venom is the big monster you got when you found the book of death. the rules were simple : write a name and they die. in the beginning you found him annoying; his large body always hovering over you as you watched your victim die. his deep chuckle that made your room shake a little and his long tounge slithering out every so often to lick the tip of your ear. from then to now, you couldn’t figure out how your emotions changed. the laugh that used to make your eyes roll now made you thighs clench together wetness pooling into your panties. venom saw the change, the subductes gaze in your innocent eyes. if he wasn’t a villain he wouldn’t have entertained you - but fortunately he was.
the news blared in the background, reports of another unexplained and sudden death. usually if you weren’t occupied you would be giggling, kicking your feet, and eating popcorn. but - this time your legs were spread open for your big monster. “do you like that?” his usually monotone voice had a slight edge today. his clawed finger rubbed at your puffy bud as gently as he could be. you threw your head back nodding quickly. pink comforter getting damped underneath you both from your wet cunt and venom physically drooling at the smell of you.
“mmm” you both grunted together. your chest heaved up and down, brown nipples hard and welcoming the tip of the textured tongue circling it. “y-yess!” you cried, you hips bucked into he air, venom taking that to move quicker. his slanted eyes zeroed in on your empty hole that dripped for attention. he felt his restraint breaking, his tounge now going back and froth with each nipple that was wet with slob; but it wasn’t enough. his movement shocked you, a small gasp that turned into a loud moan left your lips. venom held your hips and pushed your legs to be by your head. his tounge slowly slithering its way into your pussy. your walls clenched and unclenching as he tried going deeper stretching your hole.
your legs shook, your hand on his slimy head trying to push back tears falling from your eyes. “waittt” you bucked into him, body and mind in two different places. venom rubbed his monsters cock again your bed. big drops of pre cums dripped from him, the friction of the soft cover and you taste being satisfying enough.
he inched a little more of his tounge into you, grunting against you. his eyes closed, tip of his tounge touching all of your insides. your stomach dropped, and one last small unmoving tug to his head was all you could give. your squirt came out showering the monster in your essence. he mumbled how he loved this, he could never go another day without the taste of you but you were like a fish out of water. your head pounded, juices still flowing from you, body twitching. venom would never leave you alone now.
⤷ peter parker, lonely and in his twenties, never had much experience with women, much less, hadn’t done more than sex. although, with a woman like you, he might learn a thing or two ┊word count: 4.7k…
♡⃕ ∿ bnd!peter parker x fem!reader
♡⃕ ∿ genres && warnings: smut w/ plot ( not a lot but still ! ) && fluff. inexperienced!peter. reader lovessss to kiss peter. teasing. oral ( f!receiving ). face riding. dry humping/thigh riding (?). peter is lowkey down bad for reader. peter tries to be dom for once and ends up loving it. first time pussy drunk!peter and he loves it even more. edging but peter highkey has no clue. no bnd spoilers. lemme know if I missed anything !
ꪆ For the past few years, Peter wasn’t the one to be social, especially in the romance aspect of social life. Sure, a couple of hookups here and there, but rarely something deep, something intimate. Even then, it was very few, almost little to none, since being Spider-Man was more of a calling to him than ejaculating into a condom that was inside of a woman who won’t care too much about him the next morning.
It’s not that he didn’t want to open up to different ways of intimacy; he was more than sure that he did. It just didn’t feel… right; at the moment, it didn’t feel needed with whichever woman was in front of him. Not to mention that he was, too afraid to admit, that he was unsure if he was doing any of this right. Is he touching the right places? Should he kiss here? Should he kiss there? Does he keep his hands idle or move them around and hope that she doesn’t catch onto his nerves?
It’s not like there was a guidebook to hookups, and he sure as hell wasn’t gonna ask Evey how to eat pussy.
Though, even after the failed attempts at doing more than just penetration, it didn’t stop Peter from fantasizing about the moment that he could make a woman feel otherworldly from more than just his dick.
Late nights of touching himself and “study sessions” of watching videos on how to eat a woman out properly; slightly confused but also enamored by the sounds that a woman can create just off of someone’s tongue. High-pitched moans, ragged gasps, the sounds of pulling hair and movement of thighs squirming on the sheets; he studied and let himself feel it all.
Nights on end, when he wasn’t clocked in as Spider-Man, he would lie and touch, feel, imagine anything…everything. The feel of pussy that would suck him into a trance, no way in and no way out; words that would fall from the voice of desperation. “Peter- touch me. Touch me, please.” Six measly words, yet Peter wanted to follow them like it was a command.
At times, a bit pathetic, even for him, he would hump sheets while imagining tongue fucking someone or twist his wrist to capture how fingering necessarily works.
He even considered buying a pocket pussy to practice on but pulled back after a bit of shame rolled over him, and the fact that, in due time of meeting you, you two have gotten to know each other on a more physical level.
Casual, it was all casual to Peter just as it was to you. Nothing to build upon or lay a foundation with other than sex, friendship, and movie nights with stolen pajamas.
Since it was casual, you were open to almost everything that Peter was ever curious about. You knew Peter wasn’t as experienced as you and didn’t mind being his guide when it came to intimacy; times like those you enjoyed the most cause that meant having Peter in any and every way you desired.
When curious about certain positions, you would demonstrate for him while planting kisses all over him, ever so slyly moving his hands to where you wanted them. When curious about his own desires, you would answer with your body, not words. The only thing closest to words would be the hisses and whimpers Peter lets out when you’re moving leisurely to chase your own orgasm, not his.
However, when it came to your own desires, you would bring Peter into it only slightly, opening the door for you inch by inch. Not that you didn’t trust him to please you, but you could see his mind running through an anxious feeling when you opened the opportunity to let him lead; stuttering, inconsistent kissing and touching, eyes that gave a look of being lost in all of this.
As cowardly as it may sound, and the fact that he could see that unnoticed, yet noticed, frustrating look on you when he couldn’t lead both of you in this time of intimacy, it still didn’t stop Peter from wanting to do more than just kissing and fucking you.
He wanted- no, badly wanted to have you move your hips to match the pace of his tongue, even if- BZZZ BZZZ. Three knocks, two doorbell buzzes, and one second before you became impatient as you stood behind Peter’s door.
“Peter, you’re taking forever, and your apartment doesn’t have a/c. Come on before I start stripping.” The last part made Peter stop moving, and his mind jumped to the idea of seeing you in nothing but your panties and bra.
“Peter!” Again, you called his name, followed by three more knocks to the door. Peter shook his head and pulled himself back into reality; movie night with takeout from the Jamaican restaurant that is thankfully open later than they need to be.
“It’s just a movie, Peter. Don’t think of it as anything else except movies and food. Got it? Got it. Wait, but what if she-”
“You literally have two seconds to open the door before I walk away and drive home. One…two-”
Quickly going into panic mode, Peter opened the door and gave you a sheepish hi. He leaned against the door and waved, trying to slyly, hardly working though, take a glimpse at what you’re wearing.
You rolled your eyes at his pitiful attempt at hiding his gaze and walked into his apartment. You stopped to kiss him on the cheek, lightly tapping it afterward, and continued.
“If we’re gonna ditch tonight’s movie and make one of our own, lemme know now.” You looked over your shoulder, seeing Peter turning hues of red all over and his mouth hanging open as if he was caught in a lie. You smiled coyly at him. “You know, from the way you’re either tryna strip me with your eyes or stare at my tits.”
“I- I- I wasn’t. I swear I wasn’t!”
You placed the food on the coffee table and walked over to Peter, pulling him away and closing the door behind him.
You analyzed Peter, seeing his curls lightly bouncing against his forehead, mahogany eyes trying to avoid yours, knowing he’ll give in to whatever you wish for if he looks directly into your pupils. Like a whirlpool, your presence seems to surround him, attempting to swallow him, and the only way out is to surrender.
Your stance of heavy eye contact holding him, your lips smiling in a way that may look plain but might instead bewitch him, and your hands, combing through his freshly washed curls, then gliding down to hold onto his chin. You pulled his head to your eye level and forced him to look at you, to look into you. It’s as if you wanted to enchant him, have your eyes speak to his soul, and bring him into what you wanted, what you craved from him.
You moved closer to him, enclosing the space that limited your touch and bringing yourself chest to chest with him. Still having his chin in your grasp, you pulled his head closer until his held-up breath touched your lips; the tip of his nose barely grazing yours.
Peter’s brain was going frantic, growing nervous from the way you easily had him at your will. He knew he shouldn’t succumb to you that easily, and that quickly, but why pull away?
Lips not even inches away; your nail lightly grazing his cheek, close to scratching that one spot that makes Peter catch his breath.
Potentially, you could trace your nail along the line of his lips, pulling the bottom lip and leaving his mouth open ever so slightly. Or leave deep kisses along his chin and press him against any surface, touching him in all the places that you know will make his body fall onto you.
As much as Peter would want both to happen to him, he needed tonight not to start too early and end too soon. He cleared his throat. “Umm, the movie. I think you’ll like what I chose tonight.”
He took your hand off his chin and interlaced his fingers with yours. You still had the coy look, the charming lilt in your voice as you responded, “Right…the movie, yeah.”
He led you over to the sofa bed lying across from the TV. You took your shoes off, sat with one leg on top of the other, your elbow placed on your leg as your hand held your hand. You were watching Peter gather all the plates and utensils for the food.
You gave a satisfied hum as you saw his tee ride up as he reached over the cabinets. His abdomen was showing; strongly built, with the lining very apparent, you just wanna trace along each line. It also doesn’t help that his V-line appears below his abdomen.
“Ready for the movie?” Peter asked, which brought you out of whatever daze his body had you in. He placed the plates down on the coffee table and took a seat next to you.
You blinked a few times and smiled at him. “Yeah, yeah. What are we watching?”
“Power Rangers. I remember you telling me that you and your brother used to watch it as kids, so I thought maybe you might enjoy it. I didn’t know which year you liked, so I rented quite a few.” Nervously looking, he chuckled and scratched the back of his head.
“Aww, how sweet, Peter, thank you.” You turned over to his head and kissed him on the cheek again out of endearment, and it just so happened to be a habit budding between you and Peter.
Peter cleared his throat, trying to calm himself down and not short-circuit just from a kiss. He picked up the DVDs on his nightstand and handed them to you, giving you the option to choose which to watch tonight.
“I trust your judgment, and I think I’ll like whichever one you pick.”
You snorted, looking up from the collection of DVDs in your hands. “You trust me for a lot of things, P,” Sneering at him, “and I mean a lot of things.”
“Well, that just means you’re a trustworthy person.”
You hummed as a reply. You got up from the sofa bed and placed the DVD in the DVD player that was in front of the TV. You turned your head again to where he was sitting. “Have you ever watched any Power Rangers movie? Or even a series? It’s fine if you haven’t; I’m just wondering.”
“Nahh, I was more of a Star Wars kid with…”
“With…?” You asked as you waited for him to finish. You sat back on the bed and grabbed the remote on the nightstand closer to you.
“A childhood friend of mine, but we parted ways.”
