peter twisted the angle of his trajection and then landed easily on a rooftop. It was completely baren, empty, and though the pavement beneath you was steady, your mind was swimming.
Peter set you down and you immediately fell on your ass.
"Are you okay?!" Peter cried through his mask. His floundering, though appreciated, was really killing you. "I don't know what to do!"
You coughed out ashes and Peter clutched his head. He made a sound that was half a shout, half a scream of shock. You waved a hand. "I'm fine," you said. You tucked your knees to your chest. "That's normal."
"Are you dying?" he demanded and you glared at your new acquaintance.
"No, I'm not dying," you snapped. "I'm fucking freezing!"
Peter looked around for something to cover you. "Where can we go? Your place?"
You gestured around sharply. "This is my place at the moment. Come on in, make yourself at home." Your words weren't as angry as you would have liked given the chattering of your teeth. Your scare factor had gone down considerably, since Peter wasn't flinching anymore.
Peter cocked his head down at you, as if he were trying to convey a sense of annoyance. "What should I do?" he asked again, urging you for a response.
You shivered and hugged your knees, trying to regenerate some sort of heat. Nothing was working. You were burned out, literally. You couldn't even flash your eyes to view Peter's Thermo, as you had called it since you were a child.
"I have a suitcase somewhere," you explained. You could only hope it was still safely tucked away behind that dumpster. Someone could have easily found it and taken it.
"Like, a magic suitcase? Is it bigger on the inside? Like, the Tardis? Or Newt Scamander's suitcase?" Judging from the tone of his voice, his eyebrows had shot up and his eyes went wide. He sounded eager to discover the secrets of the apparently magic suitcase.
"Who the fuck is Newton Salamander?" you barked. "No, it's not 'bigger on the inside.' It's a suitcase, with my clothes and, like, a little bit of money. It's all I have in the world."
"Are you being sarcastic?" Peter asked tediously.
"Does it look like I'm being sarcastic right now?" you shouted. "No! That suitcase literally has every single one of my belongings. Clothes and my lighter, even. I need it. I hid it behind the dumpster near the cafe we were at. Right next to it."
Peter nodded energetically and flashed two thumbs up. "I'll be right back," he assured you. "Don't die. I'll be right back!"
"Yeah, I heard you the first time," you muttered as Peter leapt off the rooftop.
So fucking strange.
So fucking annoying.
You brought your hands to your mouth, trying to blow warm air. You were pretty convinced that you were actually going to die. The cold was so bitter, so harsh, and you couldn't focus on anything other than the feeling of your nerves being pricked with a thousand needles.
The tingle of lingering tears made you scoff. Why cry? Why now?
You waited for the tears to fall, but they never did. Maybe crying's impossible now. Maybe you're body was permanently damaged from the escapade in that burning building.
You couldn't warm up. You felt hopeless.
Before, you were glowing; alight with power and energy, and it felt endless. It felt like forever.
Now? You're shivering, in a bra and jeans, and you'd lost your shoes somewhere along the way. You didn't notice until you curled your toes under, trying to shield them from the biting cold.
How did other people survive this?
You felt miserable. Your fingers hurt, your face hurt; even the tips of your ears hurt.
Your attempts to recharge remained ever thwarted by the wind chill.
When Peter reappeared, spring through the sky, you felt so glad to see him. How quickly he had changed to you. How quickly he had become so important.
Peter pulled his mask off as he approached your stiff figure. You could hardly move, so he came towards you and unzipped the suitcase.
"Come 'ere," he muttered as he pulled you under his arm. It would have been awkward if you hadn't just experience life and death with him. Just a few hours ago, Peter was a stranger that you felt you must remain wary of. Now he was dressing you in layers of your own, old clothes. A tank top, a shirt, and a sweatshirt later, you were digging around for socks.
"You're barefoot," Peter noticed.
You sent him a biting glare.
He held his hands out in defense of whatever attacks he was expecting. Unfortunately for you, it's too freezing to bother telling him to shut his little mouth.
You pushed yourself to your feet. You had found your lighter and your bundle of cash. The world wasn't ending after all, you realized as you snapped the wheel of your blue, bic tube. You mediated a flare of fire, blowing it up in your face.
Peter stared at you, precarious of the sight. You pressed your nostril over the tail of fire and took a deep inhale.
Maybe you are a crackhead, Peter thought to himself.
As you inhaled, a quick glitter of light passed through your veins.but it vanished as quickly as it had appeared, making Peter doubt he'd even seen it.
You shivered in content and stretched your arms out.
"Better?" Peter asked, cautious.
"Tons better," you moaned. You redirected the new abundance of energy to your feet. You faced Peter now, stuffing your hands in the pouch of your sweatshirt.
"So," you said as you started to circle him. "Spider-Man?"
"Long story," he says bashfully.
"You're like a superhero," you added. "Got a costume, and a fanbase, and everything."
Peter shrugged. "You've never heard of Spider-Man?"
"I've heard of the Avengers," you noted. You stroked your chin. "Never a Spider man, though. Spider-Man. Huh. Did you come up with that name yourself?" You asked, and this made Peter frown deeply. He shrugged. With a palm scraping the back of his neck, he sharply muttered, "Perhaps."
You looked him up and down once more. You finally lifted your nose high. "I could tell you had powers," you said wisely, folding your arms across your chest. "You're very hot."
Peter stared.
"I meant your heat signature," you revised. You felt like screaming into the void. "Because my powers. Like, my eyes. I can just tell. You know what? Nevermind."
Peter looked interested. He pointed at you. "Heat signature?" He repeated. "What exactly are your abilities?"
Puzzled, you gave him a side eye. "Uhm." No one has ever asked such a question. What's more, you'd never openly told anyone about your abilities. Mandy and Megan didn't really count. They were family. They were trusted sources.
Upon explaining your abilities to Peter, he lit up into a fascinated grin. "And you were born that way?" he asked.
You shrugged.
You felt embarrassed, suddenly. "I mean, yeah," you mumbled. "I said I was visiting my mom. It wasn't a total lie. She's not a teacher in Long Island. In fact, I don't know what she is. She gave me up for adoption. I came here to track her down, and to maybe even get some answers about what I am. Lately I've been getting stronger. I just want to know if she can help me. I have been searching for nearly a year now. I'm at the end of my rope, here! I just...I'm starting to lose hope."
Peter nodded, looking sympathetic to your cause. He appeared genuine. It was a nice feeling, you realized, to have someone on your side. Support.
"And you don't have a place to stay?" he asked you then. He didn't press on anything else, which made you shrug. "Nope. I've gotta try and find somewhere. I'm running out of money. I won't last another week, here. New York is fucking expensive, you know."
"Don't say that like it's may fault," Peter said as he pulled his mask over his face, flattening the brown curly mop on his head. "You can stay with me."
"No," you told him. "Thanks, but no."
"Fine," Peter said with a shrug. "Then enjoy camping out in the snow."
You blanched. "The what?"
"Yep," Peter nodded. "It's due to snow again tonight, and all day tomorrow."
Your jaw went slack. Snow? The word sent chills down your spine. The attempt to keep the shock and sneer off your face didn't go unnoticed. Such a pathetic attempt made Peter snicker.
Swallowing your pride, you raised your chin and shrugged. "Since you're offering," you said, "then why not."
"Yeah, sure," he said. "You're welcome."
You muttered 'thank you' under your breath.
Peter lifted a hand to his ear. "What was that?" His voice was lilt with amusement. It really rubbed you the wrong way, and for no real reason.
A clenched fist threatened to punch Peter, and he seemed to take it somewhat seriously, because he took hold of your suitcase. "We going or what?" he asked.
You took another quick inhale of your lighter before shrugging at him. "Fine," you scowled. You gripped your lighter tight in your hand before begrudgingly entering Peter's grasp. With your arms wrapped round his neck, and his own around you, you wondered how he could possibly be comfortable. He was even carrying your suitcase, although it wasn't that big enough to be a great feat.
You closed your eyes as Peter swept off the roof. The sensation of total loss caught you by surprise one more time. You weren't sure how Peter could be used to it. How long had he been acting as this figure? Spider-Man was clearly well known. He had fans, and the little boy from the building knew his name. Besides. He seemed to know exactly what he was doing.
His navigation skills were on par with a GPS. Not to mention he wasn't the least bit out of breath.
Upon arriving to his own apartment, which took about five minutes of swinging over the city, Peter ushered you through the window. He put his hand politely over your back as he pushed you into the little room. He entered next, setting your suitcase down with ease. He shut the window, locked it, then drew all the curtains. When he was sure that it was safe, he pulled his mask off.
"This is where a superhero lives?" you asked as you looked around. It was tiny, to say the least. Somewhat dismal. But it had a bed, a desk, and one, little living area and bathroom. The lumpy couch faced a small TV, the size of a monitor even, that had the paused screen of a Star Wars movie.
"Shut up," Peter sniped as he dragged your suitcase around. "As far as you're concerned, this is a five star bed and breakfast. So deal with it."
You imitated a cat's rough meow. "Touchy subject?" you asked.
Peter rolled his brown eyes. "Don't be a bitch," he grumbled as he dug through his closet for clothes. "I'm going to get changed. Make yourself comfortable."
You wondered how Peter could be so trusting. He'd revealed his identity to you within two days of knowing you. Less than that, even. This was technically your second encounter with the bug boy.
You took a seat on the twin mattress and looked around. His desk was littered with a Singer sewing machine and fabric swatches, a few heavy textbooks, and a chromebook. There was a stack of spiral notebooks on the floor, likely filled with notes for whatever crazy shit he was studying.
Quantum theory, biochemistry, calculus III.
"Damn, Parker," you whistled as you grazed the textbooks with a finger.
You couldn't begin to imagine how hard those subjects were.
