wrong room right bed: late-night visits are rarely quiet, especially when the neighborhood hero crashes through your bedroom window. desperate for a hideout, spider-man seeks refuge in your room—only for his mask to slip, revealing peter parker: the shy, elusive neighbor who has been dodging your gaze for months. (small plot, NSFW).
deeper ends: when Spiderman breaks into your compound looking for high-level intelligence, he expects a quick trade—not to be completely unraveled by you. what begins as sharp banter, bold teasing, and a desperate struggle for control ends with the hero pinned against the edge of a warm pool, mask half-raised, completely surrendering. (small plot, NSFW).
detached: a post-heartbreak Peter Parker trades his old hesitation for reckless, arrogant confidence—using it to easily get anyone he wants. (no plot, NSFW).
description: a post-heartbreak Peter Parker trades his old hesitation for reckless, arrogant confidence—using it to easily get anyone he wants.
tabs/warnings: no plot, reader-insert, no use of y/n, fuckboy!Peter, arrogant behavior, explicit sexual content, nudity, oral sex, unprotected sex, choking, small dominance & submission, dirty talk, creampie, abrupt ending, emotional detachment, no aftercare. NSFW, 18+.
note: this was a request from an anon user before i set up the inbox for asks and collaborations. i hope you enjoy it as much as i did.
the party at Ned's was loud, packed, and easily forgotten, except for the way Peter Parker moved across the room. he was no longer that hesitant, guarded guy from months ago you'd heard stories about. once he accepted there was no going back to the girl he loved, something shifted—replacing yearning and heartache for a reckless, unshakeable confidence, learning just how easy it was to have anyone he wanted with nothing more than a single glance and an offhand compliment.
by the time you managed to unlock your apartment door, the alcohol was already burning a slow, hot trail through your veins. Peter didn't even give you time to breathe, let alone reach for the light switch. and before the door was fully open, he kicked it shut behind you with a heavy thud, the sound echoing through the pitch-black hallway. before your eyes could even adjust to the shadow-drenched entry, his hands clamped onto your waist, slamming you flush against the cold wall as he crowded into your space, dragging your hips hard into his.
"you spent the entire night staring at me," he murmured right against your ear. "thought you'd be faster at bringing me back here."
his mouth crashed against yours—heavy, demanding, and slick with the taste of whatever he'd been drinking, entirely stripped of hesitation. he parted your lips with a bruising pressure, claiming every breath before you could catch it, while his hands slid firmly down your waist, guiding you blindly toward the couch in your living room like he owned the place—leaving no room for sweet-talking or soft edges, just raw, unvarnished desire.
tossing his jacket aside, Peter dropped onto the edge of the couch, propping himself up on his elbows with an amused grin. he gave his own thigh a sharp, inviting slap, the sound cutting cleanly through the quiet room.
"kneel for me," he said, his voice dangerously low, almost conversational. "let's see if you're as good as you look."
you obeyed instantly, sinking down until you were on your knees on the living room rug, positioning yourself right between his spread thighs. you were so close that the intense heat radiating from his body hit your face before your fingers even made contact with his clothes. your hands went straight for his belt buckle, fingers fumbling slightly against the cool metal before working it loose. above you, Peter remained entirely silent—he simply rested his heavy, warm palm over your head, his thick fingers weaving lazily through your strands, silently anchoring you to the floor.
driven by a sudden, impatient heat, your hands grew quick, unfastening his pants and stripping his jeans and briefs down his thighs in one rough, fluid motion. the heavy denim hit the floor with a dull thud, pooling tightly around his calves. without a second thought—or even taking your eyes off him—you gave the messy pile a swift, dismissive kick, sending his clothes sliding into the shadows of the room. when the fabric settled, Peter sat there completely exposed to you from the waist down, the raw intensity of it contrasting sharply with the plain, dark t-shirt still clinging to his chest.
your fingers closed tightly around his thick length, the heavy, searing warmth of his skin sending a sharp jolt against your cool palm as your grip clamped down firmly. you held the motion right there for a suspended, agonizing second, feeling the quiet pulse beneath his skin while looking up at him like someone waiting for tacit confirmation or explicit permission to go ahead. Peter just gave a slow, crooked grin and pushed his hips forward into your hand, the blunt pressure and intense heat of the gesture sealing the invitation once and for all.
"that's it, just like that," Peter growled low the second you finally took him into your mouth and began a steady, deliberate motion, feeling his thick fingers tighten around the nape of your neck to dictate the pace. "God, look at you! so obedient."
as you worked on him, Peter rested his head back against the couch, a breathless, arrogant chuckle escaped his lips at the sight of you struggling, your eyes watering as he drove deep into the back of your mouth. he leaned down until his warm breath fanned unevenly against your wet cheeks, his heavy, possessive gaze pinning you in place while he soaked in the intoxicating high of watching you yield completely.
"fuck, you take it so well," he teased. "keep going."
and you kept going for a few more grueling minutes, swallowing every single inch of him down without backing down for a second. you maintained the relentless cadence even as the friction left your throat burning and your lungs tight for air, all while Peter’s low, heavy voice flooded the quiet room—talking dirty without a single pause, showering you in filthy praise with every slide and reminding you in dark, explicit detail just how badly you’d been aching for this since the night started.
but before he could claim complete control and dictate the ending on his terms, you snapped the pace without warning. you slowly rose to your feet, stepping back just enough to cut the connection entirely and leave the air between you cold. for a fraction of a second, a crease formed between Peter's brows—caught completely off guard by the abrupt shift—before his dark eyes tracked your body upward with sharp curiosity.
the advantage of the dress was obvious in how effortless the next step was: no need to take off a single thing. you just gathered the hem of the thin fabric, pulling it up to your waist, and used two fingers to hook aside the soft material of your panties—already completely soaked and hot from the night's built-up tension.
the sheer audacity of the gesture was enough to draw a low, amused whistle of pure approval from his lips.
without giving him a single second to clear his head or utter another word, you stepped right over his legs and mounted his lap all at once. you guided him in with urgent precision to your entrance, aligning your bodies. the drop was direct and absolute—you sank all the way down on him in one continuous, fluid motion. the sudden, overwhelming depth forced you a sharp, ragged gasp into the silent room as your hips crashed flush against his, leaving not a fraction of an inch between your skin and his while your cunt clenched tight around his cock.
"fuck, Peter," the groan tore out of you, raw and uneven, as the relentless width of his length forced you completely open. you hovered there motionless for a second, your heart hammering against your ribs while your body struggled to adjust to the suffocating fullness inside you.
Peter’s breath hitched violently in his chest, escaping his throat in a loud, uncontrolled rasp. you didn't wait for his permission—you took charge instantly, setting a fast, frantic pace that slammed your hips repeatedly down against his, flooding the room with the heavy, wet sounds of your cunt.
leaning into the heat of the movement, you pressed your palm against his neck and snapped your fingers tight, locking your grip around his throat with commanding force. you held him firmly in place, matching every slam of your hips with an unwavering pressure that stole his voice.
there was zero resistance from him—Peter just threw his head back into the cushions, a low, gravelly laugh rumbling under your hand. his dark eyes watched you through half-lidded lashes, utterly hooked on your audacity as he surrendered every last drop of his air to your grip.
"you’re enjoying every single second of putting on a show for me, aren’t you?" his voice broke into a low, strained grunt, the words fighting their way past the brutal grip around his throat. a shudder ran straight through him, his eyes heavy with pure desperation as he bucked up to meet you. "fuck, baby, don't stop. i’m so close—yes, just keep riding me like that. i’m so fucking close."
and you drove him straight over the edge, the fast, unyielding pace forcing a guttural roar from him as he finally gave in. he held you firm against his lap as his body surged, flooding you with heat and filling every last millimeter of space inside you until there was nothing left to give. that sudden, relentless pulse of him coming deep inside you was the final trigger—it dragged you right over the precipice behind him, your muscles clamping tight around his length in a devastating peak before you completely collapsed over him, trembling and breathless.
he let you catch your breath for only a heartbeat before distancing himself. and when it was all over, he didn't even bother trying to look vulnerable or search for any lingering affection. a quiet sound of amusement escaped him, low and almost unheard as he fixed his clothes with the same effortless ease you'd undone them, and flashed that arrogant look of a guy who knew precisely the hold he had over anyone he wanted. this was the version of him that no longer cared about connections: just a good-looking guy, fully aware of it, riding a wave of pure ego without a shred of remorse.
"see you around," he said, barely glancing back as he pulled the door shut behind him.
description: when Spiderman breaks into your compound looking for high-level intelligence, he expects a quick trade—not to be completely unraveled by you. what begins as sharp banter, bold teasing, and a desperate struggle for control ends with the hero pinned against the edge of a warm pool, mask half-raised, completely surrendering.
tabs/warnings: small plot, reader-insert, explicit sexual content, nudity, unprotected sex, fingering, p in v, pool sex, semi-public setting (Yelena's office/compound), mild praise kink, mask play. NSFW, 18+.
