contains: bondage, spanking, vibrators, nipple clamps, orgasm denial, overstimulation, etc (this is pretty kinky but the list titles are kind of self-explanatory!)
a/n: anyway i am horny as hell after writing this shit and am really wishing i had natasha in my life right about now. this was so much fun to make and i havenât seen an nsfw alphabet for natasha out there, so enjoy!
summary â reader teaches peter how to kiss, but one simple kiss leads to something entirely unexpected.
WARNINGS: smut, oral on fem, some fluff, swearing - all character are of age
WC: 4.1k
A/N: big fuck you to tumblr for deleting this fic off my old account - yâall can suck my tenacious pussy for that. anyway, i actually decided to go through this fic and change the entire pov b/c i didnât like the previous one. hope that anyone whose been requesting the repost of this fic takes the sweet time to enjoy it! thank you for making me aware that this was no longer accessible! :)
MASTERLIST
âHere, sit next to me.â You patted the mattress, watching as Peter hesitantly shuffled over. He perched himself down onto the bed, legs crossing over each other.
He felt bad knowing that you had plans to go out with your friends into the city for the day, but you had insisted on helping him with his dilemma before you left. Peter knew that you were thrilled about the new art museum that had just opened up only a few days ago. Your father had managed to surprise you with some tickets for you and a few other of your friends to attend.
Peter Parker Has a Plan â Words Unspoken TATBILB Series [p.p.]
MASTERLIST//WU MASTERLIST
WC: 2.500
A/N: hello! sorry its been so long since i last posted, i just started school this week and have been super busy with homework and extra cirrciulars. Updates for this series might be a little choppy, so i apologize in advance! Also, I havent updated the tag list jsut because its late and im too lazy to do that, but next update anyone who asked shall be added!
Throughout the remainder of the day, you were pretty much set off into overdrive. Every period, all you could think about was the letters and Peter Parkerâs face and his lips and most of, the confusion embedded within Flashâs expression when he first attempted to approach you during gym.
God, it felt like everyone was staring at you, like they knew exactly what you had done. But the thing was, no one actually knew what was going on. Nobody knew that you wrote a couple insane, totally weird love letter for boys you were completely head over heels for. That was a good thing. Only the recipients knew. As long as none of them decided to blab about the letters to their pals during lunch, who would then gossip to their other friends and then those friends would also gossip to their other friends until eventually the entire school knew everything!
The Shittiest Day Ever â Words Unspoken TATBILB Series [p.p.]
MASTERLIST//WU MASTERLIST
WC: 2.300
A/N: hello! the tag list is really fucking huge and believe me i am so thankful for that, but if you want to be added to the tag list but wonât donât leave any feedback or anything at all, then please donât request it. it gets frustrating sometimes when i donât get any feedback at all from all the people added to the list. Donât take it personally please!! i really just want to make sure that everyone is enjoying! nonetheless, thank you to everyone who has sent in messages, etc. love u all!
A week went by, and school was still just as dreadful as ever. Your Liz Allan encounters had been limited (which you thanked the Gods for), and your focus was mainly fixated on Debate. This year, you were internally itching to be captain since Ned had decided to switch over to Decathlon. You liked Ned a lot, but it was pretty obvious he was way more qualified for Decathlon than he ever was for Debate anyway.
You felt weird the whole weak. It felt like you were avoiding something, but you didnât know what you were avoiding. Your little sister said that it seemed like you were walking around with a rain cloud above your head, but you waved her off, dismissing her despicable claims. You were fine. It was just a bad week, not a bad life. Nothing you couldnât handleâor avoid.
Introductions â Words Unspoken TATBILB Series [p.p.]
MASTERLIST//WU MASTERLIST
WC: 2.300
A/N: ahhh!! Welcome to the first chapter of this series! i am so excited to be writing this! this chapter doesnât have a lot of Peter, but it basically will just set the preface for this au! Iâm absolutely baffled by the responses i got for posting the masterlist to this story, so thank you so much! anyway, hope you enjoy this first chapter and i hope you choose to stick around! :)
Having a crush wasnât exactly the most ideal thing to possess, but when it came to high school, it seemed like girls were crushing on boys left and right whereas all they wanted to do was get into your pants. Thatâs what happened at Midtown. Although the school was more of a science-oriented environment for mega-smart kids, high school was just the same there as it was at any other public school.
Over the years, youâve certainly had your fair share of crushes. Unlike the other girls, they didnât alternate every two weeks. Instead, they were spread apart, meticulously pinpointed throughout each and every prime stage of your life. You would relish in your crushes, daydreaming about their sparkling eyes or what they decided to wear that day. You would wonder about what their hair would feel like laced between your fingertipsâperhaps soft like a handful of cotton balls, or silky like the cases of your pillows. Eventually, it seemed like this person youâd claim to haven fallen desperately in love with had taken over just about every aspect of your life, morphing into some rather absurd, insane obsession. It was like an addictionâyou loved how they made you feel. And you always craved more.
Your junior year of high school was only a few days away, and to say you werenât looking forward to it was possibly the biggest understatement of the century. Going back to school only to look aimlessly for partners in yours classes while your one friend was working away in different ones? No thanks. Sitting beside your sister and her boyfriend, Flash who both sat curled up together on the bleachers by the lacrosse fields, laughing away, staring dreamily into each otherâs eyes like they were diamonds? Thankfully you wouldnât have to bare witness to that anymore. It was all so ridiculous and so frustrating. After all, you liked him first. Maybe you even loved him. You didnât know. All you knew was that the jealously stirring away in your stomach was something that burned. Then again, even if they were to break up, you couldnât do that to your sister. Youâd just have to move on.
Now that your older sister, Marin, was leaving tomorrow for college, you wouldnât have her to sit by anymore during lunch. You wouldnât have her company after school during the evening, when you would work on homework together and giggle about the daily gossip. She was attending university all the way over in Scotland. Scotland, of all places! Who the fuck goes to Scotland for college? Clearly, your sister. No one in the world has to travel that far away for school. It just makes no damn sense. In all seriousness, you really would miss your sister. She was your rock. Everything would fall apart without her and you knew it. Especially after mom.
You sat down at the dinner table, watching with a pained expression as your father raced around the kitchen, making a sorrowful attempt to cook a somewhat edible dinner. He honestly sucked at cooking. It was tragic. But after your mom passed, he had to figure out how to do all the things that she usually did so seamlessly. Your mom was a talented cook. You knew that one day you would miss her famous lasagna recipe, but you didnât know that day would be today. You thought that would be decades from now. You missed a lot of things about her. It made you sad whenever you reminded yourself that youâd never get the chance to sustain that gaping whole residing deep inside your chestâthe one her glowing smile and twinkling eyes and bubbling laughter used to fill over the brim. Now, you were just tired. And unmotivated. Writing away in your journals was the only outlet you really had for your emotions. You usually werenât one to talk much about your feelings. Maybe if you held them long enough in they would just bury themselves beneath other, more fresh thoughts. Right?
âEverything okay, Y/N?â your sister asked, setting a napkin down in front of your plate.
âYeah, âm fine. Just curious if what dadâs cooking will kill me or just give me a sprinkle of food poisoning,â you replied bluntly.
Your sister scoffed, shaking her head. âBe nice, sis. Heâs trying his best.â
A knock sounded over the door, and then Flash came striding in, hands tucked into his pockets. Your eyes found his, and the boy shot you a goofy grin. Your returned the favor, instantly tearing away your gaze when a dark pink blush flushed across your glowing cheeks. Flash was ⌠just great. There was no other way to describe him. His eyes were deep and dark like black coffee, his hair tamed in clean, cocoa colored swoops along his forehead. He was easygoing and fun to talk to, and he probably had the best taste in music ever.
It took a little bit to get over the ridiculous name. Flash. What a weird ass nickname. The kid wasnât even that fast.
He was probably your first pretty serious crush. The others included: Barry Allen from summer camp in the sixth grade, Ned Leeds from your freshman Homecoming dance, Finn Wayne from the debate club in middle school, and last but not least, Peter Parker, your very first kiss, probably the most important of them all.
Now, now, donât be fooled. It wasnât like you and Peter had a thing or anything. To be completely real, it all happened during a despicable, cliche game of spin the bottle at your ex-besties birthday party in the eighth grade. It was the first boy-girl mixer party youâd ever been invited to, and when Liz had suggested you all pop a squat and play spin the bottle, you just about went into cardiac arrest. You hadnât ever thought about kissing boys before, and Liz kept saying that everyone was doing it. Liz was beautiful though, and you felt plain beside her. She could get any guy she wanted without a problem, and for you ⌠Well, all you did was scribble down your feelings into a pointless little letter and tuck it away into a neat little turquoise box in your closet. Thatâs all you could do. You were definitely not equip to talk to boys, especially in the eighth grade when âawkwardâ and âself-consciousâ were the only two words to describe you.
Anyway, to make a long story short (in reality, the story really isnât that long at all), you spun the bottle, and woopdee-fucking-doo, it pointed smack-dab at Peter Parker. And boy, was he handsome. I mean, yeah he had braces and didnât know a thing about skin care, but that didnât matter. He was cute and funny, and he was probably the most intelligent kid in the whole grade. You were practically in awe of him! And now you were about to kiss him? It all seemed like a dream. Except Liz wasnât exactly content with where the bottle landed.
Yeah, Liz happened to have a pretty fat crush on him as well. Of course, since she was the one to tell you first about her infatuation with the dorky boy, you couldnât tell her you felt the same way. She was your best friend. And she watched with a gaping mouth and angry, wide eyes as you leaned in and pecked Peter Parker on his chapped lips.
You had offered to spin again! You did! But Peter had insisted that those were the rules of the game, and you couldnât help but think that maybe he wanted to kiss you, too. So you did. And it lasted two seconds. And it was probably the best kiss youâve ever had in your lifeânot to be too dramatic or anything.
Unfortunately (or fortunately?), you and Liz arenât exactly close pals anymore. And major plot twist: Liz and Peter are dating now! Who wouldâve guessed, right?
âHey, Eugene!â Your father called from the kitchen, a pathetic yelp echoing through to the dining room. Your face twisted at the smell of something burning.
âHey, Mr. Stark!â Flash responded. âHey, Y/N.â
âHey,â you sighed.
You pursed your lips as your older sister leaned in, placing a soft kiss to Flashâs lips. You wanted to vomit in your mouth, but you didnât really want the aftertaste. Anyways, your fatherâs cooking would probably be just enough to send you sprinting to the bathroom.
This would be the final dinner of the summertime with your older sister. A part of you couldnât believe she was already leaving for college, but youâd been preparing for it for a long time. Youâd just have to deal with being the eldest sibling of the house, and youâd now have to drive both yourself and your little sister to school in the mornings. Jesus Christ, youâd barely passed your driving test, and now youâre being thrown out into the harsh horrors of the real world in control of a moving vehicle? Itâd be a miracle if you got out of the neighborhood without losing a tire.
