Warning: Smut! Rough sex, reader gives peter head and moaning
Summary: Y/n and peter are best friends, but what happens when y/n tries on peters suit?
Kinda short i know sorry guys!
Peter's bedroom was a cozy mess of comic books, tangled webs of string lights, and the faint scent of pizza boxes from last night's hangout.
Aunt May had left for her book club meeting hours ago, leaving the apartment blissfully quiet. Y/N and Peter had been best friends since middle school, the kind of bond that meant they could raid each other's closets without a second thought. But today, curiosity got the better of Y/N.
'Petey, where do you even keep this thing?' Y/N called out from Peter's closet, her voice muffled by the hangers and forgotten laundry.
She had spotted the Spider-Man suit earlier, tucked away in a hidden compartment like some secret treasure. Peter, sprawled on his bed with a textbook open but unread, felt his heart skip.
'Uh, hey, that's not exactly dress-up material,' he replied, trying to sound casual as he sat up.
But the door to the closet creaked open, and there she was—Y/N, slipping into the sleek red and blue fabric. It hugged her curves in ways it never did on him, the material stretching taut over her breasts and hips. She zipped it up with a grin, striking a playful pose in the mirror before turning to him.
'How do I look, web-head?' she teased, hands on her hips, the suit's emblem gleaming under the desk lamp.
Peter's eyes widened, tracing the way the suit clung to her thighs, accentuating every inch. He swallowed hard, his gaze lingering too long on the zipper dipping low between her cleavage. Without thinking, he bit his lower lip, a nervous habit that betrayed the heat pooling in his gut.
Y/N caught it immediately—the subtle tension in his jaw, the way his teeth pressed into that soft pink flesh.
A spark ignited in her chest, something playful turning electric. She sauntered over, her bare feet padding softly on the carpet, and before Peter could stammer an excuse, she swung a leg over his lap. Straddling him on the bed, she settled her weight down, feeling the immediate hardness of his cock straining against his jeans, pressing up against her core through the thin suit fabric.
'Peter,' she murmured, her voice low and teasing as she rocked her hips in a slow, deliberate grind.
The friction sent a jolt through him, his hands instinctively gripping her thighs. She leaned in closer, her breath warm against his ear. 'You're biting your lip like that because this turns you on, doesn't it? Me in your suit... all tight and suited up for you.'
He groaned softly, his face flushing as his erection throbbed beneath her. 'Y/N, I—shit, you look... incredible. But we shouldn't—'
She cut him off with another grind, slower this time, circling her hips to feel every inch of his hardness rubbing against her pussy. The suit's material was slick, amplifying the sensation, and she could feel herself getting wet already.
'So, are you gonna kiss me, Parker? Or just sit there getting harder?'
That did it.
Peter's restraint snapped like a frayed web. His hands slid up to her waist, pulling her flush against him as his lips crashed into hers. The kiss was hungry, desperate—tongues tangling, teeth nipping as he devoured her mouth. Y/N moaned into it, her fingers threading through his messy brown hair, tugging just enough to make him growl.
They tumbled off the bed in a tangle of limbs, Peter's back hitting the carpet with a thud as Y/N landed on top.
She broke the kiss only to nip at his jaw, her hands fumbling with the suit's zipper. 'Get this off me,' she demanded breathlessly, and he obeyed, his fingers trembling as he dragged the zipper down her front.
The suit peeled away like a second skin, revealing her bare breasts, nipples hardening in the cool air, then her stomach, and finally exposing her soaked panties clinging to her folds.
Peter's eyes darkened with lust as he helped shimmy the suit off her legs, tossing it aside. Y/N wasted no time, her hands attacking his shirt, yanking it over his head to reveal the lean muscles of his chest and abs—toned from years of swinging through the city.
She kissed down his neck, sucking marks into his collarbone, while her palm pressed against the bulge in his jeans.
'Fuck, Y/N,' he hissed, bucking up into her touch.
She smirked against his skin, popping the button on his jeans and tugging them down with his boxers in one swift motion. His cock sprang free, thick and hard, the tip already glistening with pre-cum. It was bigger than she'd imagined, veined and pulsing in her grip as she wrapped her fingers around it, stroking slowly.
She slid down his body, positioning herself between his legs. 'I've wanted this for so long,' she confessed, her voice husky before she leaned in and licked a stripe up the underside of his shaft.
Peter shuddered, his head falling back against the floor with a groan. Y/N took him into her mouth, lips stretching around his girth as she sucked him deep. Her tongue swirled around the head, tasting the salt of his pre-cum, while her hand pumped what she couldn't fit.
'Oh god, yes—just like that,' Peter panted, his fingers weaving into her hair, not pushing but guiding.
She bobbed her head, hollowing her cheeks for tighter suction, the wet sounds of her mouth on his cock filling the room. She grazed her teeth lightly along his length, making him twitch and curse under his breath.
“Fuck y/n-ugh baby” he moaned.
Saliva dripped down her chin as she worked him faster, feeling him throb against her tongue.
But Peter wasn't content to just receive. With a strained grunt, he pulled her off, his cock popping free with a slick sound. 'My turn,' he said, voice rough as he flipped their positions.
Now she was on her back on the carpet, legs spread as he hooked his fingers into her panties and ripped them off. Y/N gasped, her pussy exposed and aching, slick with arousal.
“Your so wet, fuck” He said looking at his best friends dripping cunt.
He dove in without hesitation, his mouth latching onto her clit, sucking hard. Y/N arched off the floor, a cry escaping her lips as his tongue flicked and circled the sensitive nub.
'Peter—fuck, your mouth feels so good,' she moaned, her hands fisting in his hair.
He slid two fingers into her wetness, curling them to hit that spot inside her, pumping in rhythm with his licks. She was dripping, coating his chin as he ate her out like a man starved, the slurping sounds obscene and intoxicating.
'Come for me, Y/N,' he murmured against her folds, the vibration sending her over the edge.
She shattered, thighs clamping around his head as waves of pleasure crashed through her, her pussy clenching around his fingers. He lapped up every drop, not stopping until she was trembling and begging him to fuck her.
Peter rose up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his cock rock-hard and ready.
He positioned himself at her entrance, rubbing the tip through her slickness. 'You sure?' he asked, eyes locked on hers, even as his body screamed for release.
'Yes—please, Peter, fuck me,' she whimpered, wrapping her legs around his waist.
He thrust in with one powerful stroke, burying himself to the hilt inside her tight heat. Y/N cried out, her nails digging into his shoulders as he stretched her perfectly.
He didn't give her time to adjust, pulling back and slamming in again, setting a rough pace from the start. The carpet burned against her back with each brutal thrust, but the pain only heightened the pleasure.
'You're so fucking tight,' Peter growled, his hips snapping forward, cock driving deep into her pussy.
He gripped her hips hard enough to bruise, angling to hit her g-spot with every plunge. Y/N met him thrust for thrust, her breasts bouncing, moans spilling from her lips uncontrollably.
'Harder, Peter—go harder and faster,' she begged, her voice breaking as another orgasm built. 'Please, fuck me like you mean it—make me scream.'
That plea unleashed him. He pounded into her relentlessly, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing off the walls. Sweat slicked their bodies, his balls slapping against her ass with each forceful entry.
Y/N was a moaning mess, incoherent pleas mixing with gasps—'Yes, right there—don't stop—fuck, Peter!' Her pussy fluttered around him, squeezing his cock as she came again, harder this time, her juices soaking them both.