Yelena Belova’s office was, to say the least, unconventional. forget those grey cubicles and buzzing fluorescent lights; your operations center was a beige marble oasis, bathed in the natural light that flooded through the arched glass ceiling and indirect lighting. the air smelled of chlorine, but also of freshly brewed espresso. the ambient sound was not the frantic typing of keyboards, but the soft, constant echo of water lapping against the pool's edge, interrupted only by the occasional hum of tactical devices.
you were sitting on the edge of the pool, your legs dangling lazily in the water, which created dancing patterns of light on the tiled bottom. wearing a comfortable, practical black swimsuit—courtesy of Yelena herself, who insisted that "being ready for anything" included combat swimming—you were reviewing an endless list of cargo manifests. a tablet rested on your thighs, and a tall glass with a metal straw and a tiny paper umbrella poked into a lemon slice sat beside you.
it was the sudden silence of an exhaust fan that broke your concentration, not a sound. you looked up, squinting against the brightness, and scanned the steel beams above.
there he was. perched with his usual grace on the metal structure, framed by the blue sky outside. the red suit was visibly worn, with a smudge of dust covering his chest and what looked like a small tear on his left shoulder. the lenses of his mask focused on you, and you could feel the weight of his gaze, even without seeing his eyes.
a smirk tugged at your lips as you sighed, letting the tablet tilt gently to the side.
“you know there’s a door down there, right?” you remarked, your voice echoing slightly in the vast space. “Yelena stepped out to chase a lead, but I can try to help with whatever you’ve got this time.”
he shot a web line onto an opposite beam and, with the fluid dynamism of someone who mastered every inch of that ceiling, he used the tension to descend without making a single sound. his boots landed lightly on the beige marble, directly opposite where you sat by the pool. for a few moments, his posture remained alert; his masked head turned slowly, sweeping the perimeter with a sharp gaze, searching for any sign of someone else's presence.
“any idea when she’ll be back?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest in an almost comical attempt to sound demanding, rigorous, and professional, despite the skin-tight, slightly torn costume. “it’s kind of a big deal.”
“haven’t the slightest, Spider,” you shrugged. your focus was already back on the device resting on your lap, your fingers scrolling through the files with a deliberate, lazy rhythm. “but like I just said, I can handle it.”
the hesitation was palpable in the silence that followed. he remained there, static, staring at you for prolonged seconds that seemed to stretch into minutes. and even though you kept your apparent focus on the lines of code and data in front of you, the skin on your neck prickled with the physical sensation of his gaze analyzing every detail of your posture.
“not so sure about that…” he mused, his voice heavy with skepticism.
“quit overthinking and just get in,” you murmured, a quiet sigh escaping your lips while your thumb flicked past another page of the report. “there’s a clean towel in the middle stall. do yourself a favor: grab one and leave it nearby for when you need it.”
a genuine laugh slipped out, muffled beneath the fabric of his mask. he shook his head in disbelief at how casual the command sounded—like you were just making a bad joke.
“is solving world problems from inside a pool a requirement around here?” he asked, uncrossing his arms to wave a hand at the water. “I assumed this nonsense was exclusive to Yelena, but I guess it’s contagious.”
you looked up at him with an intensity so direct it made him take half a step back. Spiderman muttered something inaudible, raising his hands in a swift gesture of surrender—a clear sign he wasn’t looking to prolong the argument. after all, he was there on business; he needed any and all information available and couldn't afford to lose his only current contact.
he ended up dragging his feet toward the indicated stall. the time he took was just enough for you to organize your improvised workstation. you carefully set the tablet with the reports on one of the side benches, tied your hair to keep the ends from getting wet, and slid into the water. the contrast between the room temperature and the heat of the pool was instant, a warm, enveloping embrace that relaxed your shoulders right away. resting your arms on the smooth edge, you began whistling a random tune you had heard on the radio earlier, waiting for him.
upon hearing the distinct click of the wooden stall door opening, you turned your head with almost childish curiosity, holding onto the hope of finally finding out who was behind that suit. you knew he visited Yelena with an almost annoying frequency, and she constantly mocked the fact that he never, under any circumstances, took off his mask. but part of you thought that was just another one of her dramatic exaggerations.
it wasn't.
there he was. Spiderman walked back toward the pool area wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, displaying an absurdly toned physique—every muscle in his chest and abs defined as if sculpted by hand—yet keeping the red mask over his entire face. it was precisely the ridiculous, mesmerizing scene your boss had described between bursts of laughter.
“are you seriously getting in the pool with the mask on?” you asked, your brows furrowing as you met his eye, hoping a shred of common sense might prevail.
“if I take it off, I ruin that whole mystery and anonymity thing,” he teased, folding the towel with neat precision before placing it on the dry edge. “sorry to disappoint.”
“fine, whatever,” you murmured, forcing a wave of indifference into your voice.
despite your best efforts to keep it professional, your eyes betrayed you, tracing every line of his body. every muscle strained tight as he submerged himself step by step, letting out a low exhale as his skin hit the warm water.
he cut through the water toward the shallow end, settling onto the submerged step as he turned to face you directly. the white lenses of his mask narrowed, pinning you with a weight that felt almost physical.
“what can I do for you?” you finally asked, your throat tightening, a sudden dryness in your mouth.
resting his elbows on the edge behind him, he kept his broad chest clear of the water, the pool wrapping warm around everything else. the slick, soaked mask clung to the base of his neck—a striking, almost surreal contrast to the room.
“a shipment of military tech fell into the hands of a gang in Queens early this morning,” he began, his voice losing its playful tone and adopting a professional seriousness. “it’s not the kind of weaponry you buy on a street corner. the NYPD is barking up the wrong tree, and I need to hit the source before they pull something in broad daylight.”
tilting your head, you let yourself slide lower into the warm water, your hands skimming the surface as tiny ripples lapped against his chest.
“so you think Yelena—or the network—is holding the key,” you reasoned, pursing your lips slightly.
“I know you do,” he corrected, leaning forward a bit more. “Yelena has access to Contessa's encrypted files and underworld databases—stuff my setup back home couldn't dream of pulling up. just a name is all I’m asking for. a middleman, a warehouse, anyone running logistics on this.”
a soft chuckle slipped out as you glided through the water, closing the distance between you until you were just out of reach.
“well, Spider... looks like today’s your lucky day,” you hummed, reaching out to the pool’s edge to pull the tactical tablet into the water’s light. you tapped the screen to life and tilted it toward him. “Yelena might be the face of this place, but I’m the one who keeps the intelligence behind it all running. so, if that shipment set foot in New York, the data has already passed through my hands.”
the white lenses on his mask expanded, and he let out a low, incredulous laugh.
“wait, seriously? you already mapped the whole thing?” he shook his head, looking down at the screen in disbelief.
“I have the middleman name, the warehouse address, and even the exact time the shipment is moving again,” you teased, giving a half-smile. “the real question is: what are you giving me in exchange for saving you three days of patrol?”
you knew he was smirking under the fabric. letting out a long, heavy exhale, he tilted his head back toward the ceiling for a second, then lowered his focus, locking right onto you again.
“look, if you’re expecting a payout, you’ve got the wrong guy. right now, my bank account barely covers a dollar-slice from the corner.” he admitted, his voice laced with an almost tragic honesty, but with that unmistakable self-deprecating humor.
he rested his back against the step and moved slightly closer through the water, extending an open hand toward you in a formal, dramatically exaggerated gesture.
“but I can offer you something way better: an exclusive 'save-your-butt coupon' from your Friendly Neighborhood. no expiration date, includes high-altitude rescues and personal escorts. take it or leave it.”
you held his gaze for a few seconds, letting the silence linger while the warm water rippled between you both. the offer was absurd, but coming from him—and seeing the ridiculous sight of Spiderman in a mask and just boxers inside the pool—it was simply impossible not to give in.
“deal, Spider.”
you took a short step through the warm water, drastically closing the gap between you until your knees almost touched his beneath the surface. you tilted the tablet toward him, sliding your index finger across the glowing screen to unlock the classified shipment files.
“here’s the address and the list to the—”
the sentence caught in your throat as the movement of the water made you slightly lose your balance. in an automatic attempt to steady yourself, your forearm brushed against his bare, wet chest. the contact was brief, but his reaction was purely instinctive: his hand wrapped around your wrist with impressive firmness and speed, preventing you from slipping under, but also keeping you pinned right there, inches away from him.
the air between you both grew heavy instantly.
the casual mood from seconds ago evaporated. beneath the water, you could feel the density and rigidity of his muscles, reminding you that no matter how much he joked about payouts, the man on that pool step was a superhuman capable of stopping trains with his bare hands. his breathing came a little heavier against the fabric of the mask, and the white lenses narrowed to the maximum, fixed on you.
his pulse quickened under your skin, and the proximity was such that you could feel the heat radiating from his body. with every second of silence, the awareness of his presence—and the fact that he was practically disarmed, shirtless, and dangerously close—made your own heart hammer against your chest, leaving you in a state of absolute alertness.
the prolonged silence between you became almost deafening, broken only by the lazy lapping of the heated water. the grip on your wrist wasn't painful, but it carried the undeniable firmness of someone possessing superhuman strength. the electricity in the air was palpable, and the obvious attempt to play off the impact of that touch ended up being the first reaction from both of you.
