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Arachnophobia- Daniela Avanzini

✏️: Spidergirl Reader x Idol! Daniela, ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP, Humor, Fluff, Smut, Basically porn with plot, Injured!Reader, Sharing a Bathtub, Devils Tango in said bathtub, Fingering, Oral sex

With great power… Comes great responsibility

Being Spider-girl wasn’t just a job. It was a rush.

You soar between the steel canyons of New York, the city alive beneath you in neon and headlights. The wind whips past your hood, tugging strands of hair from under your mask, but the adrenaline keeps you steady. Webs snap taut and release with each swing, every arc carrying you higher, faster- weightless for just a second before gravity pulls you back down.

Billboards blaze across the skyline, painting you in shifting colours- soft pinks, piercing whites, electric blues. You catch yourself glancing at one particular screen as you flip between buildings: Daniela Avanzini, lit up larger than life, front and center in the latest Katseye campaign. It’s the same shot from the GAP ad, the one that made your heart stop the first time you saw it. And now, here it is again, immortalized in Times Square- Daniela’s smile burning against the night sky as though it belongs to you alone.

You almost laugh mid-swing. Almost. Because it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve clipped a billboard while staring too long. Your shoulder skims dangerously close to a massive screen, and you twist just in time, momentum whipping you into a perfect spin. It’s a dance, and the city is your stage- though right now, you’re distracted by the girl who’s already performing her own under the spotlight.

To the world, Daniela is Katseye’s star, the kind of name people chant in arenas and flash across trending pages. To you, she’s something softer, quieter- someone who texts you before her rehearsals, who insists on watching your favorite shows at 2 am, who tells you she misses you even when she’s just seen you a day ago.

But up here, you can’t think about being hers in private. Not when the rest of the world is staring up at her face the same way you are.

So you swing higher, leaving the glow of the billboard behind, the city stretching wide and infinite beneath you. Tonight, you’ll see her- not on a screen, not as Katseye’s Daniela, but as your Daniela.

You can practically hear her voice already- going on about how she performed in rehearsal that day, or how smooth her pirouettes were. You close your eyes- the rush of the city wrapping around you like a heartbeat- steady, familiar- until a sound cuts through the rhythm. A shrill scream.

Your stomach drops. In seconds you’re pivoting mid-swing, trailing the noise toward the Lower East Side. When you land on the edge of a rooftop, you see it.

Not a mugger. Not a car crash. Something worse.

Down on the street, a seven-foot reptile with a lab coat still hanging from its shoulders claws through a taxi like it’s made of tinfoil. Its tail smashes against the asphalt, scattering civilians in every direction.

“Of course,” you mutter under your mask. “Friday night, people go for drinks, I fight a six-foot iguana in a lab coat. Totally normal.”

You leap down, landing with a dramatic crouch right in front of the beast. “Hey, Godzilla’s underpaid stunt double! Ever heard of traffic laws?”

The Lizard roars in your face, hot breath reeking of something between rotten meat and sewer water.

“Yikes. Mouthwash. Write it on your grocery list.”

He swipes, claws slicing the air, but you flip backward, sticking to a lamp post upside down like it’s nothing.

“Okay, so you’re fast. But are you… reptile dysfunction–fast?” you quip, snickering under the mask.

The Lizard doesn’t laugh. Figures.

“Tough crowd, huh?” You spring forward, webbing his claw mid-swipe and yanking it toward the streetlight. With a quick flick, you tangle him up, his massive tail winding around the metal. For a second, it almost looks like you’ve got him.

Almost.

The streetlight groans before snapping in half, sparks flying.

“Ugh,” you groan, already seeing the next headline- ‘Spider-menace trashes the city once again’. “Con-Ed’s gonna love that bill.”

He lunges at you again, jaws wide, and you web his mouth shut mid-roar. “Shhh. Inside voices. People are sleeping.”

It lasts maybe three seconds before he rips the webs free with a muffled snarl.

Somewhere in the crowd, phones are out, recording. If you’re lucky, maybe tomorrow’s headlines will be: Spidergirl battles mutant gator- city divided over who wore lab coat better.

But you don’t have time to dwell on it. Not when the Lizard’s claw comes down like a guillotine.

“Okay, big guy,” you mutter, dodging sideways. “You’re cranky, I’m late for my very cute, very talented girlfriend- so let’s wrap this up before you shed all over downtown.”

The Lizard’s claws scrape against the asphalt as he straightens, eyes gleaming a sickly yellow. When he speaks, his voice is a rasping growl, like words dragged across gravel.

“Spider… girl. Alwayssss in the way.” His jaw flexes, lips pulling back over jagged teeth. “This city… belongs to the strong. Not the weak.”

“Oh, great,” you shoot back, vaulting over his swinging tail. “A talking iguana with a superiority complex. Exactly what New York needed.”

He lunges again, faster than you expect, his claws swiping close enough to nick the fabric on your side. You twist mid-air, firing a web to the nearest fire escape, using the momentum to yank yourself out of range.

“Missssed,” he snarls, tail smashing into a car with a crunch that sets off alarms. You wince. “Dude! Some poor guy’s gonna come out of a bodega and find his Honda folded in half! You’re a menace to parallel parking.”

The Lizard roars and hurls a chunk of ripped asphalt at you. You flip backward, the rock barely missing as it smashes through the side of a deli. A neon sign flickers, sputtering out.

“Okay, first Con-Ed, now small businesses. You’re just racking up enemies tonight, huh?”

“Humansss… weak. Frail. Broken,” he hisses, circling. His long claws scrape sparks against the pavement. “We… will evolve. We… will take… everything.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard this one before,” you reply, circling him from the opposite side, hands ready at your web-shooters. “Big bad lizard, survival of the fittest, blah blah blah. Spoiler alert: every time you give this speech, some girl in cool sneakers kicks your scaly butt back into the sewer.”

You sling a web at his chest, then yank forward-launching yourself directly into him with a flying kick. He staggers back, but recovers almost instantly, grabbing your leg mid-air and slamming you into the side of a parked bus.