Peter moved his legs from a semi-criss-cross position and lay back onto the back of the sofa bed. You shifted downwards on the bed and laid your head down, facing Peter. You propped up your arm and laid your head on your hands; you gave him a sympathetic look as you combed through his curls again. “Mmm I’m sorry, Peter.”
He sighed, raising his hand and letting it fall onto his thigh. “It’s cool. I think it might be better this way.”
You contemplated responding to that with disagreement, but from the saddened look Peter started to show, you didn’t wanna intrude. As familiar as the two of you were getting, outside of physicality, you were unsure whether to ask Peter about certain things, or if your friendship was at a point to have conversations with more substance than now.
Instead, you gave him a small smile and planted another kiss on the cheek. Your smile grew a bit more, but it still showed sympathy.
Peter had a small smile on his face after the kiss. “Why do you like kissing me so much?”
You shrugged. “Why not? You’re fun to kiss, plus you need to be more accustomed to my kisses.”
He turned towards you, his elbow propped up just as you had yours. “But I already am.”
You replied with uncertainty, “Mmmm are you? Cause every time I lean more into you while kissing, you become nervous. Like you become scared to touch me or sumn.”
He scoffed playfully, “That’s not- that is not true. I just- I just…”
You raised an eyebrow, giving him a playful smirk as you awaited his response. You could tell his brain was trying to configure the perfect response, trying to sound cool and impress you. But after the various starts and stops in his sentence, he caved and sighed.
You giggled at his defeat and hooked your leg on his. You pulled yourself closer than before, with as little space as possible, similar to earlier when he let you into his apartment.
“I would say it is fine that you are nervous; that’s almost everyone who doesn’t have as much experience. But you don’t have to be scared of me; I’m not gonna bite you or anything.” You paused. “Unless that’s what you’re into. I’m not one to judge!”
Peter responded with a light laugh and shook his head. He looked up after and caught himself looking into your eyes, keeping them there. He was taken aback again, feeling that same tug from earlier, and found himself drowning in your presence as you kept your eyes on him. He couldn’t do anything more than just look into you until one of you moved away or caved into the intensifying tension.
As minutes passed, you had stayed in the same posture, elbow propped as you watched Peter. He seemed frozen, a bit stuck, as one would say. You began to turn to lie on your back until you felt your wrist being pulled and lips clashing into yours.
The kiss stunned you, bringing you into shock that Peter took the initiative and that it wasn’t you this time. You looked at him with blown-out pupils as he apologized frantically, saying he was sorry for that and he should’ve asked for permission. He should’ve waited; it was impulsive, it was-
You kissed him back, with more depth than how he kissed you. You pressed more into him. You kept your lips on his, both of you going after the pace of the other. Lips tangled upon each other, your hands grazing along the back of his neck, and Peter kept his hands on the curve of your hips.
The kiss became messy; it became needy; it came to the point where your only focus was him and every feeling his lips brought out of you. As if suddenly, any and everything disappeared, the world faded around you, and the only thing there was the soft, brunette male with kind eyes. The kind of eyes that ask before doing, think before saying, the kind of eyes that seek another person more than himself.
Though covered by his eyelids, fluttering from time to time, when you caught a glimpse of them, they seemed darker. Not completely a different shade, but you can tell that Peter is giving in to himself.
The way he keeps brushing his hands all along your hips and lower half of your belly; how he pushes you against him more and more, as if he couldn’t keep himself separated from you any longer. Every time you both stopped to catch yourselves, only a second passed before you two were kissing one another intensely.
You slipped your tongue in when Peter had his mouth open, moving it against his tongue like the two were meant to dance alongside each other. Yet he broke it up by licking a thick stripe against your tongue, pulling at it then letting it go. You pulled at his, repeating his movements yet lasting longer after his muffled groans.
You felt Peter slotting his thick quadriceps in between your legs. His knee pushed against your core, yet he didn’t notice until he heard a gasp coming from you. Though after hearing it, it didn’t stop him; instead, it lit a fire inside him. This ignition, blooming from the deep want of you, felt foreign to him, but it didn’t change how he moved against you; too stuck in this impaired state of lust to notice himself grinding his thigh between your thighs, knee pressing further into your clothed core.
Much of the friction against your inner thigh and his knee pressed deeply into you had you let out whimpers, moans, all the obscene sounds that Peter craved to hear from you, falling loosely between kisses. You tried to let them go unnoticed between you and Peter, but of course, the state that he is in asked you, pleaded with you to do it again. Your sounds were a symphony he so badly desired to string together. He didn’t want you to stop; he didn’t want you to shy away from letting him know how good you felt writhing against his thigh. Peter wanted to hear it all, to feel it all within the growing heat between the two of you and the dampness he felt on your shorts.
As he felt you twitching on his lower leg, he stopped, then pushed his knee towards the direction of your clit, causing a deep moan to be brought out of you. He moved his thigh away from between your legs; he stopped kissing you to one, catch his breath, and two, to examine how you were.
You slightly, very slightly, moved back and tilted your head, questioning why Peter stopped. He kissed you again, imitating the way you kissed his cheek earlier. He let quietness fill the space, very little space, between the two of you. His other hand traveled downward towards the inner parts of his thigh, brushing his fingertips along the marks that were apparent on you. He didn’t answer you but instead replied with a question of his own.
“Do you trust me?”
“I mean, you’re a trustworthy person.” He softly laughed at you imitating his answer from earlier.
“That’s all I needed to hear.” Peter didn’t give you much of a chance to question his motive as he positioned himself with his back against the sofa. He held you by your waist and brought you onto his lap, having you look straight at him just as he was at you.
You two stayed like this, looking into one another as you both waited for one to break away.
“Can I- can I um take these off of you?” Peter asked you as he played with the waistband of your shorts.
You grinned at his shyness. “For someone close to deepthroating me with his tongue, you’re still pretty shy.” You puckered your lips, pouting at Peter. “Why is that?”
You guided his hands along your waistband, toying with them and then taking them off at a leisurely pace. It made Peter ache, as patience was not on his side, but he was never one to break away from your assistance.
You grabbed your shorts from his hand and tossed them at the side of his bed. You wrapped your arms around his neck and moved yourself closer to him; your lips brushed upon the shell of his ear. You whispered sensually, “Don’t be shy baby, not now. Not when you’ve shown me how much you want me.”
You kissed his ear, leaving another behind his ear, and one more below it, close to his jaw. “Aren’t I what you want, P?” Another kiss planted below his ear, keeping your place and kissing there. Kissing turned into licking and sucking, desiring to leave love bites below his ear and around his jawline, dangerously close to his neck.
Peter groaned at the contact of your plush lips on his jaw, feeling himself heat up as you were becoming close to the pulse points of his neck. Your soft lips kissing him all over his jaw and neck, your nails lightly grazing along his back, light teasing said in between, Peter was slipping back into your grasp.
Peter could feel himself giving back into you, as if a spell that you placed on him made him fall so easily onto you. Like a switch that could turn off for Peter and have him following only your lead. As much as he found infatuation with the way you turned him into your own plaything, he couldn’t feed into you yet. Not now.
Yet it boosted your ego the way Peter lets you use him however you like. Him dragging out a moan, his eyes fluttering closed as you nipped at his neck. The way he bucked up onto you as you rocked your wet cunt along his shorts.
You wanted to see how much further you could have Peter held into your trance; you moved one of his hands between your thighs and maneuvered his palm to cup your pussy. To give him a feeling of how wet he has made you, how much your sensitive hole was needing him. The other hand moved to hold onto the curve of your ass.
You guided Peter into having fingers trace along your lips, and even helping him tease the entry of your pussy. Soon enough, you forget that you were kind of helping Peter touch you after he pressed his thumb on your clit. You strung out a whine, and he apologized, thinking he pushed into it too hard.
“Sorry, sorry. Was that too rough?” Peter pulled his hand back, but you pushed it back onto you.
You shook your head. “No, you’re doing fine. Really, that was perfect, just please keep going. Actually,” You used Peter’s hands to rub along your clit, “just like that. Keep going just like that.”
He followed your command and continued to circle your clit. Both of you became clouded as you leaned more into his touch and he quickened his pace. He slowed down when you started rutting against his hand and asked him to go slower. You didn’t want him to rush anything, especially not now with his hand making you feel like static.
He kept the pace you wanted, watching how your mouth hung open as you let out whimpers and moans, mixing the two at some point. You moaned his name in between, praising him and insistent on telling him how good his fingers feel on you.
Your nails that were on the back of his neck began to scratch him. You dug deep into his soft curls, tugging at them as you felt something blazing inside of you, a gnawing feeling ready to blow as you were close. You quickened your own pace of humping against Peter’s hand, but Peter decided against it.
You hadn’t noticed anything of Peter, too lost in your haze of lust, except his fingernails digging into the flesh of your ass, pushing you upwards as your knees landed on his shoulders.
You weren’t given a chance to react except the sudden gasp coming from you as you felt a harsh suck on your clit. Steady hands held you up as Peter kissed your clit with fervor, but somehow kept a steady pace. He switched between kissing and sucking your clit, lightly pulling it with his lips, then letting go.
He pushed you up further, then pressed your cunt onto his face, leaving you to press your hands against the wall for support. You felt the bridge of his nose bumping against your aching clit. You tried to move against it to feel something but instead felt a long lick along your lips. You moaned at the touch and pressed your legs against Peter’s head.
Feeling your thighs pressed so closely against both sides of his head, having your wet cunt drag against his face, Peter felt himself fall into a state of elation. He couldn’t bring himself to pull away after tasting how sweet you were and the satisfactory feeling of you clenching around his tongue. This couldn’t be more than what Peter wanted: to have you in pure bliss but falling into his own.
Another swipe of his tongue on your lips, and yet he pressed deeper than before. Reaching places you weren’t aware were sensitive, and rocking your body back and forth. He kept at it until the tip of his tongue reached your wet hole. He’s become accustomed to your sweet, sweet cunt leaking a sticky, white substance that he was entranced by. He licked and sucked away all the substance that covered your pussy, but more kept forming as his mouth stayed on you.
Your legs were shaking, your strength fading as a burn began to grow in your stomach. It was as if a thread held together the knots in your stomach and was close to snapping apart. You tried to hold it together, keeping up with the way Peter had you grinding against his face.
You hoped Peter would notice that you were close, not wanting to cum yet. But you doubted it when Peter purposefully bumped his nose against your clit every time your pussy came back onto his face. Also, the way he went back to teasing your weeping hole.
You tried to call his name, but instead it came out as a whine; high-pitched and broken. All that you tried to say became incoherent, and it didn’t help that his mind was becoming fuzzy again, drowning out everything around him. All Peter could do was feel and taste. He couldn’t stop; he wouldn’t stop when the most perfect thing sat in front of him, all wet, lewd sounds stringing from it, and clamping down on whatever touched it.
Zeroed in on your now puffy clit, he continued with his pattern of kissing messily, sucking harshly, not even noticing how he made the final thread snap. He didn’t even notice how your movements became messy and rough, chasing after the orgasm you finally let go of. It kept your inner thighs burning along, twitching alongside Peter, and close to falling off of him.