“sorry,” he murmured quickly, his voice coming out a notch deeper and raspier than usual. Spiderman loosened his fingers and released your wrist almost hesitantly, giving you a bit more space, though the distance between you remained dangerously short. “reflexes. I just... thought you were gonna drown, or something.”
“we’re in a pool, Spider, not dangling off a cliff,” you shot back, trying to play off the goosebumps creeping up your arms.
“yeah, I noticed,” he cleared his throat, crossing and uncrossing his arms in the water, not quite knowing what to do with his hands. “anyway... the warehouse. were you gonna show me the address?”
his attempt to return to professionalism was almost comical, but the tension built up in the room didn't dissolve. quite the opposite. the warmth emanating from his body continued to envelop you, and the sensation of his gaze—invisible, yet felt on every inch of your skin—started to irritate you in a strange way. you didn't like feeling vulnerable or at a disadvantage, let alone under the scrutiny of a masked hero on your own turf.
“I was trying to show you, until you lost your cool over a little bump,” you said, trying to regain your composure, pulling the tablet screen back into your line of sight, holding the display right between the two of you. “but since the big hero is in a rush: the warehouse is in Brooklyn, down by the docks.”
he leaned in to track the data, his breath fanning warm against your cheek.
“three crates of power cores?” he read, letting out a low whistle. “you guys clearly don't mess around. but tell me, is all this efficiency standard service or did I get special treatment?”
“I work with data, Spider. if you want special treatment, that’s a different price tier,” you teased, arching an eyebrow without taking your eyes off the screen. “besides, you looked pretty desperate when you broke through my ceiling.”
“I made a grand entrance,” he corrected in the same quick tone, the lenses of his mask narrowing. “and, for the record, you were the one who almost ended up at the bottom of the pool.”
“you’re the one who pulled back like a touch to the chest was going to short-circuit your suit.”
“hey, suit’s delicate, okay?” he quipped without missing a beat, holding his ground right where he was. “besides, I didn't think Yelena’s intel came with personal space violations.”
“personal space?” a low laugh escaped you, a slow smile touching your lips as your gaze lingered on him. “Spider, you really don't know how we work, do you?”
“I don't? then explain this to me,” he countered, leaning even closer over the tablet in an attempt to use it as a shield against the proximity. “the shipment’s set for two in the morning, but the dock warehouse is already marked as cleared. how’d you pull the exit route without the pier’s security passcode?”
he paused for a second, calculating every word while keeping his face millimeters from yours. when he finally broke the silence, his voice came in a low, drawn-out murmur beneath the fabric, heavy with second intentions.
“unless, of course, you already knew I was coming and laid it all out just to have an excuse to see me. is that also a part of your price tier?”
his audacity in trying to turn the tables by using your own data against you—and playing the cocky hero while keeping that invisible, yet audible smirk under the mask—was the final straw.
your patience simply ran out.
determined to test how far that posture of his would hold, you let the tablet float to the side and took another step forward in the warm water, eliminating any remaining space. your knees now touched his thighs beneath the surface, and his chest was inches from yours. he froze. his body went completely rigid, his abdominal muscles locking up at your bold approach. he didn't step back; he didn't try to dodge or raise his hands to stop you. he simply let you do whatever you wanted, handing full control of the situation over to you.
his breathing turned audibly heavier against the red fabric.
you slowly raised your arms, your fingers brushing the warm, damp skin of his shoulders before tracing up to the base of his neck. the contrast of the suit fabric against your wet fingertips was exhilarating. without taking your eyes off the white lenses, you caught the edge of the fabric right at his chin.
he let out a soft sigh, but remained still, allowing the boldness of your action to unfold without protest.
with a slow, deliberate motion, you pulled the mask up. the fabric slid off, exposing his strong jaw first, then his slightly parted, well-defined lips, stopping just below his nose, leaving only the lower half of his face fully exposed. the pool air hit his skin, and you could see a shiver ripple across his chest.
before he could formulate any question or warning, you leaned in and sealed your lips against his. the kiss began as an impulse sparked by the tension and impatience, but his response—the heat of his mouth, the taste of humid air, and the way his breath hitched against your cheek—turned the moment into something deep and inevitable.
that kiss lost any trace of hesitation the second his mouth answered yours. he let out a muffled grunt against your lips, and his resistance completely crumbled. his large, warm hand traveled down your back beneath the heated water, pressing firmly against your waist and pulling you against his body without any restraint. the pressure was so direct that your chest flushed against his, erasing any gap of air or water between you both.
taking advantage of his full surrender, your hands slid unhurriedly over the skin of his shoulders, moving down to explore the dense contours of his arms and the sculpted firmness of his body. the contrast between the texture of his warm skin and the raw power of the tight muscle under your fingers was hypnotic. you traced the defined lines of his abs, feeling every muscle contract at your touch, fueling the audacity to take complete control of the situation.
the kiss grew deeper, hungrier, his tongue matching your rhythm while the hand on your waist tightened its grip, digging his fingers in with an almost desperate possessiveness, as if he wanted to fuse your bodies together right then and there.
but the intensity of your unfiltered touch wandering over his body seemed to set off an internal alarm.
the grip on your waist abruptly ceased. his muscles tensed to the extreme under your palms and, in a swift, restrained motion, his huge hands moved up to your shoulders. with a gentle firmness, yet using a fraction of that impossible-to-contain superhuman strength, he pushed you back, creating a safe distance in the water.
he gasped, his broad chest rising and falling at an erratic pace. the exposed skin of his face was completely flushed, a warm blush spreading from his chin up to where the red fabric of the mask began.
“wait, wait... what... what just happened here?” he stammered, his voice wavering as his half-open mouth tried to catch air. in a flustered, visibly clumsy movement, he used both hands to yank the fabric of his mask back down, hastily hiding his face, though the heavy panting under the cloth gave away all the panic. “we were... we had a focus! the warehouse in Brooklyn!”
the sight of Spiderman—a man capable of lifting cars, now standing in a pool wearing a mask, completely flustered and trying to piece his dignity back together—was too much for you. a low, audacious laugh escaped your throat, and you simply tilted your head, finding absolute amusement in the state you had left him in.
“you’re way too easy to rattle, Spider,” you teased, letting your arms rest on the edge while floating gently, keeping your eyes on his chest which was still struggling to slow down.
“I’m not rattled!” he fired back in the same second, his voice raising a notch as he pointed an accusing finger at you. “I just think we should stay focused on crime and not on... whatever it was that you just did.”
you laughed again, relishing every second of his embarrassment.
“oh, please. you don’t have to pretend you didn’t like it,” you said, your voice dripping with a velvety, playful tone. “it was painfully obvious in the way you kissed me back. the way you pulled me against you had nothing to do with your concern over power cores.”
the white lenses of his mask blinked rapidly, his body freezing slightly in place as he tried desperately to strike a neutral stance.
“besides, not everything in life needs to be about work,” you continued, taking half a step forward through the water toward him. “tell me: when was the last time you had real fun? no masks, no villains, without having to play the hero all the time?”
he let out a short, nasal laugh, crossing his muscular arms over his chest in a failed attempt to look relaxed and in control.
“I’m having the time of my life out there, okay?” he lied, his voice pitching up half a tone as he scrambled to defend himself. “for your information, my social calendar is thriving, thanks for asking.”
you simply raised an eyebrow, your half-smile signaling you hadn't believed a single word.
without averting your eyes from the lenses of his mask, you closed the remaining space between you with slow steps, feeling the warm resistance of the water contouring your legs. with every inch gained, his rigid posture seemed to tense a bit more, locked in a silent struggle between the urge to step back and the absolute inability to move.
you stopped at a minimal distance, close enough for the heat radiating from his chest to wrap around your skin once more. slowly extending your hand, your fingers traced the line of his shoulder, sliding with calculated lightness down to his collarbone, savoring his immediate physical reaction—the subtle startle and the way his breath caught in his throat.
“so, you just wouldn’t like to have fun with me?” you tilted your head slightly while your fingers drew lazy circles over his skin, pushing the hero’s self-control to the limit. “I’ve been so lonely here... and it would be a shame to miss out on such interesting company.”
he froze, the lenses of his mask narrowing in a mix of panic, trance, and pure surrender, while his hands hesitated in the water, floating millimeters from your waist as if they wanted to hold you again, yet lacked the courage.
without stepping back even an inch, you kept your voice low, almost like a secret whispered far too close to his mask.