The impact rattles your ribs, and for a second, stars flicker in your vision.

“Ow,” you groan, rolling away as his claws slice into the bus door like it’s foil. “Okay, that one’s going in the top ten worst dates I’ve had. Right behind junior prom.”

The Lizard hisses and slams the bus upward, flipping it onto its side with terrifying strength. Civilians scatter in every direction, screams rising into the night.

You push yourself up, gritting your teeth. “Alright, Jurassic Jerk. Playtime’s over.”

You vault onto the side of the flipped bus, crouching against its surface as the Lizard growls, tail swaying, claws poised to strike. “Let’s see if cold-blooded freaks like you can handle a little heat.”

You fire a web to a busted fire hydrant valve nearby, wrenching it open. A geyser of steam and boiling water bursts upward, hissing through the night- and the Lizard shrieks as it scalds his scales, thrashing back violently.

You smirk under your mask. “What’s the matter? Can’t handle the spa treatment?”

The Lizard recoils from the steam, hissing, but it only slows him for a heartbeat. With a violent snap of his tail, he slams the hydrant clean off the pipe, sending water spraying uselessly across the street.

“Cute trick,” he rasps, voice deep and guttural, “but you are small. Weak.”

You flip down from the bus, landing light on your sneakers. “Yeah, well. Ever seen Ant-Man? He’s small but has merch, so I think we’re winning.”

But you don’t get a chance for another jab. He charges, claws first, and you barely dodge- only for his tail to whip around and catch you across the ribs. The impact sends you flying, crashing through a hot dog cart in a spectacular explosion of mustard, steam, and profanity from the fleeing vendor.

You groan, rolling over, your suit smeared in yellow and ketchup-red. “Okay… ow. That’s… that’s fine. Totally fine. Just blending in with the condiments.”

Phones in the crowd are definitely catching this angle, and you hear laughter over the gasps. Great. That’s tomorrow’s meme: Spidergirl vs. hot dog cart- hot dog wins.

The Lizard stomps toward you, tail dragging like a guillotine. “You cannot… win. You are prey.”

You push yourself up, wincing, one hand pressed to your side. “Prey? Buddy, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’ve got web-shooters and killer taste in hoodies. I’m like… top of the food chain for fashion and crime-fighting.”

But your voice shakes, just a little, betraying the ache in your ribs. He notices. His grin stretches too wide, jagged teeth gleaming in the neon haze.

He lunges, faster than you can web away, and this time his claws close around your arm. He slams you into the asphalt hard enough to crack the pavement, and the breath whooshes out of you.

Stars explode across your vision.

Okay. You’re in trouble.

Somewhere above the chaos, you hear people shouting- sirens in the distance, phones recording, New York watching as you struggle against claws that feel like steel.

You grit your teeth under the mask, the joke on your tongue faltering for the first time tonight. “Alright, big guy,” you wheeze, straining against his grip, “maybe… maybe I bit off more than I can chew here…”

The Lizard leans close, breath hot and sour through the webbing of your mask. “Yesss,” he hisses. “Too weak. Too late.”

Your heart kicks hard in your chest. For once, you don’t have a snappy comeback.

Not yet.

The Lizard’s claws dig into your arm, sharp tips puncturing through the suit and grazing skin. You hiss through clenched teeth, twisting just enough to keep them from raking deeper. But his grip is iron, unyielding, every muscle in his mutated body rippling with power.

He slams you down again. The pavement cracks beneath your spine, the shockwave rattling your skull. White-hot pain blooms across your ribs-something pops. Definitely not good.

Your laugh comes out broken, breathless. “Cool. Free chiropractic. Ten out of ten.”

The Lizard’s tail sweeps around before you can recover, the thick muscle slamming across your torso like a wrecking ball. The air blasts out of your lungs; you feel your feet leave the ground as your body cartwheels into the side of a delivery truck. The metal buckles around you with a thunderous CRASH.

You slump against the dented panel, blood trickling from the corner of your mouth. Everything aches. Your ribs scream every time you inhale, and your right arm- still gripped in the Lizard’s claws- burns from shoulder to wrist.

He yanks you forward like a ragdoll, growling. “Too… small. Too fragile.”

You gag, coughing, but manage a weak grin under your mask. “Yeah, well… joke’s on you. I’m terrible at following doctor’s orders anyway.”

That flicker of defiance earns you another slam- this time face-first into the hood of a car. The windshield spiderwebs with cracks, glass dust scattering across your mask. Warm blood leaks from your nose, soaking the fabric.

The crowd gasps as you roll off the car and stagger upright, legs trembling. You sway, trying to plant your feet, trying not to show how badly the world is tilting around you. The Lizard towers over you, saliva stringing between his teeth as he snarls.

“You bleed. You break. You cannot win.”

You spit blood onto the cracked asphalt, red against the black. “Yeah? Well… breaking’s kind of my thing. Ask my high school GPA.”

You fire a desperate web at his face, yanking yourself forward into a spinning kick. Your heel connects with his jaw- it’s like kicking a concrete wall. He barely staggers, but you land, crouched and panting, some part of you thrilled you managed to land anything.

“See?” you wheeze, clutching your ribs with one arm. “Glass half full. Even if the glass is filled with… blood and maybe some internal organs.”

The Lizard lashes out faster than your battered body can dodge. His claws rake across your thigh, slicing through fabric and skin alike. Pain tears through you as you cry out, stumbling back. Blood streams hot down your leg, staining your sneaker.

The crowd recoils, screams louder now.

But you can’t stop. You can’t.

So you stagger forward again, ignoring the pain, every nerve on fire.

“You think you’re evolution?” you spit, wiping blood from your mouth. “Guess what, you’re just a failed science experiment. Not much evolution there, if you ask me.”

He charges.

You leap, webbing the wall of a nearby building, yanking yourself skyward just before his claws shred the ground where you stood. You scale upward, muscles trembling with the effort, every bruise screaming in protest.