You had just barely graduated with a GED. Unlike Peter, apparently, who likely graduated as valedictorian! Judging from his place, as well as is face, and voice, you assumed he was your age, if not a few years younger or older.
Overall, his little apartment was a cozy corner, tucked away from the rest of the world. You peaked out the window, fingers carefully edging past the blackout curtains. Snow was drifting down the sky. You sighed. How long would you have to stay here?
No offense to Peter, but his place wasn't exactly equipped for visitors.
You took a seat on the edge of the bed, noticing that he at least had a comfortable mattress. You cast your eyes towards the small living room. Hopefully the couch was as comfortable.
You ventured out to take a closer look at the living room, careful not to knock over the little monitor propped on a TV tray. Peter had a fold up table set in the corner, with a hot plate, toaster oven, and microwave. No coffee maker? Maybe you'd splurge and buy him one, as a gift. Afterall, he was definitely going out on a limb for you. You wondered if he could even afford to host you.
His pantry was a pathetic array of blueberry poptarts and dry cereal. Not even any food to make with his mini kitchen.
You frowned.
"Don't be so judgmental," Peter's voice rang. "I can feel your thoughts."
"I'm not judging," you informed him. "You sure you even want me here?"
Peter shrugged. "You don't have to. But it's better than a hotel, right? This way you can stay as long as you need."
You took a seat on the sofa. It was small, not very comfortable, but you would make due with it. You weren't in any position to be complaining.
"No way, you can take the bed," Peter informed you when he watched you curl onto the sofa.
You stared, flabbergasted that he'd even known what you were thinking. "Is mind reading one of your spider tricks?" you asked.
"No, I'm just intuitive. Take the bed."
"You're, like, at least five-seven," you estimated. "You'll be dangling off this thing all night."
Peter looked from side to side. He evaluated your words but just shrugged them off. "And?"
"And?" God, he's irritating. "Just sleep in the damn bed, dude, I'm not going to kick you out of it."
"What's with your attitude?" Peter asked with a toothy grin. He ventured to the makeshift kitchen and searched for a poptart. "Hungry?"
"I prefer strawberry," you informed him. "Like a normal person."
"Suit yourself," Peter sighed as he tore the foil. He stuck both pastries in the toaster, making you cringe. "And you toast them? Where the hell am I? Alternate dimension?"
Peter sent you a pointed glare. "You don't toast your poptarts?" he asked in a low voice.
"Of course not," you said, sticking your nose in the air. "They get all mushy and warm-too gooey."
Peter's brows pulled together. "Since when do you have an issue with things being warm," he scoffed as he pulled his pastries out of the toaster. "Seriously. You should eat something. Help yourself. It's not exactly a sushi buffet but...just eat."
You looked at him, shocked at the sudden soft lure of his voice. You quietly nodded. "Okay. Thank you."
Peter grinned. "That's the nicest you've been to me all day," he noticed as he took a large bite of his snack.
You shuffled to the table. The dry cereal came in mini boxes, like the sort a hotel breakfast would serve. Cinnamon toast crunch. Now that was calling your name. You pulled the small bag open and dug in, your mouth watering as you munched on the sugary wafers.
You followed Peter into his bedroom. He sat at his desk, opening up his chromebook. Perching on the edge of his bed, you watched him go to his bank account. He did some calculations, scribbling numbers on a piece of paper and muttering under his breath. You watched in silence.
He finally shut the laptop and looked at you. "Want to order pizza?" he said decidedly.
You shrugged. "Whatever," you said, acting as if your heart didn't race at the prospect of cheesy bread and garlic knots.
After a thoughtful chew of a cereal handful, you set the box down on Peter's desk and went searching for your suitcase. You dug around for the rubberbound roll of cash and pulled out three twenties.
You stalked to Peter's chair.
He looked up at you, confused. "Can I help you?" he asked.
You just stared in silence. You shot your hand out, forcing the money in his face. Peter sighed. "Isn't that yours?" he then sighed. "Keep it."
"No way," you said. "You need it. Besides, you're letting me stay the night. I was already planning on paying for a motel room. Let's just pretend you're the motel. Take the fucking cash, Parker," you finally snapped when Peter opened his mouth to complain. Peter frowned. His nose wrinkled with distaste as he snatched the sixty dollars from your hand. "Thanks, I guess," he mumbled as he tucked the money in a little drawer. "Groceries on you, then."
A malicious smirk captured your mouth. "That money is for you!" you informed him in the tone of a happy chirp. Peter started to argue again.
You silenced him by holding out a finger. "I'm going to buy groceries, too. Use that shit for something good," you commanded. Peter rolled his doe eyes.
"All of a sudden we're best friends?" he teased.
You waved a hand. You reached for your cereal again, digging around for the little pieces of cinnamon goodness. "Please," you grinned ,"you'd be lucky to have a friend like me. Spider-Man included."
Leaning back in his rolling chair, Peter strapped his muscular arms over his chest. You realized you hadn't stopped to examine him in his pajamas.
His sleeves were on the brink of busting at the seams. Peter had some huge biceps, and a broad, muscular chest.
To see someone like him wearing sweatpants should have been illegal. But you were good at containing yourself. Besides: Peter's too annoying to be attractive. He'd also stalked you, you reminded yourself.
Some part of your mind realized, however, that every reason you gave yourself to not like Peter were simply excuses. He was sort of amazing. Despite having known him for seven hours.
"Say, why don't you become my sidekick?" Peter suggested. He burst into laughter when your face fell flat.
"That's really funny. Give my money back."
Peter quickly apologized. You smirked, feeling like you were in total control of your emotions.
Now that you'd settled down, you started to realize you had no idea what to do next.
Tomorrow you would go back to the apartment complex to search for Angie Jones. No matter what side quests you'd gotten yourself into, your main objective hadn't changed. Angelica Jones was your top priority. Finding her could change life as you know it. Any information on your background and powers would be greatly appreciated. You could sense yourself growing stronger, like a fire on the brink of going out of control.
That scared you.
Peter did, in fact, order pizza and drinks while you took a shower under scalding water. You wanted to laze in the tiled sanctuary all night and relish in the steam and scorching water, but you knew better than to rack up extra zeroes on Peter's water bill.
As you pat yourself dry, you wondered how Peter even made his money. It wasn't as if his vigilante gig was a job. You doubted the city was sending Spider-Man biweekly checks.
Now clad in pajamas, you shuffled out to the living room. Peter was already sitting and scarfing down a slice of pizza with gooey cheese and greasy pepperoni. Your mouth watered at the sight. You very carefully got yourself a slice, and kept yourself restrained as you ate it.
The escapade with the fire had certainly used up a lot of your energy. But you were feeling better. You could see Peter's Thermo again, which made you feel tons better.
"What are your powers?" You asked finally. You took another large bite as Peter began to recount his own story. Not everyone is born with such gifts, you realized. Peter had been thrust into such a world by pure accident.
Learning about his sixth sense made a few things click into place. You explained to him the way Thermos work. You could see his body's change in temperature when he actively used a power, such as his weird, spider-y sense. The flickering of his thermal image simply marked the usage of it.
Peter asked you lots of questions. He asked if you were a fire bender and you told him, with a heavy heart, that you could control fire. You could redirect it, you could absorb it, but control? No. Fire could not be controlled. Fire is mindless and hungry, seeking to consume and takeover. Control? Not possible. Not even for you.
As the night progressed, you and Peter learned more about each other. He gave you the last slice of pizza.
"Why would you tell me about...you know, your identity? We've just met. What makes you think you can trust me?" You asked this all before taking a large bite of the last slice. You'd definitely needed the carbs.
Peter thought about that. His face conveyed his thought progression as he finally said, "I had a feeling that you needed me. Needed some kind of help."
"Is that apart of your spider sense?" You asked as you nibbled on the pizza like a mouse.
Peter's shoulders shrugged dramatically. "I dunno," he admitted. He scratched the back of his neck with some apprehension. "I'll find out."
"That's dangerous," you pointed out. "Super hero 101 always says keep your identity a secret."
Peter's gaze averted to the floorboards, the dirt, old wood that was faded and creaky. "I don't have anything to lose," he admitted. "There's no one in my life. I have nothing. Some days I feel like nothing. So I guess that was my way of being adventurous."
His sad, doey, brown eyes dragged to meet yours. Pain struck you in the chest, a devastating blow that sent an ache all inside. Nothing to lose.
You lost your appetite. "I know what you mean," you whispered. You threw out the pizza crust, which generally was your favorite part.
"You have someone," Peter said sympathetically. "Your mother is out there. You should find her."
You grimaced. "While that's technically correct, there's no actual guarantee that she'll accept me. Hell. Maybe this isn't the right woman. Maybe I've reached another dead end. And on the other hand...what if it is her? What if she rejects me? I don't know how I could recover from that. My whole life, I've told myself I don't need a mother. I don't need anyone. I was fine with what I had, but looking back at if, now? I realize I have barely been keeping myself together. I'm lonely. And all I want is to have someone. A small part of me is still a child waiting for her mother to come home."
Though your words had become suddenly passionate and emotional, Peter didn't seem to be criticizing you. He nodded like he actually understood or even gave a damn. Did he?
You couldn't tell. You didn't want to tell.
"I'm tired," you said casually. "Uhm. I guess I'll just lay down, here, then?" You pat the surface of the sofa.
"No," Peter said firmly. "Stop being stubborn and take the damn bed. After today, you need the rest."
You frowned. You were tempted to tell him Don't tell me what to do, but with the way his eye caught yours, you couldn't muster the words. Your heart felt like it was clogged in your throat.
"Okay," you said quietly. "Thanks."
Peter raised his eyebrows, and you saw a flash of his Thermo.
"Stop studying me," you quipped as you brushed past him, being very careful not to make physical contact.
"I'm not studying you," Peter defended.
"You forget that I can tell when you're using your weird little bug powers," you called from the bedroom. You aimed the spaceheater towards the bed, turning the heat on high.