Peter wasn't far behind. 'Shit, Y/N—I'm gonna cum,' he warned, his thrusts erratic, chasing his release.
'Inside me—fill me up,' she demanded, clenching around him deliberately.
With a guttural moan, he buried himself deep and exploded, hot spurts of cum flooding her pussy. They rode out the waves together, bodies locked, breaths ragged. He collapsed onto her, both of them spent and sticky, the room heavy with the scent of sex.
After a moment, Y/N chuckled weakly, tracing lazy patterns on his back. 'Best friends, huh? Who knew the suit would be the thing to finally push us over the edge.'
Peter lifted his head, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. 'Yeah... think we can keep this our little secret?'
MINORS DNI. 18+ Only.
Pairing: (Y/N) x Peter Parker
Summary: Spider-Man saves you, and you figure out his secret. (NSFW. Impatient and rough Peter.)
Word count: 3690
Warnings: Fem!reader, nsfw 18+, use of (Y/N), multiple mentions of “stalking” (only teasing), blood mention (from an accidental cut), praising, fingering, finger sucking, oral sex (F&M receiving), biting hands, unprotected p in v, begging, nicknames, very light choking.
★・・・・・・★★・・・・・・★★・・・・・・★★・・・・・★
“Spiderman?!” I gasped against the base of his throat. His mask was cold against my cheek, and it made my body go rigid. What the fuck?
He had picked me up and swung me over half of New York City before I could react. I was still shaking.
“You’re okay, (Y/N).” His voice came out raspy, and it made me blink. Does he know me?
“How do you-“
“Uh, the news. I watch you on the news a lot.” He cut me off abruptly, and I became suspicious immediately. Despite how nauseating flying through the air made me feel, I knew I would dwell on his words.
I was a weather reporter, fresh out of college and trying my best. I was on every night at 10 p.m.
The impact of him swinging me through the air made my eyes water.
He landed on the ground first, the impact shooting up through our bodies. Except we weren’t on the ground, but on top of an extremely tall building.
I was clinging to him. He had my back gripped tight to him, and I only loosened when he did.
“Are you okay?” he asked casually, and I nodded my head. I knew that voice. I took a few steps back so I would stop touching him. My legs felt funny and wobbly.
“Yeah-“ I said breathily. I realized which building he had dropped me off at, my apartment building.
“Do I- know you?” I raised a brow.
He pointed his thumb at the street, and I reached out to grab his wrist before he could leave. He hissed, and I jumped, moving my hand up his arm more. I had grabbed him where three little bloody slashes went through his suit. He was pale and appeared somewhat skinny.
“Hey, please don’t leave. Tell me.” I demanded.
“(Y/N). Come on, you know I can’t do that.” That voice. The way he said my name like that. My mind flooded with images of Peter. Peter Parker. That has to be him. The one that followed me around the news station every day like a puppy, insisted on walking me home every single day, even if it was late, like today. He was like a bug I couldn’t escape, and he just saved my life.
Except tonight, he didn’t walk me home.
“Peter?” I whispered. I noticed his breathing hitch in his chest before he returned to normal. I retraced my fingers from around his wrist.
“Who?” He asked.
“I know it’s you.” I shook my head.
“No, you don’t.” He said sternly.
“Face it. I figured it out.” I looked over the mask. My jaw was tight.
I was furious. He had been following me, stalking me, maybe. He saw me get jumped by those men, and he saved me. He saved me, but this time as Spider-Man. My facial expression softened. I looked over my clothes, feeling like I was out of my body.
He stared at me with a somewhat blank expression that was permanently etched on his mask. My throat worked.
“Fine, it’s not you. Never mind.” I waved my hand and started to walk briskly toward the door.
“Are you going to be okay?” He called out after me.
I stopped, turning on my heel.
“Yes,” I replied simply. “Maybe sometime in the next millennia.”
I went into my apartment, keys jangling shakily as I unlocked my door and went inside. I was greeted by my oblivious cat. She only wanted food. I bent down and stroked her head before bolting the door behind me.
I walked over to her bowl and filled it up. My cozy apartment no longer felt like home. The air was tense and almost unfamiliar. I was still shaking, just anxious and worked up.
I decided just to go lie down. I padded through the small hallway and into my bedroom. I didn’t bother changing out of my work clothes yet—black strappy heels and a blue dress that hugged my thighs. I took my phone from my purse and hesitantly laid it on my side table. Should I text him?
I toyed with the idea for a moment before texting Peter.
(Y/N): I lied. I’m not okay.
I sent the text, and little quips started to spill from my mouth. Open-mouthed, I began to sob into my hand.
I almost immediately got a text back.
Peter: I’m outside, you’re okay.
(Y/N): Come here.
I pulled my knees up to my chest and shakily took a breath, waiting for his reply. A few minutes passed, and it never came. The buzzer from downstairs buzzed loudly throughout the apartment, and I flew out of bed. I let him up through the panel near my front door and opened the door impatiently, my quiet sobs filling the space.
His tall figure bounded up the stairs and immediately grasped my forearms to steady my shaking body.
“Hey, hey. Come here.” He said quietly. He wrapped me in a hug, his hand ghosting over my hair.
“What happened?” He asked me quietly.
I hesitated for just a moment and looked up into his eyes. My gaze faltered shakily. Did I get it wrong?
“I-“
“Come on, let’s go sit.” He delicately nudged me back into my apartment, shutting and bolting the door behind him. I stepped backward and let him pull me to my couch.
I stared at him for a little too long.
“Why were you outside my apartment?” I asked curiously. I was going to force the information out of him if it killed me.
“I was running, that’s all.” He waved me off, and I caught a peek beneath his long sleeves on his shirt. One of them was stained red. My eyes locked onto it before I pulled them away to meet his gaze. His throat worked.
“You were running at three in the morning?” I raised a brow.
“Yeah.” His voice wavered, and I rolled my eyes.
“You know you’re bleeding, right?” I nodded my head toward his shirt, and he gasped.
“Oh shit-“ He stood up and went to my sink. I trailed behind him, leaning in the doorway of the kitchen.
“Peter,” I said softly.
“(Y/N).” He replied, glancing over his shoulder.
“Give it up,” I whispered.
He turned to me after he had washed his cut, quickly pulling his sleeve down again. I walked over to him briskly, grabbing his wrist. I pulled his sleeve up higher and examined his wound. Three little slashes, but they were more healed than before. I met his eyes, and his lip quivered.
“I shouldn’t have come.”
He was standing here crying because I figured it out. My lip quivered, and I pushed my face into his chest. Sobs racked through me, and he hugged me to him.
“Hey, shhh- you’re okay.” He shushed me. His hand grazed up and down my back. His face went to the top of my head, and he sighed deeply.
“I just mean, you shouldn’t know. No one knows.” He whispered into my hair. I relaxed into him, my sobs stopping.
“Come on, let’s get you fed.” He thumbed over my cheek. I hiccuped, and he parted delicately from me. His fingers grazed my arm as he reached around me and opened my fridge. He pulled out my wrapped, half-eaten burger and placed it into my hands.
“You eat them cold, right?”
My breath hitched.
“You have been watching me.”
“Of course I have.” He shook his head, his eyes roaming my face. He looked at me like it was the most obvious thing.
“Do you watch me all the time?” My brows furrowed, and he playfully rolled his eyes.
