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slip off my pretty dress down my chest, while i think of you. ♡
maybe it's just anxiety and it'll go away but it's been a little over 12hrs since my parents left and i haven't been able to eat because i am so nauseous. i have been crying on and off since and i feel so anxious and scared and i don't know what to do. i'm already looking at transferring back to my old school and i just don't know if i can do this.
Summary: after offering to help Jean find her sister, she becomes a constant in your life. She is grateful to have someone willing to fight for her, and finds herself falling for you hard. With Peter’s somewhat reluctant help, you two embark into an adventure to take down the DODC. It’s not your fault things start to get steamy
Warning(s): protective Peter Parker, platonic peter parker x fem!reader, praise kink, improper use of magic during sex, fingering (r receiving), oral (r receiving), service top Jean Grey, Jean is kinda obsessed with reader but she likes it, yandere Jean Grey if you squint, telepathic sex in a way
Word count: 5k words
a/n: thank you to everyone for being so supportive of this! I’ve decided to make it part of a series, so stick around for more😄
Part I
The first you noticed was Peter’s stance. He was rigid, in ways you had never seen him be before. At least not without the suit on.
“Peter,” you said in warning as your best friend called your name, moving to stand on a defensive position. “No.”
“Get away from her,” Peter told you, eyeing Jean as if she were a wild, feral animal set free in the middle of a crowd. You needed to stop it, stop it before either of them did something they would regret.
Jean finally moved, taking in Peter’s stance for what it was; a clear threat. With arms raised, she stepped away from you and you let go of her hair reluctantly.
“Relax, Peter Parker,” Jean said, clearly not understanding the severity of the situation. “I’m not going to hurt her.”
“I don’t believe you,” he said, pushing his feet firmly against the floor for leverage.
He jumped the next second, his eyes on Jean as he landed on her. The next second, he had her arms pinned to the floor and was stranding her torso. With a quick movement you barely registered, he used his organic webs to hold her hands.
“Peter!”
You jumped off the counter and ran over to him. He was brutal, in a way he never was; he was already hitting her right in the face by the time you got there; one punch on the jaw, the other on her lip, right where the cut had just been healed; another on her left eye, making her head push back against the floor.
Jean finally reacted, moaning in pain when she felt her head collide with the hard surface underneath her. She turned to the side, avoiding Peter’s next punch, which ended up creating a hole on the floor that you knew would never be able to explain to the landlord.
“For fuck’s sake!” You screamed, grabbing him by the waist. You pushed, destabilizing him enough for you to be able to use your entire strength to send him to the side. He fell, a body made of tense limbs and hard muscles, and you went with him. “Peter!”
As you looked down at him, you finally understood what had happened; his eyes were completely black, void of any sclera, and his heart was beating alarmingly fast. Had it been someone else, you knew his heart would have already given up minutes ago.
“Pete.” You held him down with your magic, trying to get through him, but there was no option.
You had made a monumental, stupid mistake. His… his changes, as he called them. They made him unstable, had been making him harsher than normal these past few days, and you…
You have let in another predator into his lair. Another predator that had threatened him before.
“Peter!”
With a strong pulse of magic, you got through his mental barriers —all made of thick web that held you back with every inner step— and stood in his old bedroom back in high school. May was there too, sitting in bed with him, a hand on his shoulder, and as you stepped closer, she looked up and stood up.
“Peter.”
He looked up at the mention of his name. His eyes were the same unnatural black color, his hands tightened into fists.
“Peter, you need to control yourself.”
“I’m going to kill her,” he said through gritted teeth.
You stood in front of him and grabbed his cheek. “No, you’re not.”
“I am.”
“You’re not,” you repeated. “She’s not a threat. Please, don’t do anything you’re going to regret later.”
He closed his eyes, leaning his head into your hand, and when he opened them, they were back to being that shade of brown you loved so much.
With another blink, you were back in your apartment. Peter was still being held down by your magic, and with a look between the two of you where you begged him to let you explain and he accepted the request, you stood up and let him go.
“What a nice and warm welcome,” Jean murmured.
