Clinging Onto You
Request: “HIII idk if your taking requests rn but I thought id put in an idea for a peter parker x stark!daughter fic where theyre in a secret relationship and they get exposed somehow? im thinking kinda angsty like he walks in to the compound all bloody or something AHH IDK HOW TO EXPLAIN IT but thats pretty much it but yeah! i love your stuff btw!!”
Summary: The Avengers unexpectedly find out that Tony’s daughter Y/N and Peter are dating.
Authors Note: Set during No Way Home, in an AU that everyone survived Endgame.
Request to be on a taglist (or multiple) here! (Taglists are at the end of the fic)
Main Masterlist | MCU Masterlist #1 | MCU Masterlist #2
PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of these works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me first and b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.
Peter felt his heart practically lurch out of his body when saw Y/N falling. In a snap, he forgot about his mission, he forgot about the other Peters, he forgot about everything. The only thing concerning him was his girlfriend’s safety. It was so high up his priority list that it consumed him, and to see her safety be threatened lit a fuel he didn’t know he had.
He didn’t think, or hear, or speak when he ran and leapt, diving after her with his arm outstretched. Faster, he thought to himself, as the image of complete terror overwhelming Y/N was burned into his mind, her bone-shattering scream sure to leave his ears ringing for days.
The tips of their fingers were inches away, he was nearly there, just about to lock his tight grip on her shaky hand when bam—the wind was knocked out of him as he was thrown off to the side, too far away from Y/N for his liking.
Recovering quickly, Peter’s spider sense directed his fingers to scrape at and clutch the edge of the construction site. Using all his upper body strength, he pulled himself up and scrambled across. His eyes were wide as a bug’s as he searched the abyss of construction for his falling girlfriend, about to send a thwip of webs in her direction when he didn’t see her.
He panted. Had she fallen? Was she—?
From his position, Peter didn’t spot that the other Peter had caught Y/N with tears in his eyes about the girl he wish he could’ve caught. On the tip of a spiral of hatred and despair, his saving grace was found when Peter 3’s voice came over their shared comm system.
“Peter, Peter 1, I caught Y/N. She’s okay, just a little shaken up.”
After the initial shock were off, Peter’s influx of grief was replaced with waves of relief. His ability to breathe became easier and he felt his muscles lose their tension. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he croaked in response.
Later on, when Peter saw the back of Green Goblin standing mere feet away from him, a desire for vengeance flashed through his eyes. He narrowed in on his target and walked towards him, arms outstretched to do something—anything—when he was stopped.
“Eh eh eh, don’t do anything too quickly,” his sneaky, drawling voice came.
Peter furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, watching as the man slowly turned around. Then, his eyes widened, seeing the person who was with the villain. None other than the love of his life, his girlfriend Y/N, the daughter of one of the most famous heroes ever. Green Goblin had an arm around her, tightly holding her back. Fear was in her eyes as she struggled in vain.
“Let her go, Goblin,” Peter ordered in a low voice, slowing down his movements. In the back of his mind, he wondered where the other Peters were. This was very inconvenient.
He had the nerve to laugh a sick laugh and it made Peter’s blood boil with anger. “I said, let her go!” He repeated, raising his voice to yell.
Green Goblin ignored this and took a step forward, dragging Y/N along with him. “I observed your reaction when she fell, Parker. Quite distraught you were when you didn’t catch her, hmm? I’ll let her go . . . when you admit, in front of the cameras, who the daughter of Stark is to you and why you hid her from the public like your identity!” He said.
For the first time, Peter’s eyes flickered up and he noticed the cameras circling the air above them from helicopters. All news stations, most likely, broadcasting the footage to the entire globe. And, if the entire globe was seeing it, that meant the Avengers were watching, too.
(And, back at the Avengers tower, the team was watching in half-shock, half-fear. They had known that this was a fight Peter needed to do by himself, so they refrained from suiting up, but the involvement of Y/N changed it at all.)
His eyes flickered over to Y/N anxiously, who was still determined and not giving up in her fight for freedom. He couldn’t trust that Green Goblin would stay true to his word. “Why do you want me to say this?” Peter questioned.
Green Goblin pursed his lips. “Oh, Peter, I thought you were smarter than this,” he began condescendingly. “Don’t you know that my goal is to cause you as much pain as possible? You’re hiding something. You’re hiding her. And I will force it out of you, one way or another.”
When Peter hesitated, still not trusting him, Green Goblin took it a step forward. Reaching into a pocket, the young hero only saw a flash of what it was in his hand before he injected it into Y/N’s neck. Gasping, Y/N began to fight even harder, although it didn’t do anything.
“This, son, is a poison I developed. It’s quick-acting. She gets the antidote when you tell me what I want to know,” the villain threatened.
Peter’s eyes went wide. He opened his mouth, prepared to spill it all, when he caught sight of the other Peters stealthily approaching from behind Green Goblin. Within a split second, they attacked. Peter 3 pulled the man back with his webs while Peter 2 administered the cure.
At the sudden loss of his grip on her, Y/N stumbled forward. Peter leapt to catch her, wrapping his arms wound her protectively and pulling her close. “The antidote!” He yelled to Peter 2. “It’s somewhere in his pocket!”
Peter 2 jumped into action, reaching into Green Goblin’s pocket. When he grabbed the antidote, he tossed it to Peter. Peter caught it and injected into Y/N. For a split second, her eyes widened, but she soon relaxed. “Thank you,” she murmured into her boyfriend’s shoulder.
Peter squeezed his eyes shut, relishing in the comfort that Y/N just being safe was bringing to him. He only opened his eyes when he felt the wind hit his face, blinking and making out the Avengers’ Quinjet arriving before all the team members stepped out. While the other Peters returned to their own universes, Tony led the team towards the embracing teenagers.
“Y/N, Peter, are you guys alright?” He asked worthily, placing a hand on Y/N’s shoulder.
Turning around, Y/N gladly fell into her father’s arms. Meanwhile, Peter blinked at the sudden loss of her touch. It felt like he was missing something. “I’m—I’m fine. Just cuts and bruises. But Y/N—” he began to say, as the rest of the Avengers crowded around them.
Y/N shook her head, melting back into the safety next that was her boyfriend, leaning against him. “I feel—I feel . . . I’m fine, okay? Don’t worry about me,” she mumbled into Peter’s shoulder. No one was convinced.
Before Tony could start an argument with his daughter out of concern, Natasha stepped in. “Let’s get you guys on the Quinjet. Bruce will have to check you both over just in case,” she directed softly, leading them onto the Quinjet.
Peter and Y/N stayed to the back, away from everyone else. Although Tony had wanted to join his daughter, Steve had steered him away, whispering about how they needed some space with each other to process everything. On the Quinjet, everyone took their seats. Normally Natasha and Clint would pilot, but this time they put it on autopilot. Peter and Y/N settled into seats next to each other, with Y/N wrapping both arms around one of Peter’s.
Bruce was able to clean and disinfect Peter’s cuts, but then he had to switch to Y/N. “I want to have F.R.I.D.A.Y do a medical scan and take a sample of blood just to be sure. We couldn’t really tell what happened with Goblin from the T.V, but it was obviously something,” he said.
At that, Peter looked around. Everyone — except for Tony that is, who was looking at the teens intently — averted their gaze at Bruce’s words. He had wondered if they heard what Green Goblin had said, and it was obvious by now that they had. He silently thanked them for not bringing it up, even though they wanted to.
“He poisoned me, but Peter gave me the antidote. ‘M fine,” she mumbled tiredly.
“P-poison?” Tony coughed out, his eyes wide. He wasn’t the only one shocked and concerned, but the others hid it better.
“Let’s go over to somewhere where there’s more light so we can make sure,” Bruce instructed softly, before standing up and moving to the center of the ship, where the light from the ceiling was shining down.
Y/N went to to follow him, her grip on Peter never lessening. Peter didn’t mind, he was more than happy to hold onto her. He joined them both, and thankfully FRIDAY was intelligent enough to be able to scan Y/N without needing Peter to step aside. He patiently waited for Bruce to take Y/N’s finger prick, and the couple watched as he analyzed the incoming scan.
“You seem okay, the antidote worked quickly . . . But the poison and antidote has some side effects and has weakened you. You’ll need to rest like Peter,” Bruce concluded. “I’ll analyze your blood just to make sure.”
As soon as she was given the green light, Y/N wasted no time in during around and plopping herself in her seat. Peter gladly joined her.
When the Quinjet reached the compound, everyone began organizing themselves. Natasha took it upon herself to wake the now-sleeping teenagers, who had wrapped themselves around each other. Y/N’s legs were thrown over Peter’s lap, her head resting in the crook of his neck. Peter had his arms wrapped around her, his head resting against her own.
Everyone had noticed — except Tony, that was, who was too worried about his daughter to notice anything else. However, no one said a word, wanting them to sleep. ￼
When Natasha approached the teens, she reached her hand out to shake Peter’s shoulder, when Y/N shifted. After a moment, she settled, but her mumbling came not long after. Natasha didn’t catch what she said, but when she moved around more, it woke Peter up.
“Wha—” Peter started to mumble himself, blinking a couple times before turning to Y/N. Recognizing the situation, he shifted, pulling Y/N closer. In response, Y/N kept moving around, but couldn’t go anywhere in Peter’s arms.
“Catch me, please,” she whispered in her sleep, making Peter’s and Natasha’s eyes widen.
“Y/N, Y/N, you’re having a nightmare. Wake up,” Peter said, his voice loud but still kind, wasting no time in gently shaking her shoulder. This got everyone’s attention, stopping what they were doing to turn to the teenagers and the Widow.
“Pe—ter, catch me!” Y/N yelled, kicking her leg out and hitting the air. She tossed and turned and Peter had to tighten his grip on her so she didn’t accidentally fall onto the ground.
“Y/N, wake up,” he repeated, pausing before ultimately cupping her cheek in his hand. The comforting touch instantly drew her from her restless sleep, and as soon as she became aware, she was looking around hurriedly. “Hey, hey, you’re okay. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
Y/N relaxed, wrapping her arms around Peter and pulling herself closer to him — if that was even possible. He adjusted himself so she was sitting in his lap, her legs wrapped around his waist, head nestled into his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her back, his chin on his shoulder, glancing at the other Avengers.
After a few minutes of small mumblings from Peter about how he was here for her and how she was safe, Steve cleaned his throat. “We’re ready,” he announced to the team, although it was clear who his intended target was. Everyone but Peter and Y/N had their stuff.
The team stood up, Tony and Natasha grabbing Y/N and Peter’s belongings, while Peter stood up, carrying his girlfriend. No one said a word about it until they reached the compound’s living room, where Y/N had fallen asleep and Peter had laid her carefully on the couch.
“What was that?” Tony asked, coughing. His voice was thick with emotion and hoarse.
When Peter turned around, wearing a tired, concerned, and sad expression, Tony opened his mouth to retract the question. He was about to say that it was fine, he could hear about it another time, but Peter already started talking.
“During the fight, she-she fell. I dived after her but was knocked out of the way. I assumed the worst, but one of the other Peters caught her,” he explained, averting his gaze and ultimately squeezing his eyes shut as he recalled the utter fear that ran through his blood. He let the team adjust to this for a couple seconds, since he wasn’t done speaking. “Then, Goblin must’ve grabbed her. He wanted me to . . . to admit who she is to me because he wanted to hurt me. I was reluctant, how could I trust him? So he poisoned her, but the other Peters arrived and we got the antidote for her and cured him.”
Tony’s gaze fell to his daughter. “Oh my god,” he whispered, gravitating towards her and kneeling down. Reaching out to brush the hair away from her face, he looked up at Peter as he pieced the puzzle together. “Are you two in a relationship with each other?” He asked.
Peter slowly looked around at everyone in the room, all still processing what he had just revealed. “We were going to tell you,” he admitted. It was the truth.
Tony nodded, taking a deep breath before standing up. He turned to Peter and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Get some rest, Pete. You did great today,” he said.
Blinking, Peter nodded a little numbly. However, he couldn’t hide his tired, goofy smile as he let himself flop on the couch next to Y/N. He pulled his girlfriend closer to himself, knowing that it wouldn’t wake her up. Steve threw a blanket over them and the team all took their seats, beginning a quiet conversation. Closing his eyes, Peter continued to smile as he was holding Y/N and feeling her warmth, letting his team’s soft and low voices lull him to sleep.
It would take a while for them to be okay again, but they worked through it together. And now, at least, they didn’t need to hide it from the Avengers anymore. (Although they did have to deal with Sam and Bucky’s constant teasing).
bite the hand that feeds needs me
Pairing: sub!tasm!peter parker x f!reader
Summary: so maybe peter stops pulling his punches. and maybe he gets a little rageful, and a little bitter. and maybe sometimes he comes to you to repent.
Warnings: smut!!!!! 18+!!! unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), facesitting, choking, degredation kinda, sub/dom dynamics, safe word needs to be used, no reference to but strong allusion to gwen's death, solidly angsty undertones (happy ending), brief hurt/comfort
A/N: based vaguely off of THAT nwh scene. i started this fic 2 months ago and now i truly don't know what to do with myself. cry? rejoice? stare at a wall for a couple hours? probably all of the above. full disclosure pretty sure this is the filthiest thing i have ever created so... enjoy ;)
i am apparently unable to name my fics anything other than lucy dacus songs, so title courtesy of bite the hand by boygenius
request something! masterlist
It's a rhythmic tap. Once, twice, and then a third in quick succession, matches the steady patter of rain against the metal of your fire escape and the concrete below.
You try to bring a lightness to it, even though you know just as well as he does that nothing good ever brings him to your window at 1am.
He tries, at least, gives you the faintest of smiles, already flushed and a little abashed as he haphazardly tosses his mask somewhere to the side.
Standing in your bedroom, Spider-Man is drenched to the bone. The tight spandex of his suit almost sags with it, starts to soak through your carpet where he stands, and the soggy flop of his hair would almost be cute if it weren't for that look in his eye. It's a look you're familiar with, all slanted lines and clouded eyes. Tonight, it's accompanied by a dark split in his lip and a blooming bruise at the peak of his cheekbone, sits right above the light scruff along his jaw.
He's still handsome despite it, maybe even a little because of it, a torturously beautiful boy with the saddest eyes you've ever seen who gets to be yours for a couple hours a week. In the back of your mind, you start the clock.
"You're bleeding." That's the second thing you notice, past the far-off expression, the dark crimson that's stained part of the blue fabric at his side. Your hand grazes the spot, notices the webbed material is still fully intact, lacks a scrape or a gash that would indicate a wound underneath.
Peter flinches at the contact, but not because it hurts. "It's not my blood."
You weren't naive. You had read the articles, witnessed through mugshots and secondary sources the steady decline of New York's friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man. He hadn't been so friendly, as of late, leaving bad guys with injuries that couldn't always be healed.
It doesn't stop the city from needing him, for abetting him, loving him out of necessity if nothing else.
You weren't naive. You knew the man you let into your bed— or at least you knew him better than most people could claim. You knew him well enough to know that being needed took its toll on him.
You try to read his eyes, are met only by a cold distance, a safe distance. It's something else you've gotten used to.
You try to counteract it, by any means, hand gentle on his cheek, careful not the brush over the dark bruise when you lean up to kiss him. "You sure you don't need anything?"
"Just you," He mumbles, hides it between kisses, slips an arm around your waist to tug you towards him.
Peter kisses you like kissing you is all he can do. There's something almost sombre about it, the knowledge that he comes to you to forget, to escape the numbness, to be someone without expectations.
Even still, you can't help the way being pressed against him like this makes you smile, mostly because this early in the night, before you've gotten into the worst of why he's here, he returns the gesture.
Peter presses curved lips to your jaw, trails down the column of your throat until you tilt your head to the side. "What'cha smiling about?"
"Nothing," You breathe, and now your arms are sliding around his neck, a hand tangled loosely in the damp strands of his hair. There's a pinch at the crook of your neck, a quick nip to pull out the truth. "Just missed you, 's all. Didn't think I would see you this week."
Peter's biting the inside of his lip when he pulls back to look at you, the perpetual crease between his eyebrows a little deeper than it had been before. You should have known better by now than to bring feelings into this, even if it was as simple as an I missed you. You knew you had no entitlement to his time, to the rarity and the beauty of this boy who always retreats back into himself when you reach too close. If he felt that way about you, he would have told you his name.
He's trying to look for something to say, and so you say it for him. "Forget I said anything," You smile, shake your head, try to draw him back out, and when your lips find his again it's deeper, heavier, gives him a taste of what he's here for. "Just c'mere."
The dampness of his suit has already soaked through the front of your pyjamas, so when you settle him onto the bed and climb into his lap your shirt is the first thing the go.
The webbed fabric is rough along your skin, hands at your waist pressing you close. Your own hands slip underneath the hem of his suit, tug and roll it up just enough so you can feel bare skin against your fingertips, heat rising through the dampness.
Peter does the rest of the work, peels off the top of his suit until there's nothing but warm, taut muscle under you. Your hands travel the rest of the way up, take their time lingering until one slips loosely around his throat.
The position forces him to tilt his head up, open towards you.
"This what you want?" You ask, don't need the gentle nod he gives to know the answer. This is always what he wants. This is why he comes here, to give the power to someone else for a night, to feel it sting like a soft hand wrapped firmly around his throat, to repent for the things that overtake him.
You can feel him beneath you, breathing heavy and straining through the tightness of his pants, and so you bring your free hand down to press your palm against the growing bulge.
"Do you remember the safeword?" Is your second question, and your tone has changed in an instant, talk down to him in that way you know he craves.
"Red," He mutters, too far gone in studying your face to think about it too hard. He tries to kiss you then, leans in and finds himself stopped by the tightening of your hand around his throat. There's a thrum of a quiet moan underneath your hold, the twitch of pressure beneath your other hand.
"And if it's too much?" You give a light squeeze to demonstrate, feel the three taps, rhythmic, in quick succession against your hand. "Good boy."
He worships you like this. You, bare and willing and kind, always kind, even with a hand wrapped around his throat. You, who makes the most of the little he gives you and still manages to make him forget, who never asks questions, who gives everything you have to this man who needs you.
Your hand is at the waist of his suit now, slipping under to graze the hair that graces his lower abdomen, yet to dip low enough to find the place he needs you the most.
"Have you been good for me this week, sweetheart?" He shakes his head, gasps at the feeling of you taking him in your hand, mouth hanging in a perfect gape. "Is that right? Do you need to be punished?"
"Need to be punished," He whispers, tries to use the limited leeway the stretch of his suit gives to buck up into your hand.
You tsk, bite your lip as the withdrawal of your hand earns a heady whine from the back of his throat. "What would people think if they saw you like this? Spider-Man powerless, all needy for me." You're barely touching him now, fingertips light brushing against the clothed bulge of him as you palm him through his suit. And then your leaning in, lips brushing just over his. "Pathetic."
There's a rush of warm breath against your lips, a long-held breath released. When he tries to kiss you this time you let him, taste his desperation in the eagerness of it.
You hum in approval when you pull away, hand at his neck slowly sliding up until you have a firm grasp of his chin. "Why don't you start by letting me ruin this pretty face?"
He nods, seems too busy staring at your lips and leaning forward to catch them in another short, heated kiss to convey anything intelligible.
"Need you to say yes for me, honey."
"Yes," He mutters, hot and breathy. "Please."
"There you go. Good boy," You smile, hands on his shoulders now, urging him down. "Lie down for me, sweetheart."