“and if your concern is Yelena coming back, rest assured she’s not coming back today,” you teased, your low tone hanging heavy in the humid pool air. “or is that not the problem, huh? do you just want me to work for it? tease me first to see how far I’ll go... is that what you’d like, Spider?”
before he could attempt any lame defense, you took his hand—heavy, large, and warm—and guided it slowly under the heated water to your waist, right where his fingers had been digging in seconds before.
his response wasn't the hesitation from earlier. the provocation struck the hero’s pride head-on.
in a fluid, decisive motion, he wrapped his fingers around your waist and pulled you back to him with force, putting to the test whether this was a real game or if you were just running a bold bluff. the water churned violently around you as your body flushed against his without a sliver of space left.
with his free hand, he didn't wait for you to take the initiative this time. in a quick, decisive gesture, he grabbed the edge of the red fabric and yanked the mask up to his nose, exposing his mouth and jaw once more, taut with the tension of the moment.
without saying a single word, he guided you to the highest part of the submerged step where he had been sitting since he arrived; settling in, he pulled you forward, positioning his body right between your legs, planting his hands on your waist to keep you pinned against him.
he leaned in and took your mouth in a kiss far deeper and hungrier than the first. there was no more room for shock or playing the good guy: his tongue sought yours with a hot, possessive intensity, his ragged breath hitching straight against your skin while the heat of the pool and the pressure of his body enveloped you completely.
that entire shift in his attitude was enough to send chills across your whole body in response. without hesitating, you wrapped your legs around his waist, feeling the weight and firmness of his body against yours. you set a unhurried rhythm with your hips, creating a delicious friction with every movement between you while he let out low grunts against your mouth, gasping for air whenever the intensity of the kiss allowed.
he began trailing sloppy kisses down your face and neck, carving a hot path down toward your chest. the warm water followed the movement as his fingers reached the straps of your swimsuit, slowly sliding them down your arms in a agonizing gesture until your skin was exposed to the cool air. he pushed the fabric down to your waist, leaving your breasts bare and exposed for him. his large, calloused hand cupped one of your breasts firmly, and the contrast of the rough texture of his calluses gently scratching your sensitive skin drew an involuntary moan from your lips.
leaning a bit further into the water, just enough to reach your breast, he brought his mouth close with urgency, teasing you with soft bites and caresses that made your head spin.
you kept moving your hips against his in search of more contact, surrendering completely. the sight of Spiderman—still with his mask pulled up to his nose, totally yielded to that moment with you in the pool—was intoxicating. you swore to yourself that the sheer pace of that tension would be enough to push any self-control over the edge. it was only a matter of time.
he moved ahead and grabbed the straps of your swimsuit where they had stopped, finishing stripping you completely. he tossed the piece to the other side of the pool, leaving you completely exposed. you felt your mouth go dry before his firm presence as you stared at him with an almost dazed gaze. he noticed the effect and let out a low, bold laugh.
“what’s wrong, huh?” he teased, closing the distance again and taking your lips in a slow kiss once more. meanwhile, he slid one of his hands intentionally between your thighs, which remained parted, welcoming his body between them. “cat got your tongue?”
you wanted to find the strength to give a witty comeback, but his touch demanded all your focus, so you could only close your eyes and sigh against his mouth.
he guided his fingers slowly to your center, torturing you as he traced your sensitive skin. playing with your clitoris while nibbling your mouth, he finally slid two fingers inside you, feeling how hot, tight, and welcoming you were—perfectly prepared to receive him.
“o-oh, shit,” you managed to murmur as his slick fingers curled against a sensitive spot inside you. “right there.”
he smiled, feeling the accelerated panting of your chest, as he began fingering you right then and there. the loud sound of the water sloshing and splashing with the movements of his arm mixed with the deep moans escaping your mouth involuntarily.
“this is what you wanted, wasn’t it?” he said softly against your ear, as if stating a fact.
you were only able to nod frantically while riding against his fingers, feeling the delicious friction and wanting more and more of whatever he was willing to give you. and then, with trembling fingers, one of your hands reached for the fabric of the boxers he was wearing and yanked them down, just enough to free his cock and balls.
you wrapped your hand around the warm length of his cock, which, at that moment, was rock-hard. you stroked him up and down in slow motions, feeling his body falter and tense.
he rested his forehead, still covered by the fabric of the mask, in the soft crook between your neck and shoulder, letting out muffled groans and puffs of hot air against your goosebump-covered skin, sending intense shivers down your spine from head to toe.
he finally withdrew his slick fingers from inside you—making you let out a frustrated huff of air—and brought that same hand to his own cock, guiding it firmly to your entrance. he rubbed the tip against you in teasing motions and nibbled the skin of your neck, positioning himself. without warning, he pushed all the way in at once, giving you no time to adjust to his thickness and size.
a loud, sharp moan fled from your lips as you threw your head back, the sound echoing loudly off the walls of the space.
“holy shit, you’re so tight,” he grunted in an extremely raspy voice. “just the way I like it.”
you gave him a faint smile, digging your damp hands into the soft curls escaping the edge of his mask as he began thrusting sloppily inside you.
the feeling of his cock sliding in and out of you, the contrast of the internal heat with the water surrounding you both, was enough to make your eyes roll back and your nails dig into the nape of his neck, leaving marks everywhere. he was so large that he filled you out completely, stretching every inch possible. it was almost agonizing trying to hold on, and you felt a sweet, unbearable pressure building at the base of your stomach, a tight knot warning you that you were getting closer and closer to your limit.
“y-yes, keep going,” you whined against him again. “I’m so fucking close. God, it feels so good.”
he placed his firm hands on the backs of your thighs, lifting your hips, pulling you closer and finding a new angle, even deeper, for his thrusts. he was pounding into you heavily, still messy due to the weight of the water, but at the same time, every stroke went so deep it completely stole your breath away.
“come for me, baby,” he almost begged. “let go for me, c’mon.”
your legs began to tremble beneath his hands, every muscle giving in bit by bit. you squeezed your eyes shut, a shaky moan escaping your lips as your body contracted involuntarily with every new wave of pleasure. the sensation swelled deep in your chest, tightening until it became almost insufferable, while your muscles clamped around him in successive spasms, as if your body refused to let him go. for a few seconds, it felt like everything else had vanished—the sound of the water, the heavy breathing, his presence so close—until you finally broke over the edge. your whole body shuddered, giving in to the intensity rushing through you as you completely surrendered to the feeling.
“that’s it,” he kept rambling as you slowly came down from the high.
it didn't take long for him, with a few more thrusts, to reach his limit too. you could see his muscles tightening as you felt him filling you violently, dumping all the warmth of his cum deep inside you.
when he finally gathered himself, he pulled his cock out of you and collapsed onto the edge of the pool beside your body, resting his arms there to hold himself up.
the silence that followed in the pool area was broken only by the soft echo of the water and the heavy sighs of the two of you trying to catch your breath. his chest rose and fell rhythmically against the beige marble edge, his skin still warm and covered in fine drops of water.
you leaned back beside him, feeling your legs still weak, and ran a wet hand over your face, letting out a soft, incredulous laugh.
“yeah...”, you murmured, your voice slightly raspy. “looks like service efficiency really does have its perks.”
he gave a softened, weak laugh under the fabric, hiding his face between his arms crossed on the marble for a few seconds, clearly trying to pick up the pieces of his own heroic composure. still submerged in the water, he reached down and pulled his boxers back up his hips, adjusting it before making any move to get out.
“not a word about this to Yelena,” he said, his voice coming out muffled before he raised his head and pulled the mask back down to fully cover his face. the white lenses blinked, adjusting their focus on you. “I’m serious. if she finds out my ‘save-your-butt coupon’ turned into this, I’ll never have a moment of peace again.”
“oh, don’t worry,” you taunted, leaning in just close enough to press one last playful kiss over the mask fabric on his cheek. “the secret dies here, Spider. especially when it involves a brainless hero like you.”
he let out an amused huff, though the flushed tone of the skin on his neck was still visible at the base of the mask. without wasting time, he used his strong arms to push himself out of the pool in a single agile movement, landing on the dry marble and grabbing the folded towel to dry himself off quickly.
“well... duty calls,” he said, pointing toward the ceiling with his thumb as he tried to regain his professional demeanor—a completely futile attempt after what had just happened. “I’ve got a warehouse in Brooklyn to raid and three crates of power cores to recover before two in the morning.”
“don’t forget the data,” you reminded him, grabbing the floating tablet and holding it out to him, indifferent to the fact that you were still completely naked in the warm water, maintaining his amused gaze.
he took the device from your hand, his fingers brushing yours for a second longer than necessary.
“thanks for the... tactical informations,” he said, giving a cheeky smile that was clear in his tone of voice. “and for saving me three days of patrol.”