Halfway up, his tail whips around. It smashes the brick wall, and the shock knocks you loose. You plummet, spinning, only just managing to snag a fire escape with one hand. Pain lances up your shoulder as it nearly tears out of the socket.

You dangle there, ribs grinding, blood dripping onto the concrete below.

The Lizard looks up at you and grins, sharp teeth gleaming.

Then he starts climbing.

You dangle, arm screaming, ribs a chorus of grinding pain. Blood drips from your leg and splatters onto the cracked sidewalk below. You look down, then up- your vision doubling for a second- just in time to see the Lizard digging his claws into the brick wall, climbing toward you like some nightmarish gecko.

“Oh, great. Spidergirl versus Geico. Do I at least get cheaper car insurance out of this?”

You launch a web at the wall across the street, swing-pulling yourself just as his claw rakes across the fire escape where you hung. Sparks fly as metal shrieks and twists under his strength. You land on a lamppost, crouched, chest heaving, bruises throbbing.

“Bad news, Doc,” you call down, forcing your voice to steady. “I actually like cardio. So if this is a climbing race, you’re toast.”

He growls, voice layered with Connors’ remnants of intellect and animal fury. “Arrogance. That is the flaw of your species. Overconfidence… fragile bodies wrapped in bravado.”

“Fragile?” you shoot back, flipping off the lamppost and firing a web straight at his eye. It splats, blinding one side of his vision. “I’ll have you know I’ve walked home in heels after eight hours of concerts. My pain tolerance is legendary.”

He snarls, tearing the webbing off with a claw. “Temporary resistance. Inefficient anatomy. You will… fail. While I-” His tongue flicks out, tasting the air. “I regenerate. Adapt. Evolve.”

“Cool speech,” you chirp, swinging wide. “But evolution’s all about brains, not just biceps.”

You hurl yourself straight at him. At the last second, you fire two webs, slingshotting around a light pole and using the centrifugal force to ram both boots into his chest. The impact shudders through your bones. He actually stumbles- one massive claw crushing through a mailbox as he catches himself.

“Oh my god,” you pant, bracing on the wall. “Did I… did I actually move you? Somebody record that. Put it on TikTok. Add a filter.”

But the victory lasts seconds. He recovers, slams his tail into the wall you’re clinging to, and the bricks collapse under your hands. You crash onto the hood of another car, spine screaming.

You push yourself up again, wobbling. Your body feels like one giant bruise, but your spider-sense flickers- sharp, insistent. You roll just in time for his claws to shred the roof where your head had been.

“That’s the thing, Doc,” you rasp, chest heaving, “you keep underestimating me. But spiders? We don’t break easy.”

You web both of his knees in quick succession, then dive between his legs, anchoring the other end of your web to a streetlight. When he takes another step, his legs yank together, tangling him like a tripped-up wrestler.

He roars, claws swiping wildly as he topples sideways into the deli across the street. Glass and neon explode in a storm of sparks. People scream and scatter as he thrashes inside, shelving crashing down.

You stagger upright, blood dripping into your mask, and wheeze out a laugh. “Ladies and gentlemen… the subway special!” But your laugh breaks off into a cough. Your ribs grind again, sharp pain stabbing through your side. You brace a hand against the wall, knuckles slick with blood.

Inside the deli, the Lizard’s roar echoes, guttural and furious. Then- silence.

You freeze, every nerve alive, spider-sense prickling.

And then he erupts from the rubble, angrier, faster, claws outstretched.

The Lizard barrels out of the deli, scales glistening with spilled oil and shards of neon still stuck to his shoulders. He’s panting, enraged, claws scraping sparks as he drags them across the asphalt.

“Spider… girl,” he hisses, voice rumbling. “You cannot… endure. You bleed. You break. You are-”

“-so bored of this speech,” you cut in, staggering to your feet. Your leg screams in protest, your ribs feel like someone ran them through a blender, but you plant yourself squarely in his path anyway. “Seriously, you’ve been saying the same thing for, like, ten minutes. Ever thought about… I don’t know… a podcast?”

He charges.

So do you.

The impact rattles your bones, but you grab hold of his arm mid-swipe, dig your heels into the cracked pavement and, to the crowd’s collective gasp, you lift.

Every muscle in your body strains, your suit tearing at the seams, blood soaking your mask- but you hurl the seven-foot lizard like you’re shot-putting a dinosaur straight into the hood of a parked SUV. The car crunches beneath his weight, alarm wailing.

“Oh my god,” you wheeze, doubling over. “I just bench-pressed a Komodo dragon. Somebody call Guinness.”

The Lizard growls, half-dazed, shoving himself upright- just in time for you to leap onto him, plant both hands on his chest, and slam him down again. The concrete caves inward as he snaps his teeth inches from your mask, snarling, saliva stringing across your shoulder. You grunt, gripping his jaws apart with both hands, muscles quaking as he thrashes beneath you.

“You ever heard of flossing, Doc?” you grunt. “Because this is not minty fresh.”

With a guttural yell, you wrench his head back and slam it into the pavement. Once. Twice. On the third, the street cracks. The Lizard goes slack, tail twitching weakly.

You collapse onto your knees beside him, chest heaving, every nerve on fire. “Ladies and gentlemen,” you gasp, throwing your arms up like a prizefighter, “the lizard has officially… been de-scaled.”

The crowd actually cheers. A few people clap. Someone yells. Phones are everywhere. You know this footage will be everywhere by morning. But right now, all that matters is you’re still standing. Battered, bleeding, bruised- but victorious.

And somewhere in the back of your mind, you know Daniela’s probably going to kill you when she sees the state you’re in. You glance at the Lizard, unconscious but breathing, sprawled across the totaled SUV. You point at him with one shaking hand. “You owe that guy’s insurance. Not me.” Then, with a groan, you fire a web at the nearest rooftop and start to swing away, every bone aching.