You kneel up as he slides his way down your headboard, head against the pillow as you shuffle out of your panties.
His hands are on you as soon as you're bare to him, soft at first, so carefully slip up the sides of your thighs before resting at the small of your back. The look in his eyes asks permission, asks to grip harder and guide you up until your cunt is only inches away from his mouth, and you're all too happy to nod your approval.
Peter doesn't believe he's a good person, but if he can't be good the least he can do is make you feel good, dedicate himself to this one cause that could never be bad.
Sinful, maybe, but not bad. There could never be anything bad about the way your body reacts to his mouth, hot and hungry and unrelenting as his tongue slides firmly over your clit. You're not afraid to rock against him, circle your hips as you chase that high, the one that seems to push you higher and higher every time you're together, sends you falling with the same heat as a meteor burning through the stratosphere.
Peter's been dedicated to your pleasure for long enough that he already knows your body like the back of his hand, your inner workings admired and mastered, knows just what to do with his tongue and his lips and his grip to have your legs shaking around him.
He knows the cues, too, knows that your fingers tangling through his hair and your shallow gasps and the flexing of your thighs tightly around his face means you're close.
It's times like this that he wishes he had the nerve to tell you his name. Because the mask—sure, the mask had been a fluke, but the sound of you moaning his name as you cum might actually be the thing he would risk it all for.
For now, he settles for the string of profanities that resonate around the room as you tremble in his hands. You're proof that he can still put them to good use, his hands, that they're still capable of more than just rage, that they can still pull something beautiful out of you.
And it is beautiful here, what you create together, even if it's raw, greedy, rough around the edges.
You're breathing heavily above him, kneeling back up onto shaky legs. He leans up on one elbow as you slowly slide down his chest, settling firmly back in his lap.
He's even harder than he was before, if that's possible, can almost feel him aching where he presses up into you and soaks a dark patch into his suit.
You laugh a little when you look at him, at the mess that slips down his chin, breathe it into a sigh as you fight your way through the haze of your orgasm. "'s impossible," You start, smiling, lean forward with one hand on his chest as you wipe his bottom lip dry with two fingers. "You're even prettier now."
He opens his mouth, expectant of your next move, can't help the strangled moan that slips from his lips as you sit back and place the digits onto your own tongue. It tastes like him, and like you, like sweat and sin. "Y/n..."
You smile again, release your fingers with a strong pop before licking your lips, seemingly satisfied by his reaction. "Go on, Spidey. Tell me what you want."
"Want you to fuck me."
"Oh, yeah?" His boldness only spurs you on, has you leaning forward so you can wrap your hand lightly over his throat, use the leverage to tilt his face to the side and kiss along his jaw. "Want it rough?" A quick nip, a blooming love bite soon soothed by the heat of your tongue. You tighten your grip just a little, just because you can, slip down so he can feel warm breath against his ear when you speak. "Want me to use you?"
"Please," He breathes, looks just as far gone as he sounds when you pull away to smirk at him.
"Well, since you asked so nicely... C'mere and help me take this off." He doesn't need to be asked twice, sits up and catches you in a kiss so quickly it makes you gasp, melts into a giggle once you lean into it. One arm around your waist, his other hand helps you drag down the bottom of his suit, pulls away his boxers in the same struggled movement.
When you're both finally bare a hand resting on his chest pushes him flat onto the mattress, and you bite your lip as you slowly slip it down, nails grazing tantalizingly lightly down his stomach until he's sitting heavy in your hand.
"Y/n," He mewls, the second whine of your name in a matter of minutes, and the way the sound makes your walls flutter around nothing is enough for you to give up on any further teasing you had planned.
"I like it when you beg," You mutter, and then you're kneeling again, settling yourself in the right position so you can sink onto his cock in one achingly slow motion.
Peter fills you up like nothing else ever can, just makes you miss him even more on nights with just you and your fingers and memories of these fleeting entanglements, the way he moulds against you and so easily finds those spots you can never reach.
"Fuck, always feel so good, honey." You savour it all, the stretch and the heat, didn't realise you had closed your eyes until your opening them to see that slack expression on his face.
A gasp makes his mouth fall agape with the first movement of your hips, the tight pinch of his eyebrows as you start to rock against him.
There's still something missing, though, an element of your arrangement you seem to forget until he's slipping his hand over the one still resting on his chest, urging it upward with a light pressure.
The movement of your hips picks up at the reminder, makes him tighten his grip on your hip with a strangled moan that's soon cut off by your hand slotting over his neck. It still turns you on, after all this time, that you're the one person that gets to see him like this, the vulnerability in each movement and each reaction.
Peter's a different person when he's with you. With what he wants, what he asks for, he thinks he's worse. But he also thinks you might make him better.
But it's thinking like that which encroaches on dangerous territory for Peter, like he might try to start scaling the walls he built up for his own good, makes him chase the one thing he knows can drown out thoughts too dangerous to indulge.
His hand is back over yours, but around his throat this time, forces you to tighten your grip while his other hand encourages the rocking of your body.
"Hey, just loosen up a little, okay?" Peter doesn't seem to hear you, presses and presses and squeezes your hand so tightly around his throat that it starts to hurt. You can tell that it's hurting him, too, that the pain is what he's looking for, eyebrows pinched together and a deep red flush blooming across his face. You try to pull away, but his grip is too strong. "Just- Spidey, stop, you're hurting me, just- Red!"
You're so lost in the searing pleasure of it all that you don't notice that he hasn't let go until it stings, until the pressure compressing your hand against his throat starts to throb.
It seems to finally snap him out of it, lets his hand fall away and you withdraw your own as soon as you can.
He sits up lightning-fast, gasps at the sudden access to airflow as he rubs at his throat, hadn't realised how long it had been since he'd taken a breath. He tries to speak, finds only a sharp cough there.
His lap is empty, feels the dip of the mattress and the warmth of you at his side, an arm wrapped firmly around his shoulders as he brings his knees up to his chest. "Hey," You whisper, movement of your hand soothing, gently rubbing back and forth along his bicep. "It's okay, you're okay."
"I'm sorry... Fuck, I'm sorry, I didn't-" He looks at you, finally, and you meet him with so much concern in your eyes it cuts him off. "I didn't mean to hurt you."
You feel the drop, the heaviness of your heart sinking to your stomach, faced so closely by that broken look in his eye, the guilt there, the remorse. "You didn't hurt me, it's- Hey." Peter's dipped his head, and you bring both hands up to cup his face, bring his eyes back to yours. You have to take a moment to swallow the lump in your throat. "I know that you don't... Come here to talk about things. But if you ever do... Want to. Just know that I want to listen."
The twist is a slow one, the pinch of his eyebrows and his deep-set frown and the clench of his jaw, and you think you might see the prick of tears gathering in the corner of his eyes before he's digging his face into the crook of your neck, sturdy arms wrapped around you.
You've never hugged before.
Above everything you've done together, seen the glimmering worst of each other and felt the pain and the pleasure of it as one, this might be the most intimate moment you've ever had.
Peter breathes you in, deep, shuddering breaths against the warmth of you skin, and you hold him just as tightly as he's holding you. Like you never want to let go. Like this is what you're bodies we made for, to slot together like this.
Peter thinks it's dangerous how familiar you feel, overwhelms his senses with a soothing warmth. He thinks it's dangerous how he wants to keep this feeling, the comfort over the pain, how he wants to stay.
"I should go."
Peter's pulling away, in every sense of the phrase, refuses to look at you as he untangles your limbs. "Hey," You start, catch lightly at his wrist, makes him look down at the contact before he's meeting your eyes. "Why don't you stay tonight?"
He sighs, dips his head back down and swallows, thinks if he looks at you you'll see how much he wants to say yes.
Your hand is still on his wrist, anchoring him, keeping him from dispersing into the night, everywhere and nowhere and lingering in your walls like smoke. "We don't have to do anything, or say anything, we can just-" You let go, let your hand cup his cheek and bring his gaze back up to yours. "I don't want you to be alone tonight."
Peter looks at you, at the way you're looking at him, and feels like he's being ripped apart from the inside, tugged in two different directions, both equally wrong, both equally essential, like the repulsion of two polar forces.
There's a tipping point there, though, somewhere in the depths of your worried eyes, one that makes the decision for him before he can think about the consequences.
Peter has never been this comfortable in his life.
The late morning sun paints everything in a bright yellow, a hazy cellophane filter as he takes in his surroundings. Your room looks different in the light of day, no more shadows melting everything into an amalgamation of vague shapes in the dark.
And then there's you, wrapped around him, a puzzle piece slotted firmly into his side, warms him through with a blooming ache at every contact of bare skin. Nothing could have prepared him for the sight of you in the sunlight.
You don't open your eyes, simply feel the steadiness of his chest under your arm and nuzzle deeper into his side. "You stayed."
Peter smiles down at you, can't help it, slowly grazes a finger over your cheek. "Thank you for letting me." And it's sincere, the gratitude in his voice.
You shift slowly then, try to lean against his chest and squint up at him. "Fuck, it's bright," You mutter, close your eyes and dip your head to escape the light.
He laughs, music to your ears, a steady rumble you can feel through his whole body. You can't remember the last time you heard him laugh.
You're a little more successful when you look back up at him, match the faint remnants of a smile you find on his face. For a moment, you let yourself bask in the image of him, bright and smiling and warm in your arms. When you remember the events of the night before, it's unwillingly. "Do you want to talk about last night, or..."
Peter sighs, the sinking of his chest beneath you, closes his eyes as he lets his head fall back to the pillow.
"Hey, we don't have to," You attempt, prop yourself up against his chest, splayed hand resting over his heart steadying, makes him tilt his head against the pillow to look at you. You smile at him. "We could talk about... The weather, or... Crime? Or..."
There's a steady rumble under you body, the deep growl of Peter's stomach.
Peter grins at you. As in, smiles with his whole face, all crinkling eyes and dimples and teeth, and it makes your heart ache so much you have to stop looking at him, lean up and kiss that stupidly beautiful grin off of his stupidly beautiful face.
You stay like that for a long moment, savouring this newfound gentleness. He doesn't feel so much like smoke in your hands anymore, constantly on the verge of slipping away. He feels a little more corporeal under your touch, like maybe it was your touch that was keeping him solid in the first place. "I'll go get breakfast ready."
You smile at him, pull away as you sit up and move towards the edge of the bed. But Peter doesn't want to let you go just yet, even if you're only threatening to walk a couple feet into your kitchen, isn't willing to go back to existing discretely like you had before. "Hey," He starts, voice soft and fond, still a little laden with sleep as he catches your wrist. You turn back to him, give him this wide, expectant expression as you wait for him to continue that almost melts him on the spot. "You're too nice to me, you know. I don't deserve it."
You sigh, shuffle back towards him so you can cup his cheek in your hand. "Yes, you do," You say, matter of fact, lean close to look him right in the eye, make sure he understands just what you're trying to tell him. "Everybody deserves a little kindness sometimes, Spidey."
"Peter," He corrects, lets it hang in the air for a moment, wraps around the silence of your surprised expression. "Parker. My name's Peter."
It's a bridge, you think. A broken one, built up with planks others had ripped away long before you met him, but it's a bridge nonetheless, and he's offered it to you willingly, hopefully. It's not a bridge the whole way there, but you think it might just be enough to jump to the other side. You smile at him, watch him sit up as you hold out your hand. "It's nice to finally meet you, Peter."
You're aware of it, in the back of your mind, that you're two half-naked people in your bed shaking hands. But right beside that thought is the clock you started as soon as he crawled through your window, marks almost ten hours and counting. The most you had ever gotten out of him before was three.
His eyebrows are pinched together when he looks at you, a sullen expression you're used to. His voice is small when he speaks. "I don't know if I believe that."
Neither of you pulls away, warmth of bare skin against bare skin, and so you let your joined hands fall to the mattress beneath you. You watch him look down, to where he's started rubbing his thumb back and forth over the back of your hand. "You're a good person, you know?"
"It doesn't matter if you believe it." You shake your head, give him a resigned shrug and surprise him by smiling, wide and bright and maybe just a little bit convincing. You kneel up then, still smiling, still shaking your head as you crawl into his lap. His face is in your hands. "Because I believe it. And I can believe it enough for the both of us... For now... If you're willing to let me. If you're willing to let me show you how good you are."
There's something in his eyes you can't quite place as he looks up at you. It's something new, all quiet and adoring, almost reverential, awestruck and awe-inspiring all at once. It's something you could get used to, you think, finding all the different ways Peter Parker could be utterly beautiful. "Okay," He whispers, like he believes it.
"Good," You breathe, nod, smile into the soft kiss you offer him. "After breakfast."
request something! masterlist
nyx what about tasm!peter stuck in traffic with you and getting bored, so he starts… feeling you up? 👀 i was stuck in traffic yesterday and it’s all i could think about and i NEED to know how you’d picture that going pretty please?! 🥺
.ೃ࿐ Pairing: TASM!Peter Parker x F!Reader
.ೃ࿐ Word Count: 2.3k
.ೃ࿐ A/n: Feedback is really important to me, so tell me what you think! I’d love to hear it :)
.ೃ࿐ Warning(s): This work is intended for 18+ audiences. Minors, DNI. I do not give permission for my work to be copied, uploaded, or distributed elsewhere.
.ೃ࿐ Main Masterlist | Marvel Masterlist | ko-fi ❥
"God, this is so fucking boring," Peter groans.
After being quiet for the past few minutes, your boyfriend's voice snaps your attention away from the debate going on on the radio. At first, you think he means the poor excuses of arguments that the hosts have over the topic at hand, but when you look to your side, Peter's staring at the traffic ahead of you both—it's the same avenue you two have been stuck on for at least half an hour, and your amusement shows on your face if his pouting is anything to go by when he looks at you.
"I'm bored," he repeats. What would New York do if they knew Spider-man could be such a whiny baby?
Chuckling, you point at the phone in his hands. "That's got pretty much all the entertainment in the world, Spidey."
"I don't want it." Peter throws his device on the car's panel and then shifts his body a little to the side. Oh-oh, your mind goes. He's smiling. Smirking. "You're much better than that."
Your body is suddenly aware of the conversation in ways it wasn't before.
Nervously, you laugh. "I can't do much for you, I'm afraid." You look away from him for a moment to see the long line of cars stretching miles ahead. "Unless I develop some pretty cool superpowers right now, we're stuck here, Spidey." Looking back at him, you grin. "You wanna swing us all the way there?"
Peter rolls his eyes. "No, thank you." His devious smirk comes back. "You never needed superpowers to distract me."
It's instant—all Peter needs to get a response from your body are those two things: a tilted look, the one where he blinks his long eyelashes at you looking like an old Hollywood heartthrob, and the sweet change in the cadence of his voice.
Peter does those two things and just like that first time in the class you two shared in college, your legs failed to remember how to work.
The thing is: you two never did anything in... public.
Unless the window of his apartment counts as public, you and Peter keep your touches on each other and the bedroom, so the insinuation in his eyes makes not only your stomach fluttery and your hands tingly, but your brain a little dizzy.
Trying for subtle, you shrug. "Can't really leave the car on stand-by and climb on your lap to make out in here, can I?"
As if hearing your words, the line moves. You turn on the first gear and drive for a total of three seconds, then stop again.
Peter hums low under his breath.
"You don't have to," he says.
With a look to your side, you see he means it. Peter's chocolate eyes do little to hide how dark they've gotten.
One look and your body is alive. The blood pumps hard enough for you to notice where it goes, the sensation that travels from your neck to your breasts, all the way down to your pussy feels like a heatwave, and you lose the power to feign obliviousness.
"We're in traffic," you say. It comes off in a whisper, a confused, but interested confession. Are you serious? Here? It sounds like.
Peter's smile turns lazy.
He knows when he's got you tangled in webs.
Always did, and always will.
He shrugs with a little tilt of his head and then his eyes start traveling down your body, taking their time with it. You follow their movement, tracking where they are. Peter looks at your neck — which undoubtedly must be red — and when they get to the cleavage in your top, he licks his lips, unconsciously.
Your legs squeeze around nothing in your seat, and the movement calls his attention to it. Fuck.
There's the sound of his chuckle, and you realize you've looked away from his eyes and lips to where his hands traveled to. "Looks like you don't mind," he says. Peter's right hand is resting on the growing bulge in his sweatpants, while his left one comes to grip the side of your car seat. "Baby."
You look up at him.
Peter's smiling, like gotcha. He knows where your eyes were, and he's the one who shifts in his seat this time.
He leans in towards you, slowly. The closer his head gets, the more you lean back to meet him halfway. Peter's body has some sort of magnet that opposites you, and it never fails to work.
A few inches apart from your lips, you feel his left hand touching the fabric of your skirt — and you mentally thank the gods for your choice in the outfit today — and he asks. "Can I?" His voice is soft as velvet, and your legs squeeze on each other again.
If we're here, might as well do the tango.
Licking your lips and working your way through the fog he creates in your brain, you ask. "Can you what?"
"Use your words, Spidey."
"You're so hot when you boss me around like that."
"Then ask for what you want."
"I want to fuck your pretty pussy, baby. Yeah—that's what you wanted to hear, right? God, I wanna bury myself in you. Can I? Can I use you like my little fuck doll, hm?"
Peter's Adam apple bobs right in your line of sight, and his right-hand leaves his lap to cup your cheek.
"Wanna touch you," as he says the words, the left-hand travels down your thighs. "Wanna make you cum. See how many times I can do it before this stupid fucking thing is over. Can I do that?"
Before he asks 'can I do that' you're already pulling the car break so you can take your feet off the pedals and spread your legs apart.
You hear his sigh and breathy curse, and for a moment you remember where you two are. It's the middle of the highway on your way to the beach, the lanes are far apart from each other enough that you can't see what goes on in other people's cars beneath their shoulders, so why not?
If your boyfriend wants to do this, who are you to stop him?
After a suspicious sweep of the cars and lanes around you, you feel Peter's hand pulling your head towards him.
"Hey, it's okay—no one can see it," he tells you. When his voice is low like this, it calms you down better than anything. "I'll keep my Spidey senses up, okay?"
That soothes you. "Okay." The feeling of his left hand pulling on the side of your panties is a silent request for you to lift your hips, so you do it. "Plus," he goes on as he pulls your underwear down. "You think I want anyone else to see how gorgeous you are when you're cumming?" Although it's a rhetoric question, your only answer is shaking your head as you bite down on a moan—Peter's shifted his hands, and he's now holding your head with the left one while the right one which has better access starts running its fingertips on the inside of your thighs. "D'you have any idea how jealous I am of how good you look when you're feeling good, baby?"
Your eyes close at some point during his questions, but you open them to see him.
Seeing Peter grounds you, and this is the one place where you cannot allow all that feels to wash over you. You have to keep some reins on the situation, but oh—the way he's looking at you.
His index and middle finger make contact with your hard and swollen clit, and when he starts to make slow circles, you can't help but lean forward.
Closing the distance and smashing your mouth on his is the only way to keep yourself from screaming as Peter gets started.
His hand on your face grips tighter, his fingers moving back to lock in your hair as he guides the kiss.
Peter knows how to work your body and he knows how much you love his hands.
Those slender, long fingers—the number of times you lost attention during class in favor of looking at them; he's noticed. The way you stare when he's making annotations, or when he's explaining something and gesturing wildly.
You love those hands.
And he loves putting them on you.
Peter kisses you with tongue, sliding his on top and under yours slowly as if savoring a dish.