“you’re welcome, that’s what I’m here for. now go put your torn suit back on before Yelena gets back and decides to use you as target practice.”
with a swift parting gesture, he shot a web line toward the changing stall, snagging the rest of his suit in one smooth motion. before you could even blink, he attached another line to the ceiling structure and vanished through the same opening he had entered, leaving behind only the ripples in the water and the subtle scent that hung in the air.
you sighed, sinking a little deeper into the warm water with a half-smile, thinking that working for a Black Widow definitely had its undeniable perks.
description: late-night visits are rarely quiet, especially when the neighborhood hero crashes through your bedroom window. desperate for a hideout, spider-man seeks refuge in your room—only for his mask to slip, revealing peter parker: the shy, elusive neighbor who has been dodging your gaze for months.
tags/warnings: small plot, reader insert, next door neighbour peter, accidental break in, pining, cursing, mutual attraction, explict sexual content, nudity, unprotected sex, fingering, p in v, creampie, small aftercare. NSFW, 18+.
you had moved into an apartment in the Manhattan area only a short while ago, so you were still getting used to the place and the rhythm of living in a building entirely different from what you were accustomed to.
fortunately, the apartment left nothing to be desired. it was comfortable, well-located, and, to your surprise, the neighbors were remarkably welcoming. it didn’t take long to realize there was a genuine sense of community among the residents—there was always someone willing to lend a hand when needed, whether it was picking up a package, helping carry something up the stairs, or simply exchanging a few words in the hallway.
you had already managed to familiarize yourself with a few of them, but there was one guy in particular who seemed to make a point of acting strangely whenever he crossed paths with you.
it was almost as if he were allergic to your very presence.
you could tell he often kept an eye on you in the corridors, but the second your eyes met, he’d avert his gaze or invent some flimsy excuse to hurry off in the opposite direction. the oddest part was that you had never done a single thing to him. even so, you kept a polite smile on your face every time you bumped into him, even as it left you increasingly baffled, wondering if there was something wrong with you. maybe you had said something without realizing it, or done something that annoyed him. maybe he just didn't like you. the problem was, if that was the case, you had no idea why.
one night, you were lying in bed, covered up to your hips, trying to finally overcome the insomnia that had been stubbornly keeping you awake. the window remained slightly ajar, letting the chilly night air drift into the room and causing the curtains to sway gently back and forth.
the apartment was completely dark, illuminated only by the distant glow of the New York lights filtering through the window, while the hum of the city leaked in alongside the wind. occasional honking, distant voices, and the low rumble of cars passing on the streets below formed a steady backdrop of ambient noise that, somehow, managed to soothe you.
you were just beginning to feel the heavy pull of sleep over your eyes when a sudden noise coming from the exterior fire escape made your entire body jump in bed. your heart instantly hammered, and you froze for a few seconds, trying to discern what had caused the sound. then came another noise—closer this time—followed by the sound of the window being shoved fully open.
before you could even process what to do, someone stepped into your bedroom.
you went stone-still.
the only thing you could make out in that moment was a dark silhouette set against the faint light streaming from the window, and your first immediate thought was that someone was breaking into your apartment. panic seized your chest as you pushed yourself up on the bed, wildly trying to decide whether to scream, run, or simply stay frozen. your hand reached out blindly until it found the lamp on the nightstand. the moment you switched it on, a warm yellow light flooded the room, illuminating the figure standing just a few feet away.
the red and blue suit was unmistakable.
your eyes widened as you realized the man standing inside your bedroom was dressed head-to-toe as Spider-Man. the suit bore clear marks of wear—grime smudged across the fabric and subtle signs of tear, as if he had just come straight from an intense situation. probably saving someone. or fighting someone. after all, that was Spider-Man. the famous neighborhood hero featured constantly on the news who had, apparently, just decided your bedroom would make a great place to break into in the middle of the night.
you were still trying to wrap your head around what was happening when he reached up with both hands, grabbed his mask, and pulled it up over his head, exposing his face. he seemed completely focused on orienting himself, scanning the room as if trying to figure out where he had ended up. for a brief second, he didn't notice anything amiss. then, his eyes swept over the space once more and finally landed on you, sitting right there on the bed.
his eyes went wide instantly.
you recognized that face.
your neighbor.
the guy who always acted so bizarrely whenever he passed you in the hall.
he stood there frozen for a few long seconds, staring at you as though his brain had completely short-circuited. then he glanced side to side, likely looking for any logical explanation for the situation, until it finally clicked that he had just broken into the wrong apartment. the worst part wasn't just that he had walked into the wrong flat—he had climbed straight into your bedroom, in the dead of night, fully clad in a Spider-Man suit, and was now standing there with his mask off.
"oh…" was all he managed to get out.
you just kept staring at him, utterly incredulous, while he seemed to spiral into a full-blown panic right in front of you. his eyes darted frantically to his suit, swept around the room again, and ultimately snapped back to you. realizing there was no possible way to wriggle out of this without giving a full explanation, his eyes widened even further, and he spun around on his heel as fast as he could, presenting his back to you.
“I'm sorry. I got the wrong apartment."
silence hung in the room for a few moments as you tried to process the sheer absurdity of it all. your neighbor was Spider-Man. the guy who practically sprinted away from you every time you met in the hallway was actually the same man swinging between Manhattan skyscrapers on the nightly news. of all the wild theories you had cooked up to explain his strange behavior, that certainly hadn't made the list.
"so..." your voice finally cut through the silence.
he seemed to stiffen even more at the sound of your voice and rushed to speak, his back still firmly turned toward you. "I can explain," he blurted out, as if that were the only coherent thought left in his head.
you raised an eyebrow, eyeing his back. "you don't even know what I was going to ask," you countered, a soft laugh slipping out despite yourself at his blatant nervousness.
he went quiet for a beat, seemingly rethinking every word he was about to say. "right. fair enough. but considering the circumstances, I'd say it's a pretty safe bet," he admitted smoothly.
despite the madness of the situation, you almost let out a genuine chuckle. almost. you were still far too occupied trying to figure out how the boy who could barely hold a conversation with you was now standing in your bedroom in the middle of the night, wearing a superhero suit.
"you broke into the wrong apartment," you repeated, more to yourself than to him, trying to organize the sequence of events in your mind. "and, for some reason, you decided to enter specifically through my bedroom window."
"technically, I didn't decide to break into your room," he answered quickly, turning his head slightly in your direction, though still making a point not to look you directly in the eye.
"oh, really?" you crossed your arms over your chest, waiting for the explanation.
"really. I thought it was my apartment," he replied, grimacing slightly as he realized just how ridiculous that sounded out loud.
you glanced around your own room before bringing your gaze back to him. "you thought my apartment was yours?"
"when I'm wearing the mask, spatial awareness gets a little... tricky," he explained, making a small gesture with his hands as if that made the whole thing perfectly reasonable.
"so you routinely climb through your window?" you tilted your head slightly, genuinely curious.
he hesitated for a second before answering. "sometimes," he conceded with a faint shrug.
"into the wrong apartment?"
"no," he shot back immediately, shaking his head.
"just tonight?"
"just tonight," he confirmed, letting out a low sigh.
you continued to watch him for a moment, still trying to grasp how this had come to pass. he remained facing away from you, as if turning around would somehow make everything ten times worse—even though you had already seen his face and knew exactly who he was. his answer should have been enough to wrap up the conversation, but there was one thing that kept bugging you. in truth, it was something that had been bugging you ever since you moved into the building.
"Peter."
he froze dead in his tracks.
you noticed it instantly. it wasn't just the fact that he'd heard his own name. it was the way his shoulders went rock-rigid, as if that single word had completely rendered him motionless.
"you know my name," he noted, still without turning around entirely.
"we've been neighbors for weeks. it wasn't exactly hard to figure out," you replied, giving a light shrug.
he let out a quiet breath, running a hand over the back of his neck. "right."
"and now I know your secret."
at that, he finally turned around to face you. his eyes locked onto yours, and there was a shift in his expression. it wasn't just the panic of getting caught anymore. there was genuine concern there—almost a silent plea for you not to blow this up into something bigger than it needed to be.
"you can't tell anyone," he requested, taking a tentative step toward you.
you held his gaze for a few seconds before answering. "I won't."
he looked genuinely taken aback by how easily you agreed. "you won't?" he asked, as if needing to hear it one more time to actually believe it.
"no," you confirmed, keeping your eyes fixed on him.
"seriously?" he tilted his head slightly, still visibly skeptical.
"Peter, I'm not five years old."
he cast his eyes downward for a moment, looking endearingly sheepish. "right."
"I just want to know one thing in return."
he looked back up at you, snapping to full attention instantly. "what?"
you took a deep breath before asking the question you’d been holding onto ever since moving into the building. "what’s your problem with me?"
his expression shifted immediately. "what?" he asked, clearly caught off guard.
"you heard me," you replied, crossing your arms again.
"I don't have a problem with you," he assured you.
you let out a dry, incredulous laugh. "seriously?"
"seriously," he insisted, throwing his hands up in self-defense.
"because you act like I have some kind of contagious disease," you pointed out, narrowing your eyes.
"I do not," he shot back quickly.
"yes, you do."
"no, I don't."
"Peter, you literally cross the hallway to the other side whenever you see me coming."
he opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out right away. "that's..." he started, frantically grasping for some justification that didn't sound completely absurd.
"coincidence?" you supplied, raising an eyebrow.