Your now weakened knees fell off of his shoulders, almost having you fall off to the side of the bed had Peter not caught you. He kept his hands on the lower half of your back and laid you back on his lap. You fell onto his chest, holding him for balance as you tried to catch your breath. He felt your chest heave and your breathing become jagged.
Peter was trying to catch himself as well, slowing down his mind and stretching out his limbs. He extended his arms to wrap around your back, embracing you in a kind hug. No tension, no intense passion, just silence that surrounded the two of you.
Peter kissed your head and hummed into your hair, quietly listening to your breathing slow down. His hazed mind cleared and came back down. It was brought back to the sight of you holding onto his shoulders, a twitch felt against his thigh here and there; he smiled at the sight. He felt satisfaction, fulfilled, but also a growing addiction to have you like this.
To have you holding onto his strength as the pad of his thumb made you pursue your own ecstasy. To have beautiful sounds leaving your plush, luscious lips as he made out with you, your skin, and your needy cunt. The savoring, sweet taste of you dripping onto his lips made him want more of you; he needed to bring out more of your sticky liquid and let it fall onto the flat of your tongue. If he could, he would live under you, dragging his tongue against you, and have you blissed out until you're asking him to go faster, or maybe go harder.
He was ready to ask if he could taste you again, but you interrupted. You moved back from his chest, eyeing him, and asked, “Have you ever eaten a girl out?”
Peter stayed quiet, having no answer to your question. You were amazed, more so amused at this new information. Peter has never done oral on a woman…wow.
Your mouth opened in shock. “Never?!”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Consider yourself to be the first.” You were ready to question how he learned how to do what he just did to you, but you left it alone. You lay back down on his chest and hugged him back. You smiled and said with delight, “I’m honored.”
𐔌 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘪 💭⭑.ᐟ ꒱
♡⃕ this is like the longest I’ve ever wrote for a fic. please don’t ever expect this length from me again omg 😭. but truly, I did have so much fun writing this and I cannot thank my amazing mootie ( @neighbourscat ) for proofreading this for me. THANK YOU BBY 😙💕
♡⃕ I tried to keep at a pace that didn’t make peter totally sub. more so switch with sub leaning ?? I hope I execute it decently
♡⃕ thank you so much to all who read. love you all 🫶🏾
Switch | Peter Parker x F!Black Reader. (Smut/NSFW)
˗ˏˋ Peter Parker stumbles into your apartment after days of non-stop hero work and missed lectures, exhausted, aching, and barely coherent. But when you see him slumped on your couch, textbooks forgotten, you decide studying isn't what he needs tonight.
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Very explicit & detailed. | A/N: I am so sorry I have been gone for a months!! I literally joined the Navy and had to do some big girl things so I’m finally back and to keep it short. Peter in this is 21, you’re 20, and he goes from subby to dominate real quick! I love you guys and I will continue to upload! | WC: 2,187
(No definition)
ᥫ᭡.ִֶָ𓂃
The sofa groaned under his weight as Peter Parker collapsed onto it, a heap of red and blue spandex and an exhausted college student. His head lolled back, mask peeled off and discarded somewhere on the floor, revealing the sweat-dampened curls clinging to his forehead.
“Long night?” you asked, though the answer was written in every slack line of his body.
“You could say that,” he breathed out, eyes closed.
“Stopped a truck hijacking. Three,” he corrected himself, holding up a trembling finger. “Three truck hijackings. And a chem midterm this morning. I think my brain is leaking out of my ears.”
You watched him for a moment, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the way his hands lay palms-up on his thighs, utterly spent. A fond, possessive warmth bloomed in your chest. Spider-Man belonged to the city, but this tired boy on your couch was all yours.
You moved without a sound, the soft cotton of your pajama shorts brushing your thighs as you climbed onto the couch, straddling his lap in one smooth, deliberate motion. His textbooks, clutched in your hand, you tossed to the floor with a decisive thud.
His eyes fluttered open, a flicker of surprise in their hazel depths. “Hey, I was gonna—”
“You’ve done enough hero stuff tonight,” you murmured, your voice a low promise. Your fingers found the hem of his suit, the material stretched taut over the hard planes of his stomach. You slid your hands beneath it, your palms skating over the hot, damp skin of his abdomen. His breath caught a sharp, ragged inhale.
“What are you…?”
“Shut up, Peter.” Your fingers traced the defined lines of his muscles, feeling them jump and tighten under your touch. You leaned in, your lips a hair’s breadth from his. “Let me be the hero tonight.”
You closed the final distance, capturing his mouth with yours. It wasn't a gentle kiss, not at first. It was a claim. Your tongue swept past his lips, tasting the faint, metallic hint of the city and the pure, clean taste of him. A low groan vibrated in his chest, and his hands, which had been limp at his sides, suddenly came to life, gripping your hips hard enough to leave marks. His famous quipping was gone, replaced by these raw, hungry sounds you pulled from him.
You broke the kiss, nipping at his bottom lip. “You’re so wound up, baby. All that tension. Let me have it.”
“Fuck,” he gasped, his head falling back against the couch cushions. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide with a need that had nothing to do with fighting crime.
His hips gave an involuntary jerk upwards, the hard ridge of his cock straining against the confines of his suit and pressing firmly against the center of you. A sharp, electric jolt of pleasure shot through you.
“Is that for me?” you whispered, grinding down on him slowly, making him hiss through his teeth. “All that frustration… You gonna let it out for me?”
“Yes,” he choked out, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your ass. “God, yes.”
Your own need was a live wire, sparking under your skin. You needed to feel him, all of him. You tugged at the top of his suit, pulling it down to his waist, exposing the sculpted perfection of his chest. You leaned down, your ponytail brushing his shoulder, and took one of his nipples into your mouth, sucking hard, swirling your tongue around the tight peak.
Peter cried out, a broken, desperate sound. “Shit! Don’t stop.”
“You like that?” you asked, your voice muffled against his skin. You moved to the other nipple, giving it the same treatment, biting down just enough to make him gasp. “You like my mouth on you?”
“I love it,” he panted, his hands coming up to tangle in your hair, not guiding, just holding on. “I fucking love it. Please.”
“Please what?” You straightened up, looking down at him. His lips were swollen, his chest flushed. He was a complete wreck, and he was all yours. “Use your words, Parker.”
“I need to be inside you,” he begged, his voice stripped raw. “Right now. Please, I need to fuck you. I can’t think.”
The thrill of it burned through you. Knowing you could reduce Spider-Man to a begging, mindless mess. You hooked your fingers into the waistband of your shorts and your panties, pushing them down your legs and kicking them aside. His eyes followed every movement, hungry, devouring.
“Then fuck me,” you commanded, shifting back to position yourself over him.
His hands were a blur of motion, shoving his own suit and boxers down just enough to free his cock. It sprang up, thick and hard, the tip already glistening. He gripped himself, stroking once, a groan tearing from his throat at the contact.
You didn’t make him wait. You sank onto him in one long, slow, devastating slide.
The breath left his lungs in a shocked rush. “Fuck.”
You moaned, the sound long and low, as he filled you completely, stretching you in the most perfect way. “Oh, Peter… your cock feels so good inside me. So fucking big.”
You started to move, a slow, rolling rhythm that had him grasping at your hips, his knuckles white. You set a punishing pace, rising and falling on his dick, each downward thrust punching a ragged moan from his lips. The slick, wet sounds of your bodies joining filled the small room.
“You’re so deep,” you breathed, placing your hands on his chest for leverage, driving yourself down onto him harder, faster. “You feel that? That’s all for you. My fucking pussy is all yours.”
His composure was shattered. His witty comebacks were gone, replaced by a litany of curses and your name, chanted like a prayer. “Yes… Yes… fuck, just like that. You’re gonna make me come. I’m not gonna last.”
“Look at me,” you demanded. His eyes, glazed with pleasure, found yours. You took one of his hands from your hip and laced your fingers through his, squeezing tight, pinning it to the couch beside his head. The connection was electric, intimate. You brought your other hand to his face, thumb brushing his cheek. “Come for me, Peter. I want to feel you lose control. I want to feel you fucking explode inside me.”
That was all it took. His back arched off the couch, a guttural, broken cry tearing from his throat as his orgasm ripped through him. You felt the hot, pulsing rush of his cum flooding you, wave after wave, and you milked him for every last drop, clenching around him until he was shuddering and sensitive.
You collapsed forward onto his chest, both of you breathing like you’d just run a marathon. His semen was already starting to leak out of you, a warm, wet trail on your inner thigh and his stomach. You nuzzled into the crook of his neck, placing soft, open-mouthed kisses there. His arms came around you, holding you close.
You could feel his heart hammering against your chest, a wild, frantic rhythm slowly beginning to steady. His cock was still nestled deep inside you, softening but still present, a warm, heavy weight. You gave a slow, subtle clench of your internal muscles around him, and he jolted with a sharp, oversensitive gasp.
“Easy,” he mumbled, his voice hoarse and wrecked. “I’m… that’s… fuck.”
You smiled against his skin. “Just keeping you close.” You shifted, just a little, and felt another thick trickle of his release escape. The sensation was filthy, possessive. You loved it.
His hand, the one still intertwined with yours, squeezed. He brought your joined fingers to his lips, kissing your knuckles with a tenderness that contrasted violently with the animalistic fucking of moments before.
“You’re incredible,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin.
You lifted your head to look at him. His eyes were heavy-lidded, sated, but a new heat was already beginning to smolder in their depths. You rolled your hips, a slow, deliberate circle that made him bite his lip.
“What’s wrong, Parker?” you teased, your voice a low purr.
“Can’t multitask?” You ground down on him again, feeling him twitch inside you, a faint but promising sign of life.
“You think you’re done? I’m not done with you yet.”
His eyes widened, a mixture of shock and pure, unadulterated want. “Again? You want me to… you can’t be serious.”
You leaned down, your lips brushing his ear. “I’m dead serious. I want to feel you get hard inside me again. I want you to fill me up one more time.” You kissed the shell of his ear. “Think you can be a good boy for me and do that?”
A slow, wicked grin spread across Peter’s face, that familiar spark of arrogance flooding back into his hazy eyes. “You think you’re still in charge?”
Before you could answer, his hands clamped onto your waist. In a move that defied physics and his own exhaustion, he flipped you onto your back on the couch cushions, pinning you beneath him with an effortless strength that stole your breath. The world tilted, the fabric of the couch rough against your skin.
“Peter—!”
“My turn,” he growled, his voice a low, thrilling rumble against your ear. He settled his weight on top of you, one hand pinning both of your wrists above your head. The hard length of his cock, already swelling back to life, pressed insistently against your slick entrance. “You had your fun. You wrecked me. Now it’s my fucking turn to wreck you.”
You struggled halfheartedly, a token resistance that only made his grip tighten, his fingers lacing through yours to keep your hands prisoner. The dominance was a facade, you could feel it in the slight tremor running through his muscular frame, but it was a delicious, intoxicating facade.
“What’s wrong, Parker?” you taunted, echoing his words from before, your voice breathy. “Can’t handle me being on top?”
“I can handle you just fine right here,” he shot back, his hips grinding against yours, the head of his dick catching on your wetness, teasing. “I want to feel you under me. I want to watch your face while I fuck you.”