Your shoulder pops alarmingly as you swing, each arc across the skyline pulling at muscles that scream with every motion. The city is a blur- neon, headlights, sirens fading behind you. Blood drips from your nose into your mask, and your ribs grind every time you breathe. Your thigh stings, your knuckles are raw, but you refuse to stop.

New York’s noise softens the higher you climb, trading honks and shouts for the rush of wind in your ears. It feels quieter up here- almost peaceful.

Almost.

By the time you reach Daniela’s neighborhood, your vision is swimming, your arms trembling from both exhaustion and adrenaline withdrawal. You spot her room in the house she shared with the other members. It was familiar by now- the balcony you’ve stumbled onto more than once after late-night patrols. It’s dark except for the faint glow spilling through the curtains.

You land clumsily on the railing, wobbling. For once, you don’t stick the landing with your usual flair. Instead, you half-trip and collapse onto the balcony floor with a grunt.

“Ten out of ten,” you mutter to yourself, rolling onto your back. “Graceful. Totally nailed it.”

The glass door slides open a second later. Daniela steps out, still in sweats and a hoodie, her hair loose around her shoulders. Her eyes widen when she sees you sprawled there, mask half-ripped, suit torn and smeared with blood.

“Dios mío.” Her voice cracks. “Y/N.”

You lift a shaky hand in greeting. “Hey, babe. You should’ve seen the other guy. He looks… way worse than me. Mostly. Maybe.”

Daniela drops to her knees beside you, hands hovering like she’s afraid to touch you and break something. “What happened? You’re- Mierda, you’re bleeding everywhere-”

“It’s fine,” you cut in, trying for casual but coming out more like a cough. “Just a few scratches. And maybe a dented ribcage. And a new hole in my leg. But, like-no big deal.”

Her brows knit together, eyes narrowing as she carefully helps you sit up. “That’s not funny.”

You rest your forehead against her shoulder, letting out a shaky breath. The fight’s adrenaline finally ebbs, leaving only exhaustion and the comfort of her warmth. “No, you’re right,” you mumble. “What’s funny is that I threw a seven-foot lizard into an SUV. Pretty sure I broke the car more than him.”

Daniela lets out a disbelieving laugh, equal parts horrified and relieved. “You’re impossible. The daily bugle is gonna have a field day with this- What did Jonah call you last week? A menace?”

“Mm,” you hum, eyes fluttering shut. “I prefer ‘heroic menace.’ Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

She groans, dropping beside you again and grabbing your shoulders to make you look at her. “Heroic?! You’re soaked in blood, you’re bruised from head to toe, and you almost fell off a balcony! And you’re calling yourself heroic?”

“I call it ‘style,’” you retort, grimacing as you shift to avoid making your rib pain worse. “Plus, I saved the city. Well… mostly. There’s some debris. But the important thing is, no civilians were eaten.”

Daniela rolls her eyes so hard it’s a minor miracle her head doesn’t spin. “You know, for someone who prides themselves on being durable, you look like you just ran through a meat grinder. And that’s your idea of a joke?”

“Yeah,” you mutter, wincing as you press a hand to your side. “But admit it- if anyone could throw a lizard into an SUV and live to tell the tale, it’s me.”

She leans closer, poking at a cut on your cheek. “If anyone could, it’d still be insane. You’re lucky I didn’t ground you from swinging around the city ever again. And don’t think I won’t lecture you for this later.”

You snort, blood-tinged laugh breaking through. “Lectures are my favorite. Especially when they come with coffee and dramatic stares.”

Daniela shakes her head, exasperated, brushing her fingers through your messy hair. “You are such a disaster, you know that?”

“Thank you very much,” you grin, nudging her shoulder weakly. “Also, you’re smiling under all that annoyance. Admit it.”

Her lips twitch, but she squints at you, still annoyed. “I’m not smiling, tarugo. I’m calculating exactly how many ways I can get you to stop putting yourself in life-threatening situations.”

“Calculating,” you repeat, smirking, “huh. Sounds serious. Should I be worried?”

“Very,” she snaps, though the corner of her mouth twitches upward despite herself. “And you’d better let me patch you up before you do anything else stupid. No more lizards. No more swinging into billboards. No more…” She gestures dramatically at your ruined suit. “…this mess.”

You groan, letting yourself slump a little against her. “Fine, fine. But only because you’re here to make me look cute while you fuss over my wounds.”

Daniela sighs, exasperated and affectionate all at once, pulling you gently toward the apartment door. “You’re lucky I love disasters.”

“Lucky me,” you whisper, letting yourself melt a little into her arms.

Daniela drags you gently into the apartment, every movement careful, as if she’s afraid you’ll fall apart mid-step. She guides you to the couch, plopping you down with an almost imperceptible groan of effort. You sink into the cushions, letting your body relax for the first time since the fight, though every rib protests like a tiny screaming alarm.

“Okay. You are literally a mess,” Daniela mutters, reaching for the first aid kit she keeps at the ready, as if she knew this would happen again. Her hands hover over your cuts and bruises, shaking slightly as she hesitates, clearly annoyed, clearly worried. “And why is your nose pouring like Niagara falls?” She snaps, grabbing a damp cloth and pressing it gently to the bridge of your nose. You hiss, just slightly, because ouch, but mostly you’re distracted by how focused she is.

You wince, pressing a hand lightly to your nose, but the corners of your mouth twitch anyway. “I call it… avant-garde face art. Blood is very in this season.”

Daniela glances at you like she’s trying to decide if she should laugh or cry. “Avant-garde? Really? That’s what you’re going with?” She shakes her head, brushing a stray lock of hair from your forehead. “I can’t stand you.”

You lean back with a sigh, wincing as your ribs practically screech at the motion. “Don’t lie. I add character to your life.”

Daniela sighs, heading to the bathroom. You hear the sound of water running before she returns with a bandage in one hand and a fresh cloth in the other. “Character,” she mutters under her breath, “is not what I signed up for.” She kneels beside you, carefully bringing the cloth up to brush against the cut on your cheek. You flinch slightly, wincing in pain.