"yeah," he answered, but his hesitation immediately gave away the fact that even he didn't believe that.
you let out a quiet laugh. "you once tried to hide behind a plant."
he blinked a few times, clearly trying to recall the moment. "that plant was huge," he argued, pointing a finger at you as if he’d just presented a perfectly reasonable defense.
"it was a fern," you countered.
"exactly," he responded, nodding with dead seriousness before realizing he’d just proven your point.
for a few seconds, silence fell over the room. a smile played on your lips, and Peter seemed a little less tense now that he’d managed to coax a genuine reaction out of you. however, the moment he caught himself smiling, he averted his eyes again, as though suddenly remembering this wasn't a conversation he should be having.
"I just..." he began, running a hand through his hair. "I'm not really good with people," he admitted with a small sigh.
"you seem pretty great with people when you're wearing that suit," you noted, subtly gesturing toward his gear.
"that's different," he answered almost instantly. but seeing you wait for an elaboration, he dragged a hand over his face and let out another sigh. "when I'm wearing the mask, it's... different. I can be awkward, make terrible jokes, talk too much, and nobody really knows who's behind it. it's kind of an advantage."
you knit your brows, still trying to see where he was going with this. "and you can't do that with me?"
"not exactly." Peter winced slightly and stared at the floor for a beat before looking back up at you. "because you're my neighbor."
"i know that," you answered, crossing your arms once more. "you're my neighbor, too."
"I know." he nodded quickly, as if just realizing how nonsensical his answer sounded. "that's—that's precisely what I meant."
you let a soft laugh slip out, and he shook his head, looking thoroughly exasperated with himself.
"I'm not explaining this right."
"you really aren't."
"great." he let out a dry laugh and rubbed the back of his neck. "at least we're on the same page."
you waited a few more seconds, but Peter was still hunting for the right words, his eyes sweeping the room as if one might be hidden in a corner. finally, he took a deep breath and decided to just spill it.
"I started noticing you."
you raised an eyebrow. "noticing me?"
"yeah." he shrugged, instantly looking like he regretted the movement. "I mean, not in a creepy way. that was a terrible choice of words."
you smiled.
"I just mean..." Peter paused, pointing at you and then at himself, as if trying to construct a visual diagram. "you moved in, and I started seeing you around. in the hall. in the elevator. sometimes by the front entrance. and after a while, I just started recognizing when you were nearby."
"that still sounds a little creepy."
"I know." he closed his eyes for a second. "God, I am making this so much worse."
you laughed out loud, and Peter ended up smiling too, though he still looked completely out of his depth.
"it wasn't supposed to be like this," he continued, gesturing with his hands as he spoke. "I just... I noticed you. that's all."
"you noticed that I exist?"
"yes."
"congratulations."
"thanks," he replied automatically, only to catch the sarcasm a split second later. "wait. no. that's not what I meant."
you burst into another laugh, and he pointed at you with an incredulous grin.
"see? that right there!"
"what?"
"you do that."
"do what?"
"you make me lose my train of thought."
you tilted your head, amused. "I'm not even doing anything."
"that's the problem."
the answer came out way too fast.
Peter went silent.
so did you.
he blinked a few times and immediately looked away.
"that sounded so much weirder out loud," he muttered, bringing a hand up to cover his face.
"a little bit."
"I should stop talking."
"probably."
"definitely."
you smiled, but you weren't about to let him off the hook that easily. "so, what's the issue, then?"
peter dropped his hand and took a deep breath. "there isn't an issue."
"Peter."
"fine." he held up both hands in surrender, taking a small step back. "there is an issue. but it's not you."
"then what is it?"
he remained quiet for a few seconds, searching your face as if trying to decide how much of this conversation he should actually be having. in the end, he seemed to give up on finding a better dodge.
"I think you're pretty."
you blinked, taken aback.
Peter immediately held up a finger, as if needing to establish ground rules before you could say a word.
"don't make a big deal out of it."
"I didn't even say anything!"
"I know, but you're making that face."
"what face?"
"that face like you're going to turn this into something it's not."
you crossed your arms, biting back a smile. "and what, exactly, is it?"
"it's just..." he paused, looking off to the side. "you're pretty. I noticed. that's all."
"so you run away from me because you think I'm pretty?"
Peter opened his mouth, then went quiet for a few seconds. "when you put it like that, it sounds ridiculously shallow."
"because it is?"
"no!" he pointed at you almost instantly. "that's not what I meant. I just... I don't know you."
the answer caught you off guard, rendering you silent.
Peter seemed a bit more comfortable once he finally got that out.
"that's the whole point," he continued, distractedly picking at the red fabric of his glove. "I don't know anything about you. I don't know your favorite food, I don't know what kind of music you like, I don't know if you're a nice person or if you secretly hate dogs or something oddly specific like that."
you knit your brows. "I don't hate dogs."
"great." he nodded, looking genuinely relieved. "look at that, one piece of data down."
you laughed.
"but that's just it. I don't know you," he repeated, a bit more seriously this time. "and I didn't want to start building some idealized version of you in my head just because I thought you were pretty."
the sheer honesty of it caught you entirely off guard.
"so you decided to avoid me altogether."
"that was the plan." he shrugged. "a terrible plan, apparently."
"why?"
"because you keep showing up."
you raised an eyebrow. "I live here."
"I know." peter let out a faint laugh, shaking his head. "that's another issue."
"did you want me to move out?"
"no!" the answer flew out of him so fast his eyes widened at his own intensity. "no. absolutely not." Peter paused, running a hand over the back of his neck as he tried to reorganize his thoughts. "I just meant it would be easier if I didn't... run into you all the time."
"but I live here."
"I know."
"and so do you."
"I know that, too."
you let out a soft chuckle, and Peter dropped his gaze for a second, looking endearingly self-conscious.
"you realize how completely irrational that sounds, right?"
"I do." he sighed, his shoulders slumping. "which is why I was trying to avoid this conversation in the first place."
"because you can't explain it?"
"because I can't explain it without sounding like a total idiot." he raised his eyes to yours again, making a slight face. "which, considering how this night started, probably doesn't make much of a difference anyway."
you laughed, and Peter couldn't help but smile too.
for a few seconds, he seemed to relax. the quiet that settled between you no longer held that uncomfortable tension from before. there was still an inherent absurdity to the situation—he was still standing in your bedroom in a Spider-Man suit in the dead of night, after all—but now you were starting to see the boy behind the mask.
and for the first time since you had moved into the building, Peter didn't look like he was trying to run away.
"so..." you began, breaking the silence once more. "you think I'm pretty."
his smile vanished on the spot.
"oh, no."
you laughed.
"I was just confirming."
"you don't need to confirm."
"but you just admitted it."
"I know." Peter squeezed his eyes shut for a second, as if deeply regretting every single choice that had led him into this room tonight. "and I would very much like to rewind time by about five minutes."
"why?"
"because I was doing okay."
"were you?"
"not great, but definitely better than I am right now."
you let out a soft laugh, shaking your head as you let your eyes wander back over the suit he was still wearing. up until that moment, you had been so caught up in the sheer absurdity of the situation that you’d barely stopped to actually look at him. now that the initial shock had begun to wear off, curiosity was starting to take over. Spider-Man was standing in your bedroom, just a few feet away from you, and as bizarre as it was, there was something almost fascinating about finally seeing the suit up close.
"can I see it?"
Peter knit his brows, looking as though he hadn't quite understood the question. "see what?"
"the suit."
he looked down at himself, seemingly remembering that he was still fully gear-clad as Spider-Man. "oh. right." Peter made a small, vague gesture with his hands. "sure you can."
you pushed the covers aside and swung your legs over the edge of the bed, sitting up while keeping your eyes fixed on him. Peter, on the other hand, remained rooted to the spot, looking like he was waiting for explicit instructions on what to do next.
"you can come closer," you said, picking up on his hesitation.
"I can?"
"it's just a suit, Peter."
"I know," he nodded quickly. "right. a suit."
you raised an eyebrow. "you're making this weird."
"I know."
despite his response, he finally started taking a few tentative steps toward you. his movements were cautious, almost calculated, and you noticed he came to a halt at a considerable distance from the bed—as if he'd drawn an imaginary line in the sand as a safe buffer between you two.
you studied him for a few moments before standing up.
Peter went rigid instantly.
"you didn't have to get up," he noted, his eyes following your movement.
"I wanted a better look."
"up close?"
"up close."
he swallowed hard and nodded, though he didn't offer a response. you walked over to him without any rush, closing the gap between you until you came to a stop directly in front of him. now that you were standing this close, you could catch details that would have been completely invisible from afar: the subtle scuffs on the fabric, the faint layer of grime lingering in the seams, and the intricate grid lines running through the material.
"may I?"
Peter looked down at you. "may you what?"
you pointed toward the spider emblem on his chest. "this."
"oh." he dropped his eyes to his own chest before snapping them back to yours. "yeah. of course."
you reached out, carefully sliding your fingers over the symbol, taking in the distinct texture of the material beneath your fingertips. it was much firmer and more structured than you had pictured, yet it still felt remarkably flexible—clearly built to allow for an unrestricted range of motion.