You cursed as you saw the state she was in; one of her eyes was already bruising and starting to blacken, her nose was bleeding and bent to the side awkwardly on the bridge, and her bottom lip had completely split open, helped by the hit you had provided the night before.
You kneeled down beside her, moving your hands to help her break free from the webs.
“Ew,” you said, raising a finger to inspect the viscose piece of web at the tip of it. “How is this even fucking possible, Peter?”
Peter sat up and went over to the two of you, wasting no time in freeing Jean from his own restraints.
“It only comes out of the wrists,” he promised.
“I fucking hope so,” Jean threw back, looking at her left arm where some leftover web was still clinging to her sleeve. She sat up and raised a finger to touch her face, putting back immediately with a hiss.
“I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt,” Peter told her. “For Y/N’s sake. But if I don’t like what I’m hearing, I’m delivering you straight to the DODC.”
Jean’s shoulders tensed at that. “Delivering me?” She asked, standing up. “You really think you’re one of the good guys, don’t you?”
“Well, I don’t go around possessing people and making them do your bidding,” Peter spewed back as he too stood up. “Just last night you were threatening my best friend. How the fuck do you expect me to trust someone like you?”
“I don’t give a fuck if you trust me or not,” Jean said, stepping up to him. You moved without even thinking, putting yourself between the two of them. “I don’t care what a man who trusts those people thinks of me.”
Jean and Peter stood looking at each other, neither of them willing to give in.
“All I know is that you are a danger to this city, and I take care of dangerous things.”
Jean smiled; there was blood on her teeth from where her nose was still bleeding. With a nod, she took a step back and moved around Peter, reaching for the door.
“Whatever,” she said, slamming the door behind her.
Silence. You stood with your back to Peter, trying to clean up the blood from the floor. The hole next to it, you have already given up on; you would have to buy a carpet and pray the landlord never checked there until you have already moved out.
“Listen…”
You shook your head, eyes firmly on the bloodied floor. You hated how the entire situation had played out; one second you were going to help someone you felt… something for, and the next she was being beaten up by Peter of all people. Peter, who couldn’t control his mutation anymore, and who was a hero to a fault.
“I don’t wanna talk right now,” you said once he called your name.
Peter knelt on the floor beside you, putting his hand on your arm. “Did she force you to kiss her?” He whispered.
You let go of the damp rag to dry a traitorous tear that had fallen down your cheek. He squeezed harder, inspecting your face.
“No,” you said. “Peter, she… she has lost her sister. She was taken. Her big sister. I…” You shook your head. “I don’t know what I would do if I lost you. I have to help her. You have to help her. She’s got no one else.”
“But…” he gave you a once-over. “But how can I trust that that’s you talking, and not her in your mind?”
“She can’t get inside my head. Not without me letting her in. And she has let me inside her mind. I’ve seen it, the day she saw her sister was kidnapped.” You shook your head. “I know you don’t trust her, but Pete, you need to trust me. That’s all I’m asking for.”
Peter looked at you. “What’s my favorite color?”
You raised an eyebrow. “That’s a given considering your suit. But I can tell you about the time you peed your pants during gym class in middle school—”
“Fine!” Peter said, standing up. “It is you. Gosh.”
You chuckled. “Are you going to help us?”
“Yes,” he said. “And— well, I gotta apologize to her, I guess.”
“I’m going to look for her.” You stood up. “Is the mutation… are you okay?”
“What? Yeah, totally.”
“You beat up a woman in your apartment. That doesn’t seem right.”
“Well, when you put it that way…” He flexed his hand, looking at the already healing bruises in his knuckles. “I need to work on the chip. I can’t control myself sometimes. What if I…”
He gave you a look and a look of horror crossed his face. With a blink, he pivoted towards his computers.
You put your arms around him when he sat down. “You’re never going to hurt me, Peter.” You kissed the side of his head and moved away. “I know it.”
He didn’t say anything, bowing his head to inspect the chip. Without saying another word, you left through the door.
“I was expecting you to have an evil lair or something,” you commented, looking around the park. “You’re a bad villain.”