Your little sister, Jamie, came barreling down the stairs wearing her favorite hot pink top and her hair pulled up into a tight ponytail. âFlash!â she squealed.
The two exchanged their complex handshake before she plopped down into her chair. Your father soon followed after, plopping the large dish of burnt lasagna onto the wooden table with a loud bang. You winced, raising your brows at your father who looked at the pan skeptically.
âDad,â you hummed.
âYes, honey?â
âYou good there?â
âYeah, Iâm great.â
âI canât believe weâre not going to see you until Thanksgiving!â your little sister grumbled, pouting.
âActually, Christmas,â your father corrected.
Everyone seemed to do a double take. âChristmas?â you repeated incredulously. âWhat, why? I canât survive that long without her!â
âHey, sweetheart, can you help me with this. The knife is doing that thing again where it doesnât cut through the noodlesââ
âThatâs probably because the meat is too tough and the noodles arenât cooked all the way, Dad.â
âAre you sassing me? Youâre sassing me, arenât you. This isnât as easy as it looks. Trust me, kiddo.â
You snickered, watching with amusement.
âWait, so this means Y/N will have to drive me to school?â Your little sisterâs eyes widened. âHow about I drive instead. Iâm sure Iâd be much more qualified.â
âOh, really?â you challenged. âOr you can just take the bus.â
âI can always give you guys a ride,â Flash shrugged. âI mean, I live right next door so itâs pretty convenient anyway.â
âWhat are we talking about?â your older sister questioned, stepping back into the dining room cradling the pan.
âHow much Y/N sucks at driving!â
âAnd uh, airplanes,â Flash mumbled, reaching into his back pocket. âI figured since you werenât coming home for Thanksgiving that Iâd just bring home to you instead.â
Your mouth fell open when he unfolded the piece of paper in his hand to reveal a plane ticket. You were shocked. Was Flash really going to fly all the way to Scotland just to visit your sister at college. God, thatâs the most stupidly expensive and romantic thing youâve ever heard of in your life. Those tickets probably cost a fortune. You were too busy swallowing your jealously to realize how quickly your sisterâs face was crumbling.
âDid you uh, already pay for those?â she asked softly.
Oh. Oh.
âWhy?â Flash seemed to be catching on to what your sister was insinuating with her dreadful expression.
âWow, Dad, this lasagna is pretty moderate. Good job âŚâ
Needless to say, dinner was cancelled for the evening. Not that dadâs lasagna sucked or anything (it did), but no one really wanted to suffer through a pitiful meal and an awkward silence. Your sister and Flash had dipped outside, where you spied on them through your window upstairs. Their violent hand gestures really seemed to give away the context of the conversationâyou could hear them yelling angrily through the glass.
Yeah, you mightâve liked Flash. Honestly though, it was only a matter of time before you got over him. You werenât in love with him, all that was left now were a few lingering feelings. You dwelled too much on the past and what couldâve been rather than moving on with your life. Something always seemed to just hold you back. Maybe you liked the distraction of having a boy to ogle at and daydream about when you didnât feel like thinking about other things.
God, your room was an utter disaster. And of course, you werenât going to clean it because you were just way too lazy. Instead, you decided to waste even more time by fishing through your closet for that little turquoise box your mom had used to gift you your first set of jewelry in. Stacked inside weâre your letters, clad in sleek envelopes with addresses scribbled neatly along the back. Obviously you werenât going to send them. It was just sort of an odd way with coping with your emotions.
Peter Parkerâs sat on the very top. You didnât know why. Maybe it was your subconscious telling you that he had a special place somewhere in your heart just because he was your first kiss. Or maybe it was just random.
Shaking your head, you shoved away the box and grabbed your laptop, settling back into your bed. School would start back up soon in just a few days and it felt like this year everything would change. After all, you were a junior. That meant taking the ACTâs and searching for colleges. You could now drive. Everything was starting to pile up, and the only thing that didnât seem to be taking a drastic turn was your inactive social life.
And you know what else? You didnât mind it. You liked how your life was right now. It got lonely sometimes, but you felt okay. And that was enough for you.
Dirty Dancing Masterlist â Peter Parker x Stark!Reader [HIATUS]
SUMMARY: Y/N Stark is a dancer and Tony invites Peter to come watch her performance. When two teens meet, they are immediately infatuated with each other, Peter especially being as he canât seem to take his eyes off her when she appears on stage. Later on, Y/N teaches him a few moves, and the budding infatuation soon blossoms into something more.
CONTAINS: fluff, angst, swearing, some violence/gore, eventual smut (peter and reader in this story are 18)
A/N: i stopped writing for this series a while ago just because i got some writers block, but i think that eventually i will add more to this and just figure out a better plot, etc! i thought it had some potential lol. so maybe after i finish the tatbilb series! :)
A/N: ahhh!! Welcome to the first chapter of this series! i am so excited to be writing this! this chapter doesnât have a lot of Peter, but it basically will just set the preface for this au! Iâm absolutely baffled by the responses i got for posting the masterlist to this story, so thank you so much! anyway, hope you enjoy this first chapter and i hope you choose to stick around! :)
Having a crush wasnât exactly the most ideal thing to possess, but when it came to high school, it seemed like girls were crushing on boys left and right whereas all they wanted to do was get into your pants. Thatâs what happened at Midtown. Although the school was more of a science-oriented environment for mega-smart kids, high school was just the same there as it was at any other public school.
Over the years, youâve certainly had your fair share of crushes. Unlike the other girls, they didnât alternate every two weeks. Instead, they were spread apart, meticulously pinpointed throughout each and every prime stage of your life. You would relish in your crushes, daydreaming about their sparkling eyes or what they decided to wear that day. You would wonder about what their hair would feel like laced between your fingertipsâperhaps soft like a handful of cotton balls, or silky like the cases of your pillows. Eventually, it seemed like this person youâd claim to haven fallen desperately in love with had taken over just about every aspect of your life, morphing into some rather absurd, insane obsession. It was like an addictionâyou loved how they made you feel. And you always craved more.
SUMMARY: Liz has a final for human anatomy coming up. What better way to study than to do it with you ⌠preferably without any clothing on and your legs spread (all characters are 18+ in this fic).
CONTAINS: this is the smuttiest shit i have ever written, bondage, vibrator usage, fingering, oral, teasing, swearing, dirty talk, some fluff. just pure porn honestly.
WC: 4.000
A/N: did i go off again with the liz smut?? you bet your ass i did. my girl deserves so much more content, but iâm certainly not complaining about having to write some myself,,,,lol this got me high key very hot n bothered. i am also a kinky motherfucker and i deserve this shit in my life. hope you enjoy!! ;)
Making Up for Lost Time [Peter Parker x Enhanced!Reader]
SUMMARY: You have the ability to manipulate water, so when your friend Peter asks you to show him what you can do, expressing your feelings for each other is the last thing you expected.
CONTAINS: fluff, kissing, heated makeout at the end but tbh nothing serious, just cuteness all around
WC: 2.300
A/N: lol i feel like i kind of write the same thing for when i do kissing scenes and plots and such, but i guess i just like having a different array of scenarios!! this was a request, and Iâve been grinding through all of my requests like a turtle so Iâm sorry, but i switched it up just a little bit! i hope thatâs okay! thank you so much for the ongoing support and please send in requests if you have any and eventually i will probably end up writing them! sorry if this is really similar to the last peter fic i posted!!
SUMMARY: You and Peter have been friends ever since you could remember, but when you begin teasing him about all the girls eager to get with Spider-Man, your friendship status soon morphs into something more.
CONTAINS: fluff, swearing, making out w/ shirts off, lots of cuteness.
WC: 2.300
A/N: so this unedited and i wrote it at like 5 in the morning after pulling an all nighter, so it definitely isnât my best work!! but i thought it was pretty cute and i really loved the request. lol Iâm really sorry if i didnât do it correctly i was just fricken beat man. anyway, hope you enjoy!! :)
MASTERLIST
PETERâS EYES FOLLOWED THE fluid movements of your hands, eyes scanning the black ink tracing words onto the open notebook. Neatly printed letters soon covered half the page, and then a few streaks of pink highlighter followed after. He watched your silver rings reflect the golden glow orbiting the living room of his apartment, the day growing late. He wanted you to stay a lot longer than just another hour and hoped you would stay for dinner instead of retreating back home. He wanted to stay with you.
SUMMARY: You and Peter have a habit of fighting over the silliest of things, but when Tony finds you two in a compromising situation after a heated argument, the end result isnât exactly nice.
CONTAINS: swearing, verbal fighting, heavy making out, poor dad!tony walking in
WC: 2.800
A/N: lol this was a fun one to write haha i always love writing stuff with tony in it and i just really love fics like these with the specific end result. Iâve been grinding out a tone of requests, so be sure to check out my masterlist if you enjoy my work!! thanks for all the ongoing support and ily! :)
SUMMARY: You and Peter have to sit out on a mission, and the sexual tension between you two becomes quite blatant when you start tossing around flirtatious remarks (all characters are 18+ in this).
CONTAINS: some smut, oral (fem receiving), swearing, sexual tension, fluff, allusion to blowjob, i got tired towards the end and didnât really finish it lol
WC: 3.800
A/N: this is the first request i have written and i absolutely love it!! i hope that i didnât disappoint, but if i did let me know and maybe i can fix it a bit?? lol hope you enjoy and if you have any requests, feel free to send them in! :) this can also be interpreted as a stark reader but i never really specify so oop
MASTERLIST
YOU STUMBLED AFTER TONY, arms wildly gesturing around in the air. The expression on your face was a mixture between incredulity and anger.
âWhat do you mean you donât need us?â you cried, quickening your already hasty pace. âYou always need us!â
âNot this time, kid,â Tony replied, halting. He folded his arms, a stern gleam in his whisky eyes. âItâs not that big of a deal, Y/N. Just hang out with Parker, watch a few movies. Do your homework. Be a kid.â
In all honesty, you didnât really care much about skipping out on one mission. If anything, you enjoyed the break. You could catch up on some sleep, watch a few episodes of your favorite show and vedge out with some take out. It was the wavering uncertainty about not going on a mission that scared you the most. You didnât like not knowing where your team was and you definitely did not like it when you couldnât keep an eye on them. It made you anxious thinking about them going in with the potential of coming out alive or dead. Not to mention, you had grown ridiculously attached to them, which left you in a great deal of discomfort whenever you went without them for great periods of time.
Tony could sense your apprehension, and he ruffled your hair. âItâs okay, Y/N. Weâll come home soonâsooner than you think. And you wonât be alone.â
You sighed, your stubbornness dissolving with his assuring words. Unwillingly, you surrendered and threw your hands up. âFine,â you huffed with exasperation. âI want daily updates though.â
âYeah, something tells me that with Parker roaming around the facility, you wonât be too focused on my updates,â Tony muttered, rolling his eyes.
âWhat did you say?â you challenged, quirking a brow.