“I’m not a fucking stalker, (Y/N).” He chuckled, and it made me smile.
“Just sometimes when you’re being a dumb ass and you work really late I follow behind you. Like tonight, or I walk you home as Peter.” He shrugged.
I smiled and searched his frame.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
I knew he would have done it for anyone, but something stirred in me with him.
“Can I ask you about it?”
“About what?”
“Being cool and famous, and you know, Spider-Man?” I laughed softly.
“Eat, and maybe I'll answer a few questions.” His voice was commanding, without any hint of shakiness unlike mine.
“Okay,” I said quietly. I unwrapped my burger and took a few slow bites.
“How did you- become Spider-Man?” I asked softly, covering my mouth.
“A really special spider bit me.” He explained it to me like a child, and I stared blankly at him.
“Oh-” I blinked at him. So he didn't choose to be Spider-Man? Although I suppose most superheroes don’t decide to be superheroes.
“Does that surprise you?”
“A little.” I nodded. I inhaled shakily and looked over his frame. “It’s courageous of you to risk your life for New York City daily.”
“I wish I had a choice, but if I did, I would still risk my life. Especially for you.” His voice became raspy, and it made me blink.
“It makes me nervous.” I blurted.
“I- why?” He stuttered.
I set my food down and took a careful step toward him.
“Because I’ve only known you as the intern that followed me around like a lost puppy, then the man that trembled every time I entered the room.”
He let out a hard, shaky breath.
“You’re the only thing that makes me weak.” He whispered. His eyes searched my face, then stopped when he seemed to find his answer.
“Are you sure like bug spray or something doesn't-”
“(Y/N).”
A chuckle rippled through me, and he quickly connected our bodies. My facial expression softened. His stomach pressed against mine, and he leaned over me. Our lips were a few inches apart, and I stared at his. My back was forced back into the counter, an unfamiliar ache rippled through my spine, and his long, slender fingers ghosted over my hips.
I tipped my face up to meet his gaze.
“Touch me,” I begged.
He leaned closer to my lips, his rasped whisper like a purr.
“Where?”
“Everywhere.” I gasped. Before I knew it, he had me by my hips, and his lips were pressed hard to mine. I whined into his mouth, and his hand went up to my ribcage. My head was buzzing as he towered over me, bending down so he could kiss me. He lapped at my lips with his tongue, and I groaned loudly in our kiss. He wedged his tongue into my mouth, and I tangled mine with his. A throaty moan slipped past his lips, and he gripped my sides even tighter than before.
It felt so obscene, although it wasn't at all. He picked me up easily and put me on my counter. Our height difference was now more comfortable. He never parted from my mouth; his breathing was ragged against it, and it made me dizzy. His hips parted my thighs wider as he pressed into me more. His hands dragged from around my waist to the tops of my thighs.
“How far are you willing to go tonight?” He whispered.
“Shut up,” I growled against his lips. My hands connected with his hard chest, and I started to shakily undo the buttons of his shirt from the bottom up. “I want you to be rough with me,” I mumbled against his lips.
He held up his hand in front of my mouth, exposing the skin between his thumb and his pointer finger.
“Bite.” He instructed calmly. I looked at him, puzzled.
“Really?”
“Y/N. If you want me to be rough, do what I say.” His throat worked. I hesitantly opened my mouth, and he put the little bit of stretched skin to my lips. I bit down carefully until his other hand snapped up and made me bite down, closing my jaw forcefully.
“There’s my good girl.” He whispered, thumbing over my cheek with his free hand. My whole body thrummed.
“Now be quiet.” He leaned into me, his lips next to my ear. His hand dropped down from my jaw and went easily up my skirt. My body went rigid, sucking in a breath and he swore into my ear.
“Fuck. You’re okay, relax.” He nuzzled my neck with his nose. He wasn’t saying “Fuck.” because I wasn’t listening, I think it was more in the you’re turning me on sort of way. I relaxed and let him trace his hand up my thighs more. He pushed into me more, spreading my legs with his free hand. The bottom of my dress rolled up my thighs more.
“Can I?” He asked raspily, watching me intently. I nodded eagerly. His finger brushed against the front of my soaked underwear, and I whined.
“Shhh-“ He shushed into my ear. I only wanted to get louder. He made me shake.
His hand was wrapped almost over the lower part of my face, sort of like a mask.
“God, you are so wet.” He huffed. He delicately toyed with my underwear, letting it slip inside of me and out again as he pulled it taught.
“Fuck.” I grumbled against his hand.
He pulled up my panties, making me inhale sharply.
“Hey- shush. What did I say? I’m going to need you to be quiet, or else you’ll be punished.” He licked a line up my neck, and I trembled. I nodded to him.
“Good.”
With that, he tugged my underwear to the side and plunged his fingers into me easily. Then he stayed still. I groaned loudly over his hand, and he squeezed my cheeks softly. I bit him harder. He kissed my forehead.
“There’s my good girl. What, what do you want?” He pulled his hand from my mouth down to my neck instead.
“Move- please,” I said shakily.
He started to pound into me with his fingers, little quips spilled out from my throat, and he quietened me by kissing me. His hand never slowed. The one over my throat tightened, and he breathed heavily into my mouth.
“Yeah?” He held my gaze. I practically melted, my head tipped backward, and gently bumped the cabinet behind me.
“Yes!” I whined.
He couldn’t help but bite back his smile, fingering me sloppily. At least it sounded sloppy.
“Oh my god, listen to you, my pretty girl.” He praised me easily, as if it were natural for him to do so.
“I’m going to pick you up again, okay?” His lips dragged up against the base of my throat, and I moaned in reply. He pulled his fingers out of me before he picked me up easily. I wrapped my arms around him, and he rubbed my back while he took us to my bedroom.
I pressed little kisses to his temple, and he smiled at me. He was still holding me, his hand finding the zipper at the top of my back and unzipping it as he cradled me to him.
“Let me see you.” His voice didn’t have his normal nerdiness to it that I usually heard at work. Something replaced it—a warm, thick, husky tone. He stood me up, and I let my dress slip off my body easily. I could have sworn I heard his breath hitch in his throat. His eyes grazed over my body like I was wearing a lavish set of underwear. But I wasn’t at all.
His hands found my waist, and he bent in to kiss me gently.
“I want you to know —” I said between kisses. He parted from my lips to look down at me. “That I have always liked you, before I mean, even at the office. Not because you’re Spider-Man.”
A chuckle rumbled through him, and he looked down at me with adoration.
“You know, I can tell because of this weird thing I have. Because I’m Spider-Man, I can sense every little change in you. It’s easier to see around coworkers as well, which ones like me and which ones don’t.” He stroked a strand of hair out of my face. “You, however, get this little funny feeling. Right here.” He placed his hand sort of where my ovaries are. His thumb and his pointer finger extended to hit both spots at once.
“I’ve always known.” He whispered. I looked at him, almost mortified. My cheeks heated, and he bent down to kiss them. While I was distracted, sucking a spot to his neck he pushed his front to mine. His hand slipped back into my underwear easily, rubbing small circles to my clit almost painfully slow.
“I’ve ruined that pretty pair of underwear, and I’m sorry.” He whispered into my ear.
“Forget it.” I panted, closing my eyes.
Before I could say anything else, he pushed me back to the edge of my bed and took off my panties in one motion. They bunched at my ankles, and he pulled them off over my heels choppily. He placed one of my heels onto the edge of my bed, dipping his head between my thighs and holding my ankle still.