Jean looked up at you and rolled her eyes. She was sitting on a bench with one of her legs propped up on it, her arm resting on her knee as her other hand pressed a bloodied tissue against her nose.
“And your friend is a bad host,” she replied. Your heart squeezed at the tone; it lacked any real bite or fight to it.
It seemed getting beaten up by Spider-man had left her feeling hopeless. You were starting to understand how he had succeeded in keeping the crime rate so low for so many months.
“What, you get your ass beaten by someone once and you give up?” You asked, putting your hands on your hips.
She gave you a hard look, one that made you swallow and take a step back.
“I’m not giving up. I’m never giving up until I find my sister.”
“So?”
“So, what?” She asked, throwing the piece of paper to the ground. You made it levitate toward your hand and kept it in your pocket; the less people had access to Jean’s blood, the better.
“So what are you doing alone in a park in the middle of the night?” You asked her. “Why did you leave?”
“You have quite an inquisitive mind, you know?” She said.
Despite how bloodied and beaten up she was, the way she looked up at you through her eyelashes made you wish momentarily she could remain like that forever; her rugged beauty made you feel things you probably shouldn’t be feeling.
“You love it.”
She watched as you sat down beside her on the bench. She never stopped looking, not as you pulled out a pack of tissues from your coat pocket and handed them over to her.
“Why did you want the bloodied one?” She asked, eyeing the other pocket where you had kept the aforementioned object. “Are you into some kinky shit?”
You laughed, throwing your head back. “Do you think it’s a good idea to give them free access to your blood?” You asked her once the laugh died down.
“I don’t care what they do.”
You looked at her, shaking your head. “You let him hit you.”
She tensed slightly. She licked the tissue and tried to wipe some dried blood from her nose. She didn’t succeed.
“Why do you care?” She asked defensively. You smiled; that tone was the only confirmation you needed.
“I just want to understand you,” you admitted. “You’re so… you.”
“I would take that as an insult from anyone else.”
“But not from me?” You asked.
She gave you a look before crumbling up the tissue. She presented it to you on top of her hand. “Never from you. Here, to add to the collection.”
“Wow.” You grabbed and bowed your head mockingly. “Usually people give flowers on their first date, but blood is far more romantic.”
“First date?” She raised an eyebrow. You found it fascinating how her eyebrows were the exact same shade of orange as her hair. “You consider making out and letting your best friend beat me up a date?”
“Well, it’s original.” You shrugged.
She sighed, looking straight ahead. “I deserved it.”
“Deserve what?”
“Peter kicking my ass.” She looked at you. “You wanted to understand me, right? Well, I’m not an idiot. I know what I did was not okay. Don’t get me wrong, I will keep doing it until I find my sister. I will do whatever I have to. Tarnish my soul or whatever.”
“But?”
“But I shouldn’t have gone inside. I shouldn’t have kissed you. Not while your…” She gave you a look. “While your brother was trying to stop me.”
“Ah, I see.” You smiled. “You want to get in his good graces, uh? Trying to win him over?”
“No.” She shook her head. “It’s just… it’s something my sister would’ve done for me,” she said, standing up. With the flick of a hand, she was pushed back into the bench.
“We’re not done talking.”
She looked at you. “You’re bossy, you know that, right?”
“You said that already.”
“It hasn’t stopped being true.”
You stood up from the bench, moving so you were in front of her to stretch out a hand. “C’mon.”
She looked at your hand, not moving a single muscle. “What now?”
“Let’s go home, have dinner, and start all over again,” you said. “I’ve made Peter promise to listen to you this time.” Jean hesitated. “If anyone can find your sister, it’s Peter.”
She grabbed your hand, the mention of her sister tilting the balance.
“First of all, Miss Grey, I would like to apologize.”
Jean blinked at Peter, then looked back at you. “Does he have multiple personality disorder or something?”
“You just caught him at a bad time,” you justified him, wrapping your hands around his arm. A silent warning; stay calm and docile, don’t scare her away again.