Tony shook his head, âNothing!â He stepped into the elevator, pressing the button to the ground floor. âLove you, kiddo.â
You watched the doors slide shut, a smile pressed onto your lips. âLove you, too. Bye.â
You wondered what exactly you should do to kickstart your day, and seeing as your nerves were already inflamed, there was no point in going back to bed. Instead, you opted for a shower, heading down the hall towards your bedroom. On the way, you passed Peterâs room, the door gently cracked, soft music emitting from inside.
âPeter?â you rapped your knuckles against the door.
âYeah?â he hummed.
You pushed the door open further, eyes falling upon his figure strewn out across his bed with his laptop lying on a pillow. A television show of sorts seemed to be playing on the screen, and you shot the boy a dimpled smile, drinking in his clean appearance for the day: a flannel shirt fitted beneath a blue sweater with a pair of jeans. His hair was brushed, the mess of chocolate waves tamed with a few dollops of gel. There was no denying you found him attractive even in his casual stance.
âNothing, I uh ⌠saw the door open,â you pulled at your fingers, stretching your hands. âThought I should say hey.â
Peter grinned, noticing the pink blush sweeping across your cheeks. âHey,â he chuckled lightly. âOh! I had a question to ask you.â
You tilted your head, curious. âWhatâs up?â
âI-uh, w-was wondering if you could help me out with my English essay? Youâre really great with all the writing stuff, I-I was thinking maybe you could help me brainstorm some ideas?â
You beamed, flattered that he would ask for assistance. âOf course!â you smiled brightly. He relaxed at the buoyant expression painting your face. âMaybe we can do it a bit later this afternoon? Itâs way too early for me right now.â
âSounds good.â
âOkay, cool.â
You backtracked out of his room then left to shower, shutting the bathroom door behind you. Once the door had closed, and you were alone, you felt your mind wandering back to Peter and his eyes and how sharp his jaw looked whenever he craned his neck from the laptop screen to your face. Subconsciously, you bit down on your lip, thinking of his thick, curly lashes and the tone of his voice. It was pretty evident to you that you felt something for the brown-eyed boy, but you miraculously managed to control yourself in front of him. Having a crush was fun, but being obsessed was not. Your interest in him was merely something to ponder on when you had nothing else to think of, and thatâs it. At least, thatâs what you always kept telling yourself.
Every day it was getting harder to deny the fact you didnât love his ridiculous jokes and the glistening of his eyes when he raved on about something he was passionate about. You didnât think he was just attractive, you thought he was cute, too. And that made things entirely too difficult for you. You didnât want to think of him the way that you did, but you couldnât stop the racing of your heart whenever his hand brushed across yours, or whenever you felt his eyes drift across your body.
Peter on the other hand was absolutely infatuated. He didnât care much for the consequences of thinking of you the way that he did because it all felt so nice. Falling in love with you was utterly painless, and he would savor every moment he spent with you, capturing every fragment of every second.
Once you finished your shower, dried off, and pulled on your undergarments, you wrapped a thin, cottony robe around your body and ran a brush through your damp hair.
You headed into the kitchen, the floor cold against your bare feet. Peter was hoisted on one of the stools, his math textbook opened up beside him. He busily scribbled a few problems onto his notebook, his tongue poking out between his teeth in concentration. You felt butterflies flutter in your stomach at the sight of his fingers curling around his jaw, wondering what those same fingers would feel like pressed into your skin, wondering where his fingers would roam and if his lips would join.
You swallowed hard and turned around, trying to focus on making yourself something to eat rather than developing an appetite for Peter Parker himself. You turned around to face the fridge, tapping your heel against the floor, hands ferreting through the array of condiments and such.
Peter glanced up from his work, his cheeks reddening at the sight of you in front of him, your figure clad only in a robe. His eyes roamed your legs, and he clenched his jaw when he continued further up to your round bottom. The robe rode up when you balanced on the tips of your toes, revealing the lace hem of your gray panties, Peterâs imagination sparking at the sight. Your hips swayed when you turned around, and he clasped his clammy hands together, begrudgingly refusing the intolerable urge to dig his fingers into your luscious thighs and scatter your body with sloppy kisses.
You nonchalantly continued on with your food gathering, glancing up for a brief moment to catch Peterâs lingering gaze on your body. He smiled before looking away, a smirk growing on your lips when you recognized the pinkness of his cheeks and how he shifted in his chair. Was there a possibility that he enjoyed seeing you this way? You liked your chances, feeling confidence spark within your chest.
You rounded the counter and hovered over Peterâs shoulder, your lips grazing past his ear. He closed his eyes, mouth parted as he made an inaudible gasp. You ran a hand through your hair before placing it on Peterâs back, drawing it up towards the nape of his neck where your fingers ghosted along his sensitive skin, curling within his dark locks. âWhat are you working on?â you asked innocently.
âUh, math,â he replied, clearing his throat, maneuvering his legs to regress the sudden tightness of his jeans. A fire ignited in his dark eyes when he saw your slender fingers toying with the tie of your robe, fiddling with the cloth and twisting it around.
âLame,â you giggled. âHey, maybe you can give me a little math lesson sometime. I can help you with your paper, you can help me with some homework?â You bit down on your lip, then moved your hand gently on to his wrist to halt his scribbling. Peter stared at your hand, then slowly drew his gaze up to you.
âY-yeah, sure,â he stuttered. âIâd like that. Itâs not like you need my help though, Y/N. Youâre literally one of the smartest people I know.â
You raised your brows at him, smiling fondly at the compliment. âThanks, Pete,â you spoke. âHonestly, I just like having an excuse to hang out with you alone.â
âR-really?â he gaped.
âYeah.â
You removed your hand from his wrist, nodding. Peter felt cold without your touch electrifying his skin, his eyes continuing to tail your body as you strutted back behind the counter. You curled your fingers around the jar of peanut butterâplenty aware of Peterâs dilated pupils on youâdipping your finger into the gooey mixture. Hoisting yourself onto the counter, you sat with your legs dangling down against the cabinets. Peter watched with hungry eyes as you slid your two fingers into your mouth, sucking and licking them clean before drawing them out with a distinct popping noise.
He nearly came in his pants right then and there. You leaned back slightly, craning your neck back to reveal the sensitive skin just desperate to be marked by his lips, your fingers brushing along your collarbones, emphasizing the countless dips and grooves of your body that you ached for him to explore. He didnât know how much longer he could last simply sitting around while you toyed with him. His fingers were itching to slip beneath the useless fabric of your robe and feel the heat building between your legs, coaxing you to an unbelievable orgasm. He wanted to put his mouth on your dripping core and make you scream his name.
âWant to make cookies?â you asked. âI know a good recipe for peanut butter ones,â your eyes never tore away from his gaze, curiosity dancing through your mind about what heâd look like without the multiple layers of clothing.
âO-okay,â he breathed.
Peter folded his textbook closed, eagerly sliding his homework materials back into his backpack. There would be plenty of time for homework later. He joined you behind the counter, standing in front of your body still poised on top of the clean kitchen table. Extending his arms he grabbed the jar of peanut butter from your grasp and dipped his pinkie in. He was so, so close. You were astonished at his motions, shocked that Peter Parker of all people would do something as sensual as that.
His heart was pounding out of his chest. Heâd never done anything like this before in his entire life, but the awestricken expression balanced on your face was enough confirmation for him to know heâd done something right. He gripped onto the tie of your robe, his fingers fumbling with the thin material. There was a dark gleam twinkling in his eye, one that urged you to clench your thighs together and relieve the building ache between them. His muscular frame was standing in the way, keeping your thighs spread wide apart. The robe barely provided enough coverage to your most sensitive, now-damp area.
âAre you going to change?â he asked, twisting the tie around his fingers. You could feel him tugging on it gently, the front of the robe sliding down to reveal the lace hem of your bralette.
âDo you want me to?â you countered, a smirk growing on your lips.
Peterâs eyes stared you down for a moment, the gaze between you never faltering even for a second. You were driven by lust, as was he, wild thoughts about the boy standing between your legs blossoming in your mind like an eccentric dream. You wanted him to touch you more than anything in the word. You were on fire, and his fingers would only make you burn brighter.
Peter swallowed, releasing the tie. He stepped away from you, shrugging his shoulders. âI donât mind,â he hummed.
You finally jumped off the counter, furtively attempting to clench your thighs together. You could feel the wetness already staining your panties, your clit pulsating. Peter noticed the bright red blush across your cheeks, satisfaction bursting proudly within in his chest. He was a genius; it was blatant to him that you were flustered, and it was blatant you were trying to relieve yourself of the aforementioned flustering. He simply could not let you do that. He liked how you looked when you were tingling with arousal.
âI-Iâll help you get the ingredients out, and then Iâll change,â you breathed.
Peter nodded. You two gathered the ingredients, shifting between the fridge and the pantry for dry and wet necessities. Peter made that experience increasingly difficult, as he always found someway to just barely touch you. His arm would graze yours, his fingers dancing along the hem of your robe before brushing across your thigh. Sometimes he would reach up and pretend to fix an uncooperative strand of hair. Once you finished, you leaned against the counter.
Peter stood right beside you, his body intentionally aligned entirely with yours. Your faces were close, eyes flickering towards his lips. He reached forward, fingers hooking around the material of the robe. âI like this robe,â he muttered, playing with the materialâs texture.
âMaybe I shouldnât change then,â you drawled, a flirtatious grin settling on your lips.
âMaybe you shouldnât,â he agreed. âItâs white though. Wouldnât want to stain it, would you?â
You smiled at his cleverness, the lustful gleam glistening in his chocolate eyes scrutinizing your lips.
âGood idea,â you tilted your head, untying the robe. You allowed it to drop in a loose heap onto the cold floor, leaving you bare aside for the lacy gray panties and white bralette. âProbably best that I donât wear it while we bake.â
Peterâs expression miraculously remained even. He clenched his jaw, his Adamâs apple bobbing when he swallowed thickly. His eyes trailed from your lips down to the lacy material of your bra, your breasts held up perfectly, erect nipples evidently straining against the thin fabric. He licked his lips when he came to your panties, eyes nearly rolling back into his head when he noticed the dark gray stain showing through the fabric. You were turned on because of him.
He couldnât resist you anymore. His fingers made feather-like touched against your frame, sliding down from your hips to the lace hem of your panties. He played with it absentmindedly, pulling it up and down. All he wanted was to tear them off you. You wanted the same. His fingers grazed along your clit when he moved to the opposite side, your lips damp and parted.
âFuck,â you whispered, trying to stifle your moans.
Peter grinned. âAre you wet for me, Y/N?â he asked huskily.
âYes,â you exhaled.
Shock burst within your chest when Peter leaned in, his lips latching onto yours. Butterflies exploded in your stomach, your heart racing and palms sweating with bubbling excitement. Your lips molded together perfectly, your fingers tangling in his loose curls while his own hand rested on your waist, pulling you flush against him. It didnât take long for the once gentle and slow kiss to turn sloppy and passionate, your tongues entwining.
Your mind was racing too fast to decipher any thoughts meandering through, and the only thing you could hear was Peter muttering the distinct word âjumpâ against your mouth.