He lapped slowly over my heat. My hips bucked instinctively and he started to lap over my clit. Small circles with his tongue made me moan. I picked my head up and watched him begin to unclip the buckle at the top of my heel before it clattered to the floor. My leg curled up almost fully behind his head, and he lapped at me harder. I tipped my head back and moaned, my back arching as he unclipped my other heel easily. When it hit the floor, his face was still buried in me. He snaked his tongue inside of me. Was it supposed to feel this good? It never felt this good.
He grabbed my thighs and pulled me right to the edge of the bed. My legs had nowhere to go except for around his back, over his shoulders. He hummed happily into my core, making my body shake.
“Fuck!” I roared. His thumb went up to rub slowly at my swollen clit and I moaned desperately. Something dangerous stirred in my belly.
“Come.” He rasped against my heat. He only retracted his tongue for a second before it filled me again.
I sputtered out a broken cry, and he kept eating me out as my orgasm washed over me. My legs locked behind his head. His free hand snaked up over my breast to rest right in front of my mouth. The little bit of skin between his pointer finger and his thumb was exposed to me. I knew what to do. I bit down hard on his hand, and he hummed happily in reply into my heat. He was mimicking each moan he pulled out of me.
Once I could think and breathe normally again, he finally uncovered my mouth.
“Do you want more?” He pulled back from me slowly, and I just looked at him for a moment while I tried to find my voice.
“Yes.” I breathed out. He stood up and grabbed my hand, pulling me to my feet.
“On your knees, please.”
I was shaky and hesitant at first, but I complied. He motioned down to his belt.
“Go ahead.”
I smiled up at him, and he thumbed over my cheek. He couldn’t help but I reached up and undid his belt, unzipping his jeans and tugging them down to his ankles. He looked big. Huge even. My throat worked, and he seemed almost impatient with me.
I wet my dry lips before I pulled down his boxers. His length sprang out, and before I could hesitate or react, he had his hand in the back of my hair.
“Suck.” He said dryly. He
impatient.
My throat worked and I put his cock into my mouth, sucking on as much of him as I could. His head tipped back, and I sighed around him at the sight. Heat pooled between my legs and I moaned around his thick cock. I took in more of him, and I didn’t think he expected that.
He gasped, audibly gasped as I went to the base of his throat.
“Oh- good girl!” He roared. He gently started to fuck my mouth and I let him until he couldn’t stand it anymore. He pulled off of me with a pop. Bending down, he unclasped my bra and helped me stand again.
“I need to be buried in you.”
“I need you buried in me,” I replied easily. He flipped me around, pushing me onto the bed, and he mounted behind me.
He pushed into my slick, and a cry got caught in my throat. His hand wrapped around my face, cupping it over my mouth.
He started to pound into me. Relentlessly. My knees went weak, and he followed me down lower as my arms trembled.
“I see you take that little pill at lunch every day- right?” He huffed in between thrusts. I nodded eagerly.
“Fuck- you’re such a good girl.” His control was slipping, and I could tell because he whined as I pushed back into him, matching his thrusts.
“Right there- (Y/N).” He whispered my name like a prayer. Three of his fingers went into my mouth and I tasted myself, sucking hard.
“Come with me.” He begged. “Now.” He gasped.
He didn’t last long this time. I screamed out as he came into me, his fingers dropping from my lips. I followed right after. I shook underneath him, and he pressed into me as I collapsed onto the bed.
“Oh- my sweet girl. Are you okay?” He asked quietly, and I nodded.
“More than okay.” I chuckled as he wrapped his arms tightly around me.
Summary: After many months of wondering what sex with Spiderman feels like, you finally get to experience it.
Note: Peter Parker x female reader
All characters in this story are 18+
Enjoy :)
Read part two, here.
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Working as an assistant for the Avengers came with some pretty good benefits.
The pay was great, you even got your own room at the Avenger’s Tower. The only thing was that you ran errands for the infamous Tony Stark. The man was insane, but you still got to hang out with the world-famous Avengers.
Although you knew some of the Avengers, Tony wouldn’t let you mingle with all of them. Especially, the masked ones. The ones with their hidden identities.
Spiderman had always fascinated you.
The way how he was effortlessly swinging across the city of New York, using his strong and durable webs to get him to his destination or to fight crime, really turned you on.
I wonder what those webs can do…
His suit also showed his alluring muscles. The way how his biceps poked out his suit… fuck… staring at the masked hero made your panties stick to your pussy.
“So… who is this Spiderman? Is he cute?” You asked Natasha while you two ate lunch together.
“He’s alright. Young.” She spoke.
“Young… like 22? 24?”
“Early twenties.” She replied.
“Oh… what’s his name?” You asked, prying to see if Natasha would reveal anything about your current crush.
She glared at you, giving you the side-eye before she dived back into her salad.
“Oh, come on… what about his zodiac sign?” You asked again.
“Y/N- you know I can’t say anything about him. If Stark wanted you to meet him, you would already.”
“But Nat! He’s- he’s just so hot!”
“Who’s hot?” Someone asked.
You turned around to see Peter, the intern.
“Mind your business, Parker.” You snarked before you took a bite out of your sandwich.
“What? I can’t know what you two are talking about? It’s my lunch break too.” He spoke, grabbing a seat across from you.
“Y/N here is talking about her newest crush, Spiderman…” Nat spoke, a slight smirk on her face.
“Spiderman? What about him?” Peter questioned.
“Nothing.” You blurted.
“Don’t act like you weren’t just gawking over him!” Nat teased.
“Natasha!” You yelled, not wanting Peter to know about your crush since he did work with Spiderman as well.
“You like Spiderman? Since when?” Peter asked, now highly interested in this conversation.
“Since he saved my life? I told you two about what happened like a year ago…” you spoke softly, remembering the traumatizing moment.
You were held at gunpoint, a masked vigilante about to pull the trigger if you didn’t hand him your purse.
You threw it on the ground, crying, begging him not to hurt you.
You were young, you still had your life to live. Flashes of your family and friends filled your eyes.
Was this the day I die?
Suddenly, a man dressed in red and blue attire swings in front of you, pushing the criminal onto the concrete.
You gasp, backing away as this strange individual kicks away the gun in the thief’s hands, tying him up in what looks like webbing, and pinning him to the ground.
You stand in shock, tears stained on your face as you stare at the person who just saved your life.
They grab your purse, slowly walking towards you.
“Hey… it’s alright… your safe now. Here.” He hands you your purse, all your valuables still inside.
“T-thank you… thank you so much…”
“No problem. Are you alright? You look pale…” he spoke softly, his voice comforting you.
“I’m- I’m okay. I’ll be alright…”
“Okay… good. I’m gonna get his ass to jail, you stay safe alright?” He spoke, his hand on your upper arm, squeezing it slightly.
“Uh… yeah… I’m- what’s… what’s your name?” You asked, intrigued by who just saved you.
“Spiderman.”
Ever since that day, the name Spiderman has stuck to you.
You wondered who he was. You assumed he must be good-looking, his voice, the curves of his body making your assumption correct. And his kind heart. You knew he was a sweetheart. Someone who would die for a stranger at any time of day, no matter the circumstance.
You fell for him.
And you didn’t even know what he looked like.
Sometimes, his name would slip out while you touched yourself.