“It’s, um,” Peter pointed at his desk, where the inhibitor was lying ready to be tested. Jean made a point of not commenting on how her jacket had been moved to the side by him. “It’s a mutation. My body… okay, so, I was bitten by a spider—”
“I really don’t care,” cut in Jean, walking to the kitchen. “I was promised some burgers.”
“And I was promised some peeled potatoes.”
Jean shrugged, feigning disinterest, but her eyes followed you everywhere you went. When you disappeared to the bathroom to wash your hands, you felt her in the back of your mind, reaching for you.
You replied with a playful tug on her own mind, and heard her little gasp as you walked right back out.
“Well, let’s cook dinner. Even though it’s like one a.m.” You said clapping your hands together.
Peter and Jean nodded, going along willingly to every order you sent their way. You tried not to find the predicament amusing, but you couldn’t help it; the sight of them working on dinner together as they tried not to bicker was hilarious.
You thought of what life would be like, once Jean found Sara. Maybe they could move into the apartment next door; you could ask Yelena to help them get back on their feet. Maybe some fake identities— or maybe not. If you played your cards right, you could end up unmasking the cruelty that hid behind the façade of the DODC.
Life could get better. You hoped it would.
Jean fell asleep almost as soon as her head touched the pillow, with her hair still damp from the shower she had taken after dinner. She was wearing your clothes, handpicked after what you considered an unsavory look through your closet. The wounds on her face, however, you had not managed to convince her to let you dress them.
She slept like a baby. You had never really understood the expression until you saw how she was sleeping. Arms stretched all around the bed, legs twisted together and mouth open to snore.
You could tell she hadn’t slept properly in weeks, maybe even months. Being constantly on the run with her sister and then being too stressed and worried to properly rest had taken a toll on her sleeping schedule.
But there she was, sleeping peacefully. Because for some stupid reason, she trusted you enough to be vulnerable around you.
You weren’t sure why you were so touched by that, but damn that woman and her way of making you feel too much.
It was well into the morning. You had had breakfast with Peter, and he had left a few hours earlier to try and discover something else about V-Max —whatever that place or thing was. After washing the dishes and momentarily checking you didn’t have any shift that day at the Deli, you went back to your room, leaning on the doorway as you inspected the girl.
She had shifted in place, moving to the side to hold your pillow hostage; her face was completely buried into it. With a smile, you walked to the bed.
“Jean.”
“Mhm.”
You sat up on the bed and shook her shoulder. “C’mon, you slept in.”
“Mhm.” She turned to the side and grabbed your waist. The movement was too fast and sly to have come from a half-asleep person, and you tsked as she pushed you into the bed and hovered over you. “Hi.”
“Traitor,” you told her. There was no bite to it, and she smiled when she noticed. “Taking advantage of a poor girl like me? Rude.”
She chuckled, looking down at you as if she wasn’t sure what to do with you; where to touch you. She slotted herself between your legs, her hands going up until they got hold of your wrists. With your arms pinned to the bed, you felt your heart start to beat faster.
“You, a poor girl?” She leaned down so that her nose was touching yours. “You’re a she-devil.”
You threw your head back and laughed. Jean took advantage of the action and leaned forward, planting kisses on your neck. The laughter was cut short, turning halfway into a gasp of pleasure.
“I like you better like this,” she whispered against your cheek.
“How?” You asked.
“Too busy moaning to talk my ear off.”
You raised your hand, aiming for her shoulder, but she held you in place firmly. “Asshole.”
She moved her head, your noses once more touching. “Is this okay?”
Her eyes were so pretty. Blue, with small dots of green and grey within the iris. It looked like an ocean during a cool winter morning.
You jumped into the metaphorical water, entering her mind so gently she barely blinked at the intrusion. You were getting used to it; to the feeling of Jean inside your mind, and you inside of hers. It was like a link that grew stronger the more you tested it.
“It’s more than okay,” you whispered in her mind. Jean shivered at the feeling of your presence invading her mind.
“I wasn’t wrong,” she said, tightening her hold on your wrists. You took the gesture for what it really was; Jean trying to regain her composure. “You’re a she-devil.”