Peter made a small sound of disagreement. "You're not supposed to put those things on full blast," he said. "It's a safety hazard."
You stared. "Are you joking?" You couldn't tell. Peter, having become bashful, ruffled his hair and muttered something to himself as he walked to his closet. He pulled out a set of lame, flat pillows and a threadbare quilt. You frowned and Peter groaned. "What's up with you always making that face?" he asked as he carried his things to the sofa. On your way after him, you unplugged the space heater and cradled it in your arms, the singe of the metal going unnoticed.
You propped it by the couch. "Use this," you said.
Peter raised a brow. "Don't you have to sleep with it?" he asked cautiously.
You shook your head with a long eye roll. "No. I don't need heat to live. It's just heavily preferred."
Peter scoffed. "So that stunt earlier was just you being dramatic? I thought you would die in the cold! What do you think normal people have to go through, huh?" He looked much too amused by your plight as you adjusted the spaceheater with a scowl engrained on your mouth. "I swear, all you can do is frown, frown, frown. You're so grumpy."
"I am not grumpy," you griped. "Go to sleep. Don't be worrying about fires, either."
"Whatever," Peter groaned as he rolled onto the couch. His bundle of long limbs and hair looked awkward, confined to the lumpy cushions that couldn't even hold a golden retriever. You caught yourself frowning again. You shook your head, trying to get the sullied expression off your face. Peter was right, you sourly realized.
With a terse, "Good night," you lurched back into the bedroom. It was foreign. It smelled like Peter.
You laid in his bed, awkwardly trying not to rest against the pillow, because again, all of your senses were filled with Peter. It was vey weird. There was a mild tension filling the air. You could feel it. Did Peter?
It's to be expected. He's a boy, you're a girl-could it be anymore obvious?
Given the current circumstance, however, you had no intentions on pursuing any sort of relation with Peter. He could be your friend.
That's it.
Besides, you don't even know him. He could really be crazy, like you suspected earlier. But he seemed like you: lonely. He needed someone, perhaps, to relate to. Given his sorrowful tale, which included magic and spells (you took this with a grain of salt), you figured he really had no one. His loss was indescribable. You; born with no one, who has no one, meeting the young man who had been born with everything but fell to rock bottom.
It sounded like a good show premise. Maybe a reality show about vigilantes.
Would you be a guest star? Or a recurring character? That depended.
You clutched your lighter, playing with the flame. You ran it over your fingers as you stared at Peter's popcorn ceiling.
"Y/n!" Peter's voice called from the adjacent room.
You put out the lighter and tucked it underneath the blanket. "Nothing!"
You wanted to smack yourself. "Nothing. What's up?"
"We're on the news," he responded cheerfully. "You've been introduced to New York City as Spider-Man's Amazing Friend, The Human Star."
You swung out of the bed, your feet padding across the creaky floor. You went to Peter's side and held out your hand, silently demanding his smartphone.
Peter tucked it close to his chest. "Why are you standing over me like a sleep paralysis figure?"
You snatched the phone from him, making him swear. "Bitchy, much?"
You didn't bother to respond to that. Your eyes scanned the article. Unknown figure! "Hey," you said with a small smile. "I'm an 'unknown figure.'"
You zoomed in on the attached photograph. It was of you, and Spider-Man, both unrecognizable. You didn't look like yourself. You were like a humanoid figure drenched in fire and light.
"The new hero, dubbed The Human Star by the people of Superhero FandomTwitter, was spotted this afternoon by onlookers. Witnesses who interacted with the new vigilante first hand claimed she could absorb flames, resist heat, and fly." You poured. "I wish I could fly!"
Peter held a hand out for his device. You reluctantly relinquished the phone, taking one last look at the image of yourself. Or rather the blur of light.
Peter shooed you away with a hand, as if you were dust on his shoulder. "Alright, don't get such a big head. I just wanted to show you that. Go to sleep before I got steal my bed back."
You put your hands on your hips, radiating with attitude. "I told you that you could sleep there anyways."
"Nah," Peter groaned as he fluffed his pillow. He rolled to his other side, leaving his back to you. "You need to rest. You had your first real hero day."
Blushing in the darkness, you muttered, "Well, I couldn't have done it without you."
"What?" Peter asked, sounding genuine.
"You're annoying," you said. You journey back to the bedroom, unaware that Peter had heard you just fine. He nuzzled his own pillow with a victorious grin on his face.
Sometime during the night, Peter was digging through his closet like a raccoon in a trash can. You sat up, your hair a mess and your voice thick. "What are you doing?" You asked. You weren't completely aware of your surroundings, still half asleep as Peter responded, "Powers out. Snow storm. It's cold."
You curled back down to the covers and huffed a breath through your nose. Warmth billowed over your body.
"Come lay with me," you said. You moved to the side of the mattress and pulled the covers aside, gesturing for him to get in.
Peter looked wary. "I-"
"Parker, would you lay the fuck down?" you suddenly snapped. You rubbed your eyeswuth a fist. You palmed around the bed, searching for your bic lighter. You lit it up and took a deep breath to prepare for your new role as a human furnace. "Now I'm awake. Happy? Just lay down and I'll warm you up."
Peter, caught by surprise, shook his head to himself as he succumbed to your orders. He carefully crawled beside you. "Don't tell anyone about this," you warned him as you rolled over, pulling Peter closer to your body. You released a slow, heavy breath, out your nose, and expelled a strong wave of heat. Peter shivered. He could see his breath, and he wondered how you hadn't been bothered. He also wondered how this apartment was up to code.
You adjusted, struggling to get comfortable. Peter tried to move in an attempt to help, but his nose brushed yours.
You both paused.
Peter's eyes caught yours, flickered to your mouth, then back to your eyes.
You stopped breathing.
"I'm going to turn around," Peter muttered.
He rolled, his back facing you once more.
"I'm still...cold," he mumbled, his voice faint.
Your limbs felt heavy as you wrapped an arm over Peter's waist. His muscles were warm and tough beneath his thin, cotton shirt. Your stomach leapt.
The sensation was exactly like that of swinging around New York.
"Don't tell anyone about this," you warned him again as he rolled his hips back into yours. Was he trying to fucking kill you? Or did he have a death wish?
Peter scoffed. His body went tense for a split second. It was enough for you to notice. "I don't have any friends to tell."
The saddness in his voice was evident whether he'd been joking or not.
You frowned upon his back; you're well aware he couldn't see it but if he had, he'd have made a snide remark. You tucked yourself closer to Peter as he shivered, and you rolled out more expulsions of heat. Your energy had been depleted earlier, but after a few hours of sleep, you were stable and once more able to supply warmth; so long as you could stay still and calm, you could keep Peter warm all night.
"I'll be your friend," you told him. Your words did not get a response for a few moments. You felt worried that you'd overstepped a boundary.
But finally, Peter's agreed. "Alright," he said, sounding decided. "As my friend, can I tell you something?"
He turned back to look at you, readjusting his pillow as he prepared for gossip. "There's this girl I met today, and she's totally looking for excuses to feel me up," he said.
He burst into a fit of laughter when your ears started steaming. You punched him as hard as your tired body could allow, right in the shoukder. "I'm joking! I'm joking! I'm sorry!" He exclaimed, wheezing with unbridled amusement.
"You're hilarious," you said as you reluctantly ceased your attempts to push him off the bed. "I could scald the hell out of you. You know that?"
"Sure I know that," Peter agreed happily. "You're big, bad, and tough. I get it."
"Mhmm," you scoffed.
Peter pulled you closer to his chest, cradling you with strange intimacy. With your head tilted to his chest, your mind started to black out. Intervals of consciousness had numbed your mind and body to the fact that you and Peter were cuddling on his bed.
Strangely enough, you thought as you drifted back to sleep, I think I could get used to this.
Though tomorrow you'd continue your search for Angelica Jones, you would rest easy tonight. You didn't want to think about the next steps to take after that. What other leads could you find?
How long would Peter be willing to play host? Tonight, sure, the power was out and he needed to keep warm somehow. But what about when summer rolls around? Would he even be able to stand staying with you for that long?
A childish part of you was trying to imagine the life you could build here, being roommates with another person like you. Another person who could understand the struggles and frustrations you encountered day to day.
Spider-Man and the Human Star. Hmm. Maybe they'd make a good team.
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upat4amwiththemoon · a day ago
Hi if requests are open and if you do smut maybe Kate has a thing for R!(female) in grey sweats and R! Wears a strap to tease Kate and maybe visits her while she’s training with Clint and Kate just Pounces on R!
It’s A okay if you can’t do this request hope you have a great day/night and take care💜
Love you’re writing by the way💜
Grey sweats
Summary: There’s something about her that Kate can’t resist.
Pairing: Kate Bishop x female!reader
Warnings: 18+, poorly written smut, strap-on use, fingering, nipple play, cursing
Word count: 1154
a/n: I tried my best with this, I hope you enjoy and thank you <3
Tags: @thought-of-you-and-me @rafecameronswhore
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“Babe!” Kate knocks the bathroom’s door. “I’m off to train with Clint.”
“Wait a minute!” Y/N shuts off the shower. She quickly wraps a towel around herself and opens the door. “Goodbye kiss.” Kate giggles, her eyes automatically going up and down her barely clothed body. The two share a quick kiss that’s still full of emotion. “How long are you two going to train.”
“Two hours, I think.”
Y/N groans. “Clint needs to give you a break sometime. I really thought I’d have you to myself today.” She grabs Kate’s hands, swinging them around slightly.
“After training, promise.” Kate pecks her one last time before starting to walk away from their room. “I love you!”
“Love you too.”
When the door closes, Y/N smirks. She gets out of the bathroom and grabs a pair of grey sweatpants and a shirt, not bothering with any underwear. She pulls a plastic box from under the bed and grabs the strap to put on before her clothes.