You just imagined his thick cock, fucking your brains out until you can’t walk anymore. Fucking you so hard that you lose vision in your right ear and hearing in your left eye.
That hard.
Even with such a kind heart, you knew he had a bit of cocky-ness to him.
You had seen him again. Working for the avengers got you more chances to get to know him, get to know the man behind the mask.
He was charming. Sweet. Caring.
Even though your interactions lasted not more than 5 minutes, he still somehow left a mark on you.
Oh, how you wished he fucked you in that tight suit of his.
So, now you were madly in love with who Spiderman was, and you needed to get to the bottom of it.
“I remember, yeah you um… you told me.” Peter spoke, playing with his food as he gazed at you.
“Yeah well… he’s cute. I like him. And I need to figure out who he is! The other day I spoke to him, and he was being so charming to me. Flirting with me! I just know he likes me or something! I dunno… it may be a long shot, but I just need to… I just need him inside me… I know… too much information, but I’m being honest here people.” You explained, not making eye contact with Peter.
Natasha let out a laugh, glancing at Peter's shocked face.
“I’m sorry! I’m just being honest!” You defended.
“You… you want… him inside- inside you?” Peter mumbled, now nervous.
“Yes. No questions asked. I’ll do anything for the man. If he wants me on my knees, he doesn’t need to ask twice.”
Peter started coughing, out of nowhere. His hand was on his chest as he tried to get his act together.
Natasha was now smiling and giggling like a manic.
What the hell is up with these two?
“Well… I’m telling you right now Y/N, I’m most definitely positive that Spiderman likes you back. At least a little.” Natasha spoke.
You gave her a little grin.
“Yeah… he likes you. I can… I can tell.” Peter spoke softly.
“Well, since we now know he likes me, I’m going to come up with a plan that ends up in Spiderman fucking me senseless.” You spoke, a devilish grin on your face as you thought about this filthy plan.
Little did you know, Peter was coming up with his dirty plan too.
-
Tony Stark was known for throwing huge, fabulous parties. Whether it was someone’s birthday or just a regular Thursday, he would plan extravaganzas in a heartbeat.
It was Saturday night.
You had the night off since you were attending this random party Stark was throwing at his penthouse above the tower.
You knew the avengers would be there.
Usually, Spiderman would barely show up, if anything he would stay for 15 minutes and then leave, but tonight, your gut was telling you that he was going to be there.
You put on your best dress, did your makeup for the first time in a while, fixed your hair, and put on your most uncomfortable but sexy high heels.
Spiderman would see what he was missing out on.
You walked out to the bar, nearly tripping as you stepped around party guests.
Fuck, should’ve never worn these damn heels.
“Hey Nat, lemme get a tequila shot please?” You asked Natasha who was playing Bartender tonight.
You never knew why she liked being behind the bar, but she seemed to enjoy mixing drinks and talking to random socialites.
“Yup- Woah… Y/N! Wow… I might just take you into my bedroom right now…” Natasha flirted, gazing at your outfit.
“Oh stop!” You giggled, liking her compliment.
“Who are you dressing up for?” She asked, pouring the liquor into the shot glass.
“You know who…”
She glanced at you, a smirk on her face as she handed you your drink.
“Let’s hope he shows up tonight, Y/N. You look too pretty for him not to see you. If he doesn’t show, I’ll be runner up.”
You laughed, playfully rolling your eyes.
“I’ll keep that in mind Romanoff…”
A couple of tequila shots later and you were stumbling around the penthouse, looking for a place to sit down.
“Damn, these fucking heels!” You complained as you walked outside, towards the balcony. Thankfully, nobody was outside, so you had the entire balcony to yourself.
You sat down on the bench they had, slowly bending over to take off your shoes. They had been killing you all night. Not only did your feet hurt, but your heart did too. Spiderman didn’t show up.
Heels tossed to the side as you leaned back on the bench, gazing at the magnificent skyline of Manhattan.
You closed your eyes, resting your inebriated body as you got comfortable, feeling the wind pass by your skin.
Suddenly, the wind stopped.
You opened your eyes, confused.
“What the-”
Your mouth was left wide open as you stared at the person standing in front of you.
Spiderman.
“Hey… what are you doing out here? You are missing the party.” He spoke, gazing down at you.
“I- I um… I’m tired. My heels- they- the heels are hurting my feet.” You stuttered.
Shit, maybe I need another drink, so I won’t be so fucking nervous around him.
He chuckled, moving, and sitting next to you on the bench.
“Why- why aren’t you at the party? This is an Avenger’s event. You’re an Avenger, right?” You spoke, admiring his arms.
Fuck, I want him to choke me.
“Had some things to take care of. But I’m here now, aren’t I?” He spoke, his head slightly tilting as he admired your outfit.
How your beautiful breasts spilled out that tight dress of yours.
“Dressed up for me?” He teased.
Your eyes widened.
“Uh… uh… I um… no… no. I didn’t. I dressed for the party!” You blurted.
Damn woman, you forgot how to speak?
“You dressed for the party?”
“I did.”
“Hm… that’s a shame… thought you got all sexy for me since you have a crush on me.” He chimed.
You swear your heart stopped.
“Word got around that you like me. Said you wanted me inside you. I don’t even have to ask if it’s true, because with the way your heart is fluttering and how your panties are about drenched right now… I can confirm you dressed up for me, and me only.”
Yup. My heart stopped.
“I- I um… who… oh gosh…” you mumbled, now terrified that Spiderman knows your secret.
“Got you all nervous now? You weren’t nervous when you said that you’d be on your knees for me in a heartbeat.” He teased, his fingers gliding across your thigh as he talked.
You gazed at him, wanting no more than for him to just fuck you.
“No more chit-chat, Spidy. Yes, I like you. Now, let’s get on to the part where you fuck me. Show me what those webs do.” You voiced, a new sense of confidence washing over you like a wave.
He smiled under his mask.
The next thing you knew, you were naked on your bed, pussy soaked as Spiderman himself stroked his thick cock as he admired your bare body. Precum leaking from the pink tip.
“Such a pretty pussy…” he soothed, using a thumb to rub circles around your clit.
Peter’s mouth watered at the sight of your slick folds.
So wet, just for me.
-
Spiderman was stubborn. He told you that he would only fuck you if he wore his suit. You desperately wanted to see his face, see who would be inside you, but he protested.
Regardless, you would still get dicked down by the person who made your breath hitch by just standing.
Thankfully, Peter recently installed new mechanics onto his suit that allowed him to remove the bottom half of his suit without taking the entire thing off. It came in handy when he needed to pee, or when he was about to fuck you senseless.
Plus, Peter being in his suit made him feel even more confident, his dominant side coming out in an instance.
-
You’ve never seen a cock that big. It was how you imagined it, thick, veiny, and hard.
“Fuck spidy… is it gonna fit?” You asked, concerned.
I know I said that I wanted him to split me open with his dick, but not literally!
He chuckled.
“I’ll make it fit.”
Suddenly, he impaled you. His thick cock filling you up. You gasped, holding onto your bed with much force. You’ve never been this full before, the feeling was overwhelming. All you could do was gasp for air.
“So tight…” he whispered to himself.
You opened your eyes watching as he thrust in and out of you, his huge hands on either side of your body, holding you tightly.
Oh, how I wished I could see his face. See how good my pussy fucked him.
Peter’s face was scrunched up, lines forming between his eyebrows, lips in a tight line. He was taking in how good you felt, how his tip grazed across your cervix with each pound he made into you.