His fingers go from making circles to moving up and down; he coats his fingers in your slick, then moves up to rub more circles on your clit, then goes down again to make all of your pussy wet, all while eating on the desperate sounds and whines you let out inside his mouth.
Suddenly, he pulls his lips away from yours a few inches and, with the smile of a dick, says. "The lane's moved."
And then he dips his fingers almost all the way inside of you.
Luckily for the cars on the lanes next to yours, your windows are closed.
They're also starting to get foggy.
"Go on." Peter says while removing his fingers from inside, placing them back on your clit. "Just a few inches."
"You're a dick," you whine.
He laughs. "Ah, I am." Peter nibbles on your earlobe. "You love that."
"I do," you whine. Pathetic.
"C'mon, baby, before people start honking," he mutters with his lips attached to the skin of your neck.
Sighing, you do as he says. Feeling him work your clit with the patience of a man who has all day, you do your best to move the car a few meters ahead until it's close enough to the one in front of you.
You leave the car on neutral again, and the second it stops Peter pulls your head back to him in a kiss.
And puts his fingers inside you again.
"Spread your legs," Peter's moaning a little, and you wonder how on earth he seems to be enjoying this so much when it's you who's getting all the fun.
You do as he says, and when his fingers are buried all the way until his knuckles, Peter starts pumping them in a come-hither motion, pressing right on your G-spot.
You scream inside the car, and he laughs, attaching his mouth on yours again. "Shhh, it's okay," he licks his way inside your mouth, and then takes his fingers off.
It feels so good you start to writhe on the seat, chasing the feeling his expert fingers are a master at creating at this point.
"Stand still," Peter demands. He's got his face buried in your neck and as he sucks bruises, he alternates between massaging your g-spot and your clit. "I wanna see how many times you can cum, remember? No rush."
The words have the opposite effect of 'no rush'.
They make even more slick come out of you, and when your pussy clenches around his fingers, Peter moans in response.
"Yeah, that's it," Peter's hand on your hair releases your head in favor of grabbing your chin. "Look at me."
"That's me," he smiles. "You're close already, baby?"
His fingers are thrusting inside of you, in a rhythmic motion, just hard enough to hit the right spots and just fast enough to make you want to whine like a wounded animal. "Feels so good," you cry.
He sighs, looking like he saw something marvelous. "Tell me about it."
You're not the only one who loves to hear things.
"Your fingers—you know—ah, fuck, right there."
"Your fingers are so fucking long. Oh, god, that feels so good." Your eyes are rolling to the back of your head and you pray to your gods that the lane stands fucking still because if anyone who is not your boyfriend moves, you'll have a homicide in mind.
"You look so fucking good," he chuckles. He then presses his thumb over your clit and while his middle and ring finger work their way inside of you, his thumb rubs on your clit. "You love my fingers?"
"So much, so much," you always babble when Peter drives you crazy like this. "Peter, please."
I'm going crazy. "I wanna cum. Make me cum, please? Please."
You feel his breath exhaling on your neck, and then him nodding. "I got you."
He always does.
Peter's movements have an intent now, and you're thankful he doesn't tease you too much when you've asked for it. He hits the right spots inside of you and when you say, "just like that, fuck, fuck—just like that Peter, don't stop" he actually listens.
He keeps going just like that until your pussy is clenching around his fingers hard enough to trap his hand there between your thighs and your legs are shaking, your whole body trembling.
It takes you a moment to open your eyes and your soul to come back to your body, but when they do, you see Peter biting his bottom lip with a smile on his face.
"Number one." Oh, good gods. His smile widens. "Also—the lane's moved again when you were cumming," he takes his fingers out of you and raises his land to his lips.
He licks his fingers clean, sucking on all your cum.
You moan, and your head is way too dizzy for driving.
"I'm pretty sure the guy behind us is going to—"
Peter laughs. "Yeah, that." He gives you a peck. "Move the car, baby. I'm gonna start again."
🏷 peter parker tag list ☆ @its-hopeless-romantic-blog1 ; @fandoms-writings ; @jasmin7813 ; @ayleehweasleyobrien ; @highly-functioning-mitochondria ; @wh0re4mcu ; @mshanerian ; @itsmevicka ; @pinkwigthicckass ; @a-mour ; @ariianelle ; @pchypunk ; @particularcth ; @vxidnik ; @crescenttears ; @mouahh ; @lavendersfairy ; @har-rison-s ; @liz-allyn ; @buckys-left-middle-finger ; @runawaywithmyghost ; @froggyy06 ; @itsfloorcry ; @jhiddles03 ; @jeonpendejo ; @supraveng ; @buzzcutlando ; @calrc0 ; @hanniebee33 ; @ahintofkiwistrawberry ; @obsessive-sapphic ; @enaraism ; @fandomscombine ; @wolfiepirate ♡
tasm!peter parker x fem reader enemies/rivals to lovers? maybe with some smut at the end?
My Rival - Peter Parker x Fem!Reader
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[ main masterlist ]
[ peter parker masterlist ]
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word count: 2k
warnings: smutty smut, fingering, titty worship, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) rivals to lovers, peter being a softie
summary: you and peter had been bitter rivals for years, but when your respective families grow sick of your bickering and send the two of you on a camping trip, you discover where that resentment really comes from
a/n: loved this request, it fit really well with day 4 of my writing challenge! this is also the second story i’ve written today so i’m feeling super proud of myself.
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Peter Parker was a lot of things.
He was smart, a good photographer, and top of his class in nearly everything, but there was something only you seemed to see when it came to him.
Peter Parker, was a pain in the ass.
It wasn't that he'd show off in class, you do that too- though mainly to shut him up, it was the way he would do it; like he was smarter than everyone else.
His smug, 'holier than thou' attitude really pissed you off. And you were sure to make him know it.
Peter wasn’t shy when it came to hating you either, rolling his eyes when you answered a question and snickering when you got it wrong. Muttering insults across the room until you snapped and winded up in detention for ‘strong language’.
He’d hated you since you were in third grade, always finding a way to push your buttons. Whether it came to your looks, your intelligence, and when he got older, your body and sex life, quickly learning that would drive you off of the edge.
Your teachers, friends and even your parents were sick of your constant bickering with Peter, so, your folks and Peter's aunt came to an agreement. They would send the two of you on a camping trip.
Of course, you didn't know Peter would be there until you got to the site.
"What the hell are you doing here Parker?" You asked, walking out of your car to where he was setting up his tent. "This is our campsite."
He looks up at you, an annoyed expression clouding his face, "Our?" He asks, gesturing to your parent's car that was now driving away from you.
You tried to chase after the car, but it was no use. You scoffed, walking away from Peter to have a less than friendly conversation with your parents.
After half an hour of you arguing, cursing, and begging your parents to come back and get you away from Peter, you finally gave up. Walking back to the site to see Peter on the phone- presumably with his aunt.
"Look just-" he stops when he sees you, "come pick me up, or her, I don't care just..." he pauses, "yes she's here... no she can't hear you."
For the next couple of minutes, you can vaguely hear Peter's aunt tell him off, him adding an "okay" or a "yep" every couple of minutes. Eventually, he says goodbye and hangs up the phone, turning to you.
"Looks like our families set us up." He said, smacking his lip together and returning to the mess of a tent he was trying to make.
You decide to stop bitching and help, you need a place to sleep tonight. You sit next to him, helping him figure out how to set up the tent. Once you're done, you grab your duffle bag, shoving it into the completed tent and sitting in one of the two camp chairs.
Peter sits in the other, pulling two packets of noodles out of his backpack. “You hungry?” He asks, waving the noodles around.
You almost let a smile slip, but you nod, “What flavour are they?” You ask, leaning forward to get a closer look.
Peter tosses the packets at you, “Just chicken noodles.” He replies, standing up. “I’m gonna get some firewood, you need anything?” He asks, his voice showing he had to force himself to be even somewhat nice to you.
You don’t give him the same honour, “From you? No.” You say, rolling your eyes.
His eyes darken, “God your so fuckin-“ He closes his mouth, pausing to think, and walks away.
Huh, you thought, he can shut up.
The rest of the night was no less than awkward, you didn’t speak once, barring a quick thank you as he passed you your bowl of noodles.
You had packed marshmallows, so you brought them out for the two of you to enjoy. But not even the fluffy
You felt the pit in your stomach as the silence filled you with anxiety, so you decided to excuse yourself, “I’m gonna get changed,” you muttered, heading into the tent.
Once you were changed, you didn’t feel like going back to the fire, opting to try and sleep early so this waste of a camping trip could be over.
You laid in your sleeping bag, completely unable to fall asleep, of course, you couldn’t- it wasn’t past 8:30. But determined to keep away from the awkwardness, you still tried to fall asleep.
After a couple of hours, Peter enters the tent, “You alright?” He asked, looking at you eerily as he takes off his jacket and t-shirt, replacing them with a sweatshirt. He decides to keep the same sweatpants on, climbing over you to hop in his seeping bad.
You nod, “Yeah, just tired.”
He snickers, “tired of being annoying?” He stretches out, his sweatshirt riding up to show the bottom of his stomach, you can’t help but bite your lip.
“Something like that,” you say, not wanting to get into another fight.
He doesn’t seem to get the point, “What? You’re being silent? How will you piss me off?” He says, rolling towards you.
You bite your lip, pissed off but too exhausted to filter your thoughts. “What the fuck is your problem?” You asked.
He furrowed his eyebrows, “What?” He says, sitting back.
You followed, sitting up, “What’s your problem with me? Why do you hate me so much?”
His eyes darken, “I’m going to sleep,” He rolls over.
You slip out of your beanbag, determined to get an answer, or at least to piss him off. “No, tell me. Why are you so obsessed with hating me? What did I do to you? What in gods name could-“
You were cut off by Peter rolling over, grabbing your face and pushing his lips against yours. Against your better judgement, you immediately reciprocate.
He runs his hands through your hair and tugs, causing you to moan into his mouth. He uses your open mouth to push his tongue into your mouth, immediately dominating the kiss.
You grab at his sweatshirt, trying to pull it off of him. He groans, helping you shed the fabric off of himself. Immediately pulling your t-shirt off of your body and pushing you onto your back.
He takes in the sight of your breasts, “fuck…” he mutters, reaching down to pull your sweatpants off.
You pull him back to you as he kicks off his own sweatpants, leaning down to kiss you. He cups your cunt through your panties, causing you to moan in his mouth.
He can feel the wet spot on your underwear, he smirks into the kiss. “So fucking wet, I haven’t even touched you yet.” He pushes your underwear to the side, dipping his finger through your slit, collecting slick. “Don’t worry, I’ll fix that pup.”
Peter pushes two fingers into you and curling them, you moan, burying your face into his neck and biting down to suck a bruise. He groans, moving his thumb to rub at your clit.
You moan again, bucking your hips into his fingers. He continues to fuck you with his fingers at a ravenous pace, trying to memorise every part of your cunt.
He finally hits your sweet spot, you gasp, gripping onto the hand inside you with your own hand. “There’s our girl…” He mutters, leaning down mouth at your breast.
You moan at the triple stimulation, your high washing over you like a tidal wave. The coil in your stomach snaps the second it appears, your cunt clamping down on his fingers as you cum.
Peter’s hand fucks you through the overstimulation, finally pulling his fingers out of you.
He smirks, “I think that’s the best sound you’ve ever made, finally able to say something without pissing me off” He mutters, kissing the corner of your lip.
You’re still mewling, coming down from your high when he moves back to your lips, lazily making out with you.
You press your hand to his face, rolling your hips up into his. He lets out a grunt, grinding your hips to meet your rolls, you moan into his mouth.
Slowly, he dips his hand into your waistband and pulling down your panties, moving to also take off his boxers.
You find it hard not to stare at his cock, its length is… intimidating, to say the least. He notices your nerves, moving to give you a surprisingly soft kiss.
“Relax baby…” he whispers, “this still okay?”
You nod, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. “I do… I really do.” You say, but your nerves don’t leave your face.
He smiles, “How about this.” He lines his cock up, dragging it through your slick before pushing his shaft flat between your pussylips.
You whine, gripping onto his shoulders as he grinds his cock against you. A moan slips out of you as you roll your hips against his.
“Fuck…” He moans, leaning down to mouth at your breast once again. Biting your nipple before kissing it to soothe. He moves up to kiss your mouth, lazily making out with you.
Although the two of you are moving slow, you can feel the heat in your abdomen building up, the coil turning, ready to snap.
“Pete…” You moan out.
He moves his kisses to your cheek, then down your jaw. “Cum for me baby,” He whispers. Rolling his hips further into you.
The wave rolls over you, instead of the hot, rushing high you hit earlier, this one is calming. All of your muscles seem to relax as Peter coaxes you through your high.
Peter looks down on you as you come back from your orgasm, pressing a chaste kiss on your lips. “That was so fucking hot, you’re so hot.”
He moves his cock, using the arousal you just coated him with as lubrication, he lines up with your entrance, pressing another kiss to your lips. “Ready?” He asks.
You nod, bucking your hips to try to catch his tip in your entrance. He tuts, moving the hair out of your face and slowly pushes in.
His mouth forms an ‘o’ shape, “Fuckk, baby you’re so tight.” He moans, checking to see if you’re okay before bottoming out.
You let out a loud moan, pattering your hand around to find him, once you do, you grip tight. “You okay?” he asks. You nod, rolling your hips into his to encourage him to move.
He gets the message, pulling out so his tip barely grazes your entrance and fully thrusting back in. You let out a loud moan, gripping your free hand into his hair.
Peter finds a steady pace, his thrusts rough and fast as he sucks numerous amounts of hickeys to your neck and chest, pressing a soothing kiss into each of them before moving to make a new one.
He thrusts strangely, like he’s searching for your sweet spot, when he finds it your eyes roll to the back of your head, your pussy clamping down onto his cock. He repeats the motion until you’re a whimpering, moaning mess.
You feel that familiar pool in your abdomen pushing you towards your high. In no time Peter has you clenching down, practically screaming as you fall into your third high of the night. Peter is quick to follow, spilling his seed into you.
The two of you breathlessly come down from your highs. Collapsed against each other, pressing your foreheads together.
“Fuck…” he moans, pressing for a chaste kiss, “Guess our parents will be happy” He laughs
You giggle, “I’d be down to pretend to still hate you.” You say, playing with his now messy hair.
He chuckles, “Yeah, make ‘em believe they have to keep sending us on these trips.”
You smile, pulling him down for another kiss, he immediately reciprocates, pushing his tongue into your mouth.
He rolled the two of you over, manoeuvring the two of you into the sleeping bag, “Goodnight.” He whispers, slowly falling to sleep.
As you watch him sleep you think to yourself, maybe Peter Parker isn’t that bad after all.
❛ ━━━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫･━━━━━━━━━ ❜
Theyre just- Them it’s- when they-
(Natasha Romanoff X shapeshifter!Reader)
Warnings: A few swear words, mentions of sex (but no actual smut) injury (gunshot wound and a broken ankle)
Summary: You found natasha in the snowy woods Hurt, she finds you later in those same woods with a wound and the rest is history!
word count: 4.4k
I woke up in a pile of snow, I had been out on a long tiring mission in the alps when it went sideways, on the way back to the safehouse my car slid on Black ice and it went crashing into a ditch. As soon as I stepped out of the car I slid, my foot turned the wrong way and my ankle snapped making me cry out in pain, I must have passed out and now here I am.
"Who" I looked up confused and again I heard another "who" but this time there was crunching in the snow, a little brown owl with yellow eyes was staring at me from the ground, it's wings came up a little and it walked towards me "whoo" it looked amused and I pushed myself to sit up a little better as it cautiously came closer
"Are you mocking me?" I asked raising an eyebrow
"Who" it tilted its head slightly and stood near my legs
"Yes, you" I replied, I felt a little stupid for talking to a literal bird but it's the only real company I've had in a while, it was silent for a moment then it flapped its wings and took off, I watched it then I pulled myself up leaning against the dead car
I struggled to look through the car for a medkit but I found a small one that wasn't much help, I groaned out with frustration and Of Course, there was also no signal for me to call.
I sat in the car putting my head against the steering wheel for a few minutes until I heard a little thump on top of the car roof "Feathers?" I asked, popping my head out of the car to see if the owl had returned, lo and behold the yellow-eyed bird was staring down at me "not had enough fun watching me struggle? Had to come back for more?" I asked rhetorically
"Who" it paced back and forth against the car roof before jumping down to my feet, I titled my head at it confused and it started walking away then it looked back at me
"You want me to follow?" I asked slightly dumbfounded
"Who!" It flapped its wings and bounced around in the snow
"...alright, don't get mad at me for being slow I snapped my ankle feathers," I said looking at it as I slowly got up and limped towards the bird.
After about 3 hours or so of following the owl or feathers we reached a cabin, within those 3 hours Feathers had switched between flying and walking but overall stayed with me
"How'd you know about this place huh?" I asked the bird, it looked at me and watched me open the door that creaked open, the cabin looked well kept but it looked like nobody had been around for a while, I walked inside and feathers followed quietly behind then I closed the creaky door behind us.
There was a main room that was a lounge that consisted of a sofa, a TV and a small coffee table, there was also a kitchen that had caramel cupboards and black countertops, then there was a fridge, a microwave, and an oven
There was a small bedroom that had a bed that was pushed up against the wall, there was a set of drawers beside the bed that was also placed under a window that faced out to a lake that was frozen over, I noticed that on top of the drawers was a picture frame with a picture of a woman smiling holding a small brown feather the same brown color that the owl was. "Feathers, do you know the pretty woman in the picture?" I asked the owl that stood on the end of the bed.
"Whoo" it hopped off the bed and stood by my feet
"You think there's a medkit that is better than the shitty one in the shitty car that failed me around here?" I said raising an eyebrow, the owl disappeared for a few minutes then came back once again clearly displeased I didn't follow "I'm coming, I'm coming, sorry madame feathers" I said jokingly, feathers flapped her wings then ran across to the last room which I'm guessing was a bathroom, I was right.
It was a bathroom feathers hopped around for a bit while I rummaged around and pulled out a rather large medkit "thanks feathers" I smiled and sat on the edge of the bathtub feathers stood on the closed toilet seat watching me as I cleaned a cut that I had gotten from falling and breaking my ankle, I'd say feathers looked curious
"So are you a boy?" I asked feathers remained quiet "girl?" I asked keeping my eyes on the cut that I was dabbing with an alcohol wipe
"Who" feathers chirped happily, glad I can stop referring to her as an it
"Thank you for helping me by the way… I feel a little crazy talking to you but I like your company" I said sparing her a glance, I think If she could smile she'd be smiling right now.
After I had cleaned up my cuts and wrapped my ankle with a bandage I went back to the bedroom and sat on the bed, feathers followed after me and perched on the bed frame "will your friend mind if I stay the night?" I asked, feathers actually shook her head "That's good" I nodded, feathers watched me lay down and I found myself falling asleep rather quickly for once
"Feathers" aka Y/n's Pov
I felt a little creepy watching her fall asleep but she fell asleep pretty quickly. I quietly walked out of my bedroom and changed into my human form, I started checking through the kitchen cabinet to only realise I didn't have any food left. "Fuck." I quietly cursed to myself and I left the cabin and changed back into my owl form.
I flew to the town that was about 9 miles out, I quickly got some food and flew the way back to my home, I changed back just before I went into the cabin and I started putting away the food into their respective places, after about 10 minutes I heard Natasha scream so I quickly changed back into my owl form, then I flew into the room.
