warnings . . . ⚠︎ MDNI 18+ 𖨂 fem!reader, deep throating, head pushing, oral sex (m receiving), established relationship, light bnd spoilers.
despite your knowledge of peter parker’s nice boy persona, he just so happens to be a head pusher. it was unexpected the first time you curled in between his leg. kneeling in front of him with your lips hovering over the tip, there was a moment of confusion when he threaded his fingers in your hair and pressed your head far enough to cause a wet sputter. “oh— shoot. sorry, got carried away. your mouth feels really good.”
after nearly choking on his dick, peter made it a rule that he would keep his hands above his head whenever you were sucking him off. ever since the fluctuating hormones of his arachnid dna transpired, peter finds it hard to trust himself, considering he can’t control the black flicker of his eyes. his fingers too close to your face might ignite the primal urge to fill your throat— a temptation— until your eyes water and your body lurches.
it’s a sight, peter thinks to himself. he takes a mental picture— drool seeping out of your mouth, eyes red from hot tears brimming at your waterline. even though he thinks you look gorgeous suffocating around him, peter worries about losing the little control he has over himself these days. he lets you pace yourself from here on out, sitting back and enjoying the wet mouth slobbering on him, and considering a blowjob from you as a ‘hands-off’ experience.
“that’s right. that’s my girl. you’re getting too good at this, princess—" peter’s encouragement is cut off by a sharp breath, your nose burying in his pubic hair as you let the tip stretch the back of your throat out. hollowed cheeks slide up and down peter’s shaft, each vein on his dick strumming a rhythmic pattern against the lining of your soft buccal tissue. have you been practicing? letting your toothbrush hit your uvula every night and every morning? perhaps using a popsicle as a test subject so your throat can get familiar with the intense pressure. “you been practicing?”
the vibration of your hum in confirmation sends a shockwave through peter’s cock. without much warning, his lower stomach tightens, the muscles in his abdomen clenching as his impending orgasm announces itself by the jerk of his hips. “i’m gonna finish, sweetheart. you don’t want it in your throat, then you gotta pull off. please.”
hehehe brand new day gave me such a brain worm for peter that i HAD to start writing for him !!! first time writing him so i’m sorry if this feels rusty | 1k words, peter parker x reader, mention of character death / grief, mostly cute though, requests open for peter parker x reader !!
“Excuse me?” A voice travelled up from the pavement beneath him. “Uh, Spider-Man?”
Hotdog halfway to his mouth he quickly pulled his mask back over the lower half of his face and looked down at the street. He’d only stopped for a quick lunch before getting back to it, friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man business. He’d promised a lady four blocks down he’d buy her some baby food and diapers after she got caught stealing them (which, really, he would’ve let slide if the owner of the store hadn’t been threatening to call the cops). So he’d perched himself on the edge of a residential building’s roof (conveniently opposite the hot dog stand) and had only planned to sit there for five minutes max.
Nothing in his life ever went to plan.
Looking up at him from the street was a very distressed looking girl, hugging a plastic bag of something to her chest. “Can I have some help please? If you aren’t busy?”
Lunch abandoned on the roof nothing more needed to be said. He lowered himself down towards the street with an ease that only came with years of Spider-Manning experience, landing on his feet right in front of her.
“Is everything alright ma’am?” She didn’t look particularly terrified or hurt, just distressed.
She was a little bug-eyed in front of him, but he’d gotten used to that too. Most people were pretty starstruck the first time they met him. Well, met Spider-Man. It only really went away when he got to know some people. The mayor only excitedly shook his hand when they spoke now, the police chief didn’t actually seem to care, and the owner of a great bagel shop down the street put a sign on his front window that read Spider-Man’s Favourite Bagels!!!
“Uh,” she blinked a few times, swallowing back what he assumed was nerves, and he waited patiently. “It’s a little silly, it’s not, like, a big emergency or anything.”
“That’s okay,” he smiled, wished she could see it through the mask, wanted to be reassuring. “If it’s bothering you I’m sure it’s not silly.”
“My uh,” she gestured up to the tree they were stood beside. “My cat climbed up there and won’t get down.” Only then did he noticed cradled in her arms was a bag of cat treats that she must’ve been trying to coax the kitty down with.