You told him to fuck you, and that’s exactly what he was doing.
Your moans filled the room, profanities and incoherent sounds escaping your mouth as your body jerked harshly.
Peter watched as your breasts jumped up and down, moving to his rough movements with ease.
“Oh fuck! Spidy! Oh. My. GOSH!” Your screamed eyes rolled to the back of your head.
"If you keep making those sounds, I'm not going to be able to stop myself." Peter spoke, continuing his thrusts.
“Don’t stop! Oh gosh- don’t!”
His thrusts increased, finding a rhythm. The steady rocking of his hips, fingers gripping on your thighs, causing the tips of your fingers and toes to curl.
“Spiderman!” You cried out, tears beginning to fill your eyes.
Suddenly, he picked you up, holding you tightly as he moved you over to the wall, not even taking himself out of your pussy.
Pinning your back against the cold surface, he held you up as he continued his rough thrusts.
Peter was moaning, cursing, grunting, pulling, and tugging at your skin, fucking you with such force, he thought that he would break you.
“Talk like a slut, you’re gonna get fucked like one.” He groaned into your ear as his hand wrapped around your throat, choking you slightly.
At this point, you were now cock drunk. You couldn’t even correlate what the man was saying as his cock tore you up from the inside, out.
You could only focus on how fucking full you were. You could feel him in places you never knew existed. Tears fell on your face each time his cock grazed your cervix. Your makeup was now ruined. It felt so good, you didn’t want him to stop. You wouldn’t even be mad if he fucked you into a casket.
It sent Peter into a frenzy when he watched as your mascara ran down your face. You were a babbling and crying mess, and he couldn’t be prouder.
“You asked for this princess. Don’t go crying now.” He spoke, his thrusts beginning to get sloppy.
“So- so good! I’m- I’m- I’m gonna… fucking cum!” You cried, teeth chattering.
With a few more thrusts, you found it harder to breathe. Your entire body shaking, your fingers gripping onto Peter’s suit. You were about to burst.
“Cum princess. Cum all over me.” Peter groaned.
He didn’t need to speak twice.
Walls clenched around him as your head jerked back, harshly banging against the wall. You didn’t care, your jaw-dropping orgasm took the pain away in an instant. It felt even better than heaven, you swore you saw actual stars above you.
Peter watched carefully as he mentally recorded your orgasm. He watched as your jaw shook, how your legs wrapped around him tightly, and how you let out the loudest roars he’s ever heard.
He would save this moment for later.
He let you cum undone on his cock, making sure you finished before he pulled out letting you down gently on the floor.
“On your knees.” He demanded.
You swore you would get on your knees, no matter what.
Peter didn’t care that you couldn’t even think straight, he wanted you to live up to your words.
“Hurry up, I’m gonna cum.” He moaned, stroking his thick cock with his shaky fingers.
You got on your knees, body shaking with aftershocks of your orgasm.
You gazed up at him, soft whimpers leaving your mouth as you sniffled, your tears now staining your face.
“You look so pretty when you cum, you know that?” He praised.
You couldn’t even speak. You just looked up at him.
“Mm, fuck… I’m gonna cum! Shit- I’m gonna let out a load! Show me those pretty tits, princess.”
You grabbed your breasts, pushing them up for Peter to cum on.
“Shit!”
White strands of his warm cum came blasting like a cannon. He wasn’t kidding when he said he would let out a load. He painted your breasts, marking you as his territory.
His moans ran around the room, eyes rolling back as he continued to cum.
Shit, how much cum does this man have stored in there?
Finally, he finished.
Heavy breathing filled the room mixed with your soft whimpers, cum dripped off your hard nipples.
“Oh, princess, you couldn’t look more perfect… fuck…” Peter groaned, admiring how you looked like his complete mess.
“H-help me… up…” you spoke softly.
He helped you up, your legs about to buckle as he quickly moved you to your bed.
He grabbed some napkins that you had on your nightstand, and he gently cleaned up all his cum from your breasts, even the cum on your floor.
He threw away the drenched napkin, before making his way back to you. You were sitting on the edge of your bed, naked and in shock, basking in the aftereffects of what just happened.
“You alright?” He asked softly, his hand on your cheek.
“I- I don’t think I’ll be able to walk.” You replied.
He chuckled.
“Yeah… you should take a couple of sick days…”
A couple? More like an entire month.
“You know… you could make me feel better if you just showed me your pretty face?” You spoke softly, trying to convince him.
“…Maybe next time princess. It would ruin all the fun we just had.”
You glared at him, rolling your eyes.
“Say, would it make you feel better if we went for round two? I bet it can.” Peter spoke, with a grin.
love me again (funeral blues pt. 2) | tom holland’s peter parker x stark! reader (18+)
warnings: mentions of death, underage drinking/drug use, angst, harry osborn being an asshole, oral (f-receiving), handjobs, fingering, sex (piv), female orgasm, male orgasm, swearing
synopsis: Unable to come to terms with Peter’s rejection, you attend a party at Harry’s to take your mind off of things. Things only get worst...until they get better.
word count: 10.8k
note: this is a second part to this imagine! it makes sense to read this after reading the first part.
A/N: Apologies for the incredibly delayed update; life has inhibited me from writing as frequently as I wish I could. As for the important details of the imagine, I thought it would be fun to pair Gwen and MJ together, as it’s something I’ve never seen done before but seems fitting. Additionally, I have no face claims in mind for Gwen nor the other characters I made up, such as Grace and the other Midtown High girls. That being said: enjoy!
It’s been two weeks since your father’s funeral, and all you’ve done since the memorial is alternate between sleeping on your left and right sides, catch up on episodes of Criminal Minds, eat, and shower. To say that getting out of bed was a chore would be an understatement, and the lax attitude that your school had about your return wasn’t helping to pull you out of your funk. Then again, you suppose that your school was in no position to rush you back, seeing as to how your father had resurrected the missing half of the population. Plus, you’re sure that your dad’s generous donation a few years back that doubled the size of Midtown has something to do with their laissez-faire attitude.
It’s currently 9:30 am on a Saturday, and you’re not even sure why you’re up this early. This is undoubtedly the earliest you’ve risen from your slumber in weeks, and you can’t deny that it feels good to have somewhat of a regimented schedule. You’re even contemplating exiting your room to have breakfast with your stepmother and sister. Key word is almost. You try to push away the desire to emerge from solitary confinement, but it’s persistent. Something is encouraging you to escape from the limits of your room. So, a little less than an hour after waking, you find yourself downstairs, slumped over your kitchen island with a bowl of cereal in your hands.
Pepper screeches when she comes down the stairs and sees you sitting in the kitchen.
“Morning,” you mumble through a mouthful of cereal.
She screeches and jumps in place, her right palm flying to clutch her heart. “Jesus, Y/N—you scared me. I didn’t expect you to be up this early. Frankly, I didn’t expect you to come out of your room today at all.” The last part she mutters, but your acute sense of hearing allows you to take in her words.
You shrug in between, placing a mouthful of cereal into your mouth. “Couldn’t stay in there forever.”
She gives you a nod of affirmation, a sudden smile beginning to find its way to her face. She makes her way over to you, a freshly brewed cup of coffee in her possession. Coming to stand beside you, her hand gently finds its way into your hair and strokes it softly. From your peripheral, you catch the way her engagement ring sparkles in the light of the kitchen window. You suddenly feel sick.