As she pulls up her pants, Y/N smirks. She knows Kate has a very particular weakness and she isn’t afraid to use it against her to get her out of the training.
Y/N walks into the gym. It’s mostly empty, only Clint and Kate are using it. They are in the ring, sparring together. Y/N waves at Kate when she throws a quick glance at her. Kate’s eyes widen and she fully turns to look at Y/N, making her distracted and giving Clint the upper hand. She groans as her back hits the floor.
“Eyes on me while fighting, not your girlfriend.” Clint grumbles, helping her back up.
“Yeah, yeah, no, I know.” Kate mumbles. Although, her eyes keep going back to Y/N. It’s not noticeable to people who don’t know what’s going on, but Kate knows exactly what Y/N is doing.
Y/N smirks. She can feel Kate’s eyes burning to the back of her head as she walks to the benches.
“Hey, focus.”
“Could we, uhm...” Kate stares at Y/N when she sits down, the bulge between her legs now more prominent. “Could we finish training for today?” She licks her lips, her eyes catching Y/N’s. The latter smirks, raising her brows in a teasing manner.
Clint sighs. “Sure, kid.”
“Thanks, Clint!” Kate gets out of the ring and jogs to Y/N, forgetting her water bottle. She pulls her up from the bench and the two jog to their room.
“You’re eager, huh?” Y/N giggles as Kate slams the door shut.
“Oh, don’t act like this isn’t your fault.” She glances at her crotch quickly. This of course doesn’t go unnoticed by Y/N. “You could’ve done this after my training.”
“Where’s the fun in that.” Y/N grins, leaning her hands on the door so Kate is between them. Kate’s breath hitches when Y/N presses herself against her, she can feel the strap. Slowly, she starts grinding. Kate sets her hands on her waist to pull her closer. “Slow down.” Kate groans, pulling Y/N into a harsh kiss. She bites her bottom lip as she pulls away. “Okay, fuck it.”
Y/N pulls her to the bed so she is sitting on her lap. “Finally.” Kate mumbles. She pulls her shirt and pants off, leaving her only to her underwear. She attaches her lips back to Y/N’s while she fumbles with the bra. Kate pulls away long enough to throw away her own bra and Y/N’s shirt. “No bra?” Kate grins.
“You haven’t seen the best yet.” Y/N pants, slightly out of breath from the intense making out.
“I can feel it.” Kate moans as Y/N’s lips wrap around one of her nipples. Her hands go to her hair, bringing her as close as possible.
Y/N moves to the other nipple, giving it as much attention. “Ride me.” She mumbles to her skin, leaving sloppy kisses to her chest.
Kate stands up, giving Y/N space to push her sweatpants away. She starts pulling her panties down, but Y/N pulls her back to her lap before she can. Kate moans as the strap rubs her clit. Not waiting any longer, she starts grinding against it.
Y/N grips Kate’s hips, helping her by pulling her down more roughly. She presses her thumb to her still clothed clit, making Kate buckle up. Slowly she starts rubbing small circles with her thumb, grinning at the small sounds Kate lets out. Kate’s hands move to Y/N’s shoulders. Her nails press into her skin as she starts moving faster.
“Are you ready for my piece, honey.”
“Yes, please yes.” Moving her panties to the side, Y/N starts moving her finger through her folds, not enough to give Kate the pleasure she needs. “Y/N.” She groans, grabbing Y/N’s wrist to move it closer where she needs her.
Y/N giggles, but lets Kate lead her finger to her opening. “You’re so wet, baby.” She groans at the feeling of her walls as she pushes one of her fingers inside. She moves fast from the start, surprising Kate. Kate moans when she feels another finger entering her. Y/N moves her free hand to play with Kate’s nipples.
Kate leans her head against Y/N’s shoulder. She starts rolling her hips at the same pace as Y/N’s fingers move, helping them reach her most sensitive spot. “I’m close.” She whimpers.
With a particularly harsh twist of Kate’s nipple, she pulls her fingers away. Before Kate can even complain, she moves Kate over the strap and slams her down.
“Shit!” Kate shouts. With Y/N’s helps she starts going up and down in a quick pace. When Kate has her figured out her own pace, Y/N moves her hand back to her clit, rubbing it in fast circles. Kate moans get louder and louder the closer she gets to her climax. “Please, please do- don’t stop.”
Y/N snaps her hips up in a sharp motion few times, hitting Kate’s g-spot every single time. That added to the feeling of her finger moving on Kate’s clit makes the pit in her abdomen grow. Finally, she reaches her limit and crashes down. Y/N slams her lips to hers to muffle the loud moans, slowly calming down her movements.
Kate’s body slumps against Y/N’s, her hips still moving slightly to come down from her high. “That was great.” She mumbles.
Y/N hums, peppering kisses to Kate’s face and shoulders. Taking few deep breaths, Kate deems herself ready to move again. She stands up slowly, whimpering when the sudden emptiness hits her. “What are you doing?” Y/N stares as Kate helps the strap off of her hips.
“It’s your turn.” Kate smirks, pushing Y/N down to the bed and climbing on top of her.
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selenasprompts · a day ago
Better off
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Pairing: tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader
Warnings: cursing and mentions of death : angsty/fluffy one shot
Insight: you come face to face with Peter Parker when he saves you from falling + timeline is after Gwen’s death!
You have absolutely no idea how you got here- that’s a lie. Like the idiot you are, you decided to walk the ledge on the roof of your apartment building, you needed some fresh air after that shit show of an exam you had this morning. 
“I hope I did well” you say just before you heard a car crash making you jump and slip off the ledge letting out a scream. 
You felt like your soul was leaving your body, you couldn’t believe it; you were gonna die, or so you thought. 
You felt so close to the pavement as the city noise gradually got louder and louder, you saw a flash of red and blue.
He used his web and caught me faster than I could comprehend what was going on. He was holding onto another apartment ledge with his other hand, he was shaking.
Peter’s POV
I caught her. I got her. You did it Peter, relax.
But how? how can I relax when all I see is her. I can’t keep doing this, I’m tired. She wouldn’t have wanted this for me, right? At least I caught her.
“Are you okay?” I asked the terrified woman hanging in the air with a shaky voice. I prayed they were okay, they need to be. 
“Yes- Yes I think so” I pulled her up to me and told her to hang on tight. I brought her back up to the top of the building. 
“Why would you do that? do you know how dangerous that is?” I scolded, I didn’t care.
“I didn’t think anything of it, I do it all the time I’m sorry-” she sat down.
“You don’t get to be sorry! people die like that all the time, from falling off of high buildings- it’s not safe dammit” I was waving my hands in the air pacing back and forth. She was looking at me like a mad man. 
“I... I don’t know what to say”
“Good, you shouldn’t” I snapped.
I felt so, empty. I miss her, I miss Gwen.
“I’m sorry again. I never meant to make you panic. I know you must be really busy doing whatever spider man things it is you do”
I went beside her. “No, I’m sorry, it’s my fault I took my anger out on you, I’ve just been really stressed lately. I’m still human I guess. What’s your name?” I chuckled making her laugh, she was quite pretty. 
“Yeah I know how you feel, I’m Y/n. I just had an exam today. I feel like shit”
“I’m sure you did great- wait a second do I know you?” I said moving closer. She looked familiar.
“I don’t think so, I’m sure I’d remember you” She giggled, I smiled. I haven’t flirted with anyone since.. Gwen.
“Yeah I’m sure... so you live here? by yourself?” I was making conversation. I tried to be social once and awhile. 
“Uh yeah, I live in this apartment building by myself- no roommates. I was supposed to have one but she died” She twiddled with her fingers looking down, I swear I’ve seen her before.
“Oh, I’m sorry” 
“No it’s okay, s’not your fault. It’s almost been a year anyways”
“I went through something like that awhile ago, it’s never easy” I said standing up looking over the city.
“Yeah, Gwendolyne sure knew how to have a good time, I miss her stupid jokes”
I felt my heart beat out of my chest. Gwen?
“Wha- what did you say?” I turned around with tears in my eyes. “You knew Gwen?” I stepped closer.
“You know Gwen? Yeah we were friends growing up, did you hang out with her before she died? The only person I ever got a glimpse of was her boyfriend.. I forgot his name. Patrick? Pete? PETER! it was Peter”
I took my mask off. 
“Peter? You’re spider man?” She gasped and stared.
“It’s my fault” I said sliding down the back of the ledge. 
“What? it’s not your f-”
“IT IS! It’s a long story but.. If I caught her, she’d still be alive today” I started to cry. 
“Oh, I’m sorry Peter”
“It’s stupid...it’s been a year. I need to move on. Please don’t tell anyone about me”
“NO- of course not”
“Good, it’s best you stay away from me if you see me.. outside of my suit” I gestured. I started to panic I can’t do this right now.
“Oh, if that’s what you want. I kind of hoped you’d want to hang out, grab a coffee sometime?”
It was tempting, I should have said yes, I should have asked her out even. 
“No, trust me. Anyone who gets close to me... it doesn’t end well for them. Stop walking on ledges” I spoke before I jumped off the building.
I wasn't wrong. I’d put her in danger, I’d start to care for her, I’d start to love her. I can’t have another Gwen.
She’s better off. 
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I don’t know what this is… an ass drabble perhaps?
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buckosbabe · a day ago
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Andante, Andante.
(lumberjack-ish??)!Bucky Barnes x Ex-spy!Female!reader
Angst, Fluff, Smut
Warnings: PTSD (mentions of past abuse), Smut, Panic attacks, pet-names (baby, peaches, doll etc.)
Anything in italics and bold is a flashback/memory
Bucky woke up with the sun.
He always had, even when he was kid in Brooklyn. As soon as the golden rays had shone through the discreet gap between his curtains, he awoke.