Peter was smiling again, unintentionally this time. It was absolutely not the first time he’d gotten a cat down from a tree, he’d gotten a few over-achieving dogs down from high places too, all were relatively easy jobs (and he liked the easy jobs, the breaks from the harder stuff) but he did like cats just a little more.
He looked up at the tree and squinted, and could see a patch of ginger most of the way up huddled on top of a branch.
“No problem miss,” he did a silly little salute that he regretted as soon as he did it because why? “I’ll, uh, get him back down safely for you.”
“Her.”
He nodded. “Her. She’ll be okay I promise.”
It didn’t take long to climb up into the tree, longer than climbing up a building because of navigating between all of the branches, but soon enough he was up high enough to be beside the little orange cat that was huddled against one of the thicker branches. As soon as his head popped up beside her she growled, her little ears drawing back against her head, but he got it, if he was so small and stuck up so high he’d be scared too.
“Hey kitty,” he cooed, slowly reaching a gloved hand out towards the cat. She gave an angry little (adorable) hiss, though didn’t move away when he gently scratched at her head. “Your mom’s really worried about you, should we get you back down to her huh?”
More growling came from the cat as he worked a hand between her fluffy belly and the wood of the branch, but as soon as he’d tucked her against his chest with one arm he felt her start humming with purring.
It was a little harder to get back down with one hand but soon enough he was back on the pavement in front of the pretty girl.
“Oh- thank you so much, thank you,” clearly worried she stepped forwards and took the cat from his arm, who immediately started sniffing at the bag of treats she had rather than acknowledging her at all. “She got out this morning and I was so worried she’d fall.”
“It’s no problem,” he smiled, and reached forward to scratch her little head again. “What’s your name?” She told him and he nodded. “And what’s her’s?”
“May.”
Peter blinked beneath the mask, caught so off guard for a moment he just stood there like an idiot. It felt weird to hear her name, for it immediately to follow with the thought that she was gone. Maybe one day it wouldn’t sting so bad.
“That’s, uh, that’s a pretty name.” He got out eventually.
The girl just smiled. “Thanks. She’s a good girl, really, she takes care of me. Keeps me from being lonely.”
That was May, alright.
Clearing his throat, Peter gestured to the building he’d been sat on. “It was nice to meet you, miss, but I really should get back to, um…”
“Your hotdog?”
He chuckled awkwardly. “Uh, yeah, that. Gotta keep my strength up.”
“Thank you, Spider-Man.”
She was waving as he webbed himself up back to the top of the building, and once he was perched back at the top he watched her talking to her cat as she went back inside.
“These are some weird signs you’re sending me, May,” he sighed as he looked up at the sky, at the clouds. “Miss you.”
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POV: frank makes peter watch how he fucks you because he’s going to be out of town for a few days, and obviously peter needs to know how to take care of you.
! - MDNI 18+. fem!reader, reader is teased, reader is webbed to the bed, dom!frank, curious!peter, bratting (mentioned)
“see, pete? see how wet she is already?” frank castle pins your knees to the bed, displaying you like some sort of doll as he lets peter parker inspect the chaos happening between your legs. “you let her get any slicker and she’ll come at you with an attitude. you wanna make sure you get her nice and fucked before it gets to that point.” the way frank talks to peter is like you’re not in the room, ignoring your throaty whines to give peter a formal understanding of how he needs to be working you out while frank is away.
“she’s a brat? really?” peter questions frank in disbelief, unable to picture you in a state where you cop an attitude, especially with someone as intimidating as frank. peter tilts his head to the side like a scientist inspecting unexpected lab results. he waves his hands at frank to let go of your legs, prepping the organic webs oozing out of his veins. “these will definitely come in handy,” peter remarks, pressing his right wrist with his thumb before letting an organic web tangle your legs to the bed, leaving your clothed core on display for both of them.
“just do something!” you whine but the words are mumbled and peter can’t believe that tone is coming from you. whimpers float off your lips as your knees fight against the webs, failing to free yourself from the grasp of peter. they’re stronger than ropes and your inability to rub your legs together to get some friction down there is putting you in a sour mood. “do something!”