“How’re you doing today?” She questions soothingly.
“I mean, I waited, like, fifteen minutes after waking up before I started crying, so progress, I guess?” You joke. Pepper frowns, continuing to card her fingers through your hair.
Your words trigger an instant change in her demeanor. She swallows thickly. “I just want you to be okay, Y/N.”
“I will be.” Your answer surprises you. You offer it without thinking about whether or not you actually mean it. You’re not really sure if you do.
She offers another sad smile. “I know, I know.” Her response brings about an awkward silence among you two.
You wait a few seconds before you stand up and decide to break the quietness. “Okay, I’m going to go back to my room.”
“No, no, please don’t leave,” she implores. You can see the sadness and loneliness in her eyes, which makes you swallow nervously. “This is the first time you’ve been out of your room fully in days. I don’t want the cycle to continue repeating itself. Why don’t you invite Gwen over?”
The Gwen in question was your best friend in the entire world, Gwen Stacy, and while you’d normally be inclined to spend any available time you had with her, the prospect of her inducing a trauma dumping session scared you. But Gwen kept you grounded and forced you to be pragmatic during the times when you wanted to be the most impulsive. She’d been there for you through breakups, traumatic missions, and death. And you’d been there for her through her similar calamities: shitty partners, overbearing parents, and identity crises. You knew that asking her to come over to spend the day with you would be enjoyable, but you just didn’t know if you were up to it yet.
You swirl the remnants of milk and tiny pieces of cereal around in your ceramic bowl, trying to decide whether or not you should oblige Pepper. She stares at you expectantly, hoping to coax a favorable answer out of you.
“Okay,” you ultimately surrender. “Fine.”
Pepper’s hand finds its way to the small of your back, and she beams at you. “It’s not for me, it’s for you. It’ll be good.”
So, you punch Gwen’s name into your smartphone and type out a message to her, practically begging her to come over. Instead of retreating to your room, you opt to spend time with Morgan for the first time in days. She’d forced you to watch Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug and Cat Noir with her, and while you’d initially been slightly agitated about it, you secretly enjoyed the show.
You toggle back and forth between paying attention to the TV and surfing through various applications on your phone. You await Gwen’s response in giddy anticipation, hoping she’s not too busy to spend time with you.
She replies about half an hour after you text her, and you can feel her excitement oozing through the phone. Her answer is a cheery one, typical of Gwen. You and she were opposites in that regard. Where she always took to finding the positives in every situation, you were a glass-half-empty kind of girl. You had gotten a little better at shaking that pessimism, but that change had occurred when things were different. The person you were now—the things you’d experienced recently—made you think it would be impossible to ever be the kind of happy Gwen was. You’d always envied her for that quality. Now more than ever.
When Gwen arrives at your house, it’s almost noon. You hadn’t moved from your place on the living room couch, and while Pepper would’ve normally scolded you for being dormant in one spot for so long, you could tell how glad she was to see you out of your room.
“Be right back, Morgana,” you ruffle your sister’s hair, then pull off the blankets you’d placed on your body.
Without a glance backward at you, she gives you a thumbs up. You walk over to the front door, open it, and come face to face with your best friend.
“Hey, girlie,” she offers you a sympathetic smile. You want to roll your eyes because how could your best friend be staring at you with as much pity as everyone else? “How are you?” She pulls you in for a hug, and you inhale the calming scent of her jasmine perfume and relax. Gwen is a perpetual presence of calm in your life, and when you give yourself a second to breathe, you observe how your heart rate slows down at the sight of her. You remind yourself that she cares about you, just as everyone who has been doting on you does.
“I’m okay,” you answer honestly, stepping aside to usher her inside your home. “I’ve been worse. I’ve been better.”
She nods understandingly, stepping inside the foyer of your home. “I get it.”
“I’m glad you’re here, though,” you admit. “I missed you a lot.”
“I missed you too,” she agrees. “You look good, Y/N/N.”
“I’m hanging in there,” you let out a shaky sigh. “Doing the best I can.”
“I’m glad you texted me,” Gwen links her arm with yours, leading you to your original spot on the couch. “If you had waited any longer, I would’ve come over uninvited.”
Morgan quickly pulls her attention away from the television screen, and her eyes light up at the sight of your best friend. “Gwen!” She squeals, finding her way into Gwen’s arms. Despite only meeting the blonde a few weeks ago, she’d automatically gravitated towards her. You couldn’t be surprised, though, as Gwen was indeed a real-life princess.
She kisses your sister on her forehead. “Hey, Morgan, how are you, babe?”
“Good, because Y/N is spending time with me for once,” she replies absentmindedly, attention turned back to the television.
You let out a sigh. You usually would’ve snapped at Morgan for such an inflammatory response, but you know that what she’s saying is true. You realize that you hadn’t been there for the first five years of her life, which was entirely out of your hands. But now that you had the opportunity to connect with your little sister, the grief you felt completely inhibited you from doing so. You had to give yourself some credit for getting out of bed today, though.
“I’ll be better, Morgan, I will,” you promise. “I’m sorry.” You mumble the last part, feeling the tears start to sting your eyes.
Gwen instantly notices your change in demeanor and opts to change the subject. “So, Morgan, what are we watching?”
Your sister launches into a rant about her show of choice, but you tune her out, your mind automatically wandering to the person it always wanders to: your father. The aching pain in your chest for your father had managed to subside over the last few days, but unfortunately, it had been replaced with an ache for someone else: Peter. On the day of the funeral, you’d spent the subsequent hours after your incident with said teen superhero crying into Gwen’s arms on your bathroom floor. By the time Pepper had found you, almost everyone had already left your home. She’d observed your mascara-stained cheeks and red eyes and chalked it up to your mourning. In a way, she was right, but not about the person you were grieving. You weren’t sure how you’d even explain the whole Peter situation to her. You hoped it would resolve itself before you had to.
A few hours more of monotonous cartoon watching passed until Pepper relieved you, making up an excuse about you and Gwen having homework to do. The reality was that you hadn’t touched your homework in weeks. At this point, you barely cared if your status as valedictorian held up. You’d find it in you to worry about it at some other time.
When you and Gwen are finally alone in your bedroom, you collapse on your bed, and she takes a seat on the spinning chair at your desk. You turn on some Taylor Swift music as background noise while you and Gwen spend most of your time scrolling through your phone.
“I completely forgot that Harry was throwing a party tonight,” Gwen states after some time has gone by, typing something into her phone.
At the mention of a party, you prop yourself up in your bed. You may have been fighting a seemingly incurable case of insomnia, but it wasn’t strong enough for you to miss a social gathering. You were indeed your father’s daughter in that sense. “Party?”
“Shit, I totally should’ve mentioned something to you, but Harry told me that he already texted you,” she apologizes. “I didn’t think you’d be up to it. I’ll just hang around with you and tell him we’ll see him soon.”
You think back and try to remember receiving a text about a party from your aforementioned friend. Your memory settles on a message that you’d received a few days ago and absentmindedly replied to with a “thanks.” Frankly, it took a lot for you to respond to Gwen's messages, let alone anyone else.
“Fuck it, let’s go,” you proposition your best friend. “It’ll be fun. I need to get out of the house anyway.”
Your best friend regards you cautiously, examining your appearance. “You sure? Even Harry didn’t think you’d want to go. He texted me, like, so many times asking if I thought you were going to make it. I swear to God he even offered to reschedule it so that you could come. I bet he’s going to die if you do.”