He crashed his mouth down on yours. This kiss wasn't like the ones before. It was all teeth and tongue and raw, claiming hunger. He didn’t just kiss you; he consumed you. You moaned into his mouth, the taste of him, of both of you, flooding your senses. Your free hand came up to tangle in his sweat-damp curls, holding him to you as he devoured your lips, your jaw, the sensitive column of your throat.
“You feel that?” he panted against your skin, his breath scorching hot. “That’s my cock getting hard for you again. Already. You did that.” He nipped at your collarbone. “Now you’re gonna take it.”
He released your hands, his own sliding down your body with a possessiveness that made you shiver.
He gripped your thighs, hiking them up over his shoulders, spreading you wide open for him. The position was obscene, exposing you completely, and you felt a fresh wave of arousal soak your folds.
“Fuck, look at you,” he breathed, his eyes dark with lust as he stared down at where his cock was poised at your entrance. “All wet and messy for me. Still full of my come.”
He didn’t wait for a reply. He drove into you in one powerful, unrelenting thrust, burying himself to the hilt.
A sharp cry was torn from your throat. The stretch was immense, overwhelming, the sensation of him filling you again so soon after his first release making your vision blur at the edges. He was so deep, the angle hitting places inside you that made you see stars.
“Oh god, Peter!”
“That’s it,” he groaned, his own voice strained with the intensity. He held himself there for a moment, letting you feel every inch, every throb of his dick inside your tight, clinging heat. “You take me so fucking good. Your pussy is gripping my cock like it never wants to let go.”
He withdrew almost completely, leaving you achingly empty, then slammed back into you. The force of it shook the couch, the sound of skin slapping against skin sharp and lewd in the quiet room. He set a brutal, punishing pace, pounding into you with a raw, animalistic rhythm that stole the air from your lungs. Each thrust was a claim, a reassertion of the power you’d so expertly stripped from him minutes before.
You were reduced to a writhing, moaning mess beneath him, your nails digging into the corded muscles of his back. “Yes! Fuck, Peter! Right there! Don’t stop!”
“You like that?” he grunted, his own control fraying, his movements becoming more ragged, more desperate. “You like me fucking you like this? Taking what I want?”
“I love it! I love your fucking dick!” you cried out, your head thrashing against the cushions. “I love how you feel inside me! Harder.”
He obeyed, his thrusts turning frenzied, his breathing a harsh rasp in your ear. His hand slipped between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing tight, frantic circles. The dual assault was too much. Pleasure coiled tight in your belly, a spring wound to its breaking point.
“I’m gonna come,” you choked out, your body beginning to tremble uncontrollably beneath his.
“Peter, I’m gonna come all over your cock.”
“Do it,” he demanded, his voice a guttural command. “Come for me. Squeeze that pretty little pussy around my dick. Milk me dry. Fuck, I wanna feel it.”
His words, filthy and precise, were the final push you needed. Your orgasm detonated, a white-hot explosion that seared through every nerve ending.
Your back arched off the couch as a silent scream tore through you, your inner muscles clamping down on his shaft in violent, pulsing waves.
The sensation of you clenching around him tore a ragged shout from Peter’s throat. His rhythm shattered entirely, his thrusts becoming shallow, frantic jerks as his own climax ripped through him.
“Yes! Take it, take all of it baby.”
You felt the hot, liquid rush of his release flooding you for the second time, a profound warmth that seemed to go on and on, his hips stuttering against yours as he emptied himself deep inside you.
He collapsed on top of you, his full weight pressing you into the couch, both of you slick with sweat and panting like you’d just fought a war. His cock remained buried within you, pulsing faintly as the last of his cum trickled out. His face was buried in your neck, his ragged breaths hot against your skin.
For a long moment, there was only the sound of your heartbeats slowing, syncing up. His fingers, which were still tangled with yours, gave a weak, exhausted squeeze.
A soft, breathless laugh escaped you. “So much for being in charge, huh?”
He lifted his head, his hazel eyes soft and sated, all traces of his brief dominance gone, replaced by a vulnerable, dazed wonder. A faint blush crept up his neck. “You… you just feel too good. I can’t think straight when I’m inside you.”
He shifted his hips, a tiny, almost involuntary movement that made you both gasp at the oversensitive friction. A fresh trickle of his cum leaked out, a warm, wet trail on your inner thigh.
“Fuck,” he whispered, his eyes fluttering closed.
“You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?”
You brought your intertwined hands to your lips and kissed his knuckles. “But what a way to go.” You clenched around him softly, experimentally, and he jolted with a sharp intake of breath. A slow, possessive smile.
Guys… i’m so happy with being back, please let me know if y’all have any request or anything, and overall hoo- fucking-yah.
❝HOT-SHOT HEARTTHROB❞ (Johnny Storm | The Human Torch x Fem!Reader)
Johnny always gravitates towards you. No matter how mundane the situation.
SFW, slice of life, established relationship, so much fluff, brief shenanigans, Ben & H.E.R.B.I.E appearance - vaguely scientifically!inclined!reader
A little Halloween prep at the Baxter Building. (Pic source - Fantastic Four: First Steps)
2k+ words
“I think you may have missed one spot there, Herb,” you point out, reclined in one of the dining room chairs.
The robot tilts his head in acknowledgment, chimes once, then attacks the spot with a surgeon’s precision despite his mechanical movements.
Otherwise you stay silent as the robot works his magic. Leaning on your chair’s two back legs with it propped against the counter and keeping up a running commentary with yourself in your head.
Johnny had been in the shower when you’d left him and found H.E.R.B.I.E going to town on a healthy looking orange pumpkin with a serrated knife at the kitchen counter. And now you were a bit too fascinated to leave.
Absent one of your usual bell bottoms or a miniskirt, and instead dressed in comfortable capris and a tee with your pedicured feet bare, you oscillate between flipping through one of the house’s science magazines (reading over a segment with theories Reed weighed in on) and failing to psyche yourself up to go put bull plaits in your hair— if you’ve got enough hair for all that plaiting that is.
And in the background you listen to the sounds of Herb humming out a passingly familiar tune and his diligent carving.
Staying quiet for both your sakes, you eventually take to a men’s fashion magazine Johnny left laying on the coffee table in the living room.
Johnny himself is in the magazine because of a modeling gig from a month back— he’d been specially requested and all. Still, as you flip through it, you ignore all the pages he shows up on and the ones he’s being interviewed on in favor of getting through the contents of the issue without solely obsessing over your partner.
Which turns out easier said than done. Johnny is the cover page draw after all, rocking the rare ascot with his hair slicked back and coiffed.
You’re thoroughly caught down the rabbit hole of ogling the blonde like you’re not dating him and couldn’t walk down the hall and jump his bones right then and there (of which he’d be a perfectly willing participant in), and reading through him hamming it up in his interviews when Ben walks into the kitchen to prep dinner.
“Really?” Ben starts up the second his eyes land on you. He waves at your seating arrangement. “You had to put the chair in my kitchen?”
Brow raising, you look up at Ben. Dubious as hell.
“Oh, it’s your kitchen now?” You slap the magazine closed, curling it into a cylinder in one hand, to gesture with it as you speak. “I’m sorry, did you claim sovereignty sometime between now and the last time I was here?”
Ben laughs, a big boisterous thing that vaguely reminds you of Santa Claus. “Real funny, Princess. Get that outta here before Hot Pants sees you and starts to get ideas.”
You snort, tossing the magazine onto the counter behind you and gearing up to talk Ben’s ear off about dinner since the silence has been broken.
That plan derails before you can even implement it.
Johnny banks the corner from the hallway and you watch, still rocking in your chair despite the exasperation being leveled your way, as he nods to Ben in greeting before his attention immediately zeroes in on you— face bare and kinky hair free and the smile on your face getting wider.
Bright baby blues latch onto your dark hickory brown and he smiles, not slowing for a second in his pursuit to close in on you.
“What’re you three up to?” Johnny asks, sidling beside your chair. The kiss he bends down to press onto your temple, you lean into. Chair legs snapping to the floor so you can leverage yourself up to feel his lips. Jonny’s chuckle sways your curls.
Heat seeps into you. Cozy and eternal.
You huff a laugh, “I was just being scolded, I think.” Smile cresting your lips, you wink at him as H.E.R.B.I.E beeps his own answer, waving around the carving knife pinched between his servos. “And H.E.R.B.I.E is carving pumpkins like a master. I was initially here to supervise, but he’s flown off the handle without me. He’s practically a pro now.”
The little assistive robot gives a string of high pitched chirps, unaccompanied hand coming up to twist around in a blur, and you take it for the bow that it is.
Start to clap for the little guy, crossing your legs and leaning back into the arm Johnny throws over your shoulders while you’re at it.
From the other side of the kitchen where he’s taken to pulling pots from the cupboards, Ben scoffs, “You ‘think’?” he says, and you start to laugh too.
Partially leaning his arm overtop the chair back, you look up at your partner’s hum.
“You’ll be alright, Ben,” he says, not looking at the man as he shifts past your shoulder to squint at the learning AI’s work.
The face Johnny makes has ‘oh yeah?’ written all over it in response to your earlier words — a brow raising and his mouth curving into a wide grin. Once the blonde’s turned to examine H.E.R.B.I.E’s masterpiece though, he pauses. A second brow raises to meet the first.
“That’s— uh. That’s really neat, Herb. Very…expressionist.” Johnny clicks his tongue. Crosses his arms and props one of his hands under his chin. “Yeah.”
Behind him you rush to slap a hand to your face. Muffling your hitching giggles.
It’s always a fascinating reality to behold: the robot’s intelligence. H.E.R.B.I.E turns at the sound of your muffled laughter, dropping the knife beside the scooper tools.
He moves slow with it too, and you can easily imagine the squint when he’s fully facing you two— sizing you guys up with a low series of argumentative beeps.
You are rapidly losing the battle against your own mirth beside Johnny's far superior ability to keep his composure in the name of a bit.
“Johnny, I think he’s on to us,” you stage whisper, halfheartedly holding a hand up in front of your mouth.
Chuckling, the man looks down at you and winks, before turning to meet the robot’s gaze.
“Aw, don’t worry about it, Herb! We’re just fucking with you!”
Natural as anything, he swoops down to give H.E.R.B.I.E what amounts to a noogie on the top of his smooth head. The robot spins his body around and lets out what’s basically a squeal.
Johnny’s and your laughter synchronizes well enough it makes Ben stick his head up from gathering ingredients from the fridge to shake his head at you both.
Your boyfriend beams at him, shifts H.E.R.B.I.E’s head so he can’t see him anymore, and flips The Thing the bird.
As you’re making silly faces at H.E.R.B.I.E, the robot making a different tiny noise at every one, Ben starts complaining Johnny before eventually giving up and calling your name like he’s announcing a scandal.
“Come get your boy,” he’s saying, even while all he does himself is pantomime like he’s shadow boxing. Like he’s a boxer waiting in his corner for the bell. “I’d hate to teach him a lesson, but I will if I have to.”
With a goofy shake out of his limbs, Johnny releases H.E.R.B.I.E to match the other man’s position with his fists up, bouncing on the balls of his feet in a pair of crew socks and casual slacks.