“see?” frank flicks an eyebrow up, “she’s starting to get there already. just give her a few licks over her panties and she’ll soften right up.”
okk, first thing I’ll give (as I go through the curated ideas in my brain 🙂↕️).. Peter x reader in a heatwave, not being able to cuddle or really be too physically affectionate properly cause it’s too hot, but obvi they wanna cuddle. But at the same time, imagine Peter’s just shirtless, naturally, so ya know.. he’s hot in every sense of the word 🤭 I imagine it’s simultaneously very fluffy, but also has its good ol smutty-vibes and horniness. . .
accidentally made this peter x widow!reader who’s also his roommate! I hope that’s okay and I hope you like it
Peter’s doing this shit on purpose and you’re fucking sure if it.
There’s absolutely no reason for someone to be doing biochemistry whatever he’s doing, shirtless while you’re trying to do your own work.
You’re not shirtless even in this damn heatwave and arguably you’re the one who deserves to be in less clothes. Living with him may have been an oversight; what solidifies the thought is the way the muscles in his chest and stomach flex as he stretches and groans.
You shut your eyes and scowl. “Parker, I’m going to end you.” He looks up from his many computers and frowns.
“Wha-why?” His brown eyes look so concerned and worried that you scrub your hands over your face. He’s so sweet and deer-in-headlights and you swear you really are going to end him.
“You cannot look this way while studying, or making whatever you’re doing for the arachnid suit.”
Now, Peter scratches his head. He’s really not doing anything. He’s just working on this stupid thing that’s stumped him, and you’re acting like he’s doing something illegal.
“Look which way? It’s hot and I-“ he stutters, “Am I making you uncomfortable being shirtless?”
You roll your eyes, “No you know you are hot. I’m not falling for this.” Peter blushes full red then, even his ears are heated. “You look good shirtless and you are like temptress.”
His blush worsens but he recovers enough to say, “Aren’t widows supposed to be like trained to not succumb to base human emotions? Isn’t that what you’re always telling me?”
You scoff, feeling the blood rushing through your veins as he stares at you and turns his body so he’s fully facing you now. It’s almost instantaneous, the way he transforms from dork to this, this flirty, dangerous thing.
He leans back in his chair, his muscles rippling and you swear he’s looking directly into your eyes as he licks his lips and crosses his arms across his massive chest. Even his thighs look huge in the shorts he’s wearing!
Peter can tell you’re turned on, but you always have so much attitude, this is a good change in pace and so what if he wants to prolong it a little.
“You are insufferable man, Peter.” You groan, rubbing your face as you shut your laptop. “Do you want frozen juice?” You stand, needing to get away from him. He laughs, shaking his head so some of his curls shift. You smile against your better judgement as you open your freezer.
“Sure, can I have the passion fruit one?”
“Yeah yeah,” you toss one to him and then open your lemon lime lolly. “I am going for run,” you really need to get away from him or you’ll jump his bones. “Wear clothes when I come back.”
Peter smirks, crunching on his treat. “Or what? You love me half naked.”
“You wish I would.” But Peter heard your pulse jump and his laugh haunts you as you shut the door and try not to think of his thighs or arms or his chest.
MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ
WORD COUNT. about 2k or so.
INSPO. fic meets spider-man video game of him mentoring black cat and entering a romantic relationship + brand new day spider-man personality. no spoilers. nsfw link position inspo + nsfw link peter sound inspo.
✉️ | marvel comics.
WARNINGS. fem black!cat!reader, established relationship, explicit smut, p in v, dash of angst, intro contains allusions to sex, lowkey exhibitionist behavior but nothing too explicit, not proofread, mentor/mentee dynamics mentioned, peter grabbing your hair mentioned, choking (m receiving), light roleplay, web on pussy mentioned, squirt mention.
“oh. must be the doordash.” you note with a content lilt to your tone, swinging your leg from a straddling position off of PETER PARKER. he lifts his hips to pull the sheet out from under them, n you drink in the way the muscle of his abdomen ripples under his skin. “we worked up an appetite, didn’t we?” you taunt knowingly, flashing him that look between a flutter of your lashes n bending over to pluck a piece of clothing off the floor.