“Hey, gentle!” you protest, though there’s a teasing lilt to your voice. “I’m delicate.”

“Delicate?” she snaps, raising an eyebrow. “You just threw a seven-foot lagarto into a car and somehow survived.”

You roll your eyes, and she presses down a little harder in retaliation. That draws another flinch out of you, but the pain is softened by the warmth of her hands. “So… rehearsal today,” you murmur, voice rough from blood and adrenaline. “How’d it go? How are the other girls doing?”

Daniela hums softly, tilting her head as she inspects your shoulder. “They’re fine,” she says, lifting the hem of your suit just enough to clean a scratch there. Her touch is careful, precise, every movement deliberate.

You exhale shakily, letting the ache in your body settle into something almost comforting. “And you?” you ask, voice quieter now. “How are you? I know you’ve been… running yourself ragged with rehearsals and everything. You okay?”

Daniela hesitates, then sighs softly. “I’m fine,” she says, though her hands pause, brushing lightly over the fabric of your suit as if reluctant to break contact. “It’s just… hard sometimes. Managing everyone, keeping things together… and then worrying about you.”

A small smile tugs at your lips under the mask. “See, this is why I like coming home to you. You keep things… human. Even when I’m basically falling apart.”

She smiles faintly, tilting your chin up so her hand rests lightly against your jaw. “Someone has to,” she murmurs. “And I get to make sure you’re not covered in bruises and blood forever.”

You reach out, fingers brushing hers, still shaky. “Promise you’ll tell me if I’m overdoing it? With… the swinging and the fighting?”

Her thumb traces lightly along your cheek. “Oh Cariño- I promise,” she says softly. “But right now… let’s just focus on cleaning you up. You’ve had enough chaos for one night.”

You let your head fall back against her chest, exhausted, letting the city fade into background noise. “Sounds perfect,” you whisper. “Tell me more about rehearsal while you fix me… I want to know all the gossip, Dani.”

She chuckles, the sound low and warm, and leans closer, brushing your hair back as she continues to clean your suit and tend to the bruises. “Well,” she begins, “the new choreography is killing them. They’re all tired. Manon keeps getting sick, Sophia’s stressed to the point of snapping at everyone, Megan’s constantly helping Lara with the choreography, and I don’t even know what’s going on with Yoonchae half the time. It’s exhausting.”

You let out a faint laugh, wincing as she presses a bandage to your shoulder. Before you can respond, she’s sliding a hand along your side, tracing over bruises and cuts with deliberate precision, the warmth of her touch making your body shiver despite the pain. “Come with me,” she murmurs, tugging at your arm.

You stumble after her, ribs protesting, until she’s guiding you into the bathroom. And god- just the bathroom. It’s absurd. Too luxurious. Marble floors, a tub big enough to fit a small car, candles flickering on every edge. The sight alone makes you catch your breath.

She guides you to the edge of the tub, hands still firm on your shoulders. “Sit,” she murmurs, and you obey, muscles trembling from exhaustion and pain.

Her fingers trace lightly along the seams of your suit, brushing away grime and dried blood. “This… has to come off first,” she says softly, a teasing note in her voice.

You shiver as she presses against the zipper at the back, the cool metal sending a shock through your bruised skin. “Careful,” you murmur, “every inch of this suit has been through hell tonight.”

“I’m aware,” she replies, sliding the zipper down slowly, deliberately. “And I’ve got you. Don’t worry.”

She peels the suit away from your shoulders, letting it fall in wet, bloody folds around your waist. Your arms are slick with perspiration and blood, and the water from the steam curling around you makes your skin goosebump.

Her hands linger on your sides, brushing over bruises and scratches as she slowly works the fabric off your arms.

You hiss softly as she eases the last piece over your hips, exposing more of your skin to the warm, humid air of the bathroom. The suit falls in a wet, crumpled heap beside the tub.

Her gaze roams over you, measuring and admiring, before she steps closer, pressing her body flush against yours. “Now,” she whispers, hands tangling in your hair, “you get to relax. Let me take care of you.”

The warmth of her body, the scent of soap and skin, the steam curling around you both- it’s intoxicating. Every nerve ending screams from both the fight and the anticipation of her touch, making your muscles twitch involuntarily.

She dips her hands into the water, letting them glide over your bruised sides, teasing, pressing, exploring the places that hurt the most. “You’ve been through so much tonight, Mi Vida,” she murmurs, lips brushing against your ear. “Let me make it better.”

You lean back into her, letting the tub cradle your battered body, letting her hands and presence take over. Every ache, every sting from the fight, is replaced with heat, tension, and the closeness only Daniela can provide.

She presses herself closer, letting the heat of her body press against your bruised ribs and shoulders. Her hands slide along your sides again, this time lingering, tracing each sore spot with deliberate care.

You tilt your head back against her shoulder, letting the steam curl around you, shivering at the warmth of her hands and the way her body molds against yours. “I… I could get used to this,” you breathe, chest still aching from both the fight and anticipation.

She hums softly, her lips ghosting over the sensitive skin along your collarbone. Her fingers slide into the water, slick with warmth, and glide along your sides, over ribs still tender, making you gasp despite yourself. “Relax,” she whispers, pressing gently, teasing the bruises, letting her touch brush against you in ways that make you forget everything outside this bathroom.

Your hands lift almost instinctively, seeking her, tangling in her hair, pulling her closer. “Dani…” Your voice is rough, low, a mixture of exhaustion and desire.

Her lips curl into a small, teasing smile against your neck. “Shh… Amor, just let me,” she murmurs, trailing soft kisses along your jaw and down your shoulder, letting her fingers press, caress, and explore every ache, every mark from the fight.

You arch into her touch, every nerve alive, your body trembling in the hot water. The way she presses against you, teasing, massaging, making the smallest touches feel like fire, makes your chest rise faster, ribs throbbing with both pain and pleasure.