The t-shirt he’s wearing is form fitting. Highlighting the bulge of his biceps as he flexes.
Once the shadow boxing starts in earnest, their ‘hits’ more mouthed sound effects than physical blows, you don’t pay them much mind.
The two of them winding one another up wasn’t new or, at this point, an occurrence you had to be genuinely worried about.
Leaning forward, you occupy yourself with giving H.E.R.B.I.E his version of a high five once he’s added the finishing touches to his Jack o’ Lantern masterpiece.
“That’s a very impressive portrait, Herbie,” you compliment, voice warm, and he matches your tone with his own responding hums.
There wasn’t any need for you to lie to him either. Whether prompted or not H.E.R.B.I.E’s taken to pumpkin carvery like a master and carved something like a self portrait into the gourd.
His entire body miniaturized and etched perfectly into the side of his organic canvas.
In front of you Ben goes for a very slow, very projected hit that Johnny dodges fast enough it makes you snort. Almost knocking himself into a cupboard in the process, and without Sue there to do it, you’re far too inclined to start booing him.
You settle for muffling your bark of laughter into the palm of the hand you slapped over your mouth.
Not similarly conflicted, Ben’s laughter booms bright and after a few more seconds of play fighting he waves the other man off, moving to turn the dial for one of the burners. Johnny beats him to it. Bounces ahead and slips past him to bypass the entire process of Ben’s thick fingers fumbling over them, even retrofitted to accommodate his body as they were.
Neither comments on it, but you do catch them fist bumping before the blonde circles back to you, his grin boyish.
“Impressive, huh?”
“Mm,” you hum, squinting, and he raises a hand to his chest in mock outrage.
“That’s ridiculous,” he proclaims, bending down to peck you on the lips like he can’t help himself in between words. His hands on your face are soft and you meet him halfway, the two of you humming into the kiss, before he pulls back to lean against your chair again. “That was my best performance in a fight yet.”
Looking up at him, you shake your head.
“Boy, if that’s your best, I’ll tell the papers you’re a hack my damn self.”
He gasps, “You wouldn’t.”
“I might.”
“But you’ve been so good to me, Honey,” he leans in, swooping down to press a smattering of kisses against your cheek next. “Why screw that up now?”
“I don’t know,” you mutter, coy despite fully tilting your head to the side so Johnny can get to your neck when his lips start to wander. “Maybe I’m still left wanting.”
A bold-faced lie. Johnny knows it too if the snicker that falls from his mouth is any indication. When his eyes crinkle at the corners you have to resist the temptation to coo at him.
“Lies,” he crows softly, coming up from where he’s dragging his lips down the expanse of your neck. “Deceit and lies.”
This time when he kisses you, your lips buzz. A warmth travels down your body from the point of contact. Comfortable and familiar and all consuming. Everything in your world narrows down to him and him alone.
Since the excursion Johnny’s ran hot. A hot mouth tingling your lips and a hot tongue gliding against yours. A hand, just this side of unnaturally warm, cupping your jaw and pulling you further in.
“Absolutely not,” Ben starts up when he catches sight of you both far too close to fully making out. You and Johnny part from each other, gazes locked and a little dazed. “Not in the kitchen!”
Gently, Johnny drags his thumb along the dark skin of your cheek. Your face heats, breath skipping in your chest. The next flash of his teeth sends butterflies fluttering through your stomach, is horribly charming for how indecent you know he can be.
“Sorry, Ben,” you say, words tossed over the blonde’s shoulder more than anything as you struggle to look away from him.
“Yeah, we’ll behave,” Johnny promises, pressing one more kiss to your lips before pulling away so he can go back to leaning on the back of your chair. “Besides, I still want to talk to you about the suit changes.”
Salting a pot of water, Ben turns to you and smiles, “Alright, you know I can’t stay mad at you.” Then he turns to your partner and points a spatula at him, “Not you, you’re on thin ice.”
Johnny shrugs, gets this mischievous glimmer in his eyes, “So that’s a ‘no’ on the built in cod piece then?”
“…Storm,” comes the warning call of his name.
He snorts.
“Alright, alright, that was a joke.” Running his fingers through his hair, he waves himself off. “Seriously though. Give me some input before I bring my ideas to Reed?”
Ben does, him and Jonny ping-ponging ideas back and forth in rapid succession. Mostly it’s the pilot reminding your hot-shot not to be an ass when he broaches the subject with Reed, but you don’t tune in for long enough to track the trajectory of the rest of their talk.
H.E.R.B.I.E takes his Jack o’ Lantern to the balcony to be lit later in the meantime.
Content to leave the boys to it, you reach for the science magazine again. Put your mind to the test a little. And you’re halfway through contemplating getting some scratch paper to cross check a boggling theorem mentioned inside for yourself when you’re pulled from your almost competitive thoughts.
“Hey,” Johnny chirps, and suddenly you're back in the present; a kiss being pressed into the skin just below your hairline, “are we thinking couples’ costumes this Halloween or what?”
Almost as if on command, you reanimate, tilting your head up to face him as you slip the theorem to the back of your mind for later. “Are you actually planning on going to any of the Halloween parties you were invited to?”
A scoff.
A shake of his head.
Such open, naked fondness in his expression.
“…No.” Then he visibly fumbles with himself, his brows furrowing. “I mean unless you want to go. Then take your pick, you know?”
“Oh, no,” you shake your head, “I was just wondering where exactly you wanted to wear costumes to.”
“We could just stay in,” he broaches. “Pass out candy downstairs.”
Johnny looks at you with something too close to a grimace. Worried for your disappointment, maybe. That the promise of no flashing cameras and obnoxiously fake conversations with people feigning interest in you for a chance to get closer to the celebrity superhero in your life would in any way cull your spirit.
In this case you couldn’t be happier to disappoint.
“I’m fine with that.”
His brows raise, “Yeah?” he asks. Then he pivots, tries to play it off all cool like you haven’t seen him fumble a million times over. “No, yeah. I knew that. Definitely. Awesome. Cool.”
The look he gives you is narrow, for all the cute little frown on his lips diminishes the attempt at a glower.
“Fine, you got me. As much as I love being ogled by the masses, I want to stay in with you a bit more,” he says, and then he muffles your complaint of ‘only a bit’ with his mouth on yours.
You separate with twin chuckles. Soft and almost dreamy.
“Couldn’t hurt to see how many more kids are dressed as The Human Torch than The Thing or Mr. Fantastic either, huh?” you guess, giving him a sly look, and Johnny’s answering laugh is nearly drowned out by Ben vocalizing his disagreement.
“Well, Honey, that’s a given,” he murmurs, ignoring Ben in favor of whispering in your ear, “but don’t you know me so well,” in the low, warm honeyed way he pulls out when you’re alone.
A move that serves to make your face heat up beneath brown skin without his direct assistance, and you drop your face into your hands as he damn near howls his triumph. Tucking you into his side with the arm thrown around your shoulders as he does.
NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!
I know I haven’t really mentioned any of the new comic book movies that came out this year, but I really loved Fantastic Four: First Steps. Johnny was great, even if he wasn’t exactly a stand out for me, but he is fun to write so here y’all go. Honestly don’t expect more Johnny from me; I may or may not write for him more, idk.
I did love Johnny’s interactions with H.E.R.B.I.E tho, and him and Ben’s relationship not being so immature, while still having them tease and mess with one another, was also fun!
The title is from an old Johnny quote; I got it from Fantastic Four: Grand Design, but that’s likely not the comic he said it in first considering the recap/collage nature of the GD series.
btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it!
note: reader goes by no gender here, but Steven does call reader gorgeous once. very short little blurb, i miss writing for Steven, so here’s a little something.
“Oh my.. Oh my word,” Steven started, but couldn’t finish as he was in complete awe.
Seeing you show up to his flat, looking like a million dollars..?
Let’s just say it made him short circuit.
Steven was currently a stammering mess, but you weren’t opposed to such a sight. In fact, you quite liked the reaction he gave you every time you dressed up of anytime of day rather.
He was just in a constant state of shock, that you were his and he yours for the evening. He always liked to think you were some Egyptian god or goddess with how breathtaking you always looked.
Dressed up or down?
Just woken up or already half-way through the day, stressed out of your mind?
And he’d still say you were one, but you can’t tell him or he’ll be chased by a jackal he said one time.
He literally refuses to let you forget just how attractive you always look.
No matter what.
“You are… bloody gorgeous..”
“Steven—”
“No! I mean it!” He’d exclaim, following you outside his flat. “I really do.”
“Well, thank you, Steven. It means a lot coming from a handsome guy like yourself.”
If he wasn’t holding onto the door, he’d have fainted and fell backwards.
“I’m sorry… Did you? Was that a..? Compliment?” He asked, making sure he wasn’t sleepwalking again.
“I did, and there’s plenty more where that one came from.” He suddenly felt his upper body get pulled down on an angle and felt a pair of lips, come in contact with his cheek.
He put a hand on his cheek, almost wanting to preserve it. Like it was art about to be put in a museum.
“Don’t make me go on this date by myself, Stevie!”
“Come— Coming!” Steven replied, following you into the elevator.
summary— Spending Christmas in a cozy cabin, you help Bucky reconnect with the holiday spirit in more ways than one and have the best Christmas gift he’s ever experienced.
warnings— mentions of bucky’s past trauma, fluff, L bombs, praise kink, daddy kink, oral, fingering, face fucking, unprotected sex, creampie.
a/n— Merry Christmas Everyone, have a wonderful day🎄🫶🏽!
Bucky wasn’t much of a holiday person. He didn’t hate Christmas, but the memories of simpler times before the war, before Hydra, often left him feeling hollow. You knew this, and that was why you decided to whisk him away to a secluded cabin in the mountains for Christmas. You hoped a change of scenery might help him associate the holiday with something warm and new, something just for the both of you.
The cabin was a cozy little thing tucked into the snowy woods, decorated with warm pepper lights strung along the edges of the wooden roof. Inside, a stone fireplace crackled with a soft orange glow, and the scent of freshly baked cookies filled the air. You’d spent the afternoon decorating a Christmas tree, playfully arguing with Bucky about where to hang the ornaments.
“Babe, you can’t put all the gold ones on one side,” you teased, standing on your tiptoes to fix one of the baubles he’d clumsily placed.
“Well, I’m just trying to balance it,” he said with a smirk, stepping behind you to steady your waist as you reached higher. “And don’t forget, doll, I’m working with one arm here. I deserve a little grace.”
You laughed softly, leaning into his touch. “Fine, you win. But next year, we’re getting a way taller and bigger tree.”
He chuckled, his deep voice sending a warm shiver down your spine. “Next year, huh? I like the sound of that.”
Later that evening, after the two of you shared a simple dinner, Bucky pulled out a box you hadn’t seen before. He hesitated, holding it for a moment before placing it on the table.
“What’s that?” you asked, tilting your head.
“Something I didn’t mean to pack,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I think I threw it in by accident when I was grabbing decorations.”
Inside the box were a few fragile ornaments, clearly from decades ago. One of them, a little snowman with a crooked top hat, caught your eye.
“This is adorable,” you said, holding it up gently.