“we still could’ve gone somewhere.” peter begs to differ - the same guy who protested the total when you two had ordered together.
you shrug minutely, “s’my treat.” you flick on his black hoodie, shimmying it down your naked body, the hem brushing just above your mid-thigh. an expression passes over his face, the one he always gets when he’s reminded how you won’t be seen with him in public. it’s quickly replaced, gaze softening at the sight of you so casually striding around his place in his clothes. he picks himself up into a sit, the cords in his arms flexing as he props up on them. if you didn’t want to snack before the food gets cold, you’d take another ride right now.
“if we don’t get it, are they gonna leave with it?” he jokes, a classic deflection. you raise the end of the sleeve of the jacket to your lips to veil your smile.
“they should’ve left it at the—“ you swing the entrance open, your eyes glancing from the ground to the person standing in front of you. “—door.” a woman you don’t recognize who isn’t carrying any food. “hello.” you say politely, but you’re not sure what to say after. out of the two of you, however, she’s the only one at unease.
“oh, i’m sorry.” she seemingly dissolves, hunching her shoulders, mouth stretching into an embarrassed grimace with a dash of a strained smile. “i was looking for someone else, i didn’t mean to—“
just then, peter turns the corner to come to a stop at your side. “do you need help carry—oh.” he shifts to show less of his naked chest, the last thing he was expecting was company from a neighbor. “ohhh, hi.” he acts like he’s caught in the act, and you look to him coolly for an explanation. once again, out of the trio, you’re the only one that’s comfortable, regardless if you can feel a breeze from the fact you’re not wearing any bottoms. there was absolutely no question about what the two of you had just done. “um, this is…” a tense hand gestures to the blonde in the doorway. “this is - sabrina.” he glances at you. “she lives in my building.” a significant heat rises to his cheeks, humiliation written all over him. a grin creeps onto your lips, the kind that stems from the humor of the situation. the hem of the hoodie sleeve finds a way in between your teeth, toying with it as you exchange a silent conversation with him. after a silence, sabrina subtly inching away, you turn to her.
“we were too loud—“
you’re interrupted by a firm hand on your upper arm, hooking you and leading away from the entrance. “okay-thank you for stopping by-i’ll see you at the mailboxes-okay, goodbye.” smoothly, he pulls you in as he pushes the door shut, hanging his head as his splayed hand remains against the metal. you can’t help but scoff, slithering up from behind him to drape yourself on his back. a single nail digs into the plump skin of his rotator cuff, dragging down in a line through the flesh.
“you were a little nervous back there, tiger. is she one of your girls?”
he flashes you a resentful eye from over his shoulder. he turns, luring you further into the apartment when he walks back towards the bed. “no.” he responds promptly, and with an air of pretentious self-righteousness. it’d be insulting if you didn’t know him. “that’s not - no.” he shakes his head, coming to sit at the edge of his bed with a bounce to a stop. the heel of his hand digs into his eye to fidget. “she’s just… a girl in my building.” the hand comes down, and he picks at a callus on his palm.
“oh, c’mon.” you roll your eyes, lulling your body over to stand between his legs so he has to look up at you. habitually, your grip gravitates towards his curly flop of hair, grabbing hold of it. he blinks in an innocent peer up at you. “you don’t have to say anything to me, we’re adults.”
his shoulders tense, voice defensively heightening, “i’m not seeing anyone else.” somehow, he knows that’s a scarier confession to make, but he took the risk anyway. your smile falters.
“oh.” you release him. when you drop your arms, the sleeves fall past the tips of your fingers. suddenly, you feel like getting some air, but you conceal that vulnerability when you show him your back, walking towards the pile of your clothes. “at least her crush on you makes sense.” you pick out your pants, stepping into them n sliding them on, “it’s too bad though.”
he replies, a little too hopefully. “what is?”
you smirk at him from over your shoulder. “that you’re a nutcase.” he can’t help but wryly smile, dropping his head to shake it. folding your arms in front of you to pinch the hem, you lift to peel the hoodie up and off of you. he sneaks a glance at your naked back.
“you’re leaving now, aren’t you?”
you sigh. “now that i’ve marked my territory.” you find yourself talking to make him feel more comfortable - you don’t like it.
“what about the food?”
you pull on your top. “i’ll be back for it later.” he doesn’t believe you. for a final good-bye, you elegantly slide into a sit next to him, your body lounging n taking up the space. “you’ll be alright without me, spider.” a hand cups his cheek, guiding him into you to kiss his other one.