Natasha sat on the floor with her knees up to her chest "who" I chirped quietly, she looked at me and just started to cry, I walked over raising my wings a little cause they get in the way when I walk but then I nuzzled into her side, she carefully picked me up with shaky hands and cuddled me
"Sorry, I just need this" She sniffed into my feathers, I turned my head to look at her
"Who" I tried to comfort her but I'm an owl there's not a lot I can do
"You know Tony and Steve would laugh if they saw this?" She chuckled, removing a hand to wipe her tears. "You are a very nice bird, you know that?" She asked me
"Who" I leaned myself into her hands and she smiled lightly
"You know you're snuggling into the hands of a killer, I'd be careful feathers," She said stroking my feathers gently with her free hand, I looked at her sadly. "Don't worry, I was raised not to feel emotions, can't even have children birdy" She sniffed and I felt bad for her.
"Who" I chirped softly
"In the red room," She sighed, picking me up and getting back into bed, "where I was trained, where I was raised… they have a graduation ceremony… it's efficient" She sniffed, she stopped petting me for a moment to wipe away her tears again "one last thing to worry about" She shrugged looking down at me with a sad smile.
[A week later]
Natasha had been talking to me and I had kept her company at the cabin, I didn't get the chance to show her the real me and I felt bad but Natasha would probably hate me if I showed her the truth now..
"Hey feathers" Natasha smiled from the kitchen leaning most of her weight onto her unharmed leg. I chirped a little in response and flew over to her "You've been a good friend, you know that? I've gotta go home today but I'll try to visit, how does that sound?" She said slowly brushing my feathers with her free hand
"Who" I tilted my head at her and she smiled
"I'll miss you too feathers" She smiled, I started to clean my feathers then I pulled one out and handed it to her "for me? Aw like your friend had one too?" She asked, I nodded lightly and she smiled "it's beautiful thanks birdy" then we both heard a knock at the door, she gave me a sad look but limped to the door and answered it Captian America and Iron Man both hugged her and I flew out the door, I didn't really wanna say goodbye if I'm being honest
[4 Months Later]
Fury had assigned me a mission to help an enhanced person who was being targeted by hydra they were up in the same area I had met feathers, I was a little Too excited to see the cute little owl, more than I'd like to even admit but I was really fond of her, however when I looked around I couldn't find feathers, she did fly off when Steve and Tony appeared on the day I had to leave as well but I kind of thought she'd stay in the forest
Then I heard a screech, it had to be her. I ran towards it and saw feathers but then she changed into a person then back to feathers then back to a person no- that's the same woman like the one in the photo. "Feathers?" I mumbled slightly, she looked up frightened then slightly relaxed but she tensed up when she realised she was a person "Hey hey it's okay, are you okay?" I asked she looked at me and then down and shook her head "do you know how to talk?" I asked hesitantly
"Yes," She said quietly
"Are you okay? You look hurt?" I said worried, I was now crouched beside her
"I'm fine it's just- ah!" She clutched her stomach and curled up
"Feathers, what's wrong?" I asked really concerned now
"He- he shot me" She groaned out, I carefully pried her hands away from her stomach
"Trust me okay?" I said softly, she nodded and whispered a quiet 'always' so I carefully pulled up her shirt and put she was shot just under her ribs "did you take the bullet out?" I asked taking care if inspecting the wound
"Straight thr-through" She whimpered, moving a little to reveal that I could quite literally see through her.
"What's your name?" I asked she looked at me while a few tears rolled down her cheeks
"Feathers…" She said a little coyly but I gave her a pointed look and she sighed "y/n"
"See that's way better than me calling you feathers" I stated she just laid her head back in the snow
"Hurts" She groaned out
"We gotta get you back to New York, I'll take care of you like you did for me okay? I promise" I said taking her into my arms as I stood up and started quickly making my way back to the landed quinjet
"I'm sorry" She apologised laying her head against my shoulder
"For what?" I asked a little confused
"For not showing who I was… you told me all those things and you only thought I was a bird" She mumbled quietly
"Hey, calm down, I'm not mad, a little embarrassed sure but I'll get over it" I admitted.
"Really?" She asked, I could tell she was getting sleepy
"Really." I confirmed as I finally got on board the Quinjet "now stay awake" I said tapping her face lightly as I sat her in the co-pilot's seat
"M'kay" She slurred a little making my concern grow
"Jarvis get us in the air" I'm not stupid I can't fly when she's like this so I kept pressure on the wound and made sure she wouldn't bleed out.
[30 minutes later]
"Y/n," I said when I noticed her eyes droop a little "Feathers!" I said worriedly shaking her awake, she grumbled a little but looked at me
"Sorry" She apologised
"We are just about to land, just hold on for me," I told her she nodded tiredly and I focused on landing cause Jarvis was pretty shit at landing, I got everything lined up and landed the quinjet smoothly like I've don't over a hundred times then I glanced over to y/n and she was unconscious with her head lulled to the side "shit" I muttered while I picked her up gently and ran down the ramp all the way to medbay.
"Bruce!!" I screamed, scaring the man, he turned around quickly hiding the small bits of green that showed up "GSW to the bottom of her ribcage. Straight through." I explained laying her down on the bed, Bruce nodded and quickly started assessing the wound then Cho came in
"Ms. Romanoff you know the drill, please-"
"Wait outside, I know. Take care of her." I warned them before I stepped out of the room and waited.
During that time Maria had called and I explained everything. Then Clint came and joined the wait while he ate his pizza. He said he was also hiding from Kate, Yelena, and Peter because they wanted him to partake in something he clearly didn't wanna do
"-I also heard you have a new bird. I am devastated Natasha, devastated!" He Harped while he dramatically put a hand over his heart and slid to the floor with his goddamn pizza.
"Nat, you can come see her now," Bruce said leaning against the door a little hesitantly, I quickly got up and walked into the room, y/n was sleeping peacefully while her stomach had a bandage around it
"She'll be okay?" I asked glancing at Bruce for a brief moment
"Yep, like you said it was straight through, it'll scar obviously but she'll make full recovery" Bruce smiled and pat my shoulder before he and Cho left me alone with her
"Hey little bird, you rest up okay?" I whispered kind of knowing that she couldn't hear me. I talked to her while she was unconscious for the rest of the night until I fell asleep at god knows when.
"Feathers" aka Y/n's Pov
I woke up with in a bright room making me sit up quickly panicking but then I saw Natasha asleep in a chair beside me I relaxed a little, she looked tired and her hair was a little disheveled but she still looked beautiful regardless, my wound was wrapped up with a thick bandage so I couldn't see the damage anymore but I'm glad Natasha found me when she did, I'd be dead without her…
That's kinda ironic. I found her and saved her once, she found me and saved me "Hey Y/n right?" A man whispered, getting my attention, I looked over at him and nodded hesitantly "I'm Bruce Banner, you were shot and Nat brought you here do you remember that?" He asked, I nodded and he look at a chart, presumably mine "we will need you to stick around so until your healed, after that you are free" He smiled and placed the chart down
"..thanks" I whispered a little nervous he smiled and left the room making me let out a relieved sigh, I then saw Natasha jolt awake
"per'ya! (Feathers!)" She called out then looked over to see I was already awake
"You okay?" I croaked out and she made a face causing me to tilt my head a little
"Am I okay? You were the one who was short birdy" She said carefully taking my hand into hers
"It's okay I'm high on whatever miracle drugs your friends gave me" I grinned and she laughed a little
"It's only pain killers" She smirked lighty and I looked at her slightly confused "you've never heard of them?" She asked suddenly aware that I might not have
"Well birds don't really use pain killers" I shrugged and she thought about it for a minute she also stroked her thumb over my knuckles
"Well yes but.. wait are you mostly always an owl?" She asked, stopping her stroking to look up at me, I nodded "don't you get lonely?" Once again I nodded
"Sure it gets lonely but I've seen things others can only dream of" I shrugged "birds eye view" I joked and she laughed again
"Okay you are a little comedian as well, noted" She smirked and I smiled a little
"So…. Bruce? Said I have to stay here until I'm healed-" I started and she nodded
"If you'd prefer a hospital I can arrange that, the team is a little… chaotic" She said a little nervously
"I'll stay If that's okay, you make me feel safe" I said shyly
"Really? I make you feel safe but you know about everything I've done, way more than anyone, aren't you Disgusted? Scared? By it all I mean you can say you-"
"Natasha, You make me feel safe, it doesn't matter what you did back then it's who you are now that matters most" I told her grabbing both her hands and keeping them in mine, she looked me in the eyes and smiled with tears in her eyes
"Thank you Feat- Y/n"
"Call me feathers, its cute I like the nickname" I smiled softly and she nodded
"I do like calling you feathers" She admitted
[A Year laterr]
So, yeah sure I got better after around 4 months but I couldn't bring myself to leave Natasha again and I ended up sticking around, now here we are! Natasha and I have been together for just under 6 months and the rest of the team are great to me.
Natasha is the only one I'll ever let call me feathers, if anyone tried Nat would probably make sure they never tried it again
I woke up in Nat and I's Room to no Natasha, I looked over to find a pale yellow sticky note
'Hey per'ya, Tony, Sam, bucky and I had to go out on a quick mission, be back tonight, I love you!
-Your Natasha '
She's so adorable when she wants to be, the others have a running joke that I turned Nat soft, Natasha denies all of it and then pulls out a taser on them all so they've stopped saying anything but deep down even she knows she's a big softie
I got up with a sigh, I changed into some clothes for the day then I went downstairs to the kitchen, Wanda was there teaching Yelena how to make something other than macaroni, Peter was eating cereal and Clint was half hanging out his vent "morning Y/n!" Yelena greeted
"Morning yel" I replied taking two slices of bread and sticking it in the toaster
"Missing nat?" Wanda asked, I nodded while I walked across the kitchen and poured myself a coffee "She'll be back before you know it, then you can have all the fun you guys want" Wanda winked at me and yelena made a disgusted face
"Relax yel, we haven't done that yet" I said as my toast popped, I hopped over to it excitedly, Wanda Yelena Peter and Clint all went silent and looked at me "what?" I asked putting some butter on my toast
"You guys haven't done the deed?" Clint gawked falling straight out the vent, I felt awkward now
"...no?" I said taking a bite out my toast
"Seriously?!" Yelena asked shocked I looked at her shocked
"I thought you didn't want us to have sex?" I asked her dumbfounded
"That's my job to hate everything Y/n, you really are a bird." She stated
"What's that supposed to mean? Are you insulting birds?!" Clint and I asked in union we looked at each other and laughed a little
"...so- do you guys just not have sex?" Wanda asked me
"It's never came up" I shrugged
"It doesn't just 'come up' you guys have to initiate it" Peter said taking a bite out of his cereal
"You are like 10… wait till I tell Stark what you're saying" I said squinting at him, he looked at me ready to protest but I just dumped my toast in the bin, turned to my owl form and flew off.
I didn't mean to just up and leave but nat and I only ever really shared a few headed kisses but we'd stop before it got too heated, we didn't need to talk about it we just weren't ready, or maybe it was just me
I got back from the thankfully short mission and when I walked off the quinjet I was met with a guilty looking Clint, Wanda, Yelena and Peter, I raised an eyebrow at them "what did you four blow up?" I questioned
"...nothing blew up, something just flew away" Yelena explained bouncing a little nervously, I narrowed my eyes at them
"Are you sure this something is not a she?" I asked them Clint gulped a little
"It was Clint!" Yelena said, throwing Clint straight under the bus, I raised an eyebrow at him
"We were just joking then it must have gone too far" He defended himself but I was already mad at them and worried for my Girlfriend
"What did you do or say." I sighed crossing my arms over my chest
"Well wanda said that you'll be back before she knew it and then you guys could have all the fun you wanted but then she said you guys haven't done 'it' and we thought she was kidding so we started joking around but she got upset and flew off" he explained and I glared at them all
"Not that it is any of your business but we haven't done 'it'. Not every relationship is reliant on sex!" I snapped at them and then ran to my car, I knew where she'd go
I walked through Central park to her favourite tree "Feathers," I sighed when I saw her up in the tree, her head turned to me and I was met with the adorable yellow eyes "You okay my love?" I asked climbing up the tree to sit on the branch she was perched on, she shuffled into my lap and stayed quiet "you know it's okay that we haven't done it" I told her while I started stroking her feathers
Suddenly she shuffled off my lap and changed back "....but every time I back out and I just started feeling bad when they started talking about it, I'm sorry nat-" She rambled playing with her hands, I carefully took them and held them in my lap
"Look at me please?" I requested and she did "It's okay, how about we go back and then talk about this in our room instead of a park?" I suggested, she only nodded and I helped her down from the tree, I kept a hold of her hand and led her through the park to my car
As soon as we got into it she broke down into tears "Hey hey, don't cry per'ya" I told her leaning over the console to hug her tightly "why the tears?" I asked softly while I rubbed her back
"I j-just feel bad about it" She cried into me and I felt my heart ache that she was this worked up about it
"It's okay, y/n it's just sex, like I told the others a relationship, especially ours isn't reliant on sex" She pulled away from me and wiped her tears with the hoodie she was wearing
"What about yo-u?" She sniffed
"I'm happy as long as you are happy" I smiled and kissed her forehead, she smiled lightly "there's my girl!" I grinned, This made her smile more
"I love you Tasha" She said softly
"I love you more Feathers"
[4 years Later]
"Hey feathers" I said hugging her from behind as she dropped the knife she was using to cut vegetables with
"I haven't heard that in a while" She sighed leaning into me
"I was just thinking about the first year of our relationship" I shrugged kissing her shoulder
"Oh god, think about anything but that" She whined while turning around to face me
"Whyy" I asked before kissing her, she gave me a 'really' look "you were so shy now look at us, we're married!" I smiled and she broke into a smile as well
"Only cause you proposed, if you left it to me it'd have never happened I'd have been far to nervous" She smirked and I wrapped my arms around her dragging her to the sofa
"You aren't so nervous now" I smirked, sitting down whilst pulling her down on top of me
"Nat!" She squealed and I laughed "I need to make dinner" She told me sliding off my lap but I intertwined my hand with hers
"Why, I just want dessert" I smirked and she slapped my arm muttering something along the lines of 'I married the horniest woman alive" before she went back to the kitchen to finish on our dinner "feathersss, come backk" I whined from the sofa leaning my head back to get a view of her from the kitchen
"Sorry my love but I have a surprise for after dinner so be patient" at the mention of a surprise I shot up and helped her finish dinner "Natty you have gone soft" She giggled
"I'm only soft around you" I admitted she seemed happy with that and continued to finish up dinner
[...] "Feathers" aka Y/n's Pov
Nat could definitely tell I was nervous for her surprise, just as we finished dessert I got up "Wait here i'll be back" I told her with a gentle smile, she nodded and I left the room and returned with a box in my hands. I sat beside her and slid the box to her.
She carefully opened it then when she saw what her gift was she started crying "Are you- are you really pregnant?" She asked covering her mouth in shock as tears rolled down her cheeks
"I am, we're gonna have a baby nat" I whispered to her, she hugged me tightly
"Oh I love you so much Y/n, you've given me everything I could ever ask for thank you" She whispered before pulling back and wiping her tears.
"I love you too nat, and you've given me everything as well" I smiled and kissed her, we finally have our happy ending together.
Natasha Romanoff Masterlist
Y/N: You’ve got to act tough, Peter! Show ‘em you can’t be pushed around! Show em’ they can’t mess with you!
Peter: Right. Yes. Tough. Got it.
Peter, standing up and slamming his hands down on the bar: I’LL TAKE A CHOCOLATE MILK!
peter parker x reader | angst | blurb
There's a deep ache in the space between Peter's ribs.
A deep ache that travels up his sternum and bubbles up his throat in the form of a low sob.
"Peter," he hears the echo of your voice somewhere to his left, but he can't understand what you're saying. He feels like he is underwater, the world a blur of bokehs around him, the noises dissipating before reaching him. He is struggling to surface; the ache in his chest forcing him to swallow some of the water.
"Peter," you call again, and this time, somehow, he understands that you're calling out to him but his arms refuse to leave the heavy weight he's carrying. They're stuck under— and the weight keeps getting heavier.
"Peter," a third time and then he's being pulled away, from under the heavy weight— no, he doesn't want to let go.
"May!" he cries, the yell bursting out of his chest with a ferocity that scratches his throat.
He can't believe she's gone.
"I have to—" he begins, but you're dragging him away and as he gets further and further from his aunt— his only family— the only one he could call his own, words lose all meaning.
"Peter we have to get out!" you shout, in between sobs, dragging his away from the ruins. He feels like lead in your arms, his body fighting to get away from your own.
"May," Peter chokes again, as you drag him out the side of the building and into the pouring rain.
You take to the skies then as Peter hangs on, red sparks shooting from your fingers. You've got one arm around his waist as he grips your own— and he's trembling, arms shaking against your own and you feel your chest cave for him.
You drop down to a far away building then; the torrential rain making it almost impossible to see, the need to take shelter becoming necessary.
The rain sizzles on Peter's arms. The cuts, the bruises, the tears— the drops trickle down the open crevices to mix with the hot gushing blood.
He can't feel his limbs as he lets go of you, coming to stand in front of the large billboard that shows the wreckage he was at just a moment ago.
May. May. May.
May is gone.
"The damage, the destruction, you saw it with your own eyes," a reporter's voice booms, his face taking up the expanse of the screen and Peter is forced to look up at the searing bright lights.
"When will people wake up, and realize that everywhere Spider-Man goes, chaos and calamity ensue?"
"Peter, don't," you whisper softly into his side and he shudders, reaching out an arm to steady himself against you.
"Everything Spider-Man touches comes to ruin. And we, the innocents, are left to pick up the pieces," the voice booms and the last embers in his burning heart fizzle out.
He failed. He failed to protect the very thing that was the reason to fight back, the reason to keep going.
He feels his hand on your shoulder then and he looks up, only to notice your eyes are red-rimmed as well. Only then does he realise you are actually, really here.
His throat burns.
How are you still here?
How hasn't he lost you too?
It's the look in your eyes that makes him realise that this is a nightmare he can't wake up from because he'd never dream of seeing you in pain.
"I'm sorry," you whisper, and he immediately turns, burying his head into your shoulder, muffling his cries into you as you root yourself into the ground.
He gasps loudly, the ache tearing out of his chest, finally clawing it's way out in the form of a gut-wrenching wail.
Everything he touches comes to ruin.
It's true, Peter thinks.
And then, he thinks of you. You, with your bright eyes and a heart you'd given him for safekeeping. He couldn't do this. Couldn't put you in danger. Couldn't take your heart and make it his.
Because if he did, he'd leave you to ruin too.
And that is a nightmare that would drive him to insanity.
hi, I’m the anon from the other day with the p link. here (pornhub) it is. it just reminds me so much of Peter and it’s one of my fav videos
forgot to post this!!!
tony: peter! engage your enemy!
peter: on it!
peter, getting down on one knee: will you—
tony: NO, NOT LIKE THAT
PLATINUM ➳ Bucky Barnes (part eight)
➳ summary: After beating his addiction to drugs and alcohol, idolized rocker, Bucky Barnes and his beloved are participating in what will be known as the Rock ‘N’ Roll Wedding of the Decade. Post-graduation, you are ready for the next adventure with your husband. Jet-setting to the Caribbean for a much-needed honeymoon, it isn’t long before Bucky’s past returns to haunt him in the form of two deadly things; drugs and women. Only this time, he’ll beat one of those prior addictions. The two of you are wanting to start your happy family, but with Hollywood putting you both in a chokehold after you achieve startling fame due to an accidental leak, it’s up to you and Bucky to calm the storm that is your life. And with the recent firing of Tony Stark, who will step up to the plate to manage the widely successful rock band, Civil War? Tune in for a book filled with secrets of sex, drugs, rock ‘n’ roll, and reaching platinum status.