Bucky’s gaze softened as he stared at the ornament. “My sister made that when we were kids. It’s one of the few things I still have from, uh, back then.” His voice faltered, and you reached out to hold his hand.
“You’ve been through so much,” you said softly, threading your fingers through his metal ones. “But you’re here now, and you’ve made it through all of it. You deserve this happiness, Bucky. You deserve this Christmas, and so much more.”
He exhaled slowly, his lips curving into a small smile. “You’re the reason I even try, you know that? Without you, I’d just—I don’t know.”
“Don’t do that,” you said firmly, squeezing his hand. “You’re more than your past, Buck. And I’m here for all of it, every memory, every moment. Even the bad ones, if it means I get to be with you.”
The fire crackled softly as he cupped your face in his warm hand, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “You’re my whole world, sweetheart,” he murmured, his blue eyes locked on yours. “I didn’t think I could have this. I didn’t think I could have you.”
You leaned into his touch, your lips meeting his in a soft, lingering kiss. It deepened naturally, his hands sliding to your waist as he pulled you closer.
“I love you,” he whispered against your lips.
“I love you too,” you said, your voice barely above a breath.
The warmth of the fire and the way his hands roamed your back made you feel safe, wanted, and completely at ease. Before you knew it, he had scooped you into his arms, carrying you to the bedroom with a look of pure adoration.
“I need this Buck, it would make tonight all the more special,” you whispered, as Bucky placed you gently on the plush bed.
“Anything for you doll.”
Bucky stripped you of your clothes, leaving your body bare as he kissed from your collarbone trailing down to your thighs.
“So so beautiful,” he murmured between kisses, “I got so lucky.”
You squirmed under his touch as he nipped on your inner thigh before inching to your clit, his tongue slowly flicking it.
“Buck, please,” you whined.
“That’s not my name right now, sweetheart,” he said, voice gruff before swiping his tongue along your folds.
“Daddy—m’sorry, I just need more,” you whimpered.
He granted your wish, his mouth engulfing your clit and sucking. Your body shivered as he held your legs spread eagle, savoring your sweet taste. You tasted better than anything he’d eaten all Christmas season.
“You taste amazing baby, fucking hell,” he groaned, licking from your leaking entrance back up to your clit. He slipped a finger inside your pussy, curling it and pumping steadily as his tongue focused on sucking and flicking your bundle of nerves.
“Daddy, that feels so good, don’t stop, m’ gonna cum,” you whimpered.
Bucky hummed in content, holding you down as you squirmed and pumped his fingers even faster. Your clit was swollen and throbbing on his tongue as a powerful orgasm neared.
“C‘mon angel, cum for daddy, all over my tongue,” he commanded.
Ever the obedient girlfriend, your fingers tangled in his brown hair, and you ground against his mouth as a stream of liquid spurted from your pussy.
“Mm— that’s it’s, that’s a good girl,” he cooed.
He helped you ride out your high, his fingers pumping inside your pussy as he slurped your juices before you were shaking from overstimulation.
“Can you fuck my face, daddy?” you asked shyly, looking up at him with big doe eyes.
“Anything my angel wants, she gets,” he whispered.
Bucky climbed over your body, shedding himself of his bottoms and revealing his thick, hard cock. You took ahold of it, barely able to wrap your hand around it and placed a kiss on the leaking tip.
“It’s always so pretty daddy,” you whispered, placing wet kisses all over his cock.
He wrapped your hair in his flesh hand and thrusted his cock into your mouth, immediately making you gag.
“Fuck, you’re okay, right baby?”
You nodded and buried your face into his cock, gliding your tongue along the veins on his shaft. He snapped his hips forward, fucking your mouth as he praised you.
“You’re such a good cock sucker baby, so amazing, don’t think I’m gonna last long with that mouth of yours,” he moaned.
As he slammed into your mouth, you used your soft hands to massage his balls, feeling them tighten under your touch.
“Shit, it’s coming, take my cum down your throat, angel,” he gasped, unable to hold back.
You pushed your head down until you were almost touching his pelvis, massaging his balls as his hot load shot down your throat. He continued fucking your throat as you swallowed every drop and looked down at you as if you were the most precious thing in the world.
“Good girl, fuck, I love you,” he sighed, moving down and placing a soft, lingering kiss on your lips.
He moved further down, dragging the tip of his cock along your wet pussy.
“Ready angel?” he asked, lining his cock with your entrance.
You nodded frantically, desperate to feel his hard cock, deep inside you, raw.
He slowly inched inside you, both of you gasping in pleasure. “You’re so tight, sweetheart,” he whimpered, staring into your eyes.
“Mhm—harder daddy, please,” you whined.
Bucky began steadily pounding into you harder, your pussy making noises that could be heard throughout the cabin. He rolled his hips beautifully, his cock brushing against your cervix and your g spot simultaneously. You could feel him throb each time you moaned and clamped around him.
“You feel so fucking good, you take it so well,” moaned.
He leaned down, kissing your temple and then your lips as you wrapped your legs around him and met his hard thrusts. Your pussy clenched around him tight, desperate for release.
“Shit baby, cum for daddy, I need you to cum with me, I won’t last with the way this tight pussy is just gripping the fuck outta me,” he murmured.
You wrapped your arms around his neck, your eyes locked onto his, the moment so dirty yet intimate as your jaw fell agape and the coil in your abdomen snapped.
“Daddy, I’m cumming, fuck, I’m cumming,” you cried out, your release ripping through you.
“Me too angel, I’m gonna cum inside you, take every drop,” he panted.
Your body shook under him as you felt him fill you up just as your pussy soaked his cock and the towel under you. He placed kisses all over, slowly pumping his cock as you milked him of his warm seed.
“You did so good angel, I’m so proud of you,” he smiled, kissing your lips.
“I love you so much, Bucky.”
“I love you too, doll.”
The next morning, you woke to the smell of hot chocolate and the sight of Bucky standing by the window, holding two mugs and watching the snow fall.
“Merry Christmas, doll,” he said with a soft smile, handing you a cup as you sat up in bed.
“Merry Christmas,” you replied, your heart swelling as he leaned down to kiss your forehead.
The morning passed in a blur of laughter, teasing, and exchanging gifts. Bucky had outdone himself, presenting you with an delicately engraved bracelet, a stack of books you’d mentioned months ago, and a soft cashmere sweater that matched the chocolate tone of your skin perfectly.
“You’re so sweet,” you said, shaking your head as you pulled him into a hug.
“You deserve it,” he said simply, kissing your temple.
Your gifts to him included a leather-bound journal, a vintage pocket watch, and a pair of gloves for his metal hand that you’d custom-ordered. The way his face lit up at each gift made your heart ache with love.
“Seriously, doll, you didn’t have to do all this,” he said, pulling you into his lap as the two of you sat by the tree.
“You’re worth it, Buck,” you said, cupping his face.
The day ended with the two of you baking cookies—well, you baked, and Bucky mostly snuck bites of the dough and curling up on the couch to watch It’s a Wonderful Life.
As the credits rolled, he pressed a kiss to your hair and murmured, “This might be the best Christmas I’ve ever had.”
You smiled, snuggling closer to him. “It’s only the beginning, Buck. We’ll make so many more.”
And for the first time in years, Bucky truly believed it.
Bucky smiled as you adjusted the settings on the small digital camera you’d brought along, the vintage style device fitting perfectly with the cozy holiday vibe of the cabin. “C’mere, you look so fine,” you said, waving him over to the couch where you had draped a plaid blanket for your makeshift photo session.
He chuckled softly, sitting down beside you. “You really want to document this?”
“Duh!” you said with a grin, leaning closer to frame the two of you in the shot. “This is our first Christmas together, Buck. I want to remember it forever.”
“Alright,” he said, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer. “But if I look ridiculous, you’re deleting it.”
“Deal,” you teased, snapping the picture.
You ended up taking dozens of photos, some posed, some candid, and some of Bucky caught mid laugh as you tickled his sides to get him to smile. When you were done, you set the camera aside and rested your head on his shoulder.
“I also have this,” you said, handing him a tiny gift bag from under the tree.
“What’s this?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as he pulled out a small, personalized keychain engraved with the words “Home is wherever you are.”
“It’s cheesy, I know,” you said, suddenly shy. “But I thought—”
“I love it,” he interrupted, his voice soft. He attached it to his keys immediately, turning it over in his hands. “Thank you, angel. You always know how to make things special.”
Later, the two of you ventured outside, bundled up in coats and scarves, to build a snowman in the fresh snow. You laughed as Bucky insisted on giving the snowman a “metal arm” made of a stick he found, complete with a dramatic pose.
When the sun began to set, you returned to the cabin to warm up by the fire. Bucky brewed hot chocolate while you set up a board game, the two of you spending hours teasing and laughing over your competitive streaks.
As the night wound down, you turned on the record player in the corner, selecting a soft, jazzy Christmas tune. Bucky took your hand, pulling you into an impromptu dance in the middle of the room. His hands rested securely on your waist as yours looped around his neck, and the two of you swayed in time with the music.
“I never thought I’d have this again,” Bucky murmured, his forehead resting against yours.
“Have what?” you asked softly, brushing your thumb over the nape of his neck.
“This,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Happiness. A home. You.”
You kissed him tenderly, your hearts full of love and the promise of many more Christmases to come.
S: After a bad day at work, you get a lucky ride home from your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.
Pairing: Andrew Garfield! Spider-man x F! Black reader
Tw: Heights??/ Fluff
Word count: 5.3k
Notes: Reader is described as shorter than Peter; reader has a sister; parted hair is mentioned; This is proofread but there may still be mistakes🕸️🕸️🕸️
It's a normal, bustling night in New York as people walk through the streets of Queens. The sun set a while ago but through a window, a person could still hear civilians revving engines, honking horns, or cursing out someone who almost hit them in the crosswalk. A typical night in the city you live in. It's on a relatively basic night like this, that you meet spiderman for the first time.
“Yeah, I'll be right there. Yeah, I missed my bus so I'm taking the street.” You softly speak into your phone, explaining to your sister the reason you're not home from work yet. You glance around while she lists off all the ways she wants you to watch yourself. You knew this way home like the back of your hand, and it's pretty much the safest one, surrounded by families and the elderly, but that didn't mean you didn't keep your head on a swivel like usual.
“Yeah, okay. Yeah, I've got my mace. Ok, see you in a minute. Ok. Love you too. Bye.” You end the conversation and hang up, before putting your phone in your pocket. You sigh deeply and continue your walk, no earbuds in for safety reasons, just the sounds of traffic and the puddles underneath your feet keeping you company on your way back. With nothing else to keep you busy, you do the exact thing you didn't want to do, and run over the course of your day in your head.
You'd had a pretty awful shift at work. It must've been “be a jerk to customer service employees” day and you hadn't gotten the memo or something, because the amount of pissy customers there were today caught you off guard. So of course you were more than ready to go home when it was time to clock off, right before it's time to clean up and close the store, as planned. You scheduled your hours this way on purpose because you hate cleaning with other people, and because your BUS doesn't run that late. This is what you told your manager, when she gave you some bullshit reason for having to leave early and why you had to stay and close up instead of her. You should have set her straight right then, manager or not, but as per usual, you just stewed angrily and cussed her out in your head for the next two hours while wiping counters. You're caught up in your thoughts when someone suddenly shoves past you with their shoulder,forcing you to stumble out of their way.