You complied, jumping as his hands situated beneath your thighs. Your bottom quickly made contact with the cool kitchen counter, your back striking the cabinet, silverware clanging loudly within. He spread your legs far with his hands, his abdomen rutting against yours. You could feel the stiff bulge in his jeans against your heat, his lips beginning to trail from the side of your mouth, down your jaw and to your neck.
âPeter, Fuck,â you moaned, his lips fixating on one spot. He sucked gently, nibbling on the skin, earning small pleasured gasps from your mouth. His hands continued running up and down your thighs, slowly trailing up your back to locate the strap of your bralette. He continued showering your neck and collarbones with affection, leaving behind sloppy red marks wherever he left his lips. He pulled away for a moment, gazing at you as he unhooked your bra. The straps slid down your arms, your breasts falling free against your chest. He allowed the material to crumple to the floor before glimpsing at your pink nipples.
âYouâre so beautiful, Y/N,â he met your eyes. A blush graced your cheeks, and your eyes fluttered shut when he started to swirl his tongue around your pink buds, hardening them further to his liking. Your fingers toyed with the hem of his sweater before quickly removing it, his lips attacking the second breast. You were grinding beneath him, moaning with pleasure, completely intoxicated by the feeling of his lips on your skin. It was better than you could ever imagine.
âFuck, Peter. I fucking need you,â you gasped, mewing when his teeth latched onto your nipple, pulling gently.
âYouâre being so good, Y/N,â he unbuttoned his flannel, and you eagerly tore the shirt off, admiring his toned chest and the divots of his abs. The muscles on his back were prominent, your nails dragging down them, leaving faint marks when his lips started in again on your neck. He kneaded your breasts with his large hands, rolling your protruding nipples between his fingertips.
He continued pressing open-mouthed, wet kisses against your body, finally arriving at his prime destination between your legs. You gasped when he started to fervently place sensual kisses to your inner thighs, kissing you chastely on your clit through the damp fabric of your panties. A whine toppled from your mouth, and Peter groaned when he slid your panties down your gorgeous legs, his touch grazing your skin. He licked his lips, your eyes meeting.
âGod, you look so fucking hot like this,â he whispered, inhaling your scent. He hooked your legs over his shoulders, his lips hovering along your slick folds. He dragged his tongue along your slit, lapping up all your sweet juices, his tongue working around your labia, never quite landing where you desired it to most.
âFuck, Peter. Jesus, fuck,â you whined, your breasts jostling with every shuddering breath you took. You ran your fingers through his hair, encouraging him. âGod, youâre so good. So fucking good. Just like that, baby.â
Peter buried his mouth harder between the apex of your thighs, his lips puckering around your engorged clit. You moaned as he began suckling, throwing your head back in bliss. He glimpsed up, relishing in the ethereal imagine of you squirming and glistening like a goddess. The light pooling in from the large glass windows made you seem like an angel from above. His hands tightened around your legs, maintaining their spread state, palms running upward to squeeze your ass.
You felt the tip of his tongue swirling hastily around your clit, your toes curling when you met the edge. âPeter, shit. Iâm gonna come. Can I come? Please?â you whimpered.
Peter beamed at the thought of you asking him for permission to come. He savored the power, enjoying his ability to unravel you with his lips.
âCome for me, Y/N.â
At his words, your toes curled, your back arching as your longly anticipated orgasm came ripping through you. Gibberish was pouring from your mouth at this point, your eyes sealed. You found yourself pressing his head further against your dripping core, your body trembling with pleasure, and even though the affects of your orgasm subsided, Peter continued to work his tongue along your overstimulated clit, coaxing another orgasm out of you. You entire body was quaking with euphoria.
âHoly fuck, Peter!â you twitched, humming gently when he pressed a soft kiss against your clit. You were breathing heavily, his grip around your thighs loosening as he started back up your smooth legs to your stomach and perky breasts. He rolled your nipples, dipping his tongue between the valley of your breasts before sucking another hickey along the inside of your left breast. âSo good. So fucking good, baby.â
You tugged on his locks, pulling his lipsâstill glistening with your juicesâup against your own. It was wet and passionate, laced with love and driven by lust. Your palms slipped down his neck, trailing down the hard, prominent muscles of his back, your trimmed nails leaving faint white streaks along his flesh. He slipped his tongue into your mouth, your own sweet flavor exploding on your taste buds.
When you pulled away, you were both panting, his hands still holding your jaw. You opened your eyes slowly, biting your lip at the lopsided grin washing across Peterâs handsome face. âThank you. That was ⌠amazing. Youâre amazing, Peter.â
He laughed breathlessly, smoothing down your frizzy hair. A pink blush flushed across his cheeks, and he nodded. âYouâre so beautiful,â he kissed you briefly. âI-Iâve been waiting forever to just ⌠kiss you. Itâs been killing me.â
âMe too,â you slouched against the cabinet, your fingers ghosting along the waistband of his jeans. You gazed deeply into his eyes, satisfaction sprouting within your core when you saw the look of surprise ignite across his face. You fiddled with the buckle, then palmed him through his jeans, eliciting a groan from the flustered boy. âWhat do you say I blow you after we get these cookies in the oven?â
âWhatây-you want ⌠Yes. Yes, definitely. Of course. Please. Only if you want to,â he sputtered.
You scoffed, leaping down from the counter. You bent down and picked up your bunched up panties from the floor slipping them back over your legs. âYou think Iâd just leave you hanging like that, Parker? No. After all, Iâd say you earned a reward âŚâ Your faces were close again, your hot breath fanning across his face. He looked so innocent with his speckling chocolate brown eyes, and you loved it. You grazed your thumb along his bottom lip, dragging the pads of your fingers across his bare chest. You finally dipped your hand beneath Peterâs jeans, giving his hard member a firm, generous squeeze. Peter moaned. âDonât you think so, too?â
âFuck,â he whimpered. âYes. Please, Y/N.â
You withdrew your arm, waltzing towards the kitchen sink to wash your hands. Peter soon joined you, his eyes occasionally dancing across your nude body.
âThank God we have this whole day to ourselves,â he sighed.
You flashed him a dimpled smile. âYou have condoms?â
Peterâs brows shot up at your question. âYes.â
SUMMARY: Your end of semester art project is to paint anything you desire. You paint the one thing you desireâa girl by the name Liz Allan. Well, that is until youâre distracted by her seashell eyes and lustful gaze.
CONTAINS: so much smut jesus fuck this is filthy, oral x2 (fem receiving), fingering, LOTS of dirty talk, teasing, orgasm denial-ish, fluff LOL
WC: 5.300 (I WENT SO OVERBOARD)
A/N: so ik liz isnât that popular of a character but i donât really give a shit about how many likes this gets or whatever. i needed this shit in my life and Iâm sure at least one other person did too. anyway this is soooooo fucking smutty but let me tell you, i couldâve made it a whole lot worse!!! i couldâve gotten really kinky!!! but i didnât!!!! youâre welcome. anyway, Liz Allan gets me hot n bothered, so i just had to go off. sorry not sorry. prepare yourselves.
SUMMARY: After a rough night at home, you seek comfort in your friend, Peter Parker.
CONTAINS: fluff, swearing, mentions of divorce, mentions of alcohol
WC: 4.000
A/N: hey so i whipped this up the other night and its not my best work but i decided i might as well post it for the hell of it! iâm opening up requests now to anyone who has anything they would like me to write about. i hope you enjoy this and if you do, feel free to check out my other works! :)
MASTERLIST
THE NIGHT WAS COLD, rain pouring like wet curtains from the sky and splattering across the sidewalk. You quickly trudged through, your sneakers soaked and clothes sopping. You were shuddering against the heavy wind, hopelessly trying to tuck your hair out of your sight. It refused to remain snug behind your ear, your Y/H/C locks opting to smack violently against your face.
You and your father had been arguing again. It was something that hat occurred often, so you never really dwelled to much on it to avoid having to face your feelings about it. This time it was different. He yelled at you this time around. Loud. Your mother was out of town on a business trip so she wasnât there to defend you, and the divorce between them was pretty nasty so you didnât expect him to be any lenient on you for wishing to live with her.
You finally arrived at the apartment complex of your friend, Peter Parker. You two werenât best friends, not like him and Ned. But you were closeâclose enough for you to develop the tiniest of a crush and close enough for you to open up a little to him. He knew somewhat of your situation and he always insisted that if you ever came down to it and you needed a place to hang for a little, his home was always yours too.
You rushed up the stairs, your sneakers sloshing with ever step. Once you found yourself perched before his doorstep, you raised an arm, holding your knuckles inches away from the wood. Your heart was racing. Maybe I shouldnât, you thought. Maybe I should just find a diner or something instead.
Itâs fine. Heâll understand.
You knocked on the door, a few seconds passing before the locked clinked and the knob shifted. The door opened and your heart dropped.
âHey, Y/N,â Peterâs voice was laced with concerned. He opened the door wider, absorbing your disheveled state, urging you to come inside. âWhatâs wrong? Are you okay? Here, let me get you a towel?â
âThanks,â you sniffled, wiping the back of your hand along your nose. Your body was convulsing with shivers, hands working desperately to warm up your arms. You hadnât even thought to bring a sweatshirt before you mindlessly stormed outânot that having a sweatshirt would do much to fend off the rain.
Peter returned hastily with a towel, instantly wrapping it around your body. He held it firmly against you, rubbing up and down on your limbs to create some friction. You grabbed on to the towel and patted it across your face, the tears and rolling water droplets sinking into the soft fabric. He kept his hand firmly on your shoulder, his thumb drawing comforting circles.
âW-whereâs May?â You panted, your body disappearing beneath the towel. You felt awful for intruding so late, but you didnât know where else to go or who else to talk to. Peter said he was always there, so by default, he was he only option.
âSheâs uh, sheâs working late tonight. So itâs just me,â Peter replied calmly. âWhatâs wrong?â
You shook your head, wiping away at your lashes still coated with your hot tears. âItâs just my dad. You know how he can be sometimes, and tonight he just ⌠sucked. He-he first got made at me because I got a C on that one math test we had, a-and I tried to tell him that I forgot about the test because I was working so hard on the prepping for the Robotics Club and the Environmental Club, but then he just got mean about everything. About my friends, how I spend my time, about me. Not just that one stupid grade! I-I know itâs sounds stupid, and Iâm probably being so, so overdramatic and completely sensitive about thisââ
âNo,â Peter cut you off. âNo, itâs okay, Y/N. He shouldnât be giving you a hard time for one bad grade when youâve been working your ass off on a bunch of other things. Itâs okay.â
You nodded, using the towel to wipe again at your eyes. âI think heâs been drinking. Thatâs why heâs always in a pissy mood now. That, and the divorce. He-he gives me shit for everything. I canât ever say ânoâ to him without getting nervous about how heâd react. My anxiety is off the charts because of it.â
Peter curled and arm around you, listening attentively as he led you to his room. Once you arrived, he pushed the door open for you, then started to pick through his dresser for some spare clothes to lend you.