➳ pairing: rockstar!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader
➳ warnings: mentions of past drug abuse, depictions of drug abuse, angst, fluff, smut, fighting
➳ || SILVER [first book] || PLATINUM playlist ||PLATINUM masterlist ||
CHAPTER EIGHT ➳ NEVER BE THE SAME
✧─── · 。ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧
The nightclub was busy with activity. Drunken individuals scattered around, loud belts of yelling screeching in your ears. With your leather jacket held tight over your frame, the members of the Revengers pushed forward as if they owned the place. Stephen Strange was close by, his eyes darting in random directions as if he were on the lookout for something or someone.
“Strange, what’s up with you?” Nat finally asked before you could. The manager turned his head over toward Natasha, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip.
“I have a bad feeling about this,” He said truthfully. Whipping your head to the side, Bucky’s arm was wrapped around your waist. Guiding you along with each of his powerful strides through the club, you could practically see the glee oozing from the corners of Alec Levine’s lips as he beelined for the bar. A pretty bleach-blonde was tucked away behind the counter, her eyes quickly dilating when she caught the sight of the bassist.
“Doll, we don’t have to be here,” Bucky reminded you. He was content with heading back to the hotel to catch up on some sleep in lieu of tomorrow’s adventure. While you were also happy with that outcome, you weren’t going to let Alec think he had the upper hand on you. If he wanted to play dirty, you would get filthy. This guy had no earthly idea just who he was messing around with. You had enough pent-up aggression to annihilate this entire club if you so desired.
As Gamora and Quill pushed their way to the bar, you couldn’t help but remember the disgusting revelation that Alec gave you. Did Peter even know? He had to have some sort of indication that there was something fishy going on between his lead guitarist and bassist, right?
Loki and Diana were engrossed with one another, Diana had already snagged a bowl of cherries to which she was leisurely feeding her drummer. You snarled at the view, rolling your eyes. You also didn’t appreciate Laufeyson’s mere presence. He was far too cocky for your enjoyment, yet Alec somehow multiplied and raised the bar by twenty.
“It’s fine,” You promised Bucky over the boom of the music. “Let’s just… Let’s just have fun, okay?” You rubbed his chest soothingly. Bucky’s eyes widened.
“Have fun? Doll, we…” His eyes slowly drifted toward the bar. “We had champagne on our honeymoon, but we haven’t,” – “Are you chickening out now, Barnes?” Alec’s voice cut through the static. Already downing a rum and coke, he licked his lips before his hand was outstretched to the bartender.
“Give me the bottle, baby girl,” He winked. Without hesitation, the bubble-headed bimbo easily sacrificed the entire bottle of Jack Daniels into Alec’s possession. Shooting her a wink, he went even further by leaning up on the bar. Wrapping his hand around the woman’s neck, he pulled her in and kissed her hard. You were sure his tongue had entered her mouth based on the heavy moan that elicited from the blonde’s mouth as she curled her fingers around his jacket. Pulling away with an audible pop, Alec licked his lips. “Room 312 at the Beacon Hotel. Come up after your shift’s over, Gorgeous,” He winked, kissing her passionately one last time as if that were his means of payment for the night.
Scoffing, you rolled your eyes and watched as he sauntered back over. “And that’s how it’s done,” His eyes rested on Bucky. Your drummer allowed his eyes to scan the bottle in his hands. Bucky had somehow forgotten the taste of the liquid as it chased down his throat. For a split second, he contemplated just a shot, but he knew better.
“I–,” Bucky began. “Fair game, Alec.” He decided to remain civil, his eyes shifting toward the bartender who still looked dazed from the bassist’s powerful kiss.
Alec dipped his head. “The party doesn’t start until I walk in,” He concurred.
“Okay, Kesha,” You smarted off, causing Alec’s green eyes to simmer on you.
“Ooh, mouthy tonight, are we?” He laughed, Bucky protectively wrapping his hand around you.
“Watch it, bassist.” Bucky’s voice was strong as he sized the bassist up. Alec stood just a couple of inches taller than Bucky. He’d admit that the musician kept himself in tip-top shape. His biceps were large and muscular, tattoos coloring his skin. Alec certainly never skipped leg day based on the size of his thighs that were evidently noticeable through the fabric of his black and holey jeans.
He flashed Bucky a glimmering smile, one that made your stomach turn flips as a queasy feeling took over. His green orbs cast their way in your direction, his tongue jutting forward to sweet across his bottom lip.
“Well, are you going to just stand there… Or are you two going to party with me?” He asked.
He obnoxiously took a long sip from the bottle of Jack and suddenly, a new wave of emotion came over you. If he wanted to play dirty, again, you would play filthy. Reaching forward, you snatched the bottle of Jack Daniels out of his hand. Bucky’s eyes widened as he turned his attention toward you.
“Doll, what are you –,” Bucky stopped mid-sentence when he saw you tip back the bottle of whiskey. His heart clenched at the sight, but Alec was over the moon with thrill as he watched you guzzle the contents inside. Leaving Alec with only a few sips left, you thrust the bottle into his chest.
“Bring it on, asshole,” You growled, walking forward. Alec sent a look over to Bucky.
“Barnes, you’ve got a strong one,” He laughed.
Bucky inhaled sharply, not believing that you had just done that. It wasn’t long until a table was set up. Lines of shots were ordered as you and Alec were in a literal stand-off. Band members from both bands had joined to cheer on each challenger. Gamora was screaming exceptionally loud in drunken bliss for Alec, while Diana was refereeing in the center of the table. Bucky remained quiet as he crossed his arms over his chest, but Steve, Sam, and Natasha were freaking out for you.
The name of the game was to see who could finish their line of shots the quickest. You were guzzling them down quicker than Alec could react. Each shot that entered your mouth was one more point added to the scoreboard for you until you snatched the last shot before he could wrap his hands around it. Diana held your hand up, the crowd within the bar erupting in cheers as you were announced, victor. Smiling with wickedness, Alec stared at you, his hands on his hips.
“You drink like a grown man,” He laughed. You were quite literally feeling the buzz of your consummation, afraid now that you had nearly done yourself in. But little did you know, your husband was looking on in disapproval. He clutched a glass of water tightly in between his fingertips, unsure of what to do. He knew if he pulled you out of this mayhem, he would be pinned in the corner by those who said you deserved to have fun. But he was also threatening to lose control for the simple fact;
He was clean. From drugs and alcohol. He wasn’t sure why or how you and Alec Levine were paired up to face competition, but he wasn’t enjoying it even in the slightest. He felt like he was honestly being betrayed by you, just so you could prove a point to the Revengers that you could in fact hang with them. And what hurts the most was that Steve, Sam, and Natasha seemed to be condoning the behavior you showed.
Deciding he had had enough, Bucky took his boring water and found a hole in the corner. Sliding into one of the booths, the piercing sounds of everyone screaming as you and Alec went head-to-head on another drinking game, Bucky looked up to see none other than Stephen Strange in a heated argument with... Tony Stark. Raising his eyebrows, he stood back up and walked over.
“What are you doing here?” Bucky asked in quite a snappy tone when Tony glanced in his direction.
“Checking to see what havoc your band has done to mine,” He stated coldly, brown eyes casting over toward the line of action. “Seems like that wife of yours is screwing it all up.”
Bucky’s anger wasn’t fit for tonight. Stephen saw the flash of anger course through Bucky's eyes as he immediately pulled his fist back. Just before he could connect it to Tony’s jaw to ultimately shatter it, Stephen caught his fist mid-air. “Don’t,” Stephen commanded. “He wants you to.”
“Whoa there, Tommy Lee!” Tony laughed. “I’d listen to your friend here.”
Bucky sneered at the words, his eyes widening.
Tony smirked wildly. “Those anger problems are gonna get you in trouble, Twinkle-Sticks,” He sighed. “You finally rid yourself of your drug problem and violence is where you resort? Gee, I thought maybe Y/N had actually done some good in your life. But it seems like she’s found someone new.” Tony pushed his lip out, hands held behind his back.
Bucky heard the painful sound of your laughter fill his ears. In your drunken state, everything around you was quite a hilarity. “Tony, what is this?” Bucky asked.
“I was just checking in with my band!” He erupted, pointing to the array of Revengers members. Bucky narrowed his eyes.
He hadn’t caught that the first time Tony said it.
“Your band?” Bucky asked.
Tony smiled widely. “Hope you’re ready for a hot summer, Twinkie. Once you made the ill decision of firing me, the Revengers were in desperate need of management. And I was just here to tell my buddy, Stranger Things, here… Don’t screw with me.” His voice turned dark with venom. “Or I will strip everything from you.”
Stephen scoffed. “In your wildest dreams, Stark,”
Bucky grimaced. “I should’ve known you’d do this,”
Tony sighed, shrugging his shoulders. “When did you think you can get rid of me? I just come back for more. As I said, don’t ruin my band, drummer.” His eyes cut over to you and Alec. “Then again, I do miss Y/N’s company… Maybe Alec can pull a little Nikki Sixx and steal your wife from underneath you. That would be hilarious. Think of the storyline TMZ would come up with, then!” He laughed, clasping his hands together.
Instantly, Bucky lunged for Tony but was again stopped by Stephen.
“LET ME GO!” Bucky cried out, thrashing to get his hands on the playboy billionaire who mockingly wiggled his fingers in his face before patting him on the top of his head.
“See ya around, Twinkles,” He called out, disappearing into the depths of the nightclub. As Bucky rustled around, he looked at Stephen. “Let me go,” He said in a calmer, but still cold way. Stephen released Bucky, watching as he stumbled forward. Throwing the glass of water he had against the wall, the glass shattered and he stalked out of the nightclub without you by his side.
His body manuvered onto the streets. He was the soberest one in the club and while he could hear the booming music blare from the inside, he just wanted to go back to the hotel. Instantly calling for a car, he was soon in the backseat with nothing but hurt riding along with him in his body as he watched the city slowly start to pass him by. He’d deal with you tomorrow, but tonight? He wasn’t sure if those were wounds he wanted to open.
And he craved nothing more than for a release. One that would cut him off from the world, to break the walls around him so he could be at peace. A bittersweet, coagulated ecstasy.
It had been the first time the craving hit him this hard, and it surprised him. His mouth suddenly watered for it and while he knew... or hoped he wasn’t going to commit to the heinous life he led through his heroin addiction, he knew that this could only be the beginning of the worst summer of his life.
A sort of addiction [P.P]
Navigation | Mailcarrier May
A/N: So excited for the first server collab! Mail carrier May is here and I’m glad to present my fic for this collab☀️I hope you enjoy and remember to check out the rest of the fics and show them some love <3
Pairings: tasm!mailman!Peter Parker x fem!reader
Summary: How do you get your very attractive mailman to come around often? Order an alarming amount of packages, of course
Warnings: NSFW 16+, thigh grinding, Peter being too smug for his own good, mailman au. As always lmk if I missed anything
It was completely insane and irrational - slightly creepy even - that was all that ran through your head as your fingers finished typing in the last digits of your credit card on yet another website, buying useless items you really didn’t need.
Well, that set was just calling out to you… not at all the thought of seeing the tall and conveniently handsome mailman, right?
Hitting the ‘complete purchase’ button you let out a long sigh, looking over to the mirror that hung on the wall.
“You’re insane,” you spoke aloud to yourself, shaking your head.
You didn’t even completely know what you expected to happen, except for making him believe that you had a slight shopping addiction and that you were possibly insane.
Spending money you quite frankly didn’t have had only just become a habit since the post office in your small town changed the delivery route, putting your address on Peter Parker’s route. The first morning he came knocking after the route change you had wanted to crawl into a hole and pass away; having opened the door wearing the corniest pyjama set you owned along with a stupid pair of fuzzy bunny slippers - the look of shock on your face when your usual old postman wasn’t on the other side of the door was enough to put a permeant amused smirk on the tall man’s face for the entirety of the exchange… much to your dismay and embarrassment.
Ever since that first morning you had tried to at least wear something half-decent when opening the door, even if Peter’s greeting each morning was a smug “mornin’ bunny, no slippers today?”
No matter how much time passed the comment still managed to force a heated blush upon your throat and cheeks. He was just so infuriatingly attractive and stupidly smooth-talking - it honestly pissed you off a bit.
Over the weeks you tried steadily building your confidence to at least make your encounter longer than him handing you a package or a letter; it started with offering him a glass of water, then a cup of coffee, a little piece of breakfast - as a pick me up of course - which turned into him coming in for about 15 minutes each day to talk. Sometimes he would ask to see what you had bought, even sometimes to give him a little fashion show of all the new items that were beginning to overflow in your closet.
Peter was pleasant company, but no matter how many mornings you spent with him, you couldn’t get rid of that shy giddy feeling that seemed to overtake your entire being whenever he greeted you with that stupid smile of his and a package under his arm for you.
The familiar knock on your door pushed your body from its place on the couch, your feet gliding quickly across the floor to open the front door for the lanky man with a lopsided grin.
“Mornin’ bunny… got another package for you,” Peter smirked a bit, moving in through the door with such familiarity that you couldn’t help but smile a bit to yourself.
“I got us a new coffee to try… it says on the package that the beans are specially roasted,” you smiled, moving into the kitchen to put on the kettle.
Peter followed close behind you with a hum, “wait, you have to show me what you got first. The box is so fancy.”
A small gasp caught in your throat when the memory of what you had ordered sprung right to the front of your mind, the thought setting your cheeks ablaze.
“Oh… it’s just something silly, not really worth showing,” you dismissed with a wave of your hand, moving to flip the switch on the kettle.
Before you could touch the switch, a hand curled around your wrist, pulling you away from the counter, “please! I want to see what it is,” Peter just about whined, giving you a huge pout.
“It’s really nothing, Peter… just some house decor stuff,” you lied, trying your best to sound casual about it.
The look on Peter’s face, however, told you that you in fact weren’t being casual about it when suddenly a small smirk twitched at the corner of his lips.
“Is it like lingerie or something?”
When you didn’t answer, only looked to the side to hide the way your face and look gave you away; but Peter only laughed.
“It is!” he grinned, pulling your body closer to him with your wrist still in his grasp, “won’t you show me?” he spoke lowly.
Your eyes flitted up to his in shock, but you ended up shocking yourself with just how close he had pulled you - so close you could smell his cologne, making your knees weak.
Spluttering words seemed to be the only noise you were able to produce for a solid minute or so as you just kept staring up at him, expecting him to laugh and reveal his bluff, but he only stared down at you with that infuriatingly smug smirk - he knew exactly what he was doing.
“Come on, bunny… - I came all the way here with the parcel, the least you could do is show me what you’ve bought,” he spoke lowly, moving you slowly with him back to the living room where the parcel was placed carelessly on the table.
“-I… are you sure?“ you asked, avoiding his eyes again, not quite sure what was going on.
Peter chuckled gripping your chin to force your gaze on him, “don’t you think I know why you order so many packages? Why you make coffee and breakfast for me, hmm?”
“- And you know what I think, sweetheart?” Peter leaned down, his face only a breath away from yours, “I think you knew exactly what you were doing when you ordered that little package over there.”
The smallest of whimpers slipped past your parted lips - if it hadn’t been for Peter’s face right in yours he probably wouldn’t even have heard it, but that was not the case. A shit-eating grin overtook his bright face as his hand not holding your chin gripped your waist tightly.
A shocked gasp escaped you when his soft lips met yours in the quickest of pecks - so quick you didn’t really have time to actually process that it happened.
“Now, show me what you got,” he whispered, pushing you toward the table and out of his grasp.
You halted a bit, trying to get your mind to catch up with everything that was happening.
Reaching out one hand, you curled your fingers around his larger one pulling him with you toward the package; mostly to calm your nerves - and to make sure he was real.
“You kissed me…?” you stated, even if it did come out as more of a question.
Peter chuckled behind you, snaking an arm around your waist as he looked over your shoulder to watch you fumble with the black decorated box on the table.
“I did. And I’ll do it again when you show me what pretty little thing you’ve bought,” he spoke lowly, lips ghosting over your neck leaving goosebumps to rise over your entire body.
With a little struggle, you finally got your shaky hands to open the box to reveal a mountain of pink tissue paper placed neatly to hide the content of the box. The scrunch of the paper sounded through the otherwise quiet living room as you slowly peeled it off to reveal the black and red lacy set that sat prettily before you.
Peter clicked his tongue before letting out a very pleased hum.
“Now would you look at that,” his hands ghosted over your hips and waist, trailing all around your upper body with teasingly slow movements.
“Peter,” you whimpered, hand reaching up behind you to clumsily grip his shoulder.
His lips had begun a path up your neck, leaving small kisses on their way up to speak huskily in your ear as his hands kept their teasing touch on you.
“Were you planning on wearing that under a pretty little dress like this tomorrow? Perhaps bend over to give me a little taste, huh? Was that your plan, sweetheart?”
You were completely certain he could feel the warmth that travelled up your neck on his lips, feel the way your pulse quickened with his words and the bashful nod that moved your head.
“Naughty girl,” he whispered, his tone so smug you could hear the smirk that adorned his face without seeing it.
With quick movements you managed to turn in his arms, resting your hands on his solid chest, “please, Peter… no more teasing,” you whined, looking at him with huge eyes.
“Alright alright,” he chuckled, bringing you impossibly closer to his chest, “I’ll stop the teasing if you promise to wear that sweet set for me tomorrow.”
You nodded quickly, fisting at his uniform, “I promise… just touch me, please.”
Peter’s face was nothing but smiles as he reconnected your lips - only this time he was thorough with the way he kissed you. The kiss was rough and demanding, sending sparks through your entire being, following his lead blindly, letting him take exactly what he needed. Excitement filled you even more at the thought of the actions repeating itself, it was a promise and you knew he would keep it by the way his tongue explored your mouth and his hands gripped you tight.
With clumsy movements, he backed you both over to the wall pressing your frame against it and pressing himself against you. You gasped into his mouth when the smallest of friction came from Peter’s thigh slotting between your gradually parting legs.
“Grind on me,” Peter groaned between kisses, not taking a moment to breathe - too caught up in drawing gasping pleasured moans from your mouth.
Your hands found their way up and around his neck, gripping his hair to stabilize yourself as you slowly started grinding your panty-clad cunt against him. The cotton fabric was damp, sliding with ease against the strong leg that bounced between yours and your soaked cunt.
“Mmm Peter… fuck,” you whined into his mouth, the movements of them against one another halting because of your interrupting moans and whimpers.
He sent you a toothy grin before moving his head down, attacking your neck with open-mouthed kisses, occasionally sucking a mark into your sensitive skin. His teeth and tongue dragged along your skin, pulling whimpering whines from your parted kiss-swollen lips.
“God, baby, I can feel you soaking through my fucking pants,” Peter spoke gruffly before sinking his teeth into your flesh making you cry out. His tongue came to run over the inflicted￼ area to soothe it.
Everything was too much and not enough at all; your hips frantically picked up their pace, racing toward the end. Peter’s hands glided down your body, gripping your hips maddeningly tight to help you grind against him.