“are you?”
you sit back. you search his features. “am i what?”
your gazes meet. “seeing anyone else?” the idea of the question puts a twist in your stomach, and an instinct to hightail it out of here. if you are or aren’t, you don’t want to be asked about it.
“i’ll call you.” you promise - an empty sound to the both of you, and with it you depart. . . .
you don’t see him for a couple days, and you know for all of his virtues, he still can’t trust you. it’s why when you’re out as black cat without your hall monitor he shows up to make sure you haven’t relapsed.
“nice night, huh?” he comments, restrained. meeting you on a rooftop is nothing new, swaggering towards you like he’s about to catch you red-handed. he stops before his chest meets yours, but you side-step him like a dance.
“upset because i haven’t called?” you taunt, circling him like prey. “or am i not cleared for field work?”
“i’m not your keeper.” he says resentfully but without conviction.
“you’re out here because of me. afraid i’ll forget all your lessons? i heard there’s a new museum, why don’t i head there before opening and see if it gives me an itch?” through careful strain, your annoyance still seeps through, stepping up to him when he turns just to challenge him. he visibly deflates, letting go of whatever anger he thought he had.
maturely, he explains as he gestures, the visors glued to the ground, “i know that trying the whole good-guy act has been an… adjustment.”
“don’t act like you’re here because of that, spider. you’re too smart to play that card.”
“what do you want me to say?” another layer of his incredulousness wafts over you, you barrel on, talking over him.
“quit the mentor charade, it’s a bad look for you.” you say it to hurt him, to strike at what you dislike the most: being his pity case goodwill project. you might as call yourself a stray cat that’s been caged. if he didn’t know you, he’d think you’re being remarkably calm about all this - so he plays a different card.
“seemed to work on you before.” at the sudden and suggestive mention, you’re taken aback. indignant at first, you scramble for a comeback, but your rare surprise has left your mouth more agape than you’d like to admit. he challenges you this time, the corner of that visor tilting up to make sure you know he’s got his eye on your reaction.
like old times, the kind where you’d run and he’d chase you, and you’d let him get close as a trophy… you take just one more step, inches away from him. your gaze searches his emblem, the one you used to pour over before you knew what he looked like underneath. it’s a quiet moment shared under the moonlight, tempers cooling, and his head lulls in a mirror to yours, like he’s waiting to slot into a kiss that hasn’t been taken yet. your eyes meet the white tear-shapes of his visor. it’s your turn to speak without conviction, “you don’t wanna play that game with me, spider - not tonight.” the empty threat hangs in the air.
he’s too quick to snuff it out anyway. “it’s the only thing we can agree on.”
you shake your head with a sigh through your nose and a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “i always end up back in your bed.”
“well, let’s go to your place this time.” . . .
somehow, you’re back in his atmosphere, intoxicated until you’re lulled into a domestic complacency you’ll feel nauseous about later. for now, you’ll enjoy pretending to be a trophy after playing hard-to-get. head falling back, your jaw slackens, seeping out moan after moan when spider-man’s got his hand in your hair, pulling you back like it’s a leash. neither of you undressed what you couldn’t afford to, staying in uniform is less complicated than fucking as people - as normal adults. straddling his lap, he’s sat up, an arm around your waist while the other reaches up from behind to wind in your hair. desperate to grasp something, your claws dig into the windpipe at his neck, but pain simply can’t be induced.
you move together as one, his arms flex n swell around you when they guide you down, and there’s a burn in your thighs when you fight against his strength and his weight to lift yourself up in a hover. “should i… should i call you something? other than your name?”
scoffing, you peel your heavy eyes open one by one. sometimes he has a way of endearing you. “what’re you talking about, spider-man? you don’t wanna play pretend with me?” you muse condescendingly, adjusting your grip against his throat so you can lure him closer to you. less than an inch away, you recycle hot breath with each other and his grasp on your hair softens.
“‘pretend?’” he questions naively.
“yeah, not to know each other.” times like this, you remember his intimidating, boyish inexperience. it’s not so bad now, even rewarding him with a peck against the felt of his mask. “asking me questions like that—about what to call me—ruins it. i just wanna have fun.”