She dips her hands beneath the surface, gliding them over your sides, moving lower with deliberate slowness, tracing the curves and muscles, making you shiver. Her lips follow, hot and soft along your neck and collarbone, nipping just enough to make you catch your breath.

“God… Dani,” you whisper, voice breaking, leaning against her fully, letting yourself melt into her. “I need you.”

Her hands tighten slightly, pressing you closer, fingers brushing in all the places that still sting from the fight. “I’ve got you, Mi Corazon,” she purrs, voice low and smooth. “Every bit of you.”

You take a deep breath, letting the warmth of the water and her hands wash over you. Pain still lingers, but your body- superhuman as it is- starts knitting itself back together. Muscles tense, bruises dulling, ribs protesting a little less with each inhale. You can feel your energy returning, subtle but undeniable. You flex your fingers experimentally, feeling your strength returning.

Opening your eyes, you grin up at her, playful despite the lingering aches. “Hey… Dani?” you murmur, voice rough but teasing. “you don’t have to just… watch. You could… get in.”

Daniela pauses, hands still on your shoulders, brow furrowed. “Excuse me?”

“The water’s warm,” you husk, letting your words fall casual, but your gaze locks on hers. “This tub’s huge. You could, I don’t know… join me. Make it less… lonely in here.”

Her lips press into a thin line, clearly debating, and she shakes her head slightly. “I don’t know… you’re soaking wet, bruised, and probably still… sharp enough to hurt me.”

You laugh softly, a rasp of a sound, pressing a hand lightly against hers. “I’m fine. My ribs aren’t screaming as much anymore, I promise. Come on… just for a few minutes.”

She hesitates, glancing at the water, then back at your face. “You’re relentless,” she mutters, shaking her head, but the corner of her mouth quirks into a faint smile.

“Maybe,” you admit, letting your eyes crinkle with teasing warmth, “but you’re not exactly stopping me either.”

Daniela exhales and finally slides her hoodie over her head, shrugging out of it. “Fine,” she says quietly, “but just for a little. I’m not making this some… thing.”

You reach for her hand, guiding her gently toward the water. “No thing. Just… warm water, you, me. That’s it.”

She exhales slowly, glancing down at the tub, then back at you, her hazel eyes softening. “You really don’t give up, do you?”

Before you can respond, she starts peeling off the rest of her clothing, pulling her singlet off her body. Her long, curly hair tumbles down her back in waves, damp from the steam and already clinging lightly to her skin. She pauses, hesitating just a moment, and you catch the curve of her waist, the strong v-line of her hips.

Then, methodically, she strips the rest of her clothes, revealing the lean lines of a dancer’s body. Petite, toned, every movement smooth and deliberate. She steps closer to the tub, water lapping at her ankles, and you notice the soft arch of her back, the way her body catches the light in the steam, and the little birthmark just above her right eyebrow.

“Careful,” you murmur, voice low, as she leans toward you. “You’re… distracting.”

Her lips curve into a teasing smile, just enough to make your chest tighten. “I’m not even in the water yet,” she says softly, stepping fully into the tub, pressing gently against your side. The warmth of her body contrasts against yours, the heat of the water amplifying every touch.

You can feel her hands settling on your shoulders, tracing lightly, and the tension between you hums, quiet but electric.

You grin softly, letting your forehead brush hers, feeling the tension in both your bodies start to ease. The warmth of the water and the closeness of her presence makes your muscles relax in a way the fight never allowed.

She presses herself fully against your side, the warmth of her body sending shivers down your spine. Her breasts press against you, and her hands rest lightly on your shoulders, fingertips grazing over bruises and sore spots. You tilt your head slightly, heart hammering, breath catching in your chest.

Her gaze meets yours, hazel eyes soft but intense. For a moment, nothing else exists- the fight, the city, the blood- all of it fades away.

Then, ever so slowly, she leans in, lips brushing yours in a tentative, teasing feather of a kiss. You hum against her mouth, leaning forward, letting your hands slide into her hair, tangling in the soft curls that tumble down her back.

She deepens the kiss, tilting her head, lips pressing harder against yours, warmth and steam swirling around you both. Your ribs ache from earlier, but now the dull throb feels secondary to the heat radiating from her body.

Her hands roam gently down your sides, tracing over bruises and soft curves, and you sigh into the kiss, letting yourself melt against her. Every brush of her lips, every tug of her hands, sends a thrill straight through you.

Her hands move onto your shoulders for a long moment, warm and steady, before her lips brush against yours again- slow, testing, teasing. You lean in, tilting your head, letting your lips press harder against hers. The water laps around your sides, steam curling around your bodies as her hands slide lower, tracing over your ribs and sides, making you shiver involuntarily.

You hum into the kiss, tugging gently at her curls, feeling her respond in kind. Her lips are soft but insistent, and every press, every brush, sends heat pooling low in your stomach. You lose track of time, letting yourselves sink into the intimacy, the kiss deepening as your bodies press together in the steaming water.

Her hands roam your back now, over bruises and taut muscles, teasing along every sore spot. You press against her, shivering, letting your own hands explore the curve of her waist, the smooth line of her hips. Her body is soft in all the right places, toned in all the ways a dancer’s should be, and it hums against you with each subtle shift.

Breathless, you pull back slightly, foreheads pressed together, both of you gasping softly through the heat and closeness. You can feel the water cooling slightly around you, the steam wrapping around your skin like a private fog.

“All right,” Daniela murmurs, voice low and teasing, shifting slightly. Her wet body drags against yours as she moves- her curves pressing more firmly along your chest, the lean line of her back brushing against yours with each subtle motion. “I should get out of here… before I start looking like a prune.”

You laugh softly, tilting your head to press a lingering kiss along the side of her neck. “Pretty sexy prune, if you ask me.”

Her body shivers against yours at the touch, and she hums softly. “Sexy, huh?”

“Yeah,” you murmur, letting your hands linger along her sides, fingertips brushing along her spine, the curve of her waist.

