Paper Thin Cami - Adrian Toomes/Vulture x Reader [Smut]
Synopsis: You stop by Liz’s house to get some books your little brother left there, but end up running into her sexy single dad.
Notes: I. Am. So. Hot. For. This. Man.
Tagging: @tats-kisses-and-horror @underratedcharactersimagines @blueinkblot @arianatheangelworld
You look down at your palm, trying to read the smudged pen you had scrawled the address on. It was on your phone, but as that had died, you were left to try and figure out which house on this block was 3…3? 32? Was that an 8? 38?
You had been skeptical when Peter had practically begged you to come get the books he had left there. The story was, he had a test on Monday. He left his science book at Liz’s place, and for some reason, he just couldn’t go there to get it himself. The fear in his eyes when he talked about that place honestly made you question his sanity.
“What, did her dad threaten to kill you or something?” you huff, and Peter looks a little sick.
“Look, Pete. I’ll get your books, okay? But I get to pick movie night for a month, tell May.”
“That’s okay, you and I have the same taste in movies.”
You smirk, and shoo him out of your old room.
You hadn’t been back here in forever. Well, it felt like forever. It had been two years since you’d been back home, two years away at university. It felt good to see all your old posters, jewelry, blankets. You open the closet, and tear down pictures of your old boyfriend. He was immature. You’d developed a taste for older men while you’ve been away… and no, that one professor totally didn’t have anything to do with it.
Rain continues to pour on your head as you finally see the golden ‘33’ at a rather large house. You take a chance, and dash up the steps, ringing the bell. About a minute goes by, and the door swings open.
“Oh,” you say, looking up at the man who answered. “Evening. Is… Liz Toomes around?”
The man leans up against the door frame, eyes running down you. He’s got a plaid shirt unbuttoned to mid chest, and worn jeans that hug him perfectly. You shiver a little from his gaze, and he clears his throat, directing his stare back up to you. His eyes go from sharp to benevolent in seconds.
“She’s not, I’m sorry to say. You wanna come in though, sweetheart? It’s raining fuckin’ cats and dogs out here. Come on, come on!” You accept, stepping inside the spacious suburban house. “I’m Liz’s dad. You can call me Adrian.” He shakes your hand with a tight grip, eyes squinting as he studies you.
“(y/n),” you reply, your thumb accidentally stroking his palm. He lets go.
“You a friend of my daughter’s?” He leads you in toward the kitchen, and frowns a little. “Never met you before.”
“No, I’m… not her friend,” you smile a little, “I’m her boyfriend’s older sister.”
He makes a show of connecting the relation in his head. “Ahh. That makes more sense. I was gonna say, I’m not ready for Liz to hang out with college kids. Not just yet, anyway.” He winks. You blush.
“Peter forgot his books here.”
“And he sent you to get them?” Adrian asks.
“I’m back from school for a bit, so naturally, Peter’s treating me like his personal assistant.”
“Really? Seems out of character for the kid,” the man chuckles, “He once apologized for bringing Liz home early.” You roll your eyes.
“Nah, he’s gracious about everything he makes me do. I’m just a nice person, I guess.” The look you give him however, conveys something very different. He nods slowly, licking his lips, and pops the cap on a beer bottle, shooting it over to you.
“You didn’t drive, did you?” he hesitates, ready to take it back. You smile, tucking hair behind your ear.
“Sorry. It’s the dad in me,” he grins, and you wish your body would fucking cool itself down. “Whassamatter?” Adrian asks, taking a sip of his own beer, “You seem a little warm for someone drenched to the bone.” His tone is light, playful, but just like everything else with the man, his eyes contradict that.
“I’ve got too many layers on,” you huff, and unzip your jacket. Those eyes once again fall to your chest, where your thin camisole must be soaked through by now. Turns out it is– and it leaves nothing to the imagination.
He looks down, smirks to himself, then rubs the back of his head. “What are you studying, (y/n)?” You tell him your major, and he seems genuinely impressed. “Helluva focus. You must’ve been a great student back in high school.”
You shrug. “I got by. I was never the best at anything, though. Those titles went to the people who schmoozed, sucked up, tried to be liked. It just seemed to me that no matter what I did, no matter what I had to offer intellectually, I never got 'most likely’ to anything in the yearbook, or any awards. I never got mine. Until now.”
Adrian is watching you closely, dead silent. He doesn’t say it, but he understands every word coming out of your mouth.
“Guess that’s just life, huh?” he shakes his head, “Us hard workers get the shit end of the stick while higher ups get to fly around in iron suits and make the cover of Time.” He glances over, and laughs, diffusing the mood. “Sorry. Getting personal here.”
You wave a hand. “It’s okay, Mr. Toomes. I’m fine with getting personal.”
You look up quickly, hoping he didn’t catch that, but it appears he did. His beer is stalled half-way to his lips.
“I know what you meant,” he interrupts, voice low and gravelly. You swallow your arousal, wishing you could just shut your mouth.