âI-Iâm really sorry, Y/N. Thatâs really shitty of him. Iâm relieved that you came here. We can uh, just hang out the rest of the night and-and you can have my bed. Iâll take the couch,â Peter sounded sincere, his hand resting on your knee. Your smile was watery when you accepted the bundled up t-shirt and sweatpants. âI can um ⌠t-turn around. If you donât want me to leave.â
Your cheeks flushed pink and you nodded profusely, not wanting to be alone. It was cathartic to you knowing that Peter was close by, living and breathing the same air as you. And Peter smelled like birch wood and peonies, unlike the stench of bittersweet alcohol and burned out cigarettes that your home usually reeked of. Peter, to you, was a breath of fresh air. You found comfort in his embrace, always wanting to savor the warmth his arms radiated whenever the coiled around you. You felt safe and protected, like you were buried in a home you never quite knew you craved.
âYou can turn around,â you agreed, smiling softly. Peter obliged, shoving his hands into his pocket before standing up from the bed to turn his back to you.
You stood up, lifting the soaking wet shirt up and over your head, discarding it onto the floor. There was something about changing with Peter just feet away that made your stomach explode with butterflies. The part of you that wasnât so focused on the painful events of your evening wished that he would turn around and look at you for a minute. You wondered what he would think and how he would feel. You wondered what he would do with his hands and where he would place his fingers. Where would he place his lips?
But tonight was certainly not the night for any of that. Thatâs not what you needed. What you needed was a friend to protect you and a shoulder to cry on. You needed Peter Parker, your friend. Not Peter Parker who you loved more than just a friend. You reached behind your back and unclasped your bra. Your fragile, perplexed mind wandered once again.
Turn around.
You tugged the shirt over your head, Peterâs scent fanning pleasantly across your nose. After kicking off your shorts, you pulled on the baggy sweatpants and ran the towel through your hair once more, giving it one final drying.
âIâm done,â you announced.
Peter bounced back on his heels before turning around, his heart racing when he saw you in his clothes. You looked good. He scolded himself for having the crude desire to turn around earlier; his conscience wouldâve never forgiven him, and neither would he. Maybe to you it didnât mean anything, but to him it was everything. You were everything. With your crystallized Y/E/C eyes and youthful cheeks and glowing smile. With your good heart and golden personality.
âSo-so do you want to watch some movies? Or we could just uh ⌠we could hang out and order some Chinese food. Itâs only eleven so theyâre still open. May left me cash for dinner but I never got around to it.â
You nodded, your lips curving up softly. Peter started towards the kitchen, subconsciously placing his hand on the small of your back to usher you towards the living room couch. Your cheeks reddened with the gentle contact of his palm, but you leaned back into the touch, desiring something stronger. When you sat down, you pulled your knees to your chest, billions of thoughts whipping violently through your mind. Some of them pertained to your father others were more fixated on Peter and why he made you so nervous. Some of them even revolved around the stupid test you had Monday and the club meeting you had after school. You had so many thoughts and nothing to do with any of them besides dwell and ponder until your brain was sore.
âW-whatever you want to do. I donât want to intrude or anything,â you shrugged.
Peter flashed you a grin. âLetâs get Chinese. Iâll get like, fried rice and noodles or whatever. Youâll like it!â
After Peter ordered the food and joined you on the couch, he flipped on the television, using the remote to flip through all the stations. He settled on Criminal Minds, a show you didnât mind watching. All you really wanted was some background noise to kill the crippling silence. You got comfortable on the couch, burying yourself into the corner, stretching your legs out just enough to not invade Peterâs personal space. Laying your head against the pillow, you curled up beneath the throw blanket and watched the show.
Peter anxiously tapped his toe against the floor, staring at you out of the corner of his eye. His cheeks were bright pink, and he desperately wanted to start a conversation. But for some reason, he was so nervous. His stomach was churning and twisting into knots, and he hated himself for wanting to kiss you even during the most inappropriate of times, yet he still couldnât help himself.
âSo uh, did you go to Bettyâs party last weekend? I-I know she invited everyone from decathlon, so âŚâ you trailed off, threading your clammy fingers together, eyes cast upon the floor.
Peter nodded. âYeah, yeah. I left early though. Parties arenât really my kind of thing, I-I guess. I saw you though, before you left.â
You finally mustered the courage to meet his eyes. The bright lighting of the television screen reflected off his glistening, chocolate brown irises. âYou shouldâve said something,â you responded. âIâm not really that big of a partier either. I-I just go to get out of the house, but Iâd rather be doing anything else.â
âI wouldâve said hi, but you were talking to that guy from our Spanish class, so-so I didnât know if Iâd be interrupting you or anything?â His pitch got higher as he grew more anxious. He didnât want to be stepping over any boundaries or anything. The look of shock that flushed across your delicate gestures made him regret every word heâd uttered.
âWho, Jacob?â you giggled, shaking your head furiously. âNo-No! No way! Never! He was just totally wasted, and he-he kept going on about his dog. I gave him a ride home. Thatâs all though,â you assured Peter. You definitely didnât want him to get the idea that you had a thing for Jacobâif anything, you were trying to drop hints to Peter that you were interested in him! But you werenât exactly keen in those particular types of romantic situations, so it wouldnât be baffling to you if found out you were doing a mediocre job at it.
âO-oh,â Peter stuttered. He felt stupid. âWell, you still looked really pretty that night. I wanted to say hi. Really.â
You gaped, blinking blankly at him like his words were some sort of spell in a foreign tongue. Peter Parker just called you pretty. You could feel your heart racing and the butterflies in your stomach only magnified with the flustering compliment. âYou thought I looked pretty?â
Peter laughed anxiously, his eyes darting between you and the floor. âY-yeah. You were wearing that blue blouse and that pair of jeans you always wear. The ones you got from Old Navy.â
Grinning fondly at him, you eased back into the couch, flattered that heâd remember something as ridiculous as an outfitâflattered that heâd remember you at all. You shrugged, âYeah. I-I guess I was. I canât believe youâd remember that.â
Peter was relieved when the doorbell rang, because he definitely didnât want to come up with some ridiculous excuse as to why he remembered what you wore on that very particular evening. He was practically staring you down from across the room whenever you werenât looking, jealousy flaring like a fire in his stomach whenever he saw how fondly Jacob was looking at you. He watched and noticed the way the corners of your eyes crinkled whenever laughter came bubbling like a melody from your tongue. He watched and he noticed the way you fiddled with your bracelets, a nervous tick you had whenever you were placed in stressful situations. Heâd known you long enough to pick up on those little quirks.
Once he paid the delivery man and grabbed the bag full of Chinese, Peter carried it to the kitchen and placed it onto the counter, immediately diving in. You jumped up and joined him, ferreting through the cabinets for some plates and silverware for you both. He picked out the boxes of rice and noodles, and the sweet and sour chicken, and cranked them open as if they were eating at some prestigious, gourmet buffet. He gestured towards the food, urging you to go first, your mouths watering.
The remainder of your evening was spent balled up on the couch, eating your Chinese food. The tension had finally subsided with your laughter, and you continued to talk and talk until your eyelids started to droop.
âI canât believe you said that to Flash! What did he do about it?â you listened with ignited eyes, twirling a noodle around on your fork.
Peter snickered. âNothing! Well, nothing yet. Iâm totally not looking forward to going back Monday. Heâs going to give me such a hard time at decathlon,â he groaned.
You tilted your head, frowning slightly. âIâm sorry. It sucks that heâs a dick to you, but you should take what he says to heart. Youâre totally awesome, Peter. And Flash just kind of sucks. I mean, for Godâs sake, what kind of person calls themselves 'Flashâ, and for what? Itâs not like heâs fast or anything.â
Peter laughed at your statement, flashing you a toothy smile that made your heart feel warm. âThanks, Y/N. And yeah, I guess youâre right. I still canât believe you had a thing with him.â
You moaned, sinking down into the couch. Swallowing the last bit of your food, you buried your face into the palms of your hands, wanting nothing more than to shield yourself from the world. âPlease donât talk about that. Itâs so embarrassing. I genuinely feel so sick,â you joked. You ran a hand through your hair. âYeah. We donât talk about that, ever. Thatâs one of the things we are locking away in a vault for eternity.â
Peterâs face grew curious, and his eyes flickered with an emotion you couldnât quite identify. âWhy did you even do it?â
You pondered. âI-I donât know. I guess I was just really excited. It was the first time a guy had asked me out, and I really wanted to go on a date. So I did. And like, he was kind of nice to me. Still Flash, but ⌠nicer than my dad. Then he asked me for nudes,â you stared to giggle at the silliness of it all. âSuch a tragic demise to a fruitful relationship, donât you think?â
Peter scoffed. âYeah. I guess you could say that. Thatâs shitty though. That heâd ask you for stuff like that. You donât deserve that.â
âThanks, Peter. What about you? Any first date stories you want to share? First kiss? First whatever?â you bit down on your bottom lip, watching the way his wavy chocolate locks bounced whenever he turned his head. Your eyes met for a brief moment, the gaze impenetrable and laced with affection.
âIâve been on a date once, with that Ally girl in your Environmental Club in freshmen year, but ⌠I wasnât really into it. I donât really know what Iâm doing,â he confessed. âAnd Iâve never kissed anyone. What about you?â
You shook your head. âNo,â you hummed. âIâm still waiting for the right person.â
âMe too,â he said.
Eventually, you two had feasted on just about all the Chinese food you could stomach for one evening. After packing the leftovers away into the refrigerator, Peter let you borrow an unopened toothbrush, and you went to brush your teeth. The both of you were beyond exhausted, and you wanted nothing more than to curl up beneath a heap of blankets and pass out.
Peter fixed up his bed for you, fluffing out the pillows and asking you if you needed anythingâa glass of water, more blankets, anything.
Once you were in bed with your sheets pulled to your neck, you couldnât push away that lonely feeling prodding away at your core. You were scared. You didnât want to be all by yourself alone in the dark. Not after what happened at home. You felt horrible and guilty, intruding on Peterâs evening, having him buy dinner, having to give you his clothes. He was probably exhausted from the week, and you had just barged in unannounced in complete and utter disarray.
âPeter!â you blurted his name before he could leave. The boy stopped, poking his head out from around the door.
âYeah, Y/N?â
Your heart was pounding harder. âC-can you stay with me? I-I donât really want to be alone right now. Itâs okay if um ⌠if you donât want to, so don'tââ
âNo, itâs okay,â Peterâs tone was soft. You could hear his bare feet padding across the carpet.
You relaxed once you felt the weight of his body dip into the mattress of his twin sized bed. You scooted over as much as you could, turning your back towards him. He pulled up on the comforter, getting comfortable in his bed. You felt a lot warmer and a lot safer.