“Watch where you're going!” the guy practically spits at you and walks off without even giving you a second glance. He doesn't even give you a chance to respond, but it's not like you would have anyway. Instead you just suck your teeth loudly and toss an irritated glare at him over your shoulder. After all, you're not all bark and no bite. You've got enough in you to give someone a nasty look, maybe even venomous depending on what they did, but for some reason any comebacks you can think of only come to you long after the person is gone.You shake your head and are about to continue on your way when you hear a loud “thwip”, and a surprised shriek. Just when you're about to glance back to see what happened, there's the sound of feet roughly landing on the pavement in front of you.
“Yo! It's not nice to push people, man!” You turn back towards the voice, and right in front of you is spiderman, looking over your head while continuing to berate the guy behind you. You stand there stunned for a moment while the two men argue, your mouth slightly parted.
“What the hell man!? Let me out of this!” The stranger shouts while struggling, and you turn around to see that he's now uncomfortably strapped to the wall beside the street, with a large spider web. His arms are up in an awkward position and the tips of his feet are just barely grazing the ground. It looked embarrassing, and there was no way there wouldn't be a group of teenagers taking pictures of him soon, but hey, the guy deserved it.
“Actually, I think I'll let you stay there for a while! Maybe give you a chance to learn some manners!” Spiderman calls back casually before finally directing his reflective eyes down at you. You just glance back up at him for a short moment in disbelief. In the few years since you first saw Spiderman on TV, you've never once seen the hero in person. Maybe you're always looking down at your phone whenever he swings by or something, because somehow you always miss his amazing feats. There could be news about him stopping crime on the exact street you take to school, at the exact time you get out of your last class, and you'll still only find out about it after you step inside your front door. Now he was standing in front of you, tonight of all nights, and he's taller than he looks in the videos.
“Are you okay?” He huffs breathlessly after his little back and forth with the guy from earlier, the wide eyes of his mask staring down at you expectantly. You blink a few times before stuttering a bit and dusting your jacket off.
“Oh uh- yeah I'm fine. He didn't knock me over or anything.” You mumble absentmindedly while looking down at and straightening your already straight clothes. You don't know why you're acting so skittish. Spiderman isn't a celebrity or anything but he is extremely well known at this point. Maybe that's why it feels kind of surreal that he's speaking to you so casually. That, and you're a bit of a fan of Spiderman despite never seeing him in person, always finding yourself keeping up with his latest acts of heroism.
“Well no- I meant-.” Spiderman says before pausing and tapping at his eyes. You just pause for a moment before finally noticing your stiff cheeks and the tears drying on them.
“What the hell? How did I not realize I'd been crying?” You frown, genuinely confused. It must've been when you were thinking about how you let your manager get away with treating you like a shag carpet. You don't have anything to clean your face with, except for a few small packs of wet wipes in your purse, and you don't want to imagine what that would do to your skin.
“Yeah! I uh- was swinging by and noticed you. You looked pretty lost in thought, so I wasn't gonna say anything but. Y'know, spiderman makes time for all civilians, even- crying ones.” He rambles on, and how awkward it comes out makes you smile a little. You never would've thought that spiderman could kind of, well,word vomit. He always looks so put together in his videos, aside from the compilation of times he's fallen or swung into something.
“No, I'm fine really! Thank you. And for dealing with that guy too! If you hadn't done anything I probably would've just complained about him with my sister later.” You joke after glancing back at the man again. Spider man just nods with his arms crossed.
“I get it, not the confrontational type. Me neither.” He sighs, and you tilt your eyebrows slightly, because his actions just now and a few of the videos you've watched definitely contradict that statement. After a moment you begin to fidget a little, not entirely sure of what else to say to Spider-Man, but not wanting to end your conversation with him either. Who knows when you'll get a chance like this again. The next time would probably have to be when there's some sort of danger, and you're not necessarily looking forward to that, especially not after that horrifying lizard incident when you were in highschool. That had been the first time you saw him, watching your TV in awe while clinging to your mom. He notices your discomfort and jumps to make conversation, not necessarily ready to leave you on your own either.
“So um- are you on your way home? I don't think I've seen you in this neighborhood before.” He asks you before coolly leaning on the wall beside him. He really hopes you actually wanted him to continue the conversation, and that he's not just awkwardly holding you hostage now. You brighten up when you look back up at him though, so you can bet he's inwardly patting himself on the back for making the right choice.
“Yeah,that's probably because I usually take the bus through here. I don't normally walk down this street.” You respond while looking around,noticing the sudden absence of families and the elderly. This is the safest route you know, but it's also significantly later than when you'd usually walk through here, around 11 at night now. Spiderman must've noticed the lack of people too because the thing he says next catches you off guard.
“Do you want a ride?” He asks you casually and you look back over at him.
“A ride?” You ask, confused. From what you've seen, no one's ever posted about a spider mobile or anything of that sort. How would he give you a ride home? Spiderman just nods easily before looking up at the buildings around you.
“Yeah! Y'know, you wrap your arms around me, I wrap my arm around you, and fwip fwip!” He makes a small swishing sound and mimics the way he shoots his webs. You look at him with a dumb face, before finally processing what he was offering.
“You're saying you're going to swing me home?!” You gasp, your voice echoing in the empty neighborhood. Spiderman nods casually, this being something he does pretty often. Well, not that often but he's done it with a girlfriend or two, or one. He doesn't swing people around that often.
“Are you sure that's okay? Don't you have to uh- patrol or something like that?” You ask wearily. Swinging while in the arms of New York’s own Spider-Man is something you daydream about an embarrassing amount, but that didn't mean you wanted to take up his time.
“Well I'd offer to walk you home. But swinging’s faster. And! That high in the air, I can patrol at the same time. It's a win win.” He quickly says while rubbing the back of his neck, trying to appear cool about it. You just falter, at a loss for words. What was happening? You've not only run into and spoken to spiderman, a person you've only ever seen on camera,but now he's asking you if you want him to swing you through the city? All in the same night? How had this day turned around so drastically? You're still lost in thought when spider man speaks up again.
“Besides, I can't let a civilian walk around an empty neighborhood by herself can I? Not at this time of night.” He adds softly and reaches his hand out. After a moment more of contemplating, you sigh. You'd had a horrible day and your favorite hero was offering to take you home. Your friends would only clown you if you missed this chance by acting timid again, overly considerate, and you'd beat yourself up over it too. Besides, you glance around at the dark neighborhood. What could be safer than a personal escort home from the webbed hero himself?
“ I guess you can't. Thank you.” You say and accept the hand he has stretched towards you. Spiderman takes your hand before gently leading it to wrap around his shoulders, and you're surprised by how warm his hands are even through his gloves. You wrap your other arm around him, and nervously start to wonder how this was going to work. The masked hero was taller than he looked in the videos, and you had to reach a little just to get a half decent grip around his shoulders. There's no way you're not flying into a late night hot dog stand like this. As if he read your mind, spiderman suddenly starts to shuffle a bit.
“One second, let's just get a better grip here.” He mutters quietly, and you make a startled sound when he suddenly squats a little lower than you, his chin grazing your chest, before wrapping an arm around your waist and lifting you slightly higher. With the sudden movement and the new height difference, you reflexively wrap your arms tighter around him.
“Oh lord, this is really happening.” You practically cry in your head, your heart starting to beat faster in your chest when it sinks in that you're going to be hundreds of feet in the air in a short moment. After a quick little bounce, just to secure you a little higher, spider man finally looks at you.
“Alright. You ready?” He huffs and watches you nervously glance around at the ground, as if you're already flying through the air. You sigh before meeting the reflective eyes of his masks, pausing when you find reassurance in them somehow, and finally nod.
“Yeah, I'm ready.” You exhale and finally find the courage to look up at the buildings and night sky above you. Spiderman takes a breath too, the quick pounding of your heart against his collarbone making him slightly nervous, even if he's confident that he won't drop you.
“Alright. Here we go!” He huffs, and you hold your breath as he takes a running start, before shooting a web. He latches it to a building and with a leap and a yank of his arm, you both spring into the air. You had built the courage to look up but the moment you feel that drop in your stomach from the rise in altitude, you yelp and hide your face between spider man's neck and shoulder, squeezing your arms even tighter around him. You must be strangling the poor man at this point, but if he feels any discomfort, the masked hero doesn't say anything. For at least four more lifts and swings, you're crouched tightly against spider man's side, hoping that this Roller Coaster drop simulator would end quickly. There's nothing but the wind in your ears and the small noises you make whenever you both drop before catching another web, until he suddenly clears his throat.
“ I uh- probably should have asked this sooner but-! Where am I taking you exactly!?” He calls out above all the noise, grunting in between words whenever he has to yank your combined weight back into the air. That's right, you'd been too busy trying to keep your guts out of your throat to tell him where your apartment is. You're about to pull away from his shoulder the smallest bit to answer him, when your home training suddenly reminds you that you're about to tell a random man, even if he is a hero,your address. Still, if there's ever an emergency, it wouldn't hurt for spiderman to know what window to hop through.
“uuh- itS- ugh. That one apartment complex by the sandwich- shop on 5th Ave!” You utter miserably, trying to hold it together while also avoiding looking at the buildings sweeping by.
“Oh ok yeah! I know where you're talking about!” He calls back and you're ready to tuck back into your hiding spot against his neck when he speaks up again.
“You know! It's alright! I won't drop you! You can open your eyes!” He shouts and you squint your eyes open a little.
“I'm sorry?!” You yell back, trying to talk more towards his collarbone rather than screaming directly into his ear. You still keep your eyes open as lightly as possible, not sure if you can stomach watching the buildings swing by. Spider man holds you just a little tighter when he swings from a higher building than the ones you've taken so far, and you try to stifle another borderline inappropriate sound the best you can. What can you do when it feels like you're on the pirate ship ride at six flags,though? It's either restrained, yet slightly weird sounding yelps, or downright screeching in the man's ear, as if you really are on a roller coaster ride. Spiderman glances over at you before swinging again.
“Open your eyes! I promise the view is worth it! You'll love it!” he tries to convince you and you suck your teeth, thinking about it.
“Uh!” your voice wavering as you try to dredge up some courage. You're still contemplating when you feel spider man turn his head. You look up at him and find that his wide, reflective eyes are on you.
“I've got you. Trust me.” Spiderman reassures you again, and you pause. You search his eyes for a moment, and again even though they shouldn't, they almost have a comforting look to them. You both gaze at one another until you take a deep breath. After one more, you close your eyes tight and turn your head towards the front of you both.
“Ok!” you call out, with your eyes still closed. The wind is cold against your ears, and you can even feel it blowing through your hair you messily parted before work this afternoon. You can't see it but you can tell spiderman brightens up.
“Ok?! Yeah! Alright let's go!” he yells excitedly before latching onto another building and preparing to lift you both to an extremely tall one, one that'll give you the best view. He holds you close as you both drop for a moment, building momentum for the swing.