“Your eyes are really pretty.”
She humped against your body. “Stop doing that.” She hissed.
“Make me.”
Jean looked at you. Her eyes were so dilated you could barely see the blue you were starting to like so much.
“Such a tease,” she whispered. She let go of one of your hands, but when you tried to raise it to touch her, she pushed it back with her mind. “Stay there.”
You whined, but obeyed. With a chuckle of amusement, she grabbed your throat. The touch was unexperienced, and you could tell she was being frustratingly careful.
She kneeled on the bed and looked down at you. With a touch reminiscent of fire burning during a winter storm, her hands traveled down your body until they found the hem of your shirt. Her eyes went up to check on you, and you nodded.
Instead of taking it off, however, she sneaked her hand inside and draped it over your stomach.
“Jean,” you whined.
“What a brat,” she leaned down and whispered against your mouth. Her breath was hot and it made you want to moan.
“Bitch,” you threw back.
With a smirk, she watched as your body contorted in pleasure when her thumb caressed your nipple.
“So responsible,” she said in awe. Your cheeks were flushed and warm, and as you looked up at Jean with begging eyes, she chuckled.
You weren’t sure how, but Jean managed to take off your shirt and sleep pants without making you move too much. You raised an eyebrow, half naked as you were, at the action. She was good— too good at this.
She paused, her t-shirt in her hand and ready to be thrown to the floor. “What?”
“Do you do this to all the girls that let you stay in their house?” You inquired.
She didn’t respond right away, her fingers massaging your hips as she inspected you; deciding what to do next, and how to do it.
Finally, she lowered her head and took one of your hardened nipples in her mouth, sucking it in just to tease you. You moaned, your hips going up until they met hers.
She let go of the nipple just to pass her relaxed tongue over the bumble of nerves.
“No,” she said. The sight was as obscene as it was hot; Jean, half naked in your bed with hair still messy from sleep, with her lower lip pressed against your nipple. You were sure you would have a lot of fun me-time with your fingers and that memory.
“No?” You managed to ask.
“You’re the only one,” she said.
“Oh.”
She giggled, and the sound was somewhat endearing considering the situation at hand. Her fingers slipped over your panties, some old ones you only ever wore around home, with the elastic band too stretchy. But as she moved lower and helped the panties out of your legs, she gave them one last look.
“Adorable,” she said, giving you a little smile. Her bunny teeth popped with the gesture, making your heart skip a beat.
“Shut up,” you said, without any apparent hint of anger.
Her hands traveled over your body, caressing your legs and moving them. She laid them over each one of her shoulders, and gave you one more look.
“Alright?” She asked, her mouth halfway down your pussy.
You grabbed a handful of her hair and pushed her down. She went willingly, her tongue already out before you finally stopped lowering her head. When she first lapped at your clit, you held harder onto her hair. She hissed, but continued moving her tongue, lower and lower until it reached your entrance. She stopped there and you groaned.
“If you ask me one more time—”
Her tongue entered you, successfully shutting you up. Both her hands held onto your thighs, the rings she never took off digging into your skin.
You moaned, pushing the back of your head into the pillow.
“Shit—”
You felt it, then, in the midst of pleasure; Jean’s presence, entering your mind at the same time her tongue did, keeping the two of you connected as she began eating you out.
You knew Jean was harsh, a no-shit-taken type of person, so you had expected her to be fast as she fucked you with her tongue.
You, however, had not expected her to be so hungry. So full of want. So devoted to your pleasure she was devouring you.
“Fuck, fuck—”
You put a hand over your mouth when she sucked on your clit. She all but growled, her fingers digging into your thighs with such strength you were sure they would leave bruises.
“I want to hear you,” she said.
She gave your pussy another lick, and when you still didn’t remove your hand, she let go of your thighs to travel up your body. She grabbed your wrists and pushed them onto the mattress.
“I said I want to hear you,” she hissed into your mouth. Leftovers of your pleasure coated her chin and lips.
“Jean.” You called in her mind. She shivered, feeling your mental hands touching her body.