âThanks, Peter. For everything,â you whispered. âIâm sorry forââ
âHey,â he rolled over to face you, and in response you turned back. Your faces were inches apart, hot breaths fanning across each otherâs parted lips. âYou donât ever have to apologize to me for anything, Y/N. I would do anything for you. Anything. I had fun hanging out with you.â
You smiled, relief fluttering in your chests âMe too, Pete.â
âAnd for the record,â Peterâs words were shaky, his breaths growing shallower by the second. You anticipated his next words, a lump growing in your throat. âI-I think you look really pretty even when youâre wearing my clothes. I mean, e-especially.â
A smile blossomed on your lips, and you felt his lashes brush across your brows. Your lips were so close, if you moved your head even an inch the gap between you would be closed and everything would fall into place. He was so close. So close. You didnât know how much longer you could tolerate feeling him like this against you. Never in your whole life did you feel the way you did when you thought about Peter and his illuminating smile and mussy curls and dorky personality, and you were afraid if you didnât kiss him now you would never feel that way with anybody every again.
âPeter,â you whispered his name like a prayer, your tone thick with love and adoration for the boy.
âY-yeah?â his nerves were inflamed.
You couldnât take it anymore. With every ounce of courage you had festering within your core, you took a leap of faith and leaned forward, your lips meeting Peterâs. The silence grew loud, and he responded instantly, craving your touch just as much as you craved his. It was better than you could ever imagineâa dream come true. He was beautiful and you loved nothing more than the softness of his lips pressed against yours. They molded together flawlessly, moving in sync. It took a few seconds to grasp to concept, but together you eased into it, finding a pattern to move to as you explored each other.
His heart soared, his stomach performing summersaults. He couldnât fathom a moment more perfect and tender than this. And you were perfect. Everything was perfect. You tasted of mint toothpaste, and he loved it. He placed his hand onto your waist beneath the covers, his fingers pressing into the skin where your shirt had ridden up. He felt you sighed contently against him, and he pulled you closer. He always wanted you closer.
You pulled away, your foreheads pressed together, your taste now glowing on each otherâs lips. You panted against each other, basking in the silence and savoring the tender moment before delighted laughs cut through and decorated the atmosphere in bright hues. There were simply no words to describe the happiness flooding within both your hearts.
âI-I was kind of hoping to kiss you,â Peter admitted breathlessly.
You chuckled lightly. âYeah, me too. We can uh, do it some more if youâd like?â
âOh, yeah,â Peter agreed eagerly.
He needed no other words to latch his lips onto yours again. You cupped his face with your hands, the pads of your fingers running intimately across his cheekbones, admiring the softness of his skin. You trailed a hand back to tangle in with his curls, combing them fondly. His arms boxed around you, pulling your frame flush against his on the bed. You werenât entirely sure what you were doing, but thankfully neither did Peter. Whatever came naturally, you did it. You swiped your tongue along his lip, and he parted his mouth, your tongues tying. The kiss grew deeper and more passionate, bodies aflame with lust and desire.
Your shirt continued to ride up further, and his hands followed until he stopped at you diaphragm. Your noses brushed together, cheeks painted a shade of coral. He was magnetic, and you clung to him like never before, never wanting to slip away from the comfort of his embrace ever again.
You kissed for a while, peppering each otherâs faces until you both could no longer stand yourselves. You curled up beside him, your head resting on his chest, ear pressed against where his heart would beat like a drum. His chin laid on the top of your head, arms coiled around you, his thumb drawing soft circles on your forearm. There was something incredibly comforting to you about listening to his heart beat, firm and steady. It reminded you of how safe you were with him.
You fell asleep that way.
Aunt May was a little bit confused when she came home, but she didnât have the heart to wake you.
After all, you left dinner in the fridge and cleaned up after yourselves. What could she possibly be upset with?
That didnât keep her from having a stern conversation with you both in the morning. She didnât let you leave for a breakfast date until getting the words âbe responsible and use protectionâ drilled into your heads.
SUMMARY: Y/N Stark is a dancer and Tony invites Peter to come watch her performance. The two teens meet and are immediately infatuated with each other, Peter especially being as he canât seem to take his eyes off her when she appears on stage. The first night they meet, Y/N teaches him a few moves, and the infatuation soon leads to something more.
CONTAINS: kissing, fluff, swearing, angst (?)
A/N: hey guys and welcome back to this series! so i know it might seem a little slow right now and tbh i feel like this series isnât the best. but i personally like it so since i have no other ideas at the moment, iâm just going to continue writing for this. iâm going to put together a spotify playlist for you to listen to because iâm listening to some good songs and they really just make the story! anyway, those who are enjoying, iâm glad youâre liking, and those of you who are waiting for something elseâi am finally working on something that should come out relatively soon! iâm also doing a liz allen fic because i canât help myself. that is all! :)
| ONE | TWO |
THE FOLLOWING MORNING, Y/N awoke later than usual, her phone laid out beside her extended hand. Sheâd fallen asleep talking to Peter last night over FaceTime after Happy had begrudgingly taken the two kids home. Pepper was perched on the edge of her bed, gently shaking her arm.
âMorning, Y/N,â she hummed. Y/N rubbed her eyes with the back of her hands, sitting up slowly in bed while the golden sunlight streamed in through the glass windows. âWhy are there bruises on your neck, did youâoh. Oh. Okay.â
Suddenly, Y/N didnât feel so drowsy anymore. She shot up in her bed, yanking up on her hoodie to shield the vast array of purple bruises splashed across her neck and chest. Her cheeks flushed red, eyes widened and mouth agape as she tried to ponder up an excuse. âPepper, no, waitââ
âDid you and Peter do something last night? You didnât. Did you? Whatââ
âWe didnât do anything!â Y/N insisted, lurching up from her bed, bare feet sinking into the plush carpet. She padded over to her closet and ferreted through for her practice clothes and another change of clothes. âPep, I swear! We didnât do anything bad. We just hung out and kissed a little bit. Thatâs all.â
Pepper stood up, arms folded across her chest. The expression on her face was reeling of incredulity, her lips parted. âI thought you two have never met before? Why is he giving you hickeys?! Have you been dating?â
âWhat? No!â Y/N replied, shaking her head. Her brows pinched together, nose scrunched up. âNo, we did just meet last night. After dinner I took him to the studio and was teaching him a few things and it just kind of ⌠I donât know, it happened.â
âItâs just âhappenedâ?â Pepper screamed.
âLook, Pepper,â Y/N sighed. âI need to shower. Please, donât tell dad. Iâm sorry. I donât want him to get mad.â She pleaded with her hands folded, practically on her knees. Tears were beginning to glimmering her eyes. âHe canât know about! Please! He would ground me the rest of my life and-and heâd fire Peter from the internship! I-Itâs my fault, I got carried awayââ
Pepper sighed, completely exasperated. After a few agonizing moments she nodded, swallowing hard. âFine. Fine, Y/N. But something happens, you come tell me immediately. Iâm not hiding this from Tony forever, so anything else serious that occurs, you tell him or I will.â
Y/N felt her heart ease, pursing her lips to form a pressed smile. âThank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you! Iâm sorry. We didnât do anything else though, really. And if we did Iâd tell you.â
Pepper licked her lips, balancing on her heels. She ran a hand through her thick strawberry blonde locks, the anger melting off her face at the apology. âI know. What else did you two do then last night? Is this going to be a thing? Am I going to have to give you the talk?â
âNo! No, no, no. No, I donât need the talk!And I-I mean, Iâd hope so. We just walked back to the dance studio and talked the whole way and then I taught him a few moves. Well, kind of. I taught him a move.â
The woman scoffed, the glimmer of a smile on her lips. âWell, Y/N ⌠Just be responsible. Please. Iâm not going to lie and say I enjoy the idea of you hopping so quickly into a somewhat relationship with this boy, because I donât. Even though I love Peter. And Iâm sure Tony would agree with me. But since I trust you, Iâm at least hoping youâll make good choices.â
Y/N listened attentively. She shuffled towards her bathroom door, her hand loosely draped onto the brass handle. âI know, Pep. Thanks. Seriously. And I will. I promise.â
Pepper grinned. âOkay. Now, I need to go. Get ready and cover those things up before Tony blows a fuse. And Iâm not kidding Y/Nâanything that happens with you and his mentee, you tell me ASAP. I will tolerate no dirty dancing between you two hormonal teenagers.â
âOkay,â Y/N swore, stifling a scoff. âI will. Bye.â
Once Pepper left and Y/N departed into her bathroom, she closed the door behind her, stripping of her large hoodie and shorts. Her cheeks were pink and youthful, intriguing eyes skimming over the constellation of hickeys scattering her neck and chest like dark splotches of purple paint. Peter Parker sure could suck. There was no doubt about it, but it wasnât just about the fact he was good at it. He was kind about it. He was kind and he was brilliant, and not only with books and math homework and science projects, but with everything else deemed less important when the word âintelligentâ was used to describe an individual. She remembered how close she was to him, how his lips were soft and wet pressed against her skin, goosebumps shuddering down the entire length of her body. She would do anything to feel that close to him again. She would do anything to feel his warmth.
Her fingertips outlined the marks, her breaths growing shallower as she remembered him and his features, his large brown eyes flooding over with blinding curiosity and thin lips damp and parted with prominent, rumbling hunger. She could see his jaw, sharp and angular as her fingers glided along its chiseled edge, her nails soon dragging down his toned chest. Her own lips on his body. Her own hands trailing every inch of his body.
Y/N cleared her throat, shaking her head. She turned on her shower, then removed her undergarments before allowing the weight of the warm water to cascade down her marked skin. She still thought about Peter. She couldnât get him off her mind. She could still feel his hands digging into her waist, pulling her closer against him, his fingertips traveling down to grip firmly onto her thighs. She couldnât get Peter Parker off her mind.
AFTER A LONG WHILE OF covering her hickeys with foundation, Y/N was finally dressed and ready for the day. She grabbed her backpack and headed for the kitchen, anxiously fiddling with her hair. She was nervous that if she pulled it back, her father would notice the uneven shades painted along the surface of her neck.
She rounded the halls, making a beeline for the fridge to grab a water bottle. Her breath caught in her throat when her panicked eyes fell upon a mop of messy, chestnut tendrils facing her. Peter Parker was in the kitchen, perched on one of the stools, his zipped backpack strewn across the table with a book nonchalantly balanced in the palms of his handsâthe same hands which had roamed the surface of her body just the night before. She felt her heart thump violently in her chest, hands growing clammy. Her fingertips coiled around the fabric of her t-shirt.
âHey, honey. Good morning!â Tony cheered, rounding the corner and strutting into the kitchen, his sneakers smacking against the tiled floors. âYou heading off to practice?â
Peterâs head shot up from the book, the hardcover slipping from his hands and clattering to the floor. The pages wrinkled, but he couldnât care less about the creases in the paperâall he seemed to care about was the fact Y/N was there, in the flesh, standing before him yet again, still just as beautiful as she was last night. He swallowed the lump in his throat, a faint smile curving up on his thin, pink lips, the indecisive, yet spectacular thoughts in his head still roaring like a storm. It was almost like he was seeing her again for the first time.