“o- okay.” hastily he tacks on, “cat.”
again, it’s too sweet not to taunt, chuckling through your nose until you feel his pace shift. picking up speed, and adjusting the angle of your hips for you with the arm around your waist… it very quickly reminds you he’s not some kid anymore. his hand splays against your back, supporting you when you arch it, talking to the ceiling, “oh, that’s right, spider… that’s it - right there, oh, fuck. right there…” you exhale. the exposed cleavage in your suit swells, the dull moonlight casting through the window catches on your sheen of sweat, glistening your skin like jewelry. your colleague drinks it all in, holding you up by your waist like you’re nothing, spider-strength making a limp doll out of you when he bounces you on him. his tip hits that perfect spot inside of you, the one that makes you all hazy n hot.
he was afraid to say anything else, but when you keep talking him through it, encouraging him with all your pretty noises, it’s like he steps into his persona. “that’s it, right?” he regurgitates one of your phrases to dip his toe in the water. “right there? you sure it’s right there?” his tone’s shifted, evolving from tentative experimentation to blatant cockiness. you bite hard into your grinning lower lip, lulling forward to splay your hands on his cheeks, long nails casting shadows over his visor like you’re locking up some prey. “don’t tell me you’re about to cum already.”
“no.” you challenge. “been waiting for you to fuck me like a man, spider.”
“cat.” he growls. that super strength is so effortless, you squeal in thrill girlishly when he lifts you up off his lap—letting you clutch his face to your chest—only to land you on your back. “you know, this suit must be filthy.” it rakes a genuine open-mouthed laugh out of you, playfully hitting his emblem.
“are you stalling? afraid you can’t handle me?” you taunt, suspending your legs on either side of them, heavy heels weighing them down as they bob from the ebb n flow.
“well, in other circumstances i’d say i’ve handled you before just fine.” he rises to the opportunity, and uses the reminder of your legs to wedge his hands under your knees n hook your ankles over his shoulders one by one.
“we’ll see about that.” just as you finish the sentence, you trail off at the sight of him sitting on his haunches, the full suit on him with the waistband tucked under and out of the way. seated fully inside of you, he palms your hips firmly, jerking you n taking you with him when he leans back. it shoves a choked sound out of you, but nothing compared to the symphony that plays from the orchestra of your open mouth, his grunts, and the marriage of your sexes. his fingers dig into you, yanking you up n letting you drop down in a way that strokes your guts so good you don’t even possess the brain power to warn him you might squirt. “talk back one more time and i’ll stick a vibrator to your clit.” somehow, the idea of that webby mess around your sex wasn’t so revolting, but you know it was just another one of those empty promises.
@HANASNX 2026 | do not copy, plagiarize, or steal. do not take my formats without receiving explicit permission and writing @ credit where it is visible. do not use my writing to train ai models of any kind.
18+ 𖨂 male masturbation, yearning!peter, tagged bnd spoilers, however, i don’t think anything is spoiled in this!
male spiders are known for courtship. spinning webs in various patterns to let the female know they are a mate, not a predator. the first time peter parker sees you, his wrists twitch and organic webs threaten to spill out of his veins. he doesn’t understand why he has the sudden desire to build you a castle out of webs, but he thinks he could create something rather beautiful for you. what’s the point of web shooting if not to impress you?
the urge only grows stronger, and reminders of you cause an uncomfortable stir in his gut while his pale skin overheats. spider hormones skyrocket, eyes flickering between the arachnid black and his typical iris color. the only way peter knows how to level himself is by taking a cold shower until evie reports that his hormones have evened out. this time, the cool water on his skin isn’t enough.
one hand wraps around his length, forehead pressed against the shower wall as a rainfall of water trickles throughout his hair and down his back. his other hand fondles his balls, squeezing as his palm rolls over the tip, basking in the daydream of your hands on his body. reminders of your hair, your movements, the way your shampoo mixes with the natural oils on your scalp is enough to make peter parker bust all over the acrylic wall. peter’s eyes adjust back to normal, the evidence of his reverie of you displayed in front of him. his orgasm in his arachnid state paints a beautiful picture— his cum, spelling out your name.