She bites her lip, shivering again as her wet curves drag against you with every subtle shift of the water. The warmth of her body and the playful glint in her eyes makes your chest tighten. “Maybe I should ask for your opinion more often.” she whispers, voice low, teasing, letting herself press closer despite herself.

You grin, shifting closer. “Maybe you should.”

The water swirls around both of you, steam curling, bodies pressed together, every touch, every brush, building a quiet, electric tension that hums through the bathroom.

You meet in the middle of the tub, lips pressing together, and the kiss immediately slows, sultry and lingering. Steam curls around both of you, and beneath her fingers you can feel your pulse flutter in your neck, a little erratic, almost musical in rhythm. Daniela takes her time, deliberate, and you can feel how focused she is, every brush of her lips and press of her hands grounding you.

A finger tilts your chin, coaxing your lips open, and you deepen the kiss, pressing closer into her warmth. The water laps around your sides as you arch slightly, her body molding perfectly against yours, her hands tracing over bruises and sore muscles from the fight, making you shiver.

Her lips trail down your neck, light at first, teasing, until she hits that sweet spot just below your ear. A sharp breath escapes you, and pinpricks of sensation ripple across your skin, igniting a heat that isn’t just from the water.

“Hey now,” you murmur breathlessly, trying to tilt back against the tub’s edge, but Daniela only grins and presses closer, one hand sliding beneath the water to rest on your waist.

“Scooch back,” she instructs softly. You comply, wiggling backward until your back presses to the edge of the tub, the water lapping higher over your chest. Your body is taut, nerves alight, and your breasts rise above the surface, sensitive to the cooler air and the brush of her fingertips.

“Someone’s feeling bossy,” you tease, biting your bottom lip as her hand drifts and her touch lingers.

She raises a brow, teasing but confident, kneeling slightly to get better leverage. “You say that like you don’t love it.”

“Shut up,” you smile, a laugh caught in your throat as her lips return to your neck. She navigates just behind your ear this time, dragging small hickeys down your throat, each little kiss sending shocks through your chest. One hand presses firmly against your waist, and your grip tightens on her wrist as the water swirls with every subtle movement.

Teeth graze lightly along your neck, and you gasp, fingers clutching at her curls as your body reacts instinctively. “Yeah?” she whispers, voice husky, before settling back on that sensitive spot, lips pressing with just enough pressure to make your legs tremble.

Her hand beneath the water slides lower, cupping you, her thumb circling just the right spot. “Oh, fuck,” you moan, hips lifting subtly as the pleasure builds. She murmurs a low, teasing sound against your collarbone, trailing down to kiss around a scar on your shoulder from the fight, careful and deliberate.

The rhythm of her fingers continues, matching the slow drag of her lips and tongue across your skin. You gasp and tilt your head back, moaning into her mouth as she teases every sensitive area, her touch driving you higher and higher.

“Raise your leg,” she purrs, guiding your left knee to rest against the side of the tub. The motion opens you up, the water swirling around you both, and her hand presses harder against your clit while her lips suck and tease your breasts in turn.

You grip her hair, your back arching as heat and sensation collide. “Too much?” she asks, pulling back just enough to gauge you, her lips curved into a smile.

“No… more,” you rasp, and she obliges, alternating between your breasts, tongue and lips worshiping every sensitive peak while her hand slides expertly between your legs.

Your body shudders, pleasure pooling and spilling over, hips moving of their own accord, hands clutching and pressing. Every nerve ending screams as you hit your peak, shuddering into her grip. She doesn’t let up, fingers curling, circling, coaxing a second wave from you, the water rippling and splashing around your hips.

Finally, you collapse back against the edge of the tub, gasping, wet hair clinging to your face. Daniela lifts her fingers slowly, letting you catch your breath. She leans down to press a soft kiss to your lips, lingering, letting the quiet intimacy settle.

You pull her closer, tilting your head, and she hums softly against your mouth. Fingers trace your sides, over sore muscles and bruises from your night of swinging. Every touch sends shivers through you, and soon your lips are locked again, slow and sultry, tasting and teasing.

Her hands wander under the water, warm and deliberate, pressing against your waist and guiding you closer. You let your body arch into her, feeling the heat of her skin and the lapping water around you. Every brush of her lips, every press of her fingers, makes your chest tighten and your pulse race.

Feeling a burst of strength, you suddenly lunge forward, hands slipping around Daniela’s waist as you lift her effortlessly from the water. She lets out a startled laugh that turns into a gasp when you set her down on the smooth edge of the tub. Water cascades down her body in rivulets, streaming over the gentle curve of her stomach, down the valley of her breasts, and dripping off her thighs.

The sudden contrast between the warm bath and the cool night air makes her shiver, goosebumps rising on her pale skin. Her nipples harden in the chill, drawing your eyes, her chest lifting with every sharp, quick breath. Damp curls cling to her shoulders and back, framing her flushed face as she looks down at you with wide, shining eyes.

You lean forward without another second wasted, your tongue tracing a wet circle around her nipple before taking it into your warm mouth. Her hands fly up to steady herself on your shoulders, a sharp gasp escaping her mouth at the sensation.

The second you start sucking and teasing- she begins to writhe. You move between both breasts, circling with your tongue and torturing Daniela with soft, tantalizing drags over the hardened buds. You let out a laugh into her chest as she uses your body as an outlet. Her motions alternate between digging her sharp nails into your back, or yanking at your hair as much as she needed to. It didn’t matter anyway, it wasn’t like you could feel it.

Daniela whined when you pulled away, but it quickly turned into a pleased hum the moment your lips met hers. You pull away after a moment, taking in the sight of Daniela so pent up. You could tell the moment you landed on her balcony that she was stressed out from rehearsal- pupils blown, curls frizzy, hoodie askew. You wanted to make her forget- wanted to make her feel better.

Without a second thought you sunk down beneath her thighs, glancing up at her for a split moment for that subtle nod before surging forward. You licked a broad stripe up her slit- all in one long stroke. Daniela let out a pleased sound at that, thighs falling open even more.