Y/N shifted, tugging up on the collar of her corduroy jacket to reassure herself the hickeys on her neck remained hidden. A smile illuminated her face at the sight of Peter. She was thrilled to see him again.
âI-uh, yeah! Yeah, Iâm leaving now. Hey, Peter. I didnât know you were coming by this morning?â Y/N redirected toward the young boy.
Peter fumbled, rubbing his palms against his jeans. âW-well, your Dad needed some help with a new prototype heâs working on, and-and I volunteered to help. I-I was around? I guess.â
She bent down and picked up the book from the floor, closing the collection of pages. âWuthering Heights?â she commented, intrigued. Y/N flipped through the pages, tracing the boldly printed words with her groomed fingernails. âI uh, havenât gotten the chance to read it yet. My English teacher recommended it to me. Do you like it so far?â She handed it back to him, a shiver running down her spine when his fingers gently brushed against hers, her cheeks flushing an electric pink at the flustering warmth.
âYeah. Yeah, yeah, I do. Itâs not like anything else Iâve read before. Youâd really like it, I think,â Peter fumbled through to find the page heâd previously been on before clumsily dropping the book.
âMaybe I could borrow it from you when youâre done?â Y/N clasped her hands together, shrugging her shoulders. The gleam in her eyes was leaking with hope and adoration.
Tony glanced between the two, practically growing dizzy from the amount of times his eyes would dart from his daughter to his mentee. The tension suffocating the room did not go unnoticed by him, much less the blush on their cheeks. He felt his stomach churn, an unsettling feeling surging through his bones and seeping through his veins like a threatening poison. He knew it was such a bad idea to allow Peter to walk into her life, especially since he was Spider-Man, but ⌠but she looked so excited. There was happiness glowing in her eyes brighter than the sun, and the smile pressed on her lips was something he felt made his heart soar. He just couldnât bare the thought of keeping her from feeling what he knew she couldnât control, but he also couldnât bare the thought of her being hurt. He was trapped at a crossroads.
âYeah, definitely!â Peter beamed. âUm, if youâre not practicing later tonight, Iâm going to the bookstore. I have a few thing to pick up for school and stuff. I-If you want, you can come. Only if you want to though! You can say no!â
Y/N bit down on her lip, shifting her gaze towards her fatherâs. He was tapping away at his phone before looking up and nonchalantly nodding his head. She gave Peter a toothy grin. âIâd love to! God, I havenât been to the bookstore in forever!â
âHey, you two talk for a few more minutes. Happy is calling me. Iâll be back. Donât get handsy, please,â Tony quipped, disappearing from the kitchen.
Peter and Y/N both seemed to instantly relax as Tony exited, their shoulders falling and lungs deflating with long held breaths. A breathy laugh fell gracefully from her mouth, and Y/N tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Peter stared at her in a daze, eyes raking over her dark lashes and the milks of her big eyes. He noticed the foundation lazily blended along her neck, and it took everything within him to not burst out into hysterical laughter. Instead, he opted for a comforting hand on the crook of her neck, his thumb running along the center of her throat.
Y/Nâs breaths grew shallow. She leaned into his magnetic touch. âHey,â she hummed.
âHey,â he replied. âH-how are you? Are you good?â He was mesmerized by the grooves in her neck.
She nodded. âYeah, I-Iâm great. Iâm amazing. I know I already told you, but I-I really enjoyed being with you last night. And I donât want you to think that I led you on or anythingâbecause that wasnât my intention in the slightestâbut I just really didnât want to go further or anything, and I was lowkey totally freaking out the entire time because I was nervous about going too quick about thisâor whatever this isâand scaring you or making you uncomfortableââ
âY/N, itâs okay,â Peter assured her, saving her from anymore incoherent word vomit. His smile radiated warmth and Y/N reveled in it. âReally. I get it, and I feel the same. And you didnât lead me on at all. I-I kind of really like you.â
Y/N internally gasped at the statement, her cheeks the color of a rose and her Y/E/C eyes sparkling like crystals. She wanted to squeal, she wanted to leap around and scream with excitement, but somehowâsome miraculous, unearthly wayâshe managed to keep her cool. Her fingers pressed against his face, still just as smooth and warm as it was last night. Leaning in, she closed her eyes and placed her lips firmly against his. The kiss was slow and tender, laced with confirmation. He melted against her frame, allowing his hands to drop to her waist.
âI really like you too, Peter Parker,â Y/N whispered. âI-I think youâre cool.â
âYou think Iâm cool?â he asked incredulously, smiling like a fool. She could feel his happiness against her lips, and sheâd never enjoyed such a feeling in her whole life.
âYeah. I think youâre awesome. And I-I want to hang out with you more,â she continued. âI want to go to that bookstore with you and dance with you and kiss youâas cheesy as it all sounds.â
âItâs not cheesy,â he denied.
She wasnât convinced. âItâs ⌠pretty cheesy, Parker.â
He tilted his hand, admiring her. âOkay, so maybe a little, but itâs whatever, Y/N. I like anything that comes out of your mouth.â
Now, it was Y/Nâs turn to smile like a fool. âGod, I just want to be with you alone again like last night.â She sighed, snaking her arms around his neck, the two swaying gently in the middle of the kitchen with their limbs wrapped loosely around each other.
âM-me too,â Peter responded. âI canât wait to hang out with you later. I-I wish I could come with you to practice. I want to watch you dance again.â
Y/N peppered his face with kisses, hovering above cloud nine. It made her heart sing knowing that Peter was so interested in the things that made her so unbelievably happy. She wanted to do the same for him. âSoon,â she said. âDad is completely extra and had a studio built in upstairsâwell, itâs not just for me. Natasha likes to dance, too. Sometimes we do it for fun together. But ⌠Maybe sometime we could go up there together and ⌠you know. I could teach you a few moves.â
Peter bit his lip, nodding eagerly. âOkay. Cool. I-Iâd like that.â
âPerfect. Then the bookstore is a date. And so is that.â
âSo, weâre dating now?â Peterâs cheeks were hurting from smiling so hard.
âI-If you want to date,â she stuttered.
He kissed her, their lips entwining. He tasted just as he did last night, a flavor reminiscent of mint lingering on his damp lips. His tongue swiped along her bottom lip, and she granted him entry, their tongues tangling. Y/N moaned contently into the passionate kiss, her fingers curling through his mussed chocolate locks. He felt him push back on her, their bodies aligned together until her back struck the wall of cabinets, silverware rustling beyond the drawers. A muffled giggle fell from her mouth, silenced by his lips, and she groaned pleasantly beneath his fingertips, relishing in the warmth they casted when he slipped them beneath her shirt and dug them into her waist.
âPeter,â she hummed against his mouth between heavy kisses. âAs much as I want to, we canât do this now. My dad is literally in the next room over. I donât want him to have a stroke.â
Peter panted, a chuckle emitting from his mouth. He took a reluctant step away from her, already missing the way she felt. Anxiously, he ran a hand through his hair, scolding himself for not being able to control his actions. âSorry. I-I just got carried away.â
âYou and me both,â Y/N patted him on the chest. She picked up the book from the counter and pressed it against his chest, tilting her head back to find his eyes. âS-so, is that a yes? Do you want to date me?â
Peter grinned. âYeah. Iâd love to.â
On cue, Tony reappeared from around the corner, tucking his phone into the back pocket of his jeans. He tugged a hand through his messy brown hair, gaze settling on the two teens leaning against the kitchen counter. They whipped their heads toward the man, cheeks dusted pink and lips pressed into smiles.
âHey, dad. Everything okay?â she squeaked.
He furrowed his brows. âYeah. Fine. Everythingâs fine. What are you two kids talking about?â
âWuthering Heights!â Y/N tapped the book. âItâs okay for me to go with Peter to the bookstore tonight, right?â
Tony shrugged, not thinking much of it. He trusted his daughter to make right choices, and he knew that with Peterâs identity under wraps, no Spider-Man business would put her in harmâs way. She was just going with Peter Parker to the bookstoreâPeter Parker his intern. It was nothing. It was nothing. He repeated it like a mantra in his head.
It was nothing. Peter watched the way Y/Nâs face curved up when Tony approved the request. It was nothing. Her smile was so, so bright. It was nothing. Peter smiled back.
SUMMARY: Y/N Stark is a dancer and Tony invites Peter to come watch her performance. The two teens meet and are immediately infatuated with each other, Peter especially being as he canât seem to take his eyes off her when she appears on stage. The first night they meet, Y/N teaches him a few moves, and the infatuation soon leads to something more.
CONTAINS: fluff, swearing
WC: 2.300
A/N: will i ever stop writing Stark!reader? No? Why you may ask? because i try to make up for my own relationship lacking in the father department! tragic! anyway, on a much more optimistic note, i have had this idea in my head for a long time because i watched black swan the other day with Natalie portman and i was left utterly speechless. God i love her. I also watched dirty dancing for the 9283729 time, so then this story was born. hope you enjoy and have a great day/night! :))
| TWO |
THE FIRST TIME PETER saw her, infatuation immediately blossomed within his core. Mr. Stark had offered to take Peter to his daughterâs ballet performance one day while they were hard at work in the lab. He poked his head up, his attention drifting from the Spider-Man suit and latching onto Tonyâs whisky-shadowed eyes.
Peter had never met her. He always seemed to arrive at the Tower just as she seemed to leave for practice or hang out with her friends. Sometimes she would be with Pepper going shopping, other times she would be napping in her bedroom. No matter the time, it always seemed like he had just missed her. Of course, he knew about her and had seen pictures, but heâd never shaken her hand or had a conversation.
It didnât take a lot of convincing for Peter to respond cheerfully with a stuttering, âI-I would love to, Mr. Stark! Thank you!â
A week later and here he was, seated beside Mr. Stark and Miss Potts in a large, luxurious auditorium. The stage was illuminated with bright lights, the glamorous red curtains hanging heavily from the ceiling and brushing against the floor. Intricate designs and patterns were etched into the beige walls, giving the auditorium a picturesque, almost ethereal appeal. Peter felt as if he were touring some kind of heavenly Roman cathedral.
Heâd worn the best clothes he had for her performance, hoping to leave an impression on the girl heâd heard so much about. He didnât want to look overdressed or underdressed, therefore he sufficed for something that settled quite nicely in the gray area. He wore a clean pair of khakis that May had washed just for the occasion and a navy blue button down. The sleeves were rolled up past his elbows, a fair amount of gel slathered through his chestnut locks to tame the mussed curls. For some reason, he wanted to look the absolute best he could for her, and he certainly did not want to be disrespectful to Y/N in front of Mr. Stark either.
âYouâre gonnaâ love this,â Tony beamed, turning his head so he could speak lowly into Peterâs ear. âY/Nâs great. Sheâs just awesome.â
Peter smiled. âThanks for inviting me, Mr. Stark. This is funâreally! I-Iâve always wanted to meet your daughterââ
âWhy? You think sheâs cute? Oh, I bet you do. She is cute,â he teased, humor thick in his tone.