stalker peter in brand new day is sooooo cute like omg my baby hi u can look thru my windows if u wantttttt
no like exactly…. #needthat
thinking about him saving you one day, finding you attempting to fight off muggers on your walk home from the subway. you’d thanked him a million times, clinging to him when he carried you the rest of the way, soaring above the skyline with your legs tight around his waist. your hair was tousled by the time he placed you safely on your stoop, and your cheeks were dusted red, eyes shining with curiousity. “thank you, spiderman,” you’d smiled up at him, “you really are a hero.” “anytime,” he’d replied casually, though his heart was beating unusually hard, “just doing my job.” leaving you there felt like a mistake, even while he was doing it, but he went anyway. being a hero didn’t afford him much freedom, especially not with pretty girls.
he let a week go by before he finally gave in to the feeling, the aching need to see you again. he knew it was wrong, but that didn’t stop him from webbing over to your apartment, palms flat against the building as he crawled to what he assumed was your window. it was dimly lit, and when he peered through the sheer curtains, he was awarded with the sight of your sleeping figure. you were curled up in your bed, the tv still on, in a t shirt too large to be your own. a pang of jealousy hit him, but he shoved it down, gritting his jaw and tearing himself away.
another week passed, and he found himself there again, perched outside your window. you were awake this time, talking animatedly on the phone with someone. he listened in, his sensitive senses easily picking up another woman’s voice. this soothed him, though he was ashamed to admit it. you seemed to be happy, which also soothed him, in a deeper way than he’d like to acknowledge. when you hung up, you turned to your closet, and he nearly fell from the brick as you pulled your top over your head, tossing it into a hamper before reaching around to unhook your bra. his pulse hammered in his throat as you finished undressing, stretching and pulling on a gown, tying it loosely around your waist and disappearing around the corner. he sighed quietly, shaking his head, raking a hand over his masked face. “i’m just gonna go inside for a minute,” he told himself, “just to be sure she’s safe, that’s all.”
he pushed up your window as quietly as he could, padding across your hardwood floor, taking in the scent of the candle you had lit mixed with your perfume lightly drifting through the air. his eyes raked over family photos, photos with people he assumed were your friends; this struck him with an odd, lonely sort of ache. he longed to know the complexities of your inner circle, the happenings of your life, to know you beyond this admittedly shameful act. he’d just picked up a small, framed photo of you with a man he assumed was your brother, due to the resemblance, when he heard something fall behind him. he whirled around, and there you were, your mug of tea littering the floor, your eyes wide and brows raised. “spiderman?”
“oh, no,” he whispered, “i- i’m sorry, ma’am, i was just- uhm, just following up on the incident two weeks ago. uhm, were you able to file the police report?” “oh,” you didn’t appear to believe him, and everything in him told him to bolt, “well, yes, i filed it. they weren’t really helpful, though, since you’d recovered all my things already. i figured you knew all that, since you work with them and all.” “i just like to be thorough,” it was a lie - he’d never stepped foot in someone else’s home like this, “well, glad you’re alright, ma’am. have a nice night.” he headed for your window, but then your hand was on his shoulder, light as air, “uhm, spiderman?” he swallowed thickly, fighting back the urge to tell you, no, to beg you to call him peter. “yes?” “thank you again,” you murmured, “for saving me. i hope i can repay you someday.” god, the images that ran through his mind at that. “but, i guess the best i could do is invite you to stay for a cup of tea? it’s not much, but-“ “yes!” he replied, embarrassed by his own eager tone, “yes- yeah, i’ll stay. thank you, y/n- i mean, ma’am.” “i never told you my name,” your brows knit, and he felt a surge of panic, heart racing. “i saw it on your id!” he lied, “when i found your purse. sorry, shouldn’t have snooped.” “oh, okay,” you nodded, slowly pulling your hand from his shoulder, nodding in the direction of the kitchen. he wanted to grab you, to shake you, to tell you not to trust so easily, that he could’ve been anyone, a killer, a stalker - well, he guessed he was. “thanks for having me,” was all he said, “you’re a great host.” later, he’d return to his own apartment, shedding his suit and fucking his own hand like a virgin, moaning and gasping your name, thick ropes of cum dripping on his stomach, only humiliating him further. what he didn’t know? you were at home, doing the very same, your hand between your thighs, and spiderman on your lips.