"it's so much more detailed in person," you remarked, tilting your head slightly as you traced the lines of the suit.
Peter looked down, tracking the motion of your hand. "it's... made for that."
you looked up to catch his eye. "made for what?"
he paused for a beat. "being detailed."
you stared at him for a few seconds. "that was a terrible answer."
"I know." Peter let out a low laugh and rubbed the back of his neck. "I meant there are multiple layers. certain areas are reinforced."
"reinforced?"
"yeah." he gestured subtly toward a spot near his shoulder. "like here, for instance."
your eyes followed his hand, and you leaned in slightly, lightly tapping the area he'd indicated. "is this stitched?"
"that part, yeah." Peter stared at your fingers resting against the suit. "but it's not just stitching. there's a padding layer underneath."
he stepped a fraction closer, almost without realizing he was closing the remaining distance between you, and brought his hand up to yours. his fingers brushed lightly against yours before gently taking hold, guiding your hand a couple of inches to the side.
"like this," he explained, far too focused on his breakdown to immediately register the proximity. "right here, you can feel the difference."
you allowed him to guide your hand across the fabric.
his fingers lingered over yours for a second longer than strictly necessary.
"feel that?" he asked, his gaze still anchored to where your hands met.
"I do."
"this part's thicker."
you nodded, though your focus had subtly shifted away from the suit. the touch had been brief and completely harmless, yet you could distinctly feel the warmth of his hand bleeding through the fabric of his glove onto yours.
Peter seemed to register the exact same thing a split second later.
his fingers froze.
he looked up.
you were looking directly at him.
for a moment, neither of you uttered a word.
then, Peter let go of your hand—far too slowly for it to pass as entirely accidental—and took half a step back.
"sorry."
you knit your brows slightly. "for what?"
"I..." he glanced down at his own hand, as if it had acted on its own accord without his permission. "I don't know."
a faint smile tugged at the corner of your lips. "do you apologize for everything?"
"lately? feels like it."
you turned your attention back to the suit, opting not to push him just yet. "what about this section?"
peter looked down to where you were pointing, looking visibly relieved to have something concrete to explain again.
"that's different." he tapped the side of his torso with two fingers. "I need maximum mobility here."
"because of the web-slinging?"
"that, too." he began gesturing as he spoke, finally looking a bit more in his element. "if I can't move my right arm properly, doing basic things gets pretty tricky. and when you're swinging between skyscrapers at an altitude you definitely shouldn't be at..." he paused briefly. "well, you really want to make sure the suit doesn't tear."
you smiled. "you talk about it like it's the most normal thing in the world."
"it's not exactly normal." Peter shrugged. "it just became normal for me."
you kept watching him as he spoke. there was a subtle shift in him whenever the topic turned to something he truly knew inside and out. the nervous edge softened, his hands moved animatedly as he explained things, and he seemed to momentarily forget that he was supposed to be keeping his distance from you.
"you like this," you noted.
Peter cut himself off mid-gesture. "like what?"
"talking about this."
he looked down at his suit, then back up at you. "maybe."
"you seem less nervous."
"that's because I'm talking about something I actually understand."
"so, should I just ask you about Spider-Man whenever you get nervous?"
Peter offered a soft smile. "maybe."
you reached out to touch the spider emblem on his chest once more, your fingers moving a little slower this time.
"then tell me."
"about what?"
"about you."
his smile gradually faded. "that's... a lot more complicated."
"why?"
Peter held your gaze for a few quiet seconds before speaking. "because I know a whole lot more about Spider-Man than I do about Peter Parker."
silence settled over you.
he didn't break it either.
the distance between you was still razor-thin, and right now, neither of you seemed particularly interested in stepping back.
you tilted your head slightly. "maybe I could get to know both."
Peter exhaled slowly. "that," he murmured, his gaze dipping away for a brief moment, "is precisely the kind of thing that makes it so hard to be around you."
you smiled softly. "why?"
he looked back up at you.
this time, he didn't look away.
"because you make it sound so easy."
you held his gaze for a few long seconds, feeling the silence between you grow heavier by the moment. Peter was still standing there, close enough that the slightest movement would close the gap completely, yet he seemed determined not to make a move. almost as if he were waiting for you to take the first step.
so, you did.
without saying a word, you took another step closer.
Peter held his breath, his eyes dipping briefly to your lips before snapping back up to meet your gaze, almost as if he were scolding himself for looking.
"you're doing it again," he murmured.
"doing what?"
"that."
"you're going to need to be a little more specific."
Peter let out a low laugh, unable to hide the underlying nerves in his voice. "leaving me clueless about what to do."
you smiled.
"maybe I know."
before he could ask what that meant, you brought a hand up to his face and kissed him.
Peter went stone-still.
for a brief, suspended moment, it seemed as though his entire body had forgotten how to react. then, as if the realization finally hit him that this was actually happening, he let out a long breath and returned the kiss.
the sheer relief that seeped out of him in a soft sigh made your chest tighten.
his hands hovered around your waist for a few hesitant seconds, as though still trying to gauge whether he was allowed to touch you. when he finally made contact, his fingers closed gently over the fabric of your pajamas, pulling you a few inches closer.
the kiss deepened naturally, unhurried, and you felt Peter unwind against you, inch by inch. the tension that had been locked in his shoulders from the moment he climbed through your window finally began to melt away.
your hand slid up to his hair, your fingers tangling into his soft curls. Peter let out a low groan against your lips when you gently pulled him closer, and his reaction brought a faint smirk to the corner of your mouth.
he noticed.
"don't start," he murmured against your lips.
you kissed him again before he could complain any further.
his hands began to trace slowly up your back, as if he were still adjusting to the reality of being able to touch you. every time you moved closer, he seemed to lose a little more of his ability to pretend this wasn't getting to him.
and as much as he tried not to dwell on it, Peter caught himself wishing there wasn't a layer of fabric between you. the thought hit him so suddenly that he instantly tried to push it aside.
no.
definitely not.
this was already complicated enough.
you were his neighbor. the girl he’d been actively avoiding for weeks precisely because he didn't want to turn a simple living situation into something weird. and now here he was, with your arms wrapped around him and your fingers still threaded through his hair, while he desperately tried to ignore how badly he wanted to throw all those reservations out the window.
he broke the kiss for a few seconds, keeping his forehead rested against yours as he caught his breath.
"this is wrong," he whispered.
your hand stayed tangled in his hair. "is it?"
"probably." Peter closed his eyes for a beat. "we shouldn't be doing this."
"why?"
"because we're neighbors."
you let out a soft laugh. "is that your excuse?"
"it's a very valid excuse."
"you climbed into my bedroom through the window wearing a Spider-Man costume."
"suit," he corrected automatically.
you smiled. "suit."
Peter shook his head, but he couldn't hold back a smile either.
"this is just going to make seeing each other around way weirder," he continued, even though his hands remained firmly anchored on your waist.
"you were already crossing to the other side of the hall whenever you saw me."
"I know."
"so I don't think it can get much worse."
he let out a laugh, nodding in defeat. "you have a point."
you leaned in close again, lightly brushing your nose against his.
Peter went quiet.
this time, he was the one to close the gap.
the kiss returned with a newfound urgency, yet remained careful, as if you were both trying to figure out where this night was heading. your fingers tightened in his hair again, and peter let out a muffled sigh before wrapping his arms around you completely.
when he finally pulled back, he just stared at you for a few long seconds. there was an almost incredulous look on his face, as though he were still trying to process that this was actually happening.
"I've wanted to do this for so long," he confessed, his voice dropping to a low murmur.
you raised an eyebrow. "to kiss me?"
Peter nodded, a faint smile touching his lips.
"I've wanted to taste you for so long."
this time, you were the one left speechless.
Peter noticed and let out a short laugh, suddenly looking thoroughly flustered by his own honesty.
"sorry. that was..."
"it wasn't."
you grabbed him by the collar of his suit, pulling him down with you as the two of you tumbled onto the bed. Peter caught his weight on his forearms, framing your head on either side, and kissed you again. this time, though, something had shifted. the kiss was far more intense, heavy with all the unexpressed tension you’d both been trying to ignore since he walked through the window.
you wrapped your legs around his waist, erasing whatever space was left between you, as your hands traced the broad expanse of his back through the suit. Peter exhaled a ragged sigh against your lips, squeezing his eyes shut for a second as if trying to hold onto some shred of self-control.
"this is a terrible idea," he murmured between kisses, even as his hands held fast to your waist.
"you can leave," you teased, pulling him right back down.
peter let out a breathy laugh. "I know."
but he didn't move an inch.
instead, he captured your lips once more, and you felt the muscles in his arms flex as he held himself above you. there was something almost contradictory about the way he acted: he still seemed nervous, still hesitated at times, but at the same time, he couldn't bring himself to pull away.
"Peter."
he paused mid-kiss, keeping his face inches from yours as he waited for you to finish.
"take it off."
your eyes flicked briefly down to his suit.
he understood right away.