Peterâs eyes widened, pupils dilating with fear. His jaw his dropped, and he tried desperately to get some coherent words out, but all he could managed was a sentence strewn with incomprehensible gibberish. He swallowed. âW-well, she-she is pretty! I-I mean, Iâve seen pictures and-and other things! But I don'tâuh, I-I donât like her! I havenât even met her!â
Tonyâs brows pinched together, his lips pouted as he tried to make sense of Peterâs crappy excuse for a sentence. Pepper rolled her eyes at her absolutely childish, ridiculous fiancĂŠ, placing a reassuring hand on Peterâs shoulder. âDonât mind him, Peter. Heâs just acting like a middle schooler like he always does.â
âThen youâre in love with a middle schooler. That makes you creepy,â Tony retorted, slouching back in his chair, folding his arms dramatically.
Eventually, the lights had dimmed, the stage now the center of the audienceâs attention. The lady in charge walked to the front, a microphone clutched in her hand. She wore a black form fitting dress that hugged her down to her knees, her brown hair cut into a curly bob. The jewelry she wore looked expensive, and the womanâwho later introduced herself as Aprilâgave the crowd a warm welcome before presenting her talented group of dancers.
Peter stole a quick glance at Mr. Stark out of the corner of his eye, a content smile curling up on the manâs lips.
The poised dancers quickly filed onto the stage after the womanâs introduction, the melodies of violins and cellos filling the atmosphere. Peterâs eyes glistened as he found himself entirely captivated by the ballerinas. They balanced on the tips of their toes in sleek, baby pink ballet shoes, seamlessly gliding along the smooth floor. The ribbons from the shoes adorned their calves and were tied off into neat bows.
His irises skimmed the group of dancers before he finally found Y/N, and wow ⌠she was beautiful. Once his eyes had found her, he couldnât bare to look away. His damp lips parted slightly, and he weaseled forward in his seat as if a few inches would give him a better view. The way her shining Y/H/C locks were pulled back into a tight bun, not a single strand deemed out of place sent his heart thumping on a tangent. Her makeup was flawless, eyelashes long and enhanced by fake lashes and several coats of mascara. Her cheeks were painted a coral pink, the youthful tint of her skin countered by he dramatic contour hollowing out her cheeks.
Y/Nâs motions were water-like as she gracefully danced across the floor. Her movements were sharp, decorated by the stunning navy blue costume accentuating her toned muscles and structured limbs. The outfit hugged her upper body, artificial crystals and glimmering stones ornamenting the golden straps tracing the sweetheart lining. The costume descended into a white skirt that rustled whenever she leaped miraculously through the air. She looked like a colorful bird in flight.
Peter felt absolutely engrossed with Y/N and her fluidity in the art. Her movements continued to be crisp, her legs straight whenever she casually pointed a toe towards the sky. He didnât understand how she could be so fluent with her steps, and he didnât understand how any of those girls could have the right amount of balance in their bones to perform so brilliantly. If anything, it looked painful. He wouldnât be able to maintain those strict movements even with his enhanced abilities.
Miss Potts turned her head, catching a glimpse of Peterâs fascinated expression. She knew exactly where he was looking and who he was looking at. The faint smile on her glossy lips grew brighter as she continued to watch.
The music grew louder and more profound as the harmonies and melodies blended together in a symphony of wind and band. Peter noticed the way her facial expressions altered to the mood of the song. One minute she looked sorrowful, the other she looked relieved, then as the song came to an end, her eyes had cleared beneath coppery shadows and iridescent glimmers. She glided to the center of the circle of dancers prancing perfectly in sync like swans, spinning gracefully like a record. Wonderment and adoration for the girl he hadnât even gotten the pleasure to meet yet filled him to his core. She was enchanting.
When silence filled the auditorium and the ballerinas came to a halt, Y/N finished her sequence of turns, completing the choreography as applause echoed off the engraved walls. Peter followed in sync with the other spectators, standing up from his seat. He tried to poke his head over the shoulder of the man standing in front of him to gain a better view of Y/N. His eyes finally settled on her, still frozen in her position while she reveled in the applause with her friends. The smile on her face was luminous, her red painted lips tugged up. Peter already found himself falling in love with it.
He mindlessly clapped his hands together, unaware of how loud he was. Mr. Stark spared him a look to see if he had enjoyed it. Sure enough, Peterâs reaction was all the confirmation he needed to know the kid enjoyed a lot more than just the performance.
Finally, the curtains drew shut, and the ballerinas slipped properly off the stage. Y/N grinned and hugged her friends as they all ran back towards the dressing room with adrenaline and exuberance still coursing like a drug through their veins. The phrases âIâm proud of youâ and âgood jobâ continued to soar around the room, everyone praising each other on their achievements.
âY/N!â Cheryl cheered, handing the girl her backpack. âYou did amazing on your turns! Next time leave at least a bit of the spotlight to us,â she said playfully, clasping her on the shoulder.
âThanks, Cher! You did great too!â Y/N complimented. âSee you tomorrow.â
With that, Cheryl and the other girls quickly filed out of the room to seek out their parents and family. Y/N took a few seconds to gather her things, her fingers working to untie her ballet shoes and place them into their respective bag. She removed the lashes weighing down on her lids, instantly feeling free before she fished through her bag for the pack of makeup wipes waiting impatiently to liberate her suffocating skin. She headed out of the dressing room, running the wipe across her face while she skimmed through the crowd for her father and Pepper. Luckily, she found them swiftly. Her hand shot up in the air as she waved exuberantly in their direction.
âFound her!â Tony announced. âHere, Pete, you can give her the bouquet. Think of it as a thank you gift for being given the honor to stand in her unearthly presence.â
Peter flimsily clutched onto the bouquet of flowers. They smelled amazing, almost like the perfume that Pepper was wearing. Â The pink rose petals were soft and fragile, the rose choice glowing with simplicity. Peter followed behind Tony like a lost brown-eyed puppy, a sudden wave of anxiety crashing over him when the man enveloped his daughter into a tight hug. The girl laughedâthe first sound he had ever heard her make and already he wanted to listen to it forever.
âYou did great, Y/N! God, how did I manage to raise such a well-balanced, not-clumsy child?â The question was genuine as he placed a hand on the side of her face. âJeez, you are sixteenand already waaay cooler than me. Way to make me feel insecure.â
âYeah, okay, Dad,â Y/N scoffed. She ran the wipe over her eyelids, the white wipe turning a shade of brown and gold. âHi, Pepper! Iâm so glad you could come this time around!â
âMe too, honey!â The women gently ran her hand along her tightly styled hair. âYou did so goodâyou always do!â
Y/N was just about to address the two again before her eyes fell upon Peter practically folding in on himself behind Tony. She blinked a few times, cheeks flushing pink. Peter Parker, she recalled. She was almost beginning to think that the genius boy her father raved about constantly was a myth until he finally stood before her. The two stared at each other for a timeless moment, their eyes glued into a impenetrable gaze that drowned out the chaos of the outside world. His eyes were dark and projecting with a sun-like warmth she felt pressing into her bones, his hair slightly wavy yet domesticated all the same. She parted her chapped, apple red lips at the sight of his chiseled, angular jaw, the prominent dimples on his cheeks evident when a windy smile flushed across his handsome features. He was beautiful. No pictures did him any justice.
âOh, yeah! Y/N, this is Peter Parker. Heâs interning for your father,â Pepper broke Y/N from her trance, using a cleanly manicured finger to point at Peter, who held a dazzling bouquet of flowers with an equally charming grin.
âWhaâ? Oh! Y-yeah! Parker. Peter Parker,â she stuttered, feeling frazzled and embarrassed. âHi! I-Iâm Y/N. Stark.â
âHi,â the boy chirped. He stumbled forward and handed the girl the bouquet of flowers. His face felt like it was on fire. âT-these are for you!â
Y/N licked her lips, already finding herself infatuated with him. She wanted to get to know him immediately. Graciously, she accept the flowers. âThank you! You really didnât have to, I meanâitâs sweet, but we-we havenât even gotten to know each other yet and just to think youâve spent your own money that youâve worked so hard toââ
âYeah, you can breathe, kiddo. I got those for you,â Tony patted her shoulder. A part of him was beginning to regret ever introducing the two, knowing well that they were both evidently already interested in each otherâat least on a physical level. Usually, Y/N managed to be collected and fluent when it came to meeting new people, including those her age. The fact she was turning into a sputtering, incoherent mess because of his intern ⌠Well, he knew a crush when he saw it. Pepper seemed to be thinking exactly what he was thinking, a sheepish grin masterfully hidden behind a casual hand.
âOh! Sorry!â Y/Nâs eyes widened with sincerity. She reached forward to grip Peterâs arm. âAnd thanks, dad. Youâre the best!â
Peter was absolutely flabbergasted. Y/N was beautiful and she seemed kind. The makeup wipe removed majority of her makeup, her skin now rid of coverage to reveal a vast array of freckles and a splash of acne. Her lips were still red, but the dramatic shadows around her Y/E/C eyes were removed, making them appear softer and youthful. He couldnât stop gazing at her as she talked merrily to Tony and Pepper about the performance, asking them what they enjoyed and if she did any good. Peter thought she was perfect.
âCan we get Chick-Fil-A? Please? Or McDonaldâs?â Y/N asked as the group emptied into the parking lot. The air had grown crisp, the sky a slab of black hanging above them, mirroring the cracked street. âPeter, do you want to come eat with us?â
Peter smiled, nodding. âYeah, sure. I-If itâs okay with Mr. Stark, obviously.â
She shrugged, lingering behind the two adults, the material of her skirt briskly brushing past the tips of Peterâs fingers. He couldnât get over how interesting he found this girl, and he couldnât believe that he hadnât met her earlier. The moonlight was pale, and the stars were faint, covered by a hazy cloud of smokey gray, but that didnât take away from the ethereal beauty captivated by her bare features. They were walking closely beside each other, his mind already roaming on to think about the hobbies she had the quirks she had. He wondered about what she hated and about what made her laugh. He wondered about her.
Y/N titled her head, realizing Peter was deep in thought. She grabbed his wrist, hoping she wasnât crossing any boundaries. Immediately, she released him. âWhat are you thinking, Parker?â
He licked his lips, shaking his head. "Nothing. Iâm just starving.â
Welcome to my Peter Parker Masterlist! Here you will be able to find all of the current (and some possible future) works on my account! Iâve also added links to the series and works i have on the previous account i used so that you can locate those too, but i will not be active on that account any longer. thank you for stopping by and have fun binging if you like my writing! :))
Peter Parker x Reader
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WORKS ON @peterporkerpeter
How to Kiss [ Peter Parker x Fem!Stark!Reader] **
His Favorite Doctor [ Peter Parker x Fem!Stark!Reader]
SERIES
| CODE RED | TWO | THREE | FOUR | FIVE | SIX | SEVEN | EIGHT | [Peter Parker x Avenger!Reader]