“Peter, ‘m gonna cum,” you moaned, tightening your grip on his hair prompting the most delicious of groans to fall from his lips.
He raised his head from your neck to crash his lips against yours again, soaking up your needy gasps and moans as they fell from you more frequently and higher pitched as you dangled right on the edge of release.
Your body tensed when the pressure in your abdomen finally snapped and sent warm pleasure through you with each pulse of release. Peter moaned into your mouth when he felt you shake in his hold, throbbing and gushing on his leg. It was hard to concentrate on kissing him back when all you could hear was static, sending shockwaves through you.
“There you go, bunny,” Peter grinned, slowing your movements, helping you ride out your release.
You blearily reached down to palm him through his pants, but he was quick to grip your wrist and bring it to his mouth to kiss it.
“It’s your turn,” you whispered, leaning forward to kiss his neck as he had done for you.
Peter chuckled lowly, squeezing your hip in his strong grip, “as much as I would love that, sweetheart, I do have the rest of my mail route to deliver.”
A small whine escaped you as a pout settled on your lips in your slightly hazy headspace.
“Aww, don’t pout, you needy thing,” Peter cooed, “how about I come back later? Then you can get my cock as many times as you want, would you like that, sweetheart?”
You nodded quickly, burying yourself in the warmth of his chest as his arms found their way around your body to squeeze you against him.
“Alright, I’ll come back, as long as you promise to wear that pretty little number for me,” Peter murmured against the top of your head, leaving a small kiss on your hairline.
“I promise,” you sighed, “do you promise to come back?”
He gave your body a proper squeeze before separating you enough for your eyes to meet, “I promise,” he smiled.
You very quickly learnt that when Peter promises something he keeps that promise, over and over and over again.
A/n: to be notified of future work follow @saintlike78slibrary and turn on notifications ☀️
Dream Walk Down Memory Lane || Peter Parker
pairing: peter parker x witch!reader
summary: when you dreamwalk into another version of yourself’s body to help save the multiverse, you discover what- or who- has been missing from your own life for far too long
a/n: as someone who loves a magic reader and fixing my heartbreak from no way home- here we are! i also don’t think i’ve ever written wanda maximoff dialogue so pls bear with me.
word count: 4.2k
warnings: contains multiverse of madness and nwh spoilers, a lot of wanda b/c you can’t write about a witch!reader and MoM without her, mentions of feeling hopeless and reckless, angst
“If you use spells from the Darkhold,” Wong warned you. “there’s no telling the price that it will cost you.”
Glancing from the sorcerer supreme to the icy region surrounding you, you thought of the first time you had heard of the Darkhold- of the warnings Wong and Strange had given you. The picture that they had painted was a gruesome one, yet realistic as you watched the destruction that Wanda left in her path. You thought of the price that the universe would pay if you didn’t at least try to help- to try to prevent more of these events from unfolding.
The decision was an easy one. You wouldn’t be the first to risk your own happiness for something larger than yourself and you were sure you wouldn’t be the last.
Regardless of the outcome, you reminded yourself that you swore to protect the universe, no matter the cost.
Whatever it takes.
Reaching the top of the cliff, where Wanda situated herself with the knowledge of the Darkhold and her legacy written in stone, you didn’t think it would be so easy. In some ways, it wasn’t.
“I’m not going to stop you,” She announced, as her eyes remained closed, the back of her hands resting against her knees. “If that’s what’s stopping you.”
Glancing from the engravings on the wall, to your mentor, you eyed her warily.
“Because I know the Darkhold has been calling to you for longer than you’ve admitted to me.” Wanda said slowly. “I know you’ve been feeling...” She paused. “Lost. There’s something missing isn’t there? You don’t know what it is, but we both know it can help you find it.”
There had been moments before where she had peeked into your mind without your permission, prying to find answers to questions you were unable to answer yourself.
That didn’t mean it was anymore welcome now.
You had been feeling lost. The past few months had been difficult and you didn’t know why. There were moments you found yourself humming a song you didn’t know the name of or quoting phrases you couldn’t recall hearing. There were mornings where you reached over to the side of your bed when you first woke up, almost as though you were waiting for someone to greet you, only to be met with the same cold, empty sheets as the night before. There were nights where you instinctively hit the FaceTime app on your phone only to shake your head and close it, not knowing why you had opened it in the first place.
It was confusing and disorienting and the more it happened, the more you began to question the relation. You had friends. You had the love of the people. You had power.
Why did it still feel as though something was missing? As if you had known it in the place of the loss you were all too familiar with now?
When you remained silent, Wanda gestured her hand to the inscriptions on the wall at her side.
“I want you to try.” She said. “Consider it another lesson.”
“What?” You asked. “Why? You don’t think I have a chance at beating you?”
At that, Wanda laughed.
“On the contrary, I think you have a better chance than anyone else.” She replied. “Don’t forget that I taught you. But don’t stall, Y/n. Don’t be one of them. You want to dream walk into another reality? Do it. I think you’ll find exactly what you’re looking for.”
It was a strange feeling- dream walking.
You weren’t sure what you had expected, but you hadn’t anticipated it feeling so real- as if nothing had changed and you just woke up besides the love of your life like you did every morning.
You didn’t have a partner, a soulmate or whatever everyone else called it. You woke up to a bed that was much too big for you with even an empty nightstand to prove just how alone you were.
But when you opened your eyes in this body- your body- you weren’t alone.
You first noticed the feeling of his warm skin against your fingertips that were spread across his chest, and the cushioned feeling of your cheeks that had been buried in the crook of his neck.
At first it felt comforting and almost familiar, until you remembered how you got here.
This wasn’t your life, this was someone else’s.
The moment your eyes opened, you quickly kicked the sheets off of your legs and sprung out of bed. Looking down at your body and making sure you were at least clothed, you rushed towards the door, until you heard a “thwip” as a bundle of white strings whizzed past your face before gluing themselves to the door in spiderweb formation.
“Hey,” You heard his soft, sweet and oh so familiar voice say groggily. “We’re supposed to have a lazy day remember? I think the Illuminati can handle it without you for a day.”
Your brain ran at a million miles a minute in that moment. The familiarity of the man was... strange. Similar to when you can’t remember a word but it remains just at the tip of your tongue- so close to fully understanding, but no matter how hard you try, you just can't grasp it. But you wanted to. Badly.
Why did you want to know so badly?
Turning around slowly, your heart racing in your chest, you noticed that the bedroom was nearly the exact same as yours. Down to the shoes haphazardly kicked by your bedroom door, it replicated yours, except for the fact that the left side of the room that remained empty in your universe was filled with Star Wars posters hung on the wall and framed photographs of you and the nameless man that laid in your bed.
As you turned to face him in shock, you watched as his sleepy, yet hopeful, features fell and he propped himself up against the pillow.
“Y/n?” He asked. “What’s wrong?”
Your name. Rolling off his tongue.
You had heard it before.
“Who are you?” You asked. “How... why do I know you?”
As he tossed the sheets off of himself, you would have expected anyone else to accuse you of joking- of messing with him- but the man in front of you sensed otherwise and met you across the room.
“It’s me, Y/n.” He searched for recognition in your eyes, and when he didn’t find it, you watched as his shoulders fell. “You know me.”
You felt your heart shatter in your chest as you only shook your head slowly.
“It’s me,” He said, gently placing his hands on either of your arms. “Peter? Peter Parker? C’mon you remember me, right? Spider-Man?” He paused. “Spider boy? Remember?”
The image of the boy in front of you- battered and bruised- flashed in your mind.
“You’re gonna forget who I am.” Peter said. “You won’t remember me.”
“Forget who you are? What are you talking about?” You heard the echoes of your voice replay in your head- so obviously a memory yet so far from anything you had ever known.
Stumbling backwards, you collided with the web behind you and glanced from it to Peter.
“You’re Spider-Man?” You asked, before shaking your head. “Wait. What do you mean I’d ‘really’ forget you? What happened? Why do I know you? Why don’t I know you?”
Peter paused for a moment, the space between his eyebrows creasing as he scrunched his nose in frustration.
“I- I don’t know.” The boy in front of you said as he tugged at his hair. “I mean you told me you had these dreams where I had Doctor Strange do this huge spell and it made everyone forget who I was but I-”
“Forget who you were?” You asked. “Did I say that I forgot who you were?”
You felt your heart begin thumping in your chest, recalling the conversation you had had with Strange earlier that day. He had said that he recently had an experience with the multiverse involving Spider-Man, but you didn’t think much of it- didn’t think about how it could have involved you too.
But here, as you stood in yours- and apparently Spider-Man’s- shared bedroom, the realization slowly hit you.
“Uh yeah.” Peter said, nodding his head. “You said that you forgot who I was and that I was supposed to come find you and-”
“It’s okay,” You heard him say. “I’m gonna come and find you. And I’ll explain everything.”
“But Peter, what if-” You recalled yourself asking.
“It’ll be like none of this ever happened. Okay?”
The Runes of Kauf-Kaul.
As your heart began thumping in your chest so hard you were sure it was going to burst through your skin, you steadied yourself on the wall behind you. You knew your life was messy and complicated but you didn’t think it would ever go this far.
The boy you loved nearly tore apart the universe for your chance at a normal life and he was cursed with you not even being able to remember his name.
Despite everything that had occurred that day, in that moment you could focus on the thought of nothing else. You were loved. You loved someone. You had lived a life you lost the memory of for months and as you grew sick at the thought of Peter Parker suffering alone for the sake of everyone else’s happiness, you had a new mission.
He had fought for you, and you would fight for him right back.
Squeezing your eyes shut, you willed yourself to remember next, until you felt Peter’s hand on your arm.
“I’m sorry.” You apologized, opening your eyes as your breath quickened. “I just... I am her. I’m not your girlfriend. I mean, I am your girlfriend, but just not here. Not in this universe. The dream- well, nightmare- you’re talking about? That’s me. It wasn’t a dream, Peter, and I didn’t even know it until right now.”
You felt his hand pull away, and you were sure his shock was almost as great as yours. Dream walking was something you hadn’t even completely believed possible until today, and here you were hijacking an innocent version of you’s life and terrifying her boyfriend.
“I’m sorry,” Peter paused. “I guess I’m just kind of confused. If you’re not my girlfriend then who are you? Where is she?”
Vehemently shaking your head, you attempted to ease him.
“She’s okay, Peter.” You assured him. “I’m just... borrowing her body. It’s a long story. I’m sorry. It’s just that I’ve been feeling as though there was this piece of my life that was missing and now I understand why. I can’t believe that I forgot you, Peter. I mean, I think I loved you.”
Your eyes glowed with the golden essence of your magic as you willed yourself to just remember.
You could recall the way the rays of the rising sun in the distance highlighted his features as Peter stared at you sadly. Without even reaching into his mind, you could tell just how completely and utterly frustrated and distraught he was just by the way he looked at you.
“I promise I’ll fix this.”
You knew he would. You had no doubt about it. That someway, somehow, Peter would find a way to make it right. You knew a large part of him blamed himself for the way everything unfolded, and it broke your heart ten times over to know that you wouldn’t be there to remind him that he was innocent beyond belief. That he would bear the weight of someone else’s crimes. That all he wanted to do was help you and he would pay the price ten times over.
When you had first discovered your abilities, you thought that it would be the solution to all of your problems, but now, if you could take the power out of your body yourself to fix it all- you would.
It was ironic wasn’t it? That your greatest gift would cause you the greatest pain? That you would bear this loss you wouldn’t even be lucky enough to know?
“I really hate magic.” You attempted to lighten the mood, somewhere between a laugh and a sob.
“Yeah,” the boy in front of you chuckled. “Me too.”
It was hard to know that these would be your final moments together. What do you do when you know that your time is limited? That your moments are numbered?
It felt as though you were in limbo. You wanted to freeze time forever, but you knew forever wasn’t long enough to spare yourselves of what happened next. A part of you wanted your time to be up just to lift the weight off of the chest- to rip the bandaid off- but if there was one thing you were selfish of, it was Peter.
Feeling your heart shatter in your chest, you cupped Peter’s face in your hands. You knew no matter how hard you tried to convince him, nothing could change your fate, but that didn’t change how you felt.
“I love you.”
You had been afraid to tell him in the past weeks, but it all felt silly now as the world you both knew was collapsing around you. You’d confess it to the world if it meant you could do it all over.
“Just wait.” You sniffled, smiling sadly at the boy you loved. “Just wait and tell me when you see me again.”
Slipping out of your trance, you fell to the floor beneath you both where Peter met you. Looking up at him, you gripped either of his arms.
“I need to go.” You said, out of breath despite never leaving the room. “I’m sorry for everything, but I need to find my Peter. Just, never doubt that she loves you, okay? And if she forgets who you are just do us both a favor and tell her, okay, Peter?”
Despite being very obviously both confused and overwhelmed by the conversation, Peter nodded.
“I will Y/n,” Peter said as he stretched his hand out to rest against your shoulder. “I know that your Peter loves you too. I- well I guess we- can be an idiot but I know he still loves you. It would be hard not to.”
You thought back to why you had first come there- to join in the fight to quell your mentor in her destructive path. It felt wrong to leave- to abandon what you had come here for in the first place, but you had given more for the multiverse than you had ever known. As the knowledge of the boy you loved slowly came back to you now, moment by moment, you knew you couldn’t wait.
Maybe it was young love. Maybe it was your blind optimism. Maybe it was Wanda’s intentions all along, but either way you knew you couldn’t tear yourself away from the person you loved again in any universe. Once was enough.
You would figure it out some other way and leave her- the version of yourself who’s life you had been highjacking for the past five minutes- to a day with Peter Parker. You wouldn’t destroy her too.
Smiling up at him, you prepared to go home.
“Thank you for everything.”
“So you see now,” Wanda said as you returned to your reality. “How willing they are to keep you from the people you love. It’s not fair is it?”
Standing up from the circle you had been dream walking in, you eyed her warily.
You knew exactly who she was referring to- to Strange and the laws of sorcery and the multiverse in general. The way that it had ripped you from the person you loved. How they justified you and your loved one’s pain for the sake of everyone else’s comfort.
How your mentor knew all of this.
“It’s funny how they find it fitting to tell us what we’re supposed to do when they’re so... messy... with their spells.” She replied. “We’re more powerful than them, Y/n. If they just let us handle it, we would be with the people we love. Why do they get to be the heroes when we suffer the most?”
You pondered her question for a moment, understanding the way she attempted to reason with you to see from her perspective. You understood her pain and her reasoning, but the way she saw fit to deal punishment throughout the multiverse for her losses was one you not only disagreed with, but one you knew disagreed with her.
You loved Wanda. You truly did. You had known her better than most and considered yourself not only lucky, but better for it. You knew her as more than a powerful witch, but a good friend, a better sister and a deserving mother.
You wanted everything for her and more, but you knew that she would only regret the path she was headed down.
Although you wished you could have changed yours and Peter’s fate, you knew that in the end, it was for the greater good. Neither of you would have been yourselves if you had done it any differently.
“Wanda, don’t let them turn you into the villain.” You pleaded with her. “You’ve been through enough. Your boys-”
“Don’t talk to me about my boys.” You listened as her voice turned cold. “If you want the job to get done then you do it yourself. Don’t act so innocent, Y/n. You used the Darkhold to remember who the boy you loved was-”
“I didn’t know about-”
“Don’t play naive. You don’t have to lie to me.” She cut you off abruptly. “You didn’t go there just for me. You knew that something was missing and you did what you had to to go find it. We’re the same. We do what we have to for the people we love. Don’t be like them, Y/n- they lie and tell themselves that what they do- breaking all of the rules that they make- is for the greater good. Just be honest with yourself. I taught you better than that. We’re the same.”
You were powerful and you were selfish when it came to love. You knew a part of what she said was true- a large part.
Maybe it was the way that the consequences of it all were standing there in the form of your mentor right in front of you, but you knew better than to allow yourself to cross the line and tread down the path that Wanda had claimed.
You could never know her complete pain, but you knew her grief in the moment- that nothing was easy and nothing was fair when it came to power.
“I don’t want to fight you Wanda.” You said, feeling the pressure build behind your eyes as tears pooled in the corner. “I don’t want to fight them either. I... I’m tired. I’m tired of giving up everything and I’m tired of fighting. I don’t want to hurt anyone else, but I... I don’t want to hurt myself either, Wanda, please.” You pleaded. “Don’t make me fight you too. I want to go back to the person I love just as badly as you do. Please.”
After the fact, when you would hear of how she destroyed the shrine made in her honor and herself along with it, you weren’t surprised by how her love of others was the one thing to conquer her, because before you had had the chance to say anything else, she gave you what she couldn’t have- the chance to make it right with the person you loved.
When you raised your fist to knock against the door, you hesitated. In that moment, a part of you understood why he hadn’t come to tell you thus far. It was difficult.
Even as you stood there, you found yourself filled with a plethora of conflicting emotions from anger at his lack of coming to you, from sadness of the way he hurt without you there, to relief at finally being able to know and take back the missing part of you that had created a gaping hole in your life.
But, you had always told Peter that you would go to the ends of the earth for him. Now, all you had to do was knock on a door.
Though, just as you were about to, the door opened.
Pieces of him and your relationship had been coming back in segments since your time on Earth 838, but as you watched the boy in front of you’s mouth fall open in surprise and disbelief, you felt almost as though he had never left you.
Although you had come to him first, having the man you loved right in front of you rendered you speechless.
“You... how do you...” Peter fumbled over his words. “Do you remember me?”
You thought back to the pieces of the final conversation that you recalled having with him.
“You know,” You said, smiling softly at him. “When you said you were going to come find me, I thought that it would be you. Not you from another universe... but I guess you always had a way of getting to me.”
Watching his eyebrows furrow, you felt an overflow of emotions as the pressure behind your eyes built and laughter escaped your throat, overwhelmed to finally have Peter Parker standing in front of you once again.
“I don’t remember everything.” You informed him. “Not yet, but I’m trying to. But there’s one thing I do know, Peter, and it’s that I-”
Before you had the chance to say more, you felt his calloused fingers rest against your cheek as he cupped your face.
You always grew nervous before first kisses. Your heart would speed up and you’d become so anxious you were sure you would pull away before they had the chance to meet your lips, but kissing Peter wasn’t like that.
You weren’t nervous. You didn’t hesitate. You weren’t scared.
Kissing Peter Parker was like coming home.
You didn’t remember much of your time together, but as his lips met yours, it was like none of the practicalities mattered. His lips were as soft as you remembered and your hands rested against his shoulders instinctively- as if your heart and body remembered what your mind couldn’t.
The image of your final kiss- one filled with longing and heartbreak at your anticipated loss- flashed in your mind, but now as you finally had him back in your grasp, you melted into him, happy to have a first after so many heartbreaking lasts.
When Peter pulled away, you were almost worried about his red and wet cheeks until you saw a smile break out on his face.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” He said as he rested his forehead against yours. “I went and found you a bunch of times but every time I tired to say something I was so scared you wouldn’t believe me or that you were better off without me that I just left.”
Peter shook his head.
“And it was so stupid.” He said. “Because I love you too.’
Trailing your thumb across his cheek, you smiled.
“It’s okay, Pete.” You assured him. “People do a lot of crazy things for love. I mean I went to another universe for you today without even knowing it. When I turn blue or grow a third eye or something crazy like that just know it’s because I love you.”
Peter quirked his head to the side.
“I... have a lot of questions.” He said before taking a deep breath. “I mean another universe? Why? Was I there? How did you get there? Was Strange there? Was I Spider-Man? Did you have powers-”
Shaking your head lovingly at the boy in front of you, you laughed.