Your touch is gentle- exploratory, almost. Your tongue pushes and probes through her folds, before you find exactly what you were looking for. Daniela’s loud moan in response is only confirmation.

“Fuck!”

You grin between her legs, focusing on her clit. Daniela’s hips buck so violently that you have to sling an arm around her waist and hold her down against the edge of the tub.

You don’t bother teasing, already bringing two fingers up to probe at her entrance. You pull back and swipe your fingers through her folds, gathering her arousal before gently easing them into her. She lets out a particularly loud groan- and you make sure to adjust her hold on you to ensure she doesn’t fall over.

You pump your fingers in and out leisurely- enjoying the serene look on her face. It isn’t until her eyes snap open and she glances down at you with a desperate, “More”, that you lean forward once again, capturing her clit in your mouth.

She preens, hips bucking up into your face. Her hands grasp your hair even tighter- like it was a lifeline. If it weren’t for your superhuman body- your hair would’ve probably torn off your head right then and there.

“Just like that! Coño! i’m-”

You moan against her clit, the vibrations sending shivers up and down her body. You swirl your tongue just how she likes it, maintaining the pressure until you finally feel Daniela’s body tremble against yours- her high, needy cries echoing inside the bathroom.

Eventually, the heat of the bath and the tension of the night settle into a comfortable quiet. You wrap a towel around Daniela first, letting it drape over her shoulders, brushing damp curls away from her face. Her hazel eyes glint softly in the candlelight, and she leans into you, pressing a shoulder against yours.

You take the other towel, gently patting yourself dry, then reach over to press it lightly against her back, careful with every tender movement. “You okay?” you murmur, voice soft, fingers brushing along the curve of her spine.

She exhales, a small, content sound, pressing closer into your warmth. “Much better,” she replies, tilting her head so your fingers can trace the line of her jaw, over her temple, tucking damp strands of hair behind her ear. “Thanks… for, you know… this.”

You laugh softly, brushing a thumb along her cheek. “Don’t thank me. You deserved it.” Her lips curl into a tiny, appreciative smile, and the tension between you eases further.

You help her step out of the tub, guiding her carefully to the plush rug beside it. The chill of the air makes her shiver lightly, and you wrap the towel securely around her, holding her close as she exhales against your chest. The warmth of her body feels grounding, safe, like the world outside the balcony has disappeared entirely.

Fingers trace absent-mindedly along her arms, shoulders, and back, lingering wherever she had been sore from rehearsal or just the weight of the day. She leans into every touch, sighing softly, letting the quiet intimacy sink in.

You press a soft kiss to the top of her head, then down her temple, lingering at her cheek. “I’ve got you,” you murmur, voice low. “Always.”

She tilts her face up to yours, eyes half-lidded, and brushes a finger across your chest. “I know,” she whispers. “And I’ve got you too.” Her eyes trace over your body- taking in your now non-existent wounds. It still amazed her how quickly your body healed.

You sit together on the edge of the rug, wrapped in towels, fingers entwined. There’s no rush, no need for anything else tonight. Just the quiet comfort of each other’s presence, the soft hum of the city outside, and the warm aftermath of shared care and closeness.

Eventually, you let your forehead rest against hers, small smiles tugging at your lips. “I think we both needed that,” you murmur.

She laughs softly, just a little breathy. “Yeah,” she replies, pressing another gentle kiss to your lips. “Next time… maybe fewer bruises.”

You snort, brushing her curls back. “No promises.”

And for a long while, that’s enough- just the two of you, tangled in towels, the world outside fading, and the soft, steady comfort of being together.

By now it’s been an hour after your little bathtub-escapade, and the two of you are sprawled in Daniela’s comfortable, way-too-big bed. The sheets are soft and rumpled, her pillows piled in a chaotic fortress around you, while the muted glow of the TV casts lazy shadows across the room. You’re “watching” some random show, though your attention has drifted entirely to the occasional sound of her scrolling.

Dani’s been glued to her phone for the past hour, thumbs flying across TikTok videos with that look of someone completely absorbed. Then, suddenly, she snorts- loud, sharp, impossible to ignore.

Your head tilts, curiosity piqued. Even lying back, your enhanced hearing picks up the faint chaos erupting from her phone: shrieks, splats, laughter, and the unmistakable squelch of condiments hitting hard surfaces.

You squint over her shoulder.

And then you choke.

It’s you. Someone actually managed to clip the exact moment you were flung into that hotdog stand like a ragdoll. Ketchup arcs through the air, mustard slides down the counters in slow-motion streaks, buns fly in every direction, and somehow, you’re still clutching a rogue hotdog like it’s a lifeline.

Your stomach drops when you notice the view count. 10 Million. Ten million people just witnessed your very public, very messy humiliation.

“What the- what the fuck?!” you yell, lunging for the phone.

Daniela is laughing so hard she’s shaking, snorting between words. “Oh my god, this is hilarious! Look at you- literally flailing like a cartoon!”

“Dani! Ten million people saw me get thrown into a hotdog stand!” You groan, burying your face in one of her pillows out of sheer mortification.

She grins, still holding the phone just out of reach. “Yeah, and the best part? You’re holding onto a hotdog the whole time like it’s a trophy or a weapon or… I don’t know, some heroic prop.”

You peek out from the pillow, glaring. “I look like a human cannonball into a sausage parade!”

She presses replay, slowing it down to catch every splash of mustard and every airborne bun. “Nope,” she says between laughs, “this is art. You are a legend.”

You groan again, grumbling into the pillow incomprehensibly. Daniela can’t hear everything you’re saying, but her human-hearing picks up on a very faint “fuck me” that just makes her laugh even harder as she rewinds the clip, already saving it for a slow-motion replay.

You let out a weary sigh, the audio loop haunting you. You couldn’t even cover your ears- nothing was strong enough to block your enhanced-hearing.

Being Spider-girl sucked. But hey- at least Daniela was there to kiss the bruises better.

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