Bucky rolled out of the warmth of his duvet and headed for the bathroom, and he ran the hot water to take a shower. He stepped back and as he started to remove his sweatpants, his thoughts traced back to you. They always did. Whatever he was doing. Wherever he was going. You always occupied his mind. Frankly, he got nothing done anymore as he couldn’t concentrate on anything else but your eyes, and that smile, and those lips that he yearned to kiss so much that it hurt.
Bucky had planned the day weeks ago. He would pick you up on his motorcycle, then he would take you into the forest near his cabin, where you and him would have a picnic lunch beside the reservoir, and afterwards, you both would go back to his home, and spend the rest of the day enjoying each others company.
You had agreed for Bucky to pick you up at 2, and sure enough, there he was, standing outside your front door with a small bouquet of the daintiest flowers you had ever seen.
"Hey, doll." Bucky handed you the flowers, and kissed you on the cheek. You blushed crimson red, earning a grin from him. “Ready to go?" He had asked.
"Mhm." You had replied, while nodding your head. You stepped outside and closed the door behind you, locking it. As you turned around, you caught sight of Bucky’s motorcycle.
"James." You said. He turned around to face you. "There’s no way in hell I’m riding that thing." You pointed at the vehicle, an incredulous look on your face. He softly chuckled.
"Peaches, I’m a good driver. You’ll have a helmet. It’ll be fine." He grabbed the helmet off of the back of the bike and held it out to you. You shook your head.
"No. Absolutely not. I’m not going to-" You were cut short of speech when you were swiftly lifted off of the ground and gently, but firmly, placed on the back of the bike. Before you could protest, Bucky was already adjusting the helmet to sit comfortably on your head. He sat down in front of you and you wrapped your arms around his waist (albeit, reluctantly), and rested your chin on his shoulder, closing your eyes as he revved up the engine.
"Buck, don’t you need a helmet?" You had asked him, having to speak loudly over the sound of the motorcycle.
"Nope!" He almost shouted as he took off, speeding around the corners of her neighbourhood, and heading for the forest. You had stuffed your face into his back and refused to open your eyes while he turned and maneuvered through wherever you were. You had held your breath through a few quick turns, and held onto Bucky just a fraction tighter. His smile simply grew.
Soon enough, the movement subsided. You breathed out a sigh of relief and swung your leg over the side of the bike, not even bothering taking a glance at where Bucky had brought you. He removed the helmet from your head and took your hand in his, while placing his vacant one over your eyes. They fluttered shut. He pulled your hand while walking and you followed.
"Bucky, what are you doing?" You asked, while giggling slightly. His thumb grazed over your knuckles and he lifted your hand so it came into contact with his lips. You blushed at the contact.
"Just hold on, doll. I have a surprise for you." He sounded practically giddy. You didn't like surprises, but for James, you may have been willing to make an exception.
He stopped after a little while more of walking and once again, brought your hand up to his lips, and once again, a soft, pink tint adorned your cheeks. You felt Bucky pull his hand away from yours, only for a few seconds, yet you missed the warmth previously enclosed in your hand. His other hand was still covering your eyes. After the few seconds lacking his hand grasping yours, you felt his presence near you once again.
His hand was removed from your eyes, yet you still kept them closed.
"Alright, you can open your eyes now." Bucky told you, speaking softly.
You opened your eyes.
The first thing you saw was a small wicker basket, that must've been on the bike yet you hadn't noticed. It was sat on the ground near the reservoir, which gently rippled in the quiet breathing of the wind that had seemed to calm down since you were back home.
It was only then did you get a good look at your surroundings.
Trees. Miles upon miles of thick vegetation.
The forest.
Images and memories flashed through your mind.
Suddenly, you felt nauseous. Head pounding, ears ringing, breathing erratic. You saw him. 'Him' who was supposed to be a reliable co-worker. 'Him' who you thought you could trust. 'Him' who almost killed you.
He had dragged you here, after hitting you over the head with a crowbar. You had been out on patrol all night, with your partner, Brock.
"You seeing anything, Rumlow?" You said into your walkie talkie.
No reply.
No reply.
"Brock? Where are you?"
Still nothing. Nothing except the rustle of the leaving, and the sound of your breathing.
"Brock? This isn’t funny. Where did you go?" You had started to panic. Why wasn’t he answering? You were about to call someone at HQ to tap into Rumlows’ tracker for some form of location or whereabouts, but before you hand could reach your pocket, you saw nothing but darkness, and felt an ache in your head coursing through your veins, and stripping you of consciousness.
You felt like you couldn’t breathe. You needed something to ground you. Even the faint calling of Bucky’s voice in the distance wasn’t enough. The concern lacing his voice only rattled you more. You had sat, or maybe fallen, onto the ground and were clutching your chest. Your past had yet to catch up with you. Until now. You thought you had escaped it. You were wrong.
Images of Brock screaming at you, pulling out the crowbar from the drawer on his nightstand haunted your memories.
"You fucking bitch!" You had screamed back, the first time he had hit you. His previous smirk contorted into somewhat a face of anger, or potentially frustration. Nevertheless, he repeated his previous action, and hit the back of your legs with his leather belt. ‘I want you gone’ was his reasoning when you asked why he was doing it. He wanted you out of the organisation. You had always been one step ahead of him, one mission done better, one position higher. If he was the assistant, you were the manager. He was the lookout, you were the brains. Always one better. You didn’t think it had bothered him awfully much, but you always had the lingering doubt of him secretly hating you, envying you. And you were right. He wanted you dead. And this was the most enjoyable way for him to do it.
"Doll?" You heard someone. It was a far off voice. But it was warm, and soft, and safe. You held onto it.
"Peaches? What’s going on?" You knew that voice.
He voice was warm, and soft, and safe.
You hadn’t even realised your eyes were closed, and your cheeks wet with tears that you didn’t know had escaped your eyes. Those eyes that Bucky loved so much. Those eyes that he could stare into all day long and never get bored. Those eyes.
You looked in front of you, and there he was. Sitting on the ground, looking at you with concern. Tears burned the corners of his eye, but he wouldn’t let them fall. Not when you needed him to be strong.
"Bucky." You breathed. Finally. You were breathing. "Bucky." you repeated, and you took his hands in yours, needing to touch him, to feel him in any way you could. He took you into his arms, your head resting in the crook of his neck, as his hand rested on your back, rubbing soft, soothing circles near the small of it.
"You okay, doll face? You scared the shit outta me." He mumbled softly into your hair. You shook your head.
"I’m sorry." Was all you whispered back.
"Don’t be sorry. I just want you to be alright. Do you want to go back to my place for a while?" He said, while pressing kissed to your temple. As he felt you nod you head, he placed an arm under your knees, and kept the other on your back, and lifted you to place you back onto the motorcycle. Like before, he put the helmet on your head, and you held his waist, this time holding even tighter. He took the quickest way he knew of to get back to his cabin, and you climbed off the bike, taking off the helmet and leaving it where you had been seated. He took your hand and led you into the house, where he quickly got a fire going. The chilly spring breeze was drowned by the heat of the fire. You had sat down on the sofa, and Bucky had knelt down in front of you, taking your hands in both of his.
"Can I get you anything? Water? Tea?" His voice was barely louder than a whisper.
"Tea would be nice." You said, just a quiet. He nodded, and proceeded to ask how you liked your tea. ‘Milky, no sugar, please.' You had replied.
He spent a few minutes in the kitchen, and returned with 2 mugs, each steaming hot as he set them in the coffee table. Bucky took a seat down beside you. Neither of you spoke. There was too much, yet nothing at all, to say. Eventually, Bucky spoke.
"Are you alright?" You had nodded slightly to that. He felt himself relax a tad. "Do you want to talk about what happened?" Again, you nodded. You told him everything, about Rumlow, and what he had done to you. You started of quietly, and by the end, tears were compromising your vision, and Bucky was wiping them away with the pad of his thumb. When you had finished speaking, he placed a kiss to your forehead, and one to each cheek, then the final on your nose. He looked at you in such awe, and touched you with such delicacy. Almost as though you were a porcelain doll, ready to break at any given moment.
He pulled back slightly. Your eyes met his. His momentarily flickered down to look at your lips, and yours did the same to his.
"Can I kiss you?" He mumbled, face an inch away form yours.
"Yes." You replied, leaning in to meet you lips with his. They slotted together, like puzzle pieces into place, and he slid his tongue past your lips, into your mouth. It felt magical. Truly magical.
Suddenly, he pulled away, and you were confused as to what drove him away.
"Bucky?" He looked up.
"I don’t want to take advantage of you. You’re in a vulnerable position. I don’t want to take advantage of that." He said sombrely. Your heart nearly melted.
"James, shut up and kiss me." You remarked, while grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him in again. This time, the kiss was different. Before, it was tender and loving and slow. And now, it was passionate, and hungry, and purely lustful. He had pulled you into his lap, and deepened the kiss further, making you moan into his mouth. Your hands were tangled in his hair and his hands roamed your body, travelling under your shirt and making their way to your hips. You slowly started to grind down onto him, and feel his growing erection beneath you. Bucky slowly laid you back onto his sofa, never breaking the kiss, and hovered above you.
"You’re sure you want this?" He asked.
"I’m sure. Definitely sure." He smiled and kissed you again, while his fingertips found the hem of your shirt. He slowly removed your clothes, garment by garment, starting with your upper half. After taking off your shirt, he unclasped your bra, and left trails of kisses down you neck and onto your chest, taking his time on your boobs, and leaving hickies on your chest.
He swiftly removed your shoes and socks and his hands traveled back up to your hips. He started to undo the buttons on your jeans, and tugged at the waistline.
"Lift up for me darlin’" He mumbled against your skin, and you lifted your hips ever so slightly to allow him to strip you of your jeans. They were discarded on the floor in a matter of seconds, and he didn’t wait to do the same to your panties. He guided the thin fabric down your legs, and removed them from your body. Instead of throwing them across the room, he discreetly balled them up and put them into his pocket. He didn’t think you noticed, and if you did you hadn't said anything.