“And that’s the Peter I remember.” You leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Why don’t you invite me inside and we can explain everything to each other. Deal?”
The look that he gave you along with the boyish smile on his face was enough to tell you that he loved you without a single word.
And that night as you swapped stories- both loving and longing- your memories slowly came back to you. By the time the first light of morning peeked in through the window and highlighted Peter’s sleepy, yet happy features you could hardly believe that you had forgotten him at all. With his hand in yours, both of you peaceful for the first time since you were last in each other’s embrace you told yourself that no matter the cost, no matter the journey, no matter the universe- that you were fated to find each other and that your love was more powerful than any power either of you possessed.
Remember that one brief TikTok trend about girls going out at night because they have ‘scary dog privileges’?
Yeah so the video opens with Peter walking at night, grinning all innocently, and the caption is ‘using my scary dog privileges to walk around at night :D’
And it pans to Bucky––Winter Soldier––Barnes walking next to him, metal arm very visible in the streetlights
Until I Found You (MCU x Battinson)
Hi so I’ve had this silly little idea in my head for sometime and i’ve just kind of been like, living it out in my head but i figured i would right it cuz ive got daddy issues and im in love with battinson. So yeah enjoy this stupid little thing i made.
Battinson x Reader, Tony Stark x Daughter!Reader
Warnings: child neglect, canon character death, violence,
Summary: Y/N Stark never really got along with her dad. Probably had something to do with never really wanted her in the first place. After the events of Infinity War in 2018, when Y/N discovered her father has been blipped she moved from NYC, not being able to stay when everywhere she looked she was reminded of her father. Moving to Gotham City, she never thought she would ever see Bruce Wayne again, let alone become his housekeeper.
Y/N really never got along with her dad. She never really knew why, but she suspected it had something to do with the fact that he never really wanted her in the first place, how could he? She was an accident, a result of a drunken one night stand.
Her mother had passed during childbirth and left Y/N to her father in her will. Seeing as it was her dying wish, her father felt like he couldn’t turn her away. Plus he could just have his assistant watch her, he’d raise her pay or whatever.
Growing up Y/N knew something was different with the way she was raised. Most kids in her class didn’t have strange men with bright cameras wherever she went since the day her dad’s assistant, Pepper, dropped her off on her first day of kindergarten.
Perhaps it was because Y/N’s father owned a billion dollar company, arguably one of the biggest and most impactful ones too. Or, when she was 8, it was because her dad was a superhero.
The world worshiped the ground he walked on, praising him for not only being Iron Man, but also for managing a company and raising a young daughter.
Pr made it so Tony looked like the greatest father in the world, a model citizen really, when in reality he hardly ever saw his daughter unless it was for a press conference in which her presence was required. She got used to it.
Y/N met Bruce Wayne when she was 10 years old. She knew who he was, seeing as his parents and their company were one of the biggest competitors to Stark Industries. Having been dragged to some fancy event where she had to wear a horrible itchy dress, she had wandered away from her father looking for something to do.
Event’s like this were her least favorite, they were so long and boring, and usually ended with her dad stumbling back home drunk, saying some not very nice things to her on their way home.
The difference between when he was drunk and sober was how he treated Y/N. When he was sober, he wasn’t very nice to her. When he was drunk, he really wasn’t nice to her.
Regardless of whatever would happen after the Gala, Y/N had found herself exploring the large venue in an attempt to distract herself. She ran into Bruce in the hallway on the fourth floor. He was staring at a painting of a man and a woman. Who they were, she didn't know.
They hadn’t talked much. Y/N, being young and curious with no sense of stranger danger, had reached her hand out to the teenager and announced, “I’m Y/N Stark.”
He had blinked in surprise before responding with his name, and Y/N knew that she probably wasn’t supposed to be around him. His parents hated her dad, so she guessed the mutual dislike was supposed to pass down through generations.
She didn’t care though, she was bored and wanted a friend. Bruce and Y/N talked for a good 30 minutes, Bruce listening to her ramblings and storytellings of grand adventures she went on whenever Pepper wasn’t watching her. The boy didn’t say much, just nodded his head and made small sounds to indicate he was listening.
She’s pretty sure he probably doesn’t even remember that day, but she does. Bruce Wayne was one of the first people to show her kindness, and had even complimented her dress. Her horrible, hideous, itchy dress that she hated wearing and felt so ugly in.
“You look just like a princess.”
His words would stick with her for the rest of her life, lifting her spirits whenever she felt down on herself. Which was quite often, seeing as her father hardly interacted with her, probably not even remembering her name, and Pepper being busy all the time. She started watching after herself when she was 9, Pepper claiming that she was a big girl and didn’t need supervision anymore.
Y/N didn’t really have any friends either, her only one being her dad’s new assistant who showed up when Pepper took on all the big responsibilities.
Natalie, technically Natasha she later discovered, was the only person ever really there for her. She drove her to and from school, she taught her how to fight, and she was there for all the important firsts. First award, first choir concert, first dance, first prom, and eventually graduation.
Nat had been there for her for about 8 years, sticking by her side since she was 10. She was more of a mother to Y/N than Pepper or her father ever were. Y/N met other people who worked with her father, of course, often running into multiple avengers or S.H.I.E.L.D. agents (neither of which ever really talked to her.)
The only person who she ever considered a friend other than Nat was a scrawny teenager named Peter Parker. Peter Parker, or Spiderman she later found out, was her dad’s personal intern. His mentee, and basically his son from the way they interacted. Tony treated Peter more like his child than he had ever treated Y/N. She should’ve been jealous, but she couldn’t find it in her to be.
Y/N got to know Peter pretty well over the course of two years, the two becoming friends almost as soon as she introduced herself when she found him eating pizza on the couch in the living room one day. She eventually began to see him as sort of a brother and added him to her list of the little family she had made in her mind.
It all came crashing down in April of 2018. What started as a normal day ended with large alien spaceships hovering over New York and half the population turning to dust. She had no idea where Tony or Peter were and couldn’t get into contact with Natasha or any of the other avengers.
It was only a few weeks later when her brother had stumbled out of a ship, looking absolutely horrible, confirming her worst fear.
Her father was dead.
Sure, they never really talked. Or even got along. But Y/N still loved him fiercely, and had always hoped deep down that someday he would turn around and start noticing her, caring for her, actually being a father to her.
She didn’t know what to do, all she knew is she couldn’t stay in New York anymore. Everything reminded her of her father, and she couldn’t bear to see Peter or Natasha in such overwhelming states of depression.
She moved to Gotham City a month later.
Thanks for reading this absolute mess of a fic, pls give me comments and feedback i really thrive off of them. if you want to be added to the tag list just drop an ask in my inbox lol. ill update as often as i can, updating schedule will be more consistent when school gets out and i dont have to deal with the shitshow that is junior year anymore lmao.
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚Sugar Baby! Peter Parker x Rich Woman! Reader˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆
Word Count: 4,781
Synopsis: You just want some affection. Peter just needs his tuition paid.
Warnings: Adult themes (18+), modern AU, slight age gap (reader is in her thirties and Peter is twenty-two), humor and hijinks, Ex! Husband [redacted], Sugar Baby trope, brief flashback section in italics
Author’s Note: Not beta’d. @thanatosfic and I were having a chat about fics, as two tumblrinas do, and I tossed out the idea of a Rich reader with a sugar baby. She said she could see this for Peter, and here we are. Enjoy.
I’m still on strike, btw
Peter soaked in his surroundings as he entered the high-end restaurant. He’d never been to the Upper East Side—he had no reason to. Peter was a Queens boy at heart, after all. And despite going to university in the nearby area of Manhattan, most people Peter knew were from his hometown. He felt more comfortable in Queens and the surrounding areas. He never wanted to come to this part of the city. This is where the rich people frequented, and that wasn’t clearer to Peter than it was right now.
The room was mostly white, with tall ceilings and windows to match. In fact, there were windows…everywhere. Of course, you had the occasional glass doors, but this place would be a nightmare for anyone if they were hoping for a private lunch.
Something Peter thought you would have wanted, based on how reserved you were in your initial exchange.
Before putting the address into his GPS, he thought you’d have him in some super swanky, super-secret sex dungeon club. But this was one of the most exclusive spots in Manhattan. And it was very public. Either this was a known spot for sugar-baby matchups, or no one gave a shit what other people were doing.
Peter was hoping for the latter.
As he maneuvered through the crowd in search of you, his mind wandered back to the conversation he’d had with Ned and MJ when they hounded him about his hot date. Peter wanted to keep a low cover, but he’d always been a terrible liar. If he didn’t tell his best friends what he was up to, one of them would for sure sus it out of him. So before they could call him on his shit, he let his friends in on his little secret.
Peter signed up for a sugar baby website.
Money was tight recently, and his scholarship at Empire State University only covered so many of the campus fees. Add in some unexpected costs from other life occurrences and you had a stressed Peter. He’d read enough Reddit threads to know that some people were able to make ends meet in university by joining one of these sites. And Peter was desperate at this point. He’d try anything once.
While Peter was more open-minded about the experience, his friends were quite the opposite.
He still remembered the look on Ned and MJ’s faces when they tried to process the information Peter provided them.
“So you’re a whore?” MJ asked, head slightly tilted to the side as she assessed Peter—attempting to pinpoint if he was fucking with her or not. Despite her words, her tone wasn’t biting at all. Rather, she sounded more puzzled.
“What’s wrong with being a whore? And no! I’m just…spending time with her and she’s going to help me out a bit. With school.”
Ned chortled, shaking his head at Peter’s response. “Yeah. School.”
“I’m fucking serious!” Peter exclaimed, pacing around the roommate’s shared living room. “You both know I’ve been talking about getting another job to bring in some extra cash. Well…this is it.”
The duo shared a look—one they often did when they wanted to silently communicate without Peter knowing what they were talking about. It always pissed Peter off just a bit. He didn’t like feeling like the butt of the joke. Yet, his two best friends often exchanged this look whenever Peter shared something with them that they might not necessarily agree with.
MJ broke eye contact with Ned first before looking back at Peter. She quirked an eyebrow at him—the curious look causing Peter to stop in his tracks. “I know you don’t work with that Stark dude anymore, but wouldn’t that be an easier way to go about this?”
Ah…Tony. Peter considered asking the older man for some extra work. But when he ran the idea by his Aunt May, she quickly shot Peter down.
“Uh…May advised me not to take any money from Tony. Something about him working me too hard.”
“But she’s okay with you using your penis to get it?”
Sometimes Peter didn’t like how blunt his friends were.
“It’s not—who said I had to have sex with anybody—”
Now it was Ned’s turn to share his quip. “Is that not what the 'sugar' in sugar baby stands for?” Peter really needed to find new roommates. “What does she look like, anyway?”
And here he stood, probably looking like the dumbest man who’d ever graced the planet because he didn’t even know who he was looking for.
It wasn’t like you didn’t describe yourself to Peter. He had a general idea of what you looked like in his mind. But your profile picture on the site mostly only showed off the bottom half of your face. You had a nice set of full lips—Peter knew that much. But the rest of your face was a mystery. Now it was his time to play super sleuth.
Glancing around, Peter trudged further into the restaurant, hoping he’d eventually make eye contact with someone and see the familiar glint in their eyes. After all, Peter sent a picture to you. You expertly dodged his shy request to send a picture of your full face as well—forwarding him directions to the place and telling him you’d see him soon.
Maybe that should have been Peter’s first sign to throw in the towel. But there was something a bit intriguing about going on a blind date. Well, “date.” And then again…MJ did always say he had a thing for women who were a bit mean to him…
Peter eventually made eye contact with a woman sitting at the bar. She was cute. A curly mop of auburn curls sat atop her head, and her makeup was done to the nines. If one thing led to another, Peter knew he wouldn’t have to fake it. But she sat across from an equally as pretty woman, and Peter knew the two were there together having dinner. If this was a two-for-one deal…Peter didn’t know if he could fake his enthusiasm through that.
Hey. He got a bit shy at times.
As if Peter was staring at the ginger woman for too long, her friend turned and glanced at Peter—who’d slowly started making his way to their seats. But a small chuckle from the friend caused Peter to stop abruptly in his tracks.
Right in the path of one of the waitresses.
Before Peter could even react in a way that would help the poor woman, the tray of drinks she once held went tumbling to the ground—the glasses shattering as they hit the stone floors and sending liquid splattering everywhere.
The waitress’ eyebrows pinched together as she scanned the nearby area. The gasps of the surrounding patrons alerted Peter to how much attention was currently on them. He winced, quickly bending down to grab the tray for the woman. “Shit! I am…so sorry.”
“It’s okay, sir,” she said, but he could tell she was trying to keep up her polite exterior. Peter didn’t know what kind of day she was having, but he knew he didn’t help one bit with his lack of self-awareness.
Peter watched idly as a couple other servers came to help the woman clean up the mess that he helped cause. The folks closest to them slowly began to focus on their meals again—even the women who Peter was initially distracted by (so it wasn’t her he was looking for…). After a moment, he heard the low, silky voice of someone behind him.
“Do you always make quite the entrance, Mr. Parker?”
Whirling around, Peter’s eyes landed on a shorter woman with dark locks. She wore a black slip dress accessorized with some expensive-looking jewelry. Immediately, Peter knew this was who he was looking for. If her calling his name didn’t alert him, the elusive aura surely set his senses off.
“Uh—I ah—I try not to.”
You glanced at the waitress, offering one last apology before walking towards the back of the restaurant. You didn’t acknowledge him at all, but Peter figured you wanted him to follow you. Muttering one last sorry, he trailed after you to the spot he deduced you were waiting for him the entire time.
It was a tall table in the back corner by the window. The view overlooked the city, and Peter could see the hustle and bustle of the busy New Yorkers from his spot on the high seat. You already had a glass of wine—your red lipstick staining the rim of the glass. Slowly, you slid the drink menu over to Peter, raising an eyebrow at him before you spoke.
“You are old enough to drink, aren’t you?”
Peter had to refrain from rolling his eyes. After all, you two were currently in a transaction. He didn’t want to come off as a dick, but he didn’t need anyone questioning his age right now.
“I’m twenty-two,” he said, swiping up the drink menu and flipping through its contents. “And I’d hope you would have checked this out before calling me here for—”
“Here for what?” You cut him off, eyes flickering over Peter’s face.
You were sizing him up—that much was clear. But Peter wasn’t sure why you were trying to get him to say what was going on out loud. Or maybe you were testing him to see if he had any discretion. Peter sure wouldn’t want to go on another “date” with a person who didn’t know how to keep their mouth shut.
With a chuckle, Peter shook his head. “Nothing…nothing at all. So, ‘you a red type of woman?” Peter nodded to her glass. “I mean, you must be, you’re drinking it.”
“I take in whatever catches my eye…” you trailed off, taking another sip from your glass. Your gaze never left Peter’s once and he felt his face heating up under the scrutiny.
Setting your glass down, you leaned forward in your seat. Peter couldn’t help his gaze flickering to your cleavage—but he was a gentleman—so he quickly regained eye contact.
He knew you noticed, though.
“So, Peter, tell me. What is it that you do?”
It was a simple question, really. But based on your previous interaction, he knew you were asking to be more than friendly. You wanted to know where your money would be going. Peter could respect it.
Peter blew out a breath, deciding what he wanted to order when the waiter came back around before sliding the menu away from him. “I’m a senior at Empire State University,” he began, and you nodded. “I’m a supplemental instructor and a mentor on campus. I’m also applying to get my Ph.D.”
“Really?” You asked, interest suddenly piqued.
Peter couldn’t help but crack a smile. If you would have indulged him in a conversation a week ago, you wouldn’t be so surprised right now. But maybe that was your plan so that you two would have something to talk about over dinner.
Before he could respond, the waiter came and introduced himself—taking Peter’s drink order and giving the adults a few more moments to look over the dinner menu.
Peter slid the second menu closer to himself as he played with the hair at the back of his neck with his free hand. “Yeah. Trying to get into a Biochemical Engineering program is hard as hell, though.”
“I bet…when I got my Ph.D., it was grueling. I can only imagine how it is for you all nowadays.”
Now it was Peter’s turn to be surprised. “Wait—you’re a doctor?!” When you raised an eyebrow at him, he backtracked quickly. “I didn’t mean it in an ‘oh, you’re a doctor” type of way. Moreso an, ‘oh! You’re a doctor” type of way. The field is severely lacking minority representation. Like…we need more women and—”
“Peter, stop talking,” you interjected, effectively cutting off his rambling. “I know you didn’t mean it like that. I was just fucking with you.”
You were sending him through a whirlwind of emotions and he hadn’t even been around you for five minutes yet. “You know what? You’re something else.”
“I try not to be, but I’m sensing you’re going to make it easy.”
“I’m serious, Peter.” You said, your tone sounding slightly more serious than you did a second ago. As quietly as ever, the waiter came back to deliver Peter’s drink and take the orders. He was gone as quickly as he arrived. Once it was just the two of you again, you said to Peter, “I’m going to have a lot of fun with you.”
Suggestiveness laced your tone, sending a shiver up his spine. While Peter didn’t plan on getting into anything tonight, he felt his resolve slipping. Maybe this sugar thing wouldn’t be so bad.
Not if his lady was as tempting as you.
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If Peter thought the restaurant you chose was upscale, he didn’t know what to make of your house.
The exterior was very geometrical and made of white stone. There were plenty of lights lining the pathway and placed around the building, and they were now illuminated due to the setting sun. Just like the restaurant, many windows aligned the outside. For someone seemingly so secretive, you were completely fine with having your house open to the world. But it wasn’t like you had too many neighbors. You take the wins with the loses, Peter supposed.
The walk from your driveway to your front door was short, but Peter got a glimpse at your backyard. The perks of an open house. The pool looked pricey, like one of the hotel pools that are heated during the winter. And a large sectional sofa with a ton of pillows surrounded the firepit. Peter wondered how many people you often had over. This place seemed like the perfect location to host gatherings. It was way too big for you to live here alone.
“Don’t tell me you have a bunch of roommates hiding out inside,” Peter joked.
“What? You can’t perform under pressure?” You teased, unlocking the door and exposing Peter to the interior of the house. Surprisingly, it was homier inside than he would have expected. “I do have one roommate, though.”
There you go with that serious tone again. Peter paused once he was inside—removing his shoes as prompted by you. “Fuck…what’s their name? And is it a guy?”
“Yeah, it’s a guy. A strong little guy.”
Peter scrunched his nose at the oxymoron. You were a bit odd, he’d admit. If he told his friends one thing about you, that would be it. Then maybe they’d feel more comfortable with Peter seeing you.
Noticing Peter’s confusion, you cracked a smile at him. Peter felt his face flush again for the second time tonight. You had a beautiful smile. In fact, you were gorgeous. Peter noticed it earlier, but something about you in the dim lighting of your house made it more obvious to him.
That’d definitely make tonight easier.
Peter noticed he was staring, so he cleared his throat and looked around. “Are you pulling my leg?”
“No! I’m serious,” you laughed. “His name is Stilts.”
You were definitely fucking with him.
“Stilts? As in heels?”
Nodding, you confirmed the name for Peter. “As in heels.” As if summoned by the call of his name, a slim, black cat sauntered around the corner—his bell jingling as he approached the two of you. Your face lit up when…Stilts…made his presence known, and you immediately bent down to scratch the cat between his ears. “This is Stilts. His name was Nick but…we don’t use that name in this house anymore!” You said the latter more to the cat than Peter—your baby tone making it clearer than before.