“Shit.” She grabbed hold of your hands and intertwined your fingers together. With your eyes burning holes into hers, she lowered her head and kissed your nipple. Your response was immediate; a loud moan that shocked you with its fierceness. “Good girl.”
Damn it if that title didn’t make you want to come even harder. You loved how dirty and sweet she was being.
With your hands successfully trapped between hers, she went back to your pussy, sucking on your clit just to get a reaction out of you.
“See?” She whispered. Her breath hit your pussy directly, making you hiss at the sensation. “I knew you could be my good girl.”
She devoured you for what felt like hours, her tongue switching from penetrating you and licking up all your juices. She was ruthless, stopping every time you were at the cusp of your orgasm; reading your mind to know exactly the moment to let go of you.
“Jean, please,” you sobbed, pressing your cheek into the pillow.
“Seems like I managed to fuck the bratty attitude out of you,” she said. At your whine of complaint, she let go of one of your hands to introduce a finger inside of your waiting hole.
Shit, her fingers. They did fit right in as you had first suspected it, you thought as you closed your eyes and moaned. They were slightly curved at the tips, giving them the perfect angle to fuck you right. She hit that spot inside of you that made your limbs shake and breath get stuck in your throat.
You cried as you came, pulling on Jean’s hair until she was hissing in pain. She didn’t stop you, though, allowing you to respond to the pleasure she was giving you however you wanted to.
You thought she would slow down, but she only introduced another finger and kept fucking you, pumping them in and out until you were overwhelmed with overstimulation.
“Jean, I can’t—”
She was on top of you in an instant, looking into your eyes. She smiled and kissed your cheek sweetly, even as she kept fucking you vigorously with her fingers.
“You can take it,” she whispered, gasping into your skin. “Be a good girl, baby. Show me you can take it.”
Your hands went up to her back, fingers scratching her skin as you cried and moaned. Your nails dug into her hard and deep, creating a mess that had you feeling remorseful.
As you came for the second time, her nose against your neck and her body completely on top of yours, you looked at the ceiling and wished she could feel it too.
She was so good at making you feel good. You wanted her to know how much pleasure she was giving you.
Jean’s back muscles went rigid suddenly. Her entire body locked on top of yours, her moans suddenly loud against your ear.
“Fuck—” she called your name as she twitched, two of her fingers still inside of you. “What the fuck was that?” She gasped.
You noticed then, after the haze of pleasure dissipated a little, that you had somehow managed to make Jean feel what you had been feeling.
You had come, and so had she, without needing to touch her. Simply from the pleasure you had sent her way.
“That was so hot,” you whispered, your voice hoarse. You ran a hand over her face, taking in the bruises. You hated seeing her like that, all beaten up and in pain.
As your thumb went over her bruised lip, the wound disappeared, as if it hadn’t even been there at all. You watched, almost in a trance, as her face got healed wherever you touched her.
She pushed her fingers out of you, ignoring your moan of complaint, and grabbed your wrist.
“I fucked you so good I made you unlock some secret healing powers?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I— I think so,” you replied.
Jean lowered her head and kissed your nipple. You moaned, still sensitive. “You’re a wonder, angel.”
You chuckled, but the sound got cut short when you felt her fingers hovering over your entrance again.
“I can feel you,” she told you. You heard it from within your own mind. “All of you, all over me. I’ve always felt you since I met you.”
You weren’t sure what it all meant, but as she pushed two fingers inside and the palm of her hand pressed against your abused clit, you threw your head back and moaned.
Jean was a constant in your mind as she built up to another orgasm, her head between your tits and your hands tangled on her hair.
You felt full of her; you were sure you would always feel full of her.
“You’re not going anywhere,” she said. You were so close to your orgasm you could almost taste it. Your hold on the back of her head as she pressed your foreheads together must have been painful, but she didn’t say a word. “With me. You’re—” She curved her fingers and you cursed. “You’re staying with me.”
“I am,” you promised. The words you two were sharing felt heavy for being simple sex talk; there was a real promise within the gasps of pleasure. “I am. Forever.”