He sat back to take a look at you, all laid out on his couch, all for him. He then rid himself of what he was wearing. The purple, plaid shirt and blue jeans were off of his body in a matter of seconds, leaving him in only his underwear, where you could clearly see his throbbing bulge though this material. He stood up and took them off, not missing the way your eyes widened a little at the size of him. He leaned down and hovered back over you, capturing your lips in a kiss that made you weak in the knees.
You felt his hands trail down your body, one slowly nearing your pussy. He brought one hand to play with you clit, and the other circling and grazing over one of your nipples. The hand at your clit travelled nearer to your pussy, and he slowly inserted 1 finger, thrusting it in and out. You whined and moaned at the feeling and your hips bucked up towards him.
"Peaches, you’re already so wet for me. I’ve barely even done anything, baby." You whined at his tone, and the slight condescension but, you knew he was right. He added a second finger, this time pumping harder, and picking up the pace. "You think you can cum on just my fingers, doll?" You nodded frantically, as the hand previously on your tits was now tangled in your hair and pulling on it lightly.
"Oh- oh fuck! Bucky..." You're cries only spurred him further and Bucky’s movements didn’t slow, or stutter, he kept up the pace, and soon enough, you came with a cry of his name. You heaved out a tired breath, and he leant down to kiss you again.
"Buck, I wanna ride you." You mumbled against his lips. He said nothing, but raised his eyebrows in momentary shock, before flipping you over, so that you were on top of him. Placing both hands on his chest, and a leg on either side of his muscular thighs, you wasted to no time and slowly lined yourself up with his cock. Bucky placed his hands on your hips, and helped guide you as you slowly sank down onto him, moaning at the feeling.
"Feel s’good around me, baby. Doing so good for me." He groaned as you slowly bounced on his cock, and nothing filled the room except the writhing moans coming from the both of you.
"’M gonna cum, doll." He said, hands still resting on her hips. "Cum with me." He bucked his hips up into you and your bounces became faster with every movement. You felt your orgasm coil up inside you, and it all became to much to hold in.
"Bucky... I’m gonna... cum." You panted, closing your eyes and waiting for the feeling of release.
"Cum for me sweetheart." And you did. You came all over his cock, and you felt him fill you up not long after. You collapsed onto his chest, both of you trying to catch your breath.
"You did so good for me, doll. So good. Felt amazing around me, baby. You wanna stay like this for a while, or take a bath?" He said, softly stoking your hair.
"Jus’ stay here for a while Buck." You replied, tiredly.
"Alright, take as long as you need, peaches." He spoke into your hair. "Take all the time you need."
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tricksterlokilaufeyson · 2 days ago
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lesbian-deadpool · 16 hours ago
Yelena: Do not make me cry.
Yelena: I’m having a really good eyeliner day.
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kram6496 · 2 days ago
In the Rain
Gwen Stacy x Reader
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Maybe it was coincidence or maybe it was fate. But that night, you went down the street in the rain.
Your goal was a simple yet extremely difficult one. You wanted to tell your best friend Gwen Stacy that you were in love with her.
Simple enough if you didn’t freeze every time you looked into her beautiful aqua blue eyes.
Well anyway you find yourself walking down the street towards her apartment when you hear the sounds of a fight breaking out in a nearby alleyway.
You rush in to see the famous Ghost Spider fighting off several thugs at once. And it looks like she could use some help.
You grab a discarded plank and charge in. You thwack the closest thug, knocking him out cold.
Ghost Spider webs the downed thug, “thanks I had him.” She shouts back. “You might wanna get out of here.”
“And you leave you to face all of this” you counter as you smack the second to last guy clear across the face.
Ghost Spider webs up the last goon and turns to you.
“And they say chivalry is dead,” she says with a hidden smirk while resting a hand in her hip.
“Well I couldn’t leave my favorite hero alone,” you admit with a shy smile.
She webs a line to the nearby rooftop and turns herself upside down.
“You know,” she manages to say, “you’re pretty cute. Do you wanna grab a coffee sometime?”
Her voice sounded so familiar. You had it all figured out when she first spoke to you.
“Thanks Ghost Spider,” you say, not letting her on, “but I’m already in love with another girl.”
“Oh. She’s a lucky girl.” You can practically hear the disappointment in her voice
“I haven’t told her yet.” You admit, “but she’s killer on the drums. Beautiful inside and out”
You take a step towards the young Spider girl, “and her aqua blue eyes just make me feel weak and strong at the same time.”
You’re mere inches from her now, “and I know the sound of her voice all too well, Gwen.”
You can hear her gasp under that mask. Gwen pulls down her mask a little, revealing her all too familiar smile.
“Can I save thank you for helping me?” She smirks.
You nod. Gwen grabs your face and pulls you into a soft kiss. It’s everything you dreamt it could be. Her lips taste like cherries. Simply perfect.
She pulls back rather suddenly. “See you back at my apartment.”
And with that she zips up into the New York skyline. The Ghost Spider swings towards her apartment.
You would see her very soon. And you couldn’t wait.
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listenercenter · a day ago
I have a platonic Doc Ock fic in my drafts for the rest of us daddy issues-having asses because why not so stick around ig
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shycollectivecreation · 2 days ago
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ddaeing · 2 months ago
my new sexuality is hot powerful queer people in a m/f relationship :
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jin0 · a month ago
That One Night with Spiderman [TASM!Peter Parker]
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Summary : Spiderman slept with a random girl he just met. There's a new vigilante/superhero in town. Do the math.
Pairing : TASM!Peter Parker x Reader
Warning : Minors DNI, 18+ ONLY, smut, p in v, a lot of heavy flirting and sexual tension, semi public sex, kinda fluffy sometimes if you squint
A/N : i have found my horny self again in the tasm movies 🙈 andrew garfield owns me and my reproductive organs !!!
again, all mistakes are mine !! don't forget to tell me what you thought about it !!
also i might start putting song selections that could help getting the general feel of the fic ?? tell me what you think of it !!
Opening his eyes, Peter recognized the ceiling of his apartment. He felt heavy and had an absolute vicious headache but he had just woken up from the best sleep he had in a while. Groaning and wrapping himself in the heat of his bedsheets, he smiled sleepily at the source of warmth clinging to his body. Suddenly, realization hit him like a truck : why the fuck was there a random person in his bed ?
Turning around slowly, he recognized the face of a sleeping woman. He couldn’t help but inspect it slowly. She was fucking beautiful, breathtaking even. Sleeping peacefully in his bed, like she was meant to be here, as if she had been sleeping here for years.
He could see the very distinct shape of her naked body, wrapped in his covers. The curve of your legs, one crossed over the other and forming a smooth line from your exposed feet to your shoulder. His eyes scanned over the bump of your hips, the slight swell of your breasts through the fabric had his cheeks turn red.
He smiled softly before shaking his head, it wasn’t the moment to be daydreaming. He looked around and noticed the clothes on the floor, he could see his own and others, probably yours. On top of that, he recognized a bra and panties laying on the floor. Fuck.
He slept with her ?! How ? He knew how, obviously he knew how, hell his memory was coming back and the how was very vivid in his mind. Your moans and the feeling of your body around him had him blushing deeper and adverting his eyes from you. Seeing you laid like that in his bed wasn’t helping the reaction he was having right now. He took a pillow to cover his growing erection and tried to figure out who you were.
He remembered the party he had decided to go to. Going to college meant a lot of those and while he avoided them regularly, he thought now would be a good time to start having fun. The break-up with Gwen, who was in London, had hit him hard and he just wanted to get better and move on. She was and he should to, that was the right thing to do. Now in the process of doing so, he had decided to get drunk, forgetting that the spider bite changed his alcohol tolerance. He couldn’t really get drunk that easily now and the drinks weren’t that good either so he decided on retreating to one of the bathrooms for a while before leaving.
He remembered now, you had hidden there with him. You wanted to catch a breath too, for the same reasons as him so you entered the bathroom and when you noticed him he invited you to sit in the bathtub with him. You both started talking pretty quickly and he didn’t know how or why but that had been enough to make him feel dizzy, you presence was intoxicating. He had been the one to initiate the first contact, pulling you closer to him by the ankles as you sat in front of him. Playing along, you had sat on your knees and started playing with his hair.
He remembered staring at your smile and then just your lips. They looked so pretty, plump and probably so sweet too. He didn’t want to spook you so he had simply grabbed your waist to pull you a little closer. You kept playing along, wrapping your arms around his neck and then running your fingers in his hair.
He was the one to practically throw himself on you, kissing you desperately. He was right, you tasted so sweet, like candy. Tightening his hold around your waist and lowering it to your hips, he took the opportunity you gave him when you took a long breath, to shove his tongue in your mouth and swallow your moans. Molding his lips around yours, the kiss made his brain fuzzy. It was all tongue, moans and grunts, you both grinding against the other like horny teenagers.
As you both got closer to a point of begging the other to touch you further, you decided that leaving the party was better. He didn’t even remember how you had finished at his apartment, all he knew was that once he got you inside his place, he pinned you to the wall, wrapped your legs around his waist and fucked you in the doorway. He had never been this desperate for someone before, he had you a second time in his bed and maybe he blacked out after but could you blame him ? You had been bouncing on his lap and he couldn’t help but beg uncontrollably.
“Pete ?”
He thought he had reached peak embarrassment last night but clearly not, not with the absolutely disgusting scream he let out as he fell backwards, off his bed. He regained his capacities fast, looking over the mattress and seeing you all dressed and ready to leave. He couldn’t help but feel slightly sad that you were leaving but that was the principle of having a one night stand.