“Ex-boyfriend?” Peter found himself getting brave enough to ask.
You stared up at him and shook your head, “No.”
Without another word, you stood and trailed off to where Peter assumed was the kitchen. Peter’s jaw fell slack, but he didn’t know why he was expecting anything different from you at this point. Glancing down, Peter saw Stilts staring at him curiously with his large green eyes.
“What’s up?” Peter greeted but was met with the cat walking away from him—following after his owner. “Oh…kay. Like mother like son, I guess.” Peter grumbled to himself, moving to join you in the next room.
You were finishing drying off your hands before reaching for a bottle of wine that you had sitting on the counter. Peter watched you carefully as you swayed around your kitchen, seeming calmer than you were in the restaurant earlier. It was as if you were in your own little world…ignoring everything that didn’t even matter.
For a moment, Peter thought you’d forgotten about him until you pulled two wine glasses down from the cabinet. “Wine? Or are you solely a beer guy?”
Pursing his lips, Peter debated both options. “Wine is fine. Plus, you seem to have a handle on what’s good or not. Maybe you’ll teach me something new.”
“Little boy…I can teach you a lot.”
Peter scoffed. What was it with you and always pointing out his age? “What’s up with the nicknames? You can’t be that much older than me. What are you? Twenty-six? Twenty-seven?”
After pouring the wine evenly between the two glasses, you slid one over to Peter and kept one for yourself. Peter sniffed the glass hesitantly before taking a tentative sip. You chose that moment to reveal your little secret to him. “I’m in my thirties, Peter.”
He wasn’t expecting that news at all. Coughing, he tried to regain some composure after feeling the wine slide down the wrong pipe. You just watched him—trying to hide your amusement but failing horribly.
Once Peter calmed down, he ran a hand down his face—pinching around the corners of his mouth as he took several deep breaths. “You don’t look like you’re in your thirties.”
“I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean,” you said. Sipping your wine. “I’m not old. Just older than you. Your generation just thinks their life is over as soon as they hit thirty for some reason.”
You had a point. But Peter wouldn’t have judged you if you would have told him this upfront. It’s not like anything he had to say would have mattered, though. You already seemed secure in yourself.
“I guess that’s fair.”
“Of course it is. I do say smart things from time to time.” Walking around the island towards Peter, you stopped and held your hand out to him. “Come. Let’s chill for a bit. I’m sure you’re not planning on being here all night and I have work early in the morning, so…”
Peter grinned, letting you take his hand and pull him into the living room. “Wow…wine and dine me and then make me work on a quickie schedule. What kind of sugar momma are you?”
“One who respects her time and yours. Plus, if you don’t think you can perform under these conditions, you’re always free to go. I’m not keeping you here.”
You released Peter’s hand, moving to sit on the large, plush sofa, but he reached out to grab your wrist. Slowly, you turned to look back at him—a curious glint in your eyes.
“I respect a woman who knows what she wants. And I can work under any set of restrictions. You toss me a challenge and I’ll catch it.”
You noticed how close Peter had gotten, but you didn’t make any moves to pull away. Instead, you returned his playful banter. “You’ll catch it, huh?”
A smirk made its way to Peter’s face. “I’ve got the best hands around.”
“You wanna test the theory?”
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“Up—up—fuck, right there,” your breathy moan carried throughout the living room as Peter scissored his fingers into your cunt. He sucked at your neck, hoping to leave a bruise on your supple skin. One that would remind you of the night you were about to have tomorrow and for days to come.
And if he fucked you good enough, maybe you’d throw him a couple extra dollars.
Peter almost found himself chuckling at his poor attempt at a joke. If you did feel so inclined to increase your previously agreed-upon price, fine. But right now, he was solely focused on making you come on his fingers. And soon his mouth, and later his dick.
Peter bit down on your neck, releasing you when you let out a small hiss. After licking over the mark, he left a trail of kisses up your neck and across your jawline.
“Gonna let me make you come?” Peter asked, curling his fingers in just the right way to have you whimpering beneath him.
“Yeah,” you whined—actually whined. Peter felt pride spread throughout his chest. He would leave you a mess by the end of the night.
“Want me to get you dripping down my fingers? Creaming on my cock?”
“Yes, yes, Peter. Please…”
“Love hearing you beg…you sound so pretty. If you’re doing all this now, just wait until I really have you open.”
Peter wasn’t usually one for dirty talk. He preferred to hear it rather than dish it out. But something about you had Peter acting out of character. Hell, this whole day was out of character.
Perhaps it was time for Peter to step out of his comfort zone.
And he’d get there. Right after he pulled your first orgasm from you.
“You’re almost there, baby,” Peter cooed, pressing a firm kiss to your lips. “I wanna hear you. Your pussy’s talking, now I just need you to.” You snorted, shaking your head, but your mouth soon fell open and your eyes squeezed shut. “There you go…just let go…just like that.”
You were a dream, truly. Peter felt like he was moments away from coming in his jeans himself. He was determined to hold back. Well…that was until you pulled him close, letting out a breathy moan into his ear.
That sent him over the edge. And he felt like he was back in high school again.
But it was worth it. It was only you, him, and that damn cat, Stilts, who was somewhere lurking around the—
“Are you fucking serious right now?!”
Peter stopped the incessant movement of his fingers in your cunt at the sound of an angry male voice behind him. Your body stiffening below him didn’t help his nerves either.
Despite his better judgment, Peter slowly peeked over his shoulder, meeting eyes with the angriest looking rich prick Peter had ever seen in his life. And that was saying a lot because Peter knew Flash.
This dude standing at the living room entrance had on a pair of khaki shorts and a white and blue striped polo. He even wore Sperry’s on his feet. His hair was perfectly slicked back as if he’d just left a riveting day at the country club. This was the type of man Peter knew he wouldn’t get along with. And he definitely wasn’t making it to this guy’s friend’s list since Peter’s fingers were now in the guy’s wife.
Peter stared at you, confused. The only words he could pull from his mind were, “Ex-boyfriend?” Peter’s tone was hopeful. But this man had a key, so maybe he was more than that.
You didn’t look too pleased as you stared daggers at the other man. “Ex-husband.” Ah. So he was more than that.
Peter awkwardly slipped his fingers out of you, wiping them on the front of his jeans as he sat back to give you some space. You pulled down your dress to cover your modesty and fixed your straps back onto your shoulder. The angry man in the doorframe started stalking lowly towards the couch where you and Peter were.
“Ex-husband,” the man seethed. “Ex? You can’t even wait until the divorce goes through before you start letting some scrawny prick play in your pussy.”
Scrawny? Peter might not have been the bulkiest guy in the gym, but he was far from scrawny.
“Fuck you, Ransom.” Ransom? What a name for a guy. Peter wondered if he was a criminal and if this was just a nickname. He kept finding out more and more about you as the day went on. “We only aren’t divorced because you won’t sign the papers.”
“Because you’re being dramatic!”
“Sorry. Didn’t know it was dramatic to not want my husband at the time to stick his dick in someone else.”
Peter mouthed wow, trying to hide his amusement, but he couldn’t stop the scoff from passing by his lips.
Ransom’s steely gaze shifted from you to Peter. “What the fuck is so funny?”
“Leave him alone,” you cut in, sitting up straighter so you were blocking Ransom from Peter. “Why are you here? I changed the locks.”
“And I know my way around one. But I come here to see this shit? What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Grimacing, you turned towards Peter, plastering a fake smile onto your face. “Go home, Peter.”
But you two were just getting started! And then this guy comes in and derails the whole thing.
Peter knew it wasn’t his place to argue, though. This was your house, and this was an issue with your ex that wasn’t going to be resolved anytime soon. It would also be foolish of Peter to act like the mood wasn’t ruined.
However, Peter didn’t want to leave you alone with this guy either. There was no telling what he’d been up to before he got here—what if he’d been drinking? Peter didn’t feel right leaving you alone with this douchebag.
As if sensing his displeasure, you murmured. “I’ll be fine.” When Peter still didn’t look convinced, you leaned into his ear, whispering, “There are camera’s all over this house. That’s how I caught him cheating.”
The news caused Peter to relax just a bit. Although the cameras were a small safety blanket, Peter knew there would be further issues if he didn’t respect your wishes now.
Peter nodded, awkwardly standing and wincing when he felt the wet spot in his jeans. The quicker he left, the sooner he would be out of these things. Peter sent you a nod and made his way towards the exit. When Peter walked by Ransom, the older man scoffed and glared. Peter couldn’t do anything but shake his head at the other man’s antics.
Right as Peter made it to the front door to slip on his shoes, he heard a distinct hiss—Stilts. Directly after, Ransom’s voice carried through the room. “This fucking cat is acting like it doesn’t even know me anymore. What did you do?”
With a laugh, Peter opened the door and slipped outside. He’d text you later to check up on you. But right now, he figured you had some drama to handle.
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It was three minutes from midnight when Peter’s phone buzzed. He was going to ignore it, but the second vibration had him curious.
Reaching over to his nightstand, he slipped his phone from its charger before laying back on his pillow. His eyes roamed over the screen and he noticed a notification from Paypal. Curious, Peter unlocked his phone—going straight to the app. His jaw dropped when he saw the deposits.
One for six hundred dollars—the agreed-upon price for meeting with Peter today. And the second for a whopping two thousand dollars.
That wasn’t what you and Peter agreed upon at all.
But you’d left him a little note along with the transfer:
For having to see that embarrassing display from that man-child. This is a small fraction of what I got selling my wedding ring. Use this for school. I hope to see you again soon, and maybe we can finish what we started.
Peter didn’t know what overcame him, but he laughed. In no way did he expect his Saturday to turn out like this. But damn, was Peter glad he decided to sign up to that site on a whim. And by God was he glad you were the one who sent the first request.
Sure, the money was nice, but Peter felt like he’d get into some more stuff with you too. You were older and wiser, and you could definitely teach him a few things.
Peter: I need life advice.
Y/N, sipping Gatorade and eating cookie dough: You came to the right person.
Sorry i have another the second O on the angst card the “look at me…” one okay i’m going to leave you alone now sorry again 🤍 thx
Play TASM Writing Bingo [here] (If you just stumbled upon this post and this is your first time seeing this, read the rules and check to see if something has already been requested before you ask. I have a list of already requested prompts. Please and thank you!)
Look At Me
[tasm!peter x reader]
TW: This fic involves a bank robbery where a shooting takes place. Multiple casualties, death, and blood mentioned.
“I’ll run to the bank real quick. It’s just down the street. Shouldn’t be too long. We can get lunch after, yeah? Don’t get into trouble while I’m gone.”
Those were the last words you said to him before giving him a quick peck on the cheek and disappearing down the aisle out of his sight. The two of you were visiting a new home goods store that had recently opened up. You insisted on buying a new set of pots and pans for your apartment. Apparently the really old one’s Peter had picked up at a thrift store didn’t meet your approval. He claimed they were antique. You claimed they were almost entirely rusted through making them non functionable. The store’s card reader wasn’t working properly so they were only taking cash. You opted to leave him alone with a full cart of kitchenware while you ran to the nearest atm at the bank down the street.
Peter lazily wandered up and down the aisles leaning heavily on the shopping cart handle. This was a very adult store and it was a struggle to hold his attention. He’d done three laps of the store so far. You were already ten minutes later than you said you’d be. Knowing you, you’d got stuck talking to someone on the way there and didn’t know how to end the conversation without sounding rude. He plopped down into an overly expensive armchair to wait and leaned back with a sigh.
“Excuse me, sir, please don’t sit on the display furniture,” an employee spoke to him with a snarky tone. It was the same employee that had been following him around since you left as if he was going to attempt to steal a toaster or a stack of plates.
Peter narrowed his eyes back at them, “That’s weird. I thought chairs were made for sitting. How will I know if I like it and want to buy it if I can’t test it first?”
“The chair is meant to be for style rather than comfort. It shouldn’t be necessary to test it before purchase. Please get up.”
He let out a long, exaggerated sigh as he got back to his feet, “Looks kinda dumb anyway.”
He had just placed his hands back on the shopping cart, about to start his fourth lap, when he heard the sounds of distant police sirens. A heavy weight dropped in his stomach and a tingling feeling spread over his skin. His face paled as he spun around to the noise. Deep in the depths of his heart, Peter knew.
They were headed to the bank.
He shoved pedestrians out of his way as he sprinted down the street. He gave a frustrated yell at the phone clutched in his hand. Twice he tried to call you and they all went straight to voicemail. He had no Spider-Man suit today but he didn’t care. This wasn’t about stopping any bad guys, this was about making sure you were safe. Peter rounded the corner and only hesitated for a second to take in what he was seeing.
The big glass window of the bank had been shattered out onto the street. Bricks scattered amongst the glass debris as if a bomb had gone off from the inside and shot everything outwards. Two civilians lay unconscious on the sidewalk. He got there just in time to see a gang of masked men, carrying black bags, load into a large truck and speed away from the crime. If he was acting as his alternate identity, he would have chased after them. But, today, he wasn’t Spider-Man. Today, he was Peter Parker and all he wanted was to find you.
The chorus of screams coming from inside the bank drew his attention. He’d arrived before the police cars though he could hear them just around the corner. Peter leaped through the blown out window. It was dark inside except for the glow of the red emergency lights. They must have tried to kill the power to the building. His eyes scanned the area, searching the faces for the only one he cared about. People were dead. This wasn’t a normal bank robbery. They were aiming to kill. He could tell by the way the bullets hit. There were blood splatters over the floor and walls. Those still alive were crying out for help or trying to stumble towards the daylight. One man dragged himself across the floor, leaving a thick trail of blood behind him, until he eventually gave up and collapsed face first against the ground. It was a gruesome and deadly sight in here. There were too many casualties for it to have been an accident. Whoever did this knew what they were doing. They were purposely creating chaos and destruction to give themselves plenty of time to get away. All the attention and man power would be focused on the victims first.
Peter stepped over the body of a security guard. The poor man didn’t even have time to reach for his gun by the looks of things. He screamed out your name and held his breath to listen for a response.
A quiet whimper came from behind a desk in a small room to his left. It was one of those little rooms people could go to have one on one meetings. He called out to you again as he tried to push open the door. Something was blocking the way. He did his best to ignore the collection of bullet holes piercing perfect circles through the door into the room. Peter gave a little grunt and forced his weight against the barrier keeping him from you.
The body of a man slid across the floor as Peter pushed his way inside. The man had been leaning against the door, using his own body to block the entrance, when he was shot. He slumped over and stared back up at Peter with dead eyes. He scooted around the man and leaped over the desk. His heart lurched the second he saw you. There were tears in your eyes, your entire body was shaking uncontrollably, and blood soaked through the front of your shirt.
Peter quickly leaned down. His eyes searched your chest for the source of the blood. “Where were you hit?” He asked, reaching to pull you into his arms.
You stared back at him with wide, teary eyes. You opened your mouth to speak but, instead of words, only a loud whimper came out.
His eyes were wild with fear and he grabbed at the collar of your shirt, tearing it completely in half. He pushed the bloody fabric to the side and caught sight of the bullet hole entering below your left shoulder. As gently as he could, he tiled you forward to check your back. A perfect exit wound was directly opposite the entrance.
Peter took a deep breath to try and collect himself. He did a quick look over the rest of you. You’d only been shot once.
“Okay…okay…” his voice was shaking as he spoke. “You’re going to be okay, baby. The police just pulled up. I’m sure the ambulances are right behind them. It doesn't look like they hit any arteries. The bullet passed straight through you. I’m going to get you to the hospital and they’re going to patch you up in no time.”
“The-” you took a gasping breath before trying to speak again. “The man. The man in here with me. Is…is he okay?”
Peter hesitated. He wanted to keep you calm until he could get you out of here but he didn’t want to lie. “Baby, listen, don’t worry about that, okay? I need you to relax.” As he spoke, he pulled off his sweatshirt and held it tightly over your bullet wound. Your face contorted in pain and you gave a soft hiss the harder he pressed against your chest to control the bleeding.
“He saved my life,” you whispered. “When they came in…when the explosion happened…he…he opened his door and pulled me in here. They tried to come inside. They tried to get us. He blocked the door. They started shooting at it. I fell to the ground. I was so scared they were going to come in. I just tried to stay really still so they wouldn’t know I was in here. I couldn’t hear him moving though. Peter…Peter…tell me. Is he dead?”
Peter looked around helplessly to try and avoid your piercing, heartbroken eyes and finally gave you a quick nod, “Yeah…yeah, he’s gone. I’m sorry.”
Your lip quivered and fresh tears rolled down your cheeks, “I want to go home.”
He nodded, “I know, me too. Soon. I’m going to get you to the hospital first.”
“Is anyone alive in there! This is the police! The area is secure!” Someone shouted outside their door.
Peter peeked his head around the side of the desk and responded, “Yes! I have an injured person with me! They’ve been shot but are conscious. They need an ambulance. I can carry them out.” He turned back to you and gave you a quick kiss on the forehead. “I’m going to pick you up now. It might hurt to move but just hold on, alright? It’ll be over really soon.”
As gently as he could, he scooped you into his arms. You whined and bit down on your lip to keep from crying out in pain. Peter positioned you a little more securely to cradle you into his chest.
“We’re coming out now!” He called out to the officers.
The thought of carrying you back out through the carnage in the next room was too much. You were already going to be traumatized enough. This was exactly the kind of horror he tried to protect you from. He was used to this level of destruction but not you. He knew you better than anyone. The sight on the other side of this door would be too devastating for your eyes. He needed to keep you safe. Protect you from the horror.
Peter pressed his head against yours and whispered to you, “I need you to do me a really big favor, baby, okay? I’m going to need you to keep your eyes on me. Look at me, don’t look at anything else. It’s going to be alright.”
He took a tender step out from behind the desk and stepped over the man who saved your life. The man who’s name he did not know and, yet, the man who he owed everything to. He already made a promise to find that man’s family. He would find a way to cover the cost of his funeral and anything else they ever needed. You were alive and in his arms because of that man and he wouldn’t forget that.
As they passed an officer, Peter took a quick moment to stop and nod back to the room, “That man in there is a hero. Please, find out who he is. Treat his body with the respect it deserves.”
You gave a quiet whimper and Peter focused back on your face. He gave you a sad, but encouraging smile, “You’re doing really good, baby. Don’t stop looking at me, okay? The things around us aren’t for your eyes. Just look at me and nothing else.”
He kept his eyes locked with yours, being guided by another officer out of the building, though he would have been able to maneuver his way out completely blind if he really needed to. He pressed his forehead against yours, making sure to limit your vision to nothing but his eyes.
“You’re going to be okay,” he whispered softly to you. “They’re going to fix you up really good. You can eat all the hospital jello you want. I won’t even try to steal it from you.”
You let out a quiet, sad laugh through your tears and kept Peter directly in your sights. If he told you not to look then you wouldn’t look. You trusted him with everything in your being. You zeroed in on his calming words instead of the cries happening around the two of you until you were carried out into the sunlight. You had to squint away from the harsh light and hid your face into Peter’s neck.
He carried you straight to a waiting ambulance where he, begrudgingly, allowed the two paramedics to take you from his arms. He jumped into the back of the car after you and settled by your side as they closed up the door.
Peter leaned over, holding your hand, and whispered in your ear, “You did such a good job, baby. I’m so proud of you. We made it out. You’re safe now. You’re safe.”