“You ready?!” He pants with excitement while giving your side an encouraging squeeze. After a deep breath, you nod and wrap your arms tighter around spider man's shoulders, squishing the side of your face against his jaw, something you wouldn't normally do to a stranger. This isn't a normal situation though.
“Ok! Here we go!” He cheers before whooping loudly and yanking you both into the air, the force making you groan. You squeeze your eyes shut, until you feel everything coming to halt. When you open them, you and spiderman are both suspended in the air above the buildings. A gasp leaves you and it feels like time stands still, with your jacket rising around you, as well as your bag. You're only able to take in the stretch of lights around you for a short moment before you feel your bodies start to drop. The view is quickly overtaken by buildings again, and you're still out of breath when spiderman sticks to the side of a nearby building. He makes a makeshift perch out of his knee for you to sit on, and despite that being something you'd usually be embarrassed about, you're too stunned to care right now.
“Are you alright? I'm sorry that was too much wasn't it?” Spiderman apologizes breathlessly as he straightens your jacket a little, your silence making him anxious. Maybe he had gone too high? You finally blink yourself out of your daze, bracing yourself against his shoulder.
“No- I-! That was incredible!” You huff, still not entirely over the sight you just saw. It was like looking out an airplane window, but without any, well, security or walls. Spider-Man just looks at your bright eyes and wild appearance, and bursts out laughing. You aren't aware of how wind blown you look so you just continue.
“No really! It was like-! And I couldn't-! You know?” You flounder illiterately as your extensive vocabulary flies out the window. You look at him to see if he was grasping what you're saying and Spiderman laughs again, finding it cute how quickly your opinion about this whole thing had changed. It was also nice that you seemed to be in a way better mood than before.
“Yeah! No, I get exactly what you're saying! The feeling is surreal. I felt it when I went swinging for the first time too.” He agrees with you, your excitement rubbing off on him. You finally feel your heart beat start to decelerate. It was for such a short time but in that brief moment in the air, you felt completely weightless, your day at work completely forgotten. You look over at him again and Spider-Man’s holographic eyes widen when they meet your gaze.
“I've thought this ever since that night in high school but, you really are so incredible.” you sigh and unconsciously search for eyes that you can't see. But spiderman can see yours perfectly, and the awe you're looking at him with, makes his heart speed up unexpectedly. You both gaze at each other for a moment longer before spiderman remembers to catch his breath and clears his throat.
“So um-. Are you ready to go again? I've uh- still got to deliver you home safely.” He jokes while laughing a little towards the end. You blink before situating your arms back around his shoulders. He wraps his arm back around your waist and you squeeze him a little more securely before bracing yourself.
“Yeah, I'm ready.” You huff and Spiderman springs off of the building and you both descend towards the ground before he shoots a web, swinging away with you in his arms. He whoops and you scream the entire way.
***
If someone listened hard enough, they'd hear laughing and talking from the top of a certain building.
“No but really that was such an underrated movie, and all because the animation was different.” You say around the last bite of the hotdog from the stand that's always parked on your street. Spiderman scoffs and shakes his head before impressively tossing his crumpled foil into a trash can on the street 90 feet below you. You'd whistle if you knew how to do it properly.
“Some people can't appreciate anything beyond aesthetics.” He sighs profoundly, and how dramatic it is makes you laugh, causing him to join in too. After gazing out at the city for a short while longer, you ball up your hot dog wrapper and stand up, making spiderman look up before standing too. You stuff the trash in your pocket to throw away later and sigh wistfully.
“Welp, I should probably head inside now. My sister has been blowing up my phone for the last 10 minutes.” You exhale while rocking on your heels and glancing over at the door that leads to the stairs of your building, not entirely ready to end this incredible night.You really should've gone inside the moment you both arrived, but when the masked hero offered to buy you something to eat, you couldn't say no. It was rare enough that you'd actually met him in person today after never being able to catch a glimpse of him before, so you know it's not likely you'll get this chance again. It only makes it worse that he turned out to be much nicer than you ever imagined through his videos. Spiderman just nods his head and swings his arms a bit.
“Yeah of course! And just tell her that spiderman held you up, if you need a way out of a lecture or something.” He responds, making you both laugh for the nth time tonight. You hum and nod your head.
“Will do. So uh- thank you for taking me home tonight, I appreciate it. Honestly, I've wanted to meet you since I first saw you in high school.” You chuckle quietly and sigh.
“I guess people aren't always right when they say never meet your heroes huh?” You say softly and glance at him one more time, making his reflective eyes widen again, before finally turning on your heel and making your way towards the door. Spiderman just stands still until you call out one more time.
“ Goodnight Spider-Man! Thanks again!” You call from the door and it snaps him out of his little daze.
“No problem! And watch yourself on the way to your door too! People are crazy!” He adds quickly and you shout back a distant ‘Yes sir!’, that makes him grin. Even after the door has closed Peter continues to smile to himself, replaying your conversations in his head as he walks off the building with a jig in his step. He never would've expected that he'd run into you tonight. Despite sharing a class with you and noticing you on your way home sometimes, Peter has never spoken to you, as himself or as Spider-Man. He's had a small crush on you for a little while now, nothing huge, just enough that he notices if you've got on a new outfit or if you missed class, but after the way things ended with Gwen before she moved, he doesn't plan on acting on it. That was never a good idea. He swings for a while longer before pausing for a second once he notices he's passing the street you both were on what felt like hours ago.
“She might need a swing home again though, who knows?” He thinks to himself as he walks over to the unruly civilian he webbed up earlier, still stuck to the wall. Maybe that manager you told him about will flake on you again, making you miss your bus and walk down this street. No, that wasn't likely. He's never seen you walk down this street before now so why would it happen again? It wasn't right to look forward to seeing you like that anyway. After scolding the guy one more time after letting him go, Peter swings back up to the building he was patrolling from. Sure, he was drawing in his sketchbook too but he was mostly watching and listening. He doodles with the noise of New York as his ambiance, and soon there's a tiny, no effort doodle of you in the corner of his page. He scribbles mindlessly on already sketched lines as he thinks of you.
“I can at least say hello in the hallway or something.” He ponders quietly as he adds little coils to your simplified hair, to stand as the curls that had escaped your parts when you both were swinging.
An intense yawn leaves you as the last few minutes of class tick by, with your instructor( who insisted on being called professor despite running a poorly taught class at a small community college) talking about a topic you couldn't bring yourself to care about. You couldn't get much sleep after your amazing encounter with spiderman last night. All you could do is run over the entire ordeal in your head over and over. Which you think you would've been tired of doing after relaying the story to your sister and all your friends about a hundred times, enough for them to get sick of it anyway. You're in the middle of skipping through the songs on your phone when you finally notice other students getting up to leave. Technically you didn't have to stay for your instructor's rambling but it always felt too rude to just get up and leave in the middle of them talking. While stuffing your binder back into your backpack, two classmates you'd consider friends walk up to you while chatting.
“Y/n are you going to the student store? Let's go together, I want some of those fruit snacks!” one of them says while leaning a hand on your desk. The other sits at the desk beside you, a desk belonging to a guy named Peter. Now that you think about it, he'd rushed out of class a while ago and hasn't come back. Maybe he had an emergency. You contemplate grabbing his backpack for him, noticing he'd left it behind, but decide not to. How would you even give it back to him? What if he comes back for it after you left?
“Y/n?” Your classmate calls your name again since you hadn't answered them, making you snap out of your thoughts. You quickly stuff the rest of your things in your bag.
“Oh yeah. I don't know you guys. They haven't changed what they stock in a while now. ‘M getting kind of tired of that stuff.” You hum while grabbing your purse and phone.
“Then just walk with us over there.” Your other classmate suggests and the three of you make your way out into the hall.
Peter weaves through the crowd of people leaving their classes for the day. He had spent way too much time dealing with that bank robbery. If he had just left after webbing them up instead of taking the time to bother them, he would've gotten back in time. Now he's going to miss the chance to talk to you-.
You run into a solid chest the moment you step out of the door, hard, because the person in front of you was rushing.
“Oh man! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry are you alright!?” Peter gasps after almost bulldozing over you. You're busy holding your nose and Peter is trying to catch a glimpse of your face to make sure you're not bleeding, when you both notice that you're talking to the person you were just thinking of.
“Oh Peter. I was wondering if you were coming back to class. Your backpack is still over at your desk.” you report once you realize who you're talking to. Peter just pauses and looks at you for a second. It's crazy that he's seen you plenty of times before today but just because of your half an hour long interaction yesterday, things felt different. He almost felt a little naked without his suit on, like you'd recognize him right away.
“Peter?” You ask him again and he finally remembers to human. He blinks a few times before nodding his head.
“Oh. Yeah. Yeah I had to go take care of something, but thanks. For looking out I mean.” He says hurriedly before letting out a sheepish laugh. He looks up at you with a cute smile that unexpectedly makes your heart stutter a little. This being the first time you've looked at him longer than the time it takes for him to answer a question, or slide past your desk. You blink and shrug casually.
“ Oh nah, it's no problem. I guess we'll see you tomorrow?” You say goodbye as your friends start to walk off ahead of you, seeing one of their other classmates.
“Yeah of course, see you later.” He responds and you give him a small smile before walking to meet up with your friends. Peter watches you for another second before turning to walk into the classroom. The two of you had so many conversations yesterday and now it was odd to exchange more than a few words. He can't do it though. Can't attempt to interact with you more outside of his suit. It would only lead to unavoidable problems that he'd rather not deal with again. Peter stops in the doorway to the classroom and taps at the frame with his finger.
“Don't do it, don't do it, don't do it.” He chants in his head as his feet stay planted to the spot in front of the door.
“Hey y/n!” You hear Peter call you right as you're about to step out into the quad. You peer back and see him jog up to you. When you look at him with big, questioning eyes he sighs and brushes his fingers through his hair.
“Sorry, but could you tell me the assignments for tonight? I missed them earlier.” He asks you with an adorable smile, and just like that, things are on the course to change, for better or for worse.
🕸️A/n: I can't believe I finally finished this, I started it in June last year. I told myself I'm gonna finish all the fics I want to read this year, no matter how long and complicated, and I'm already off to a great start. Super proud of myself. This is my first post on this blog so, thanks for reading!🕸️🕸️🕸️
soft life. part of the 2% and the 65%. caffeine in moderation. lavender & vanilla. perceptive but not pushy. peace in nature. spontaneous singing. humble pie. morning stretches. food lover. libra. plant mom. neo-soul. hikes & bikes. her ancestors’ wildest dream. rises with the sun. incense burning. whimsical in spite of everything. child prodigy. bookworm. hbcu legacy. spiritually aligned. late night conversations. magna cum laude. southern sweetheart. black girl luxury.
✰ ⋆.˚ recommendations from . . . bruce wayne clark kent hal jordan jefferson pierce mari mccabe jack abbot parker ellis samira mohan dennis whitaker derek morgan spencer reid aaron hotchner sam wilson james rhodes bruce banner alex cross jack reacher angus macgyver wilt bozer
with practices in ➣ bludhaven, new jersey ➣ pittsburgh, pennsylvania ➣ brooklyn, new york ➣ alexandria, virginia ➣ oakland, california