You looked beautiful asleep but absolutely smoking awake. He was pretty sure he wasn’t breathing at all right now and that was okay, maybe, not. He still needed to breath to live and also to not look weird. Taken out of his daydreaming, he heard you chuckle while you gathered your shoes in your hand and your phone in the other.
“You look really cute in the morning Parker, but don’t let anyone catch you by surprise that easily. A spider who wants to survive has to do the surprising first.” You smirked before taking a leap out of the window.
He had been so focused on your face so close to his that he hadn’t paid attention to what you had been saying. When he fully registered your words, he rushed to his window looking for you but you were gone. He started reviewing the entire night, searching through his mind for signs and answers as to how the fuck did you know who he was. Looking around the room, he found his phone. He didn’t know how the battery wasn’t dead but that wasn’t the moment to think about that.
Checking his recent texts he found a new one from an unknown number. He chuckled nervously, sinking to the floor.
From : unknown
To : me
twas nice to meet you spidey ;) hopefully you’ll get to meet me for real soon.
For the rest of the day he wondered what you meant and how you knew about him. You had been so mysterious in the text and spamming you wasn’t working with him so for the next hours he tried to focus on his lectures while internationally squeezing his brain to try and remember how or why you knew his secret identity.
As the day progressed, night had gotten closer and he had returned to his place, laying anxiously in his bed. He had been fidgeting like crazy, thinking about whether or not he should talk to you or not. He wanted to, needing to fix the situation before it became worse (if it could get worse than this honestly). If you knew his identity, a girl he didn’t know at all but had slept with, his life and the people around him could be in danger.
He thought about everything he had said and started hitting himself on the head for not remembering fully. He couldn’t get drunk but he clearly had felt the after effects of drunkenness and it all started from the moment he kissed you, or maybe before. Honestly he still couldn’t remember.
Yeah, you two had instantly clicked and it made sense that he would trust you to a certain degree, you had seen him naked after all. Now, he didn’t know or trust you enough to reveal his secret to you like that ! He knew that, he wasn’t stupid. He was new to relationships but not completely fucking dumb, so how did you know about him ? Yeah, maybe he was stupid.
He couldn’t degrade himself longer, his radio going off, signaling a car chase and a robbery. Spidey was needed.
Swinging through the streets of Queens, he looked around, weighting the gravity of the situation and looking through the amount of people on the street. As he passed in front of various windows, he quickly felt a presence near, following his in the same direction. Turning his head, he saw a figure leap over roofs and run towards the location of the robbers. When he landed, he looked towards the person in disbelief. Who the fuck was that ? What the fuck was going on ?!
The crowd, just as surprised as he was, quickly turned entirely towards the buzzing woman in white. She looked like she had been taken straight out of the Antiquity, from the Pantheon itself. Hell she even had a cape. The must’ve been so unpractical.
Getting off the car you had been perched on, he watched you float closer to the car that was probably about to speed towards you to run you over. He wasn’t paying much attention though, he was too focused on the fact that people could fucking fly ?! What was that ?! Did they get bitten too ? By some flying creature ? Maybe a pigeon or a falcon, she looked more like the falcon kind. Or even an eagle, yeah an eagle felt right.
No ! Now wasn’t the time to figure out what kind of bird she fucking was ! He had a bunch of robbers to take care of. Or so he thought. Focusing back on the situation, he heard the loud cheers of the crowd and if he had his mask off she would see how surprised he looked. A giant lighting spear piercing the hood of the car and keeping it in place as the men who were in it were all tied together on the floor by what seemed to be electric ropes.
Passing them to the authorities, he watched her start to float away but not before whispering something that even with his hearing, he shouldn’t have been able to hear but did nonetheless because it was resonating in his literal head.
“Told you we would see each other again Bug Boy.”
Hearing the voice in his head, he froze on the spot. It wasn’t human but his hearing worked differently, enough for him to recognize the one behind it. You, the girl from the morning who had been running through his mind the whole day ! Now he understood clearly what you meant, you were a vigilante too. Or maybe closer to a superhero seeing how you were dressed.
He watched you float away and finally felt like he could move and move completely. He leaped and ran after you, swinging around buildings again trying to web you by the feet to pull you towards him. You were flying pretty fast and even if that did fascinate him, he couldn’t help but be a little annoyed at the power.
He was loosing patience so simply went for it, shooting a web in your direction and watching it wrap around your ankle, he pulled you towards his chest and fell on a rooftop. He didn’t expect you to turn around and kick him in the chest again. Rolling backwards and practically off the building, he caught his balance rapidly and ran to you in hopes of figuring out what the fuck was going on.
“Fuck, what shoes do you have that hurt like that and why does it feel like an elephant kicked me in the chest ?” He groaned, rolling on the floor in pain.
He heard you chuckle as you got closer to him and extended your arm in his direction. Grabbing your hand, you pulled you towards him and flipped both your positions to pin you to the floor.
“Last time I had you in this position, we ended up in my bed.” He grinned through the mask.
He softened his hold around your wrists when he saw you smile softly at him, rookie mistake. You wrapped your legs around his waist and pushed your weight on top of his to straddle him and keep him calm.
“Last time I had you in this position, you kept slamming my hips on your dick. Very hard. Made you feel good didn’t I, Pete ?” You chuckled, leaning over his face, inspecting his covered feature. Yeah, Peter was good looking, very good looking even. And you could testify that he was just as good in bed as in class.
Ripping his mask off of his face he huffed in annoyance more towards himself than you. His mind was going everywhere but in the right direction.
“What did you do to me at the party ?” Asked the young man, sitting up but keeping you on his lap. “I don’t get drunk, I can’t, but you show up and I suddenly feel all dizzy and I can’t remember shit from the night before ? And how do you know my secret identity ? Why are you here ? Are you following me ? And how do you know the college I go to ?! You were targeting me ?!” He rambled rapidly before being cut off by a kiss.
That was new, not so much in the sense that he never kissed you before but no one had ever tried to shut him up with a kiss. He liked it. A lot. Your lips, tender against his, pulled away but kept his face in your hands.
“God you talk so much when you’re panicking… Not gonna lie, it is kinda cute.” You smirked pecking his lips once more.
You chuckled when he groaned, clearly not pleased by the situation or at least trying to act angry. He wasn’t doing a very good job since his arm was wrapped around your waist, keeping you close to him.
“I didn’t target you Peter, I didn’t even know you were Spiderman when I went into the bathroom. I figured it out while talking to you and confirmed it when I kissed you. Took a look into your brain, your thoughts.” You explained calmly, playing with his fingers.
He shouldn’t have been this comfortable at the thought of a random stranger looking into his brain but then again, you had slept together so that was a lot of barriers crossed already. Also you did look kinda cute right now, playing with his hand with a soft smile on your face. He felt compelled to caress your cheek and chuckled when you nuzzled against his palm.
“You wanna tell me about your origin story or I should just assume that you were bitten by some flying alien ?” He sassed, raising an eyebrow at you. You smiled, dropping your face on his shoulder before answering.
“I wasn’t bitten by an alien dingus… Just struck by lightning when I was like, I don’t know, three ? I was supposed to die but I didn’t, instead I got superpowers. Now it probably has to do with the fact that the lightning that struck me, I had kinda summoned it. Grandma’s a witch I guess, and I found one of her very powerful spells. So now, here I am.” You explained as if it was the most normal thing ever.
He couldn’t help but scoff at how normal this was for you. Guess this had been the life you had lived. He had his own new version of normal anyways so he wasn’t really in any position to judge. Even if witchcraft seemed a lot more complicated than radioactive science.
“Also, before you ask, now I didn’t sleep with you to figure out your identity. I don’t need to go that far. Hell, the kiss was already a lot if you don’t remember all your night. Reading someone’s mind this closely does play a little with their memories but give it a day or two and you’ll have it all back.” You said, scaring and reassuring him in the same sentence.
You stoop up from the floor and dusted of your suit then looked at him again, keeping that cute smile on your face. God, he wanted to kiss you again.
“Now to your last important question, I don’t know the college you go to. I just know the college I go to. I was told people were having a party to start off the semester and I thought that showing uo for once would be cool. Definitely don’t regret it. Had my first one night stand and all ? Finally leaving that fanfiction life I read about on internet.” You laughed lightly.
Getting up too, he got close to you but you backed away, holding you hand up in front of you to stop him.
“If you get any closer we’re not leaving this roof Spidey and I’m getting a little cold out here.”
“I could help with the cold. And on the way you could explain who you are a little more, you know ? To get to know each other. Or at least so that I learn a little more about you since you’ve been in my head. It’s only fair.” He says, tilting his head innocently to the side.
You raised your eyebrows, surprised by the slight change in demeanor. He looked very comfortable around you already. Again, you had crossed several stages in a relationship already, jumping straight to the sex part and the revealing your deepest secrets to the other. Might as well share your social security number while you were at it.
“Don’t worry about fairness pretty boy, you’ll get it another day. Today, you’ll have to forget it. Good try though.” You pulled him by the collar, kissing his lips one last time before flying away into the night.
Peter stayed still and silent, looking into the distance and watching your figure get further and further away from him. He debated on following you to your place but something in him told him he wouldn’t really be trying to get to know you by talking. Yeah, he wasn’t going to lie, he was pushing past the need to fuck you ok the rooftop but the rational part of him reminded him that he’d been knowing your for 48 hours maximum.
Putting his mask back on, he jumped off the roof and swung back to his place, he would get to meet you tomorrow, on campus.
He, in fact, did not meet you the next day on campus. Turns out the part of his memory containing your name gad been gone for another day so finding you had been tough and even when he did no one knew you. He thought you had lied to him about going to the same college as him but turns out you weren’t lying.
It took him an entire week to find you, seven business days technically so more, but he ended up finding you. In another department. You were in the law department, completely opposite of his. It had been a coincidence for him to hear your name while skateboarding around campus and one he did he practically jumped the two students who had been talking about you. They lead him towards the building in which you were having your last lecture if the day and he waited patiently outside.