"are you sure?"
you nodded.
Peter went quiet for a few seconds before finally shifting off you. sitting on the edge of the bed, he began peeling off the suit, casting quick, uncertain glances back at you as if to make sure you hadn't changed your mind.
you propped yourself up against the pillows, watching him.
now, without the suit, he looked different. not because he had stopped being Spider-Man, but because for the first time, you could see just Peter. the same guy you passed in the hallways, who got completely tongue-tied whenever your eyes met, and who, until just a few minutes ago, seemed ready to do anything to avoid having a real conversation with you.
you reached out a hand toward him, beckoning him close.
"come here."
Peter obeyed.
the moment he moved back in, you ran your hands up his arms and over his shoulders, pulling him down to you as you drank in the warmth of his skin beneath your fingers. he closed his eyes for a fleeting second and let his breath out slowly, as though that simple touch was enough to send his nerves flying again.
"you're shaking," you noted.
"I am not."
"you are."
Peter opened his eyes and pulled back slightly, letting out a soft laugh as he scanned your face. "maybe a little," he conceded, giving a slight shrug.
you smiled before pulling him right back down.
he leaned over you, burying his face in the crook of your neck, where he began pressing clumsy, wet kisses against your skin, slowly working his way down. with every touch, his breathing grew heavier, and you felt his arms lock again securely around you.
his mouth found a sensitive spot just below your ear, and a soft gasp slipped from your lips when he nipped lightly at the skin, followed by a gentle suck that made your shoulders tense. Peter let out a low whine at your reaction, clearly pleased with the effect he was having on you.
"Peter..." you whimpered, your hands sliding up his back to feel his taut muscles.
he didn't reply with words, only with renewed intensity, continuing his trail of kisses down toward your collarbone. his hands slid down to the hem of your pajama top, clutching the fabric with a hesitation that lasted only a fraction of a second before he pulled it up over your head. you helped him, lifting your arms so he could strip it off completely, leaving your upper body exposed to the soft glow of the lamp.
Peter slowly looked up, freezing in place. he hovered on his knees between your legs, his gaze darkening as he took in the sight before him.
a heavy breath escaped his lips before he leaned down, taking your mouth once more. at the same time, one of his hands slid up your torso until it cupped your breast, squeezing with a delicious firmness that wrung a moan from your throat right into his mouth. the sensation only intensified as his skilled fingers began to play with your nipple, pinching and teasing until you involuntarily arched your hips up against his.
“you’re so beautiful…” he whispered between kisses, his voice raspy and breathless, while his other hand slid down slowly, tracing your waist in light, fleeting caresses.
your usual self-confidence flickered for a second, replaced by a warm flush creeping up your cheeks. you waited in silence, hoping the darkness of the room would hide the effect his words were having on your body.
giving yourself no time to overthink, you locked your thighs around his hips, eliminating any remaining space between you. the pressure of his bulge frictioning against your cunt wrung a heavy sigh from Peter. driven by an almost primal reflex, he shed his hesitant demeanor and began grinding against you, locked into a slow, agonizingly provocative rhythm for both of you.
it was impossible to ignore the way he throbbed against your skin through the fabric of his boxers—a stark contrast to the slick heat already pooling in your panties.
guided by sheer impatience, you hooked your fingers into the waistband of his boxers and yanked them down to his mid-thighs, freeing his rigid cock and balls from their restraint. your hand wrapped around the hot, thick base, initiating a slow, rhythmic stroke that slid up and down his entire length.
when you looked up to catch his eye, you found Peter completely undone. eyes closed and brow slightly furrowed, his lips parted as low groans and sighs escaped him with every stroke of your hand. the strain in his biceps betrayed just how hard he was fighting for self-control, desperately resisting the urge to thrust into your palm just to prolong every single second of the sensation.
“fuck, I can’t hold back anymore,” he gasped against your neck. “I need to be inside you.”
his hand slid down with firm intent to the hem of your pajama shorts, hooking the fabric along with your panties and pulling them to the side in one fluid motion. without hesitation, he slid two fingers deep inside you, discovering just how ready and impossibly wet you already were. he began to fuck you right then and there, maintaining a slow, deliberate pace designed to drive you straight to the edge.
your entire body shuddered as his fingers curved against that exact spot, making your head spin. but before you could lose control completely, he withdrew his fingers slowly, bringing them up to his mouth to suck away the wetness coating them.
reclaiming your lips with a hungry, possessive kiss, he made you taste yourself before positioning the tip of his cock at your entrance. Peter slid inside slowly, feeling every single inch adjust to him until his hips flushed flat against yours. you whimpered his name, arching your back off the sheets to accommodate his size, until he began to move with careful precision, watching your face intently to test your limits.
Peter's precision was borderline torturous. he refused to rush, making his cock hit unbelievable depths you didn't even know existed. his hand, warm and steady, slid slowly up the back of your thigh, adjusting the angle to sink even deeper.
the stark contrast between his usual shyness and the sheer authority of his movements left you entirely disarmed. your cunt throbbed, clamping around him so tightly with every stroke that Peter let out a heavy moan, shutting his eyes for a split second and clenching his jaw to resist the urge to pick up the speed. he wanted you to feel every single millimeter.
you threw your head back, digging your nails into his broad shoulders as the pleasure coiled unsustainably low in your stomach.
“you feel so fucking good, Peter,” you whimpered in pleasure, your voice breaking with every slow, deep thrust. “right there... oh, God, yes.”
Peter tilted his head down, locking a hypnotized gaze onto the exact point where your bodies joined, watching his cock slide in and out of your cunt. the sight of the continuous friction seemed to flip a switch in him, sending his enhanced senses into overdrive. everything was amplified: the slick sound of wet skin against skin with every thrust, the subtle creak of crumpled sheets, your ragged breathing, the frantic thumping of your heart. that sudden hyper-awareness only stoked his hunger, stripping away his caution as he picked up the pace.
the rapid rhythm made the bed frame creak against the wall, but Peter didn't slow down. sliding his fingers up to the top of your entrance where you met, he rested his thumb right over your clit, applying a calculated, steady pressure that made your vision blur and your hips lift to meet his involuntarily.
“God... you’re taking me so well,” he gasped against your ear, his shaking voice revealing that he was right on the precipice himself. “just like that...”
the relentless stimulation on your clit paired with the accelerating thrusts created an unbearable pressure in your lower belly. the sensation finally overflowed all at once, blurring your sight as a electric shock shot straight down your spine.
you let out a muffled cry against his shoulder, your entire body going taut as your cunt hit violent spasms, contracting and squeezing his cock with overwhelming force. the sheer tightness of your orgasm shattered whatever thread of self-control Peter was clinging to. he let out a low, guttural growl, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he buried himself to the hilt two more times—blind, desperate thursts—before coming deep inside you.
the full weight of his body collapsed over yours for a few long moments. Peter seemed utterly incapable of moving a single muscle, simply absorbing the lingering tremors rippling through both your bodies as the peak slowly ebbed away.
with extreme care, he pulled out of you and rolled onto his side, letting out a heavy, shuddering sigh as his shoulders sank into the mattress. the quiet of the late hour reclaimed the room, broken only by the synchronized sound of your heavy breathing trying to catch a normal rhythm.
beneath the half-open window, the red and blue suit lay crumpled on the hardwood floor—looking like a strange, forgotten relic against the raw intimacy that had just taken over the room. the chilly Manhattan wind drifted back inside, swaying the curtains and cooling down your feverish skin.
noticing your faint shiver, Peter reached out and pulled the heavy comforter up, tucking it around both of your shoulders. he turned to face you, sliding a hand under the nape of your neck to pull you flush against his chest. you nuzzled into the curve of his body, feeling the steady, grounding thud of his heart against your cheek. his fingers began tracing calm, lazy circles over your bare back—a comforting, effortless touch.
"I think that was officially the worst first impression in neighbor history," he murmured, his voice delightfully raspy with exhaustion, lips brushing against your hairline.
"you broke into my room, scared the hell out of me, admitted you’ve been actively dodging me, and then used me in my own bed," you countered, your voice muffled against his chest, though an inevitable smile gave away your tone. "yeah, the rap sheet is pretty long."
Peter let out a low laugh that vibrated pleasantly against your cheek. he tilted his head back slightly, staring down at you with his eyes soft in the dim yellow glow of the nightstand lamp. there was a sweet vulnerability in his expression—not a single trace left of the skittish boy who used to dodge your eyes in the elevator.
"I promise I'm never going to run away from you again," he declared, his tone turning genuinely earnest. his fingers traced up your face, gently tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "no lame excuses, no pretending I didn't see you in the lobby, and no taking the fire stairs just to avoid a conversation."
you looked up, meeting his eyes.
"does that mean you're going to learn how to say a proper 'good morning'?"
"it means I'm going to have to invent excuses to linger in the hallway just to wait for you to walk out," he corrected with a faint smirk, sealing his promise with a slow, lingering kiss on your lips. "after all, I've got a lot of lost time to make up for."