When the doors opened, he saw you walk out, face down focused on your phone and headphones wrapped around your ears. He chuckled, you were making it too easy for him to sneak up on you right now, he couldn’t pass up on the opportunity. Walking big steps behind you, he couldn’t help but laugh when you yelped as a response to him lifting you by the waist and spinning you around to face him.
You looked at him with semi annoyance and surprise.
“What the actual fuck Parker ? Do you just sneak up on people like that on a regular ? Spider business, I suppose ?” You sassed, trying to escape his hold on your waist but giving up when he pulled you close to him
“Nah, I only sneak up on people it takes me a week to find.” He responds, putting emphasizes on the ‘week’ part.
You chuckled, making one smooth hand motion that pried his fingers off of you before skipping into the distance.
“I never said it would be easy bug boy, just that you would have another chance to get to know me another day.” You said, watching him try to grab ahold of you again.
“Yeah well, shouldn’t you be making this fair for me ? You have witchcraft and I have… Webs. That’s very fucking unbalanced if you ask me !”
“Then it’s a good thing I didn’t ask !”
You had stopped in your track to look at him and maybe give him a little chance to catch you. When he charged towards you, opening his arms to lock you in them, you ducked, avoiding his grasp. Then began a cat and mouse chase with Peter trying to catch you while you swiftly dodge every attempt. He had the agility of a spider but you were still winning, that must suck.
The both of you stopped moving, you putting a few meters between each other with a devious smile that had him weak in the knees.
“Twas good meeting you Pete.” You chuckled, walking backwards before spinning around and walking away.
Absolutely not. It took him a week to find you, you weren’t going to disappear again like that, nope. He checked his surroundings before exhaling in exasperation. Shooting a web in your direction, he forcefully pulled it back towards him, bringing you to his chest. He grabbed your wrists and pulled them behind you with one hand while keeping the other on your waist.
“You’re not going to run away that easily princess, I’ve got a few things to discuss with you first, so how ‘bout we do that hum ?” He suggested, voice deep and face way to fucking close to yours. You could see his eyes wander between your lips and your eyes. He was smiling, probably at his own lie, no discussion was going to happen now. Or maybe. You didn’t know.
Yeah, you skipped the discussion part.
Dragging you towards an abandoned building and into an abandoned room, you were both thinking about everything but that hypothetical discussion. You would have all the time in the world to do that later anyways but if things went the way they were going just now, you light never actually get to know each other. Oh, fuck it ! Who cares ? You would figure it out later.
For now, you were too busy making out in an empty room. Seating you on a desk, legs parted to have him as close to you as possible, you kept your arms wrapped around his neck. Your fingers were running through his hair, scratching his scalp delicately but pulling on his roots. You were practically molding around each other but he needed to feel you closer. Holding your waist tightly with one hand, he grabbed your thigh with the other and parted it further.
You lowered your hand to remove his jacket and let it drop to the floor. His tongue deep in your mouth, you felt dizzy as the heat you both shared kept increasing. Neither of you could understand what was the source of that chemistry you shared, the need to feel the other close, inside you. You met two weeks ago maximum but you felt dependent on the things he made you feel and so did he.
“F-Fuck… You taste so fucking good…” He groaned in your mouth. His hands roaming up and down your thighs, he was resisting the dress to pull down your panties and fuck you on that old table. He didn’t know how it was still holding but it wouldn’t stop him anyways.
He was drinking in the small whines you would let out against his lips, letting his tongue roam inside you and getting himself hard at the thought of where else it could go, the places he could taste. Fuck, he really needed you.
Pulling away from you to give you a few seconds to breath and to compose himself, he grabbed the back of your neck and pulled your face closer to his. He was trying to calm down but he couldn’t stop himself, his lips were pulled to yours and his bulge kept growing, grinding against your core. Yeah, maybe wearing a dress today had been a good idea on your part.
“You… You gotta tell me to stop… Fuck… Please tell me to stop before I fuck you against this table…” He begged, peppering passionate and sloppy kisses on your lips.
Your forehead against his, you could see the restraint on his face, even with his eyes closed he was trying to keep himself under control. That wasn’t what you wanted from him though. You parted your legs even further, smiling at the desperate breath he let out when you rubbed yourself against him. You trapped him between your thighs and ran your hands under his shirt. Whao, skater boy really was surprising all around, tight abs flexing under your fingers. Swinging around the city probably did work a few muscles.
“Please… Please Peter… Don’t ask me to do something I really don’t wanna do…” You begged, trying to make him cave.
It clearly didn’t take a lot of work, the boy bowing his head and dropping it on your shoulder, defeated. He had tried, so hard to think this through, with his brain and not his dick but how could he win when you were begging for him ? That intimacy he craved from you, you were craving it too and he couldn’t just not give it to you right ? He was doing a good thing and if it was for you, he would do it a hundred times more.
Finally giving in, he raised your thighs slightly and pushed your panties to the side, watching you dripping pussy clench around air. He made you this desperate for him ? He did that ? Well now there was no way he was going to simply not help you. He was getting to know you better that way, getting to know you from the inside. Deep inside.
Opening his pants and pushing his boxers down, he let his cock spring free and god, the yelp you let out when you saw him fully had him throbbing harder than ever before. You were so desperate, needy for him, just like he was for you. Taking hold of his length his started stroking himself slowly before accelerating. He felt his cheeks heat up, feeling your attentive eyes on him. You were being so difficult to resist right now, he felt dizzy just at the thought of being in you.
Suddenly, he stopped his movements, remembering a very crucial part.
“Fuck… I-I don’t have condoms…” He cursed internally, he wished he was like those guys constantly prepared for anything.
He inhaled sharply, throwing his head back when you took hold of his dick and guided it towards your entrance. Rubbing your soaking folds against his girth, you smiled as you kissed his cheek and his entire face repeatedly. How could he feel both fuzzy, like he was seating on the comfiest cloud, and like he was fist fighting some honey beast inside ? The duality you cause in him gave him whiplash.
“I’m on birth control Peter… And the superpowers are an incredible protection against diseases. You should try it out one day…” You chuckled as the last rational thought in your mind escaped your head.
You watched him open his eyes, dark and full of lust before he positioned himself and penetrated you in one single thrust. Both of you moaned in sync, oxygen suddenly stuck in your lungs. You didn’t remember entirely everything from the first night you shared with and god you were happy about it. Because reliving the absolute incredible feeling that having him this deep in you felt was definitely worth it. Taking so much space in you, you felt completely full. And he wasn’t feeling much different from you. You were holding his cock so tightly in you, pulsating walls keeping him warm and nice.
“I’m so sorry… I’ll make it up to you… I’ll make it up to you later, I promise… But right now I gotta fuck you… Or I’m gonna lose it...” Hand holding your nape again and lips pecking yours tenderly.
He dropped his face in your neck and started kissing your shoulder, letting the strap of your dress drop as he caressed your arm. His hips started moving vigorously, pumping his cock in and out of you as your moans filled the room.
“F-Fuck… Peter, God, you feel so fucking good…” You moaned into his hair.
His nose was running up the side lf your neck as he bit and sucked on your skin. He internally reminded himself that he had met you a few days ago but was already marking you like you were his. This was crazy, he loved it.
Hips moving faster and faster each passing second, you started moving with his, meeting his thrusts and leaning on you’re your as pleasure took over in your brain. You were breathing heavily, giggling slightly when his lips kissed sensitive points of your skin. He was reaching every good place, in and out of you. His thick length was parting your walls mercilessly, the tip of his cock driving roughly against your cervix and hitting the perfect point in you.
Soon, your moans turned into wails of pleasure and he couldn’t help but go even harder on you.
“Fuck… You sound so good… You like when I hit this place huh ?” He teased, chuckling when you nodded your head vividly like a bobblehead.
“God princess, you holdin’ me so tight… Promise you I’m not going anywhere til you’re done…” He reassured. You kept nodding, probably not really paying any attention to what he was saying, when you wrapped your arms around him and pulled him closer to your chest.
You felt your orgasm get closer and closer at each thrust and before you knew it, your eyes were rolling to the back of your head.
“P-Peter… Fuck Peter please ! Don’t… Don’t stop, God please, don’t !” You wailed, reaching down to play with your clit.
He watched in admiration as you pleasured yourself even more, right in front of his eyes. He pulled you by the waist and lost control of his thoughts as your pussy tightening around him. You came hard, crying out him name so loud that he felt like he would need to web your lips shut. Your juices drenched your panties further and coated his girth generously.
Feeling his own end get closer, he pulled out and came all over your exposed stomach. He didn’t even remember your dress hiking up that high but who cared honestly ? Not him.
Panting loudly, you both rested your eyes for a few seconds while trying to compose yourselves. You stayed still for a good few minutes before you suddenly started giggling which pushed him to giggle against your neck too.
“God, Pete ! Slept with you twice in less than fifteen days, maybe after the third we could make this a ritual thing between the two of us.” You chuckled, looking into his brown eyes
“Yeah I’m pretty sure people call that being friends with benefits.” He responded sarcastically. Taking a deep breath, he took your chin in his fingers and observed you in silence before smiling and kissing you on the forehead. He gave you two other sweet kissed on the nose and one last on the lips. Soon the innocent kiss turned into a heated one. As you opened your mouth to let his tongue in, he pulled away. Holding your chin, he slipped his thumb in your mouth and slightly regretted the idea when you started looking at him with these horrible doe eyes of yours. You were pushing him again, he wasn’t stupid and he was folding, fast.
It took him everything to shake his head as a sign of refusal.
“How about… Instead of this... with you, next time… I start by taking you out on a date ? To actually get to know you better, and not just the places that make you feel good.” He offers, a soft grin in his face.
Who would’ve expected Spiderman to be this smooth right ? And how could you say no ?
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