Your stomach drops at Gwen’s implication. There was only one boy’s opinion that you cared about, and he didn’t even want to give you the time of day anymore. Frankly, you were unsure if he’d ever give it to you again.
“Yeah, I want to. I’ve been cooped up in this house for too damn long. Besides, I think this might be the only time that Pepper willingly and eagerly lets me go to a party,” you hum.
Gwen lets out an overjoyed shriek, and you wince. And while you’re more than eager for a change of scenery to clear your head, a larger portion of you hopes that a certain someone would swallow his pride and push away his contempt for you and Harry and possibly make a guest appearance at Harry’s party. You wish more than anything.
_____
It had taken practically three hours of preparation—mental and physical—until you left your house.
You let Gwen borrow a cute pale green mini dress purchased from a Marc Jacobs pop-up shop before the Blip. It brought out her eyes and accentuated her long legs. You knew her parents would’ve had a heart attack if they saw her dressed the way she was, complete with bright red lipstick and intricately drawn-on eyeliner.
You opt for a dress of the same style—a baby pink Chanel one that barely reached the tops of your thighs. You had a vague (salient) memory of Peter complimenting you in that dress some time ago, but you convinced yourself that that was not at all the reason why you’d chosen it for the party. Besides, you weren’t even sure if he was going. He wasn’t a partier and there was the very obvious issue of it being at the house of his mortal enemy, but you still had some hope!
Pepper had generously driven you to the party, a ride mainly consisting of her and Gwen chatting about arbitrary things. You tuned everything out, too busy searching for every strategy in your arsenal to assuage your budding anxiety.
When your stepmother finally pulls up in front of Harry’s apartment complex, you let out an audibly nervous sigh. Gwen swivels in her seat to examine you, then pulls your hand into hers.
“You’re okay,” she squeezes your hand. “This is supposed to be fun, yeah?”
“Yeah,” you affirm with a tiny nod. “Yeah, you’re right.”
She nudges you towards the car door. “Come on, let’s go inside.”
“Make smart decisions!” Pepper calls after you as you exit. You roll your eyes at her statement and keep your hand intertwined with Gwen’s as she leads you towards the apartment complex’s main entrance.
The elevator ride upstairs to Harry’s penthouse apartment is quiet. You could cut the tension with a knife. Gwen, ever the peacekeeper, does her best to mitigate it.
“This is the quietest I’ve ever seen you,” she jokes. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I miss the rowdy Y/N.”
You gnaw at your thumbnail. “I’m nervous, so nervous. I’m not even sure for what if I’m being completely honest.”
“If he’s here, you take it one step at a time. I guarantee you he’s not going to ignore you completely; he has a heart,” Gwen answers. She’d done a pretty good job not bringing up Peter thus far, but she knew you well enough to understand that most of your nerves were a result of wondering whether or not he would be making an appearance tonight.
You continue to chew on the tip of your thumb. “Mhmm.”
With a ding, the elevator stops directly inside the Osborn’s apartment. The party is clearly in full swing, with guests in every possible crevice. You let your eyes wander to Betty and Ned, who are chatting amiably. You nudge Gwen, and she gives you a smirk, her reaction a tacit affirmation of what’s budding between said duo. You take in a few other familiar faces but no one of genuine interest.
Stepping out into the foyer, you link arms with Gwen as you familiarize yourself with your environment. It’d been over five years since you’d been at Harry’s, and while you remember some things, the lack of time you had spent at his house before the Blip meant that you didn’t exactly know where you were going.
The space was beautiful, though, decorated with expensive furniture and rare paintings and equipped with enough rooms for at least two families to reside. It reminded you a lot of your apartment, and now, you and Harry had another thing in common: no father around to make the home feel a little less large. Harry’s situation was much different than yours as his father chose to be absent, and yours had, well, died, but it was something that you figured he could empathize with you on in some capacity.
Walking through the halls of the penthouse and settling in the kitchen, you let your eyes rest on a picture hanging from the wall of Harry in his Midtown High lacrosse uniform, the smile he wears so cocky and confident that it’s almost blinding. Ever the New York socialite. It makes you giggle.
“Wonder where Harry is,” you ponder.
When you receive no response from Gwen, you glance over at her. “God, I didn't think MJ would be here.” You follow Gwen’s eyes to where MJ sits on a stool at the kitchen island, head resting on her palm as she scrolls through her phone. The blonde gapes at her crush, and you giggle at her frazzled reaction. It gives you some comfort to see that you aren’t the only one nervous to see someone you have feelings for. Yeah, you want what’s happening between you and Peter to work out, but Gwen deserves happiness more than anyone. She’d been subject to some shitty romantic partners, but MJ had the capacity to change Gwen’s perception of love. She had already started doing that.
“Go talk to her, loser,” you hip-butt her.
Gwen’s emerald eyes light up at your encouragement. “You sure? I don’t want to leave you alone.”
“I’ll be totally fine,” you assure her. That’s maybe 50% true, but you don’t want to give Gwen any more reasons to worry about you. Plus, you’re not a child and don’t need a babysitter. Most of the time.
“Okay, okay, I’ll see you later,” she squeezes your shoulder. “Keep me updated, Y/N, please.”
You give her a nod, your lips turning up into a smile. “Make smart decisions.”
Gwen giggles at how you mock your stepmom, then skips toward MJ, her curled blonde hair bouncing with each step she takes.
Distracted by your friend and her crush, you miss entirely the person approaching you from behind.
“Holy shit, you’re here,” a familiar male voice observes. “I didn’t think—oh my God, this is like the best surprise ever.” Your question about where the party's host was had finally been answered.
You whip around to face Harry, and you grin at him, as he pulls you into his arms. “Shit, Harry, didn’t think I’d get this reaction from you. Am I that important?”
“I’m so excited to see you,” he acknowledges. “And yeah, you’re pretty much the life of the party. You know that. Come with me.” And with that, he’s pulling you by your arm into another part of the house. You end up in the living room, where there are even more people than there were scattered throughout the house.
“Thank you for that compliment. I know the party was incredibly dull without me, but now I’m here, and you can officially start to enjoy yourself,” you tease. Harry rolls his eyes playfully and continues leading you on your original path.
You set eyes on more familiar faces. Some people from your classes that you’ve interacted with a few times here and there. Others are strangers, while some others look vaguely familiar.
“Everyone, look who decided to make an appearance!” Harry bellows, grabbing your hand and lifting it above your head to draw attention to you. People’s conversations halt as they stop to listen to Harry. “The one, the only, Y/N Stark!”
The room is silent for a good few seconds, people staring you up and down and whispering to their friends as the realization of who you are—or rather who your father is—sets in.
A few more seconds go by until you decide to break the awkward silence. “Well, what are you all staring at me for?” You laugh awkwardly. “Isn’t this supposed to be a party?!”
That’s all it takes for the crowd of moronic teenagers to erupt into raucous screams.
“You were right,” Harry calls to you. “You really are the life of the party.” You laugh awkwardly. Maybe this party wasn’t such a great idea after all?
_____
You end up having more drinks than you probably should have. When your head starts to pound, and the ceiling spins above you, you decide it’s time to slow down. You were pretty sure Harry was crossfaded, as he was much more talkative (and flirty) than usual—telltale signs that he wasn’t sober. You knew his vices of choice were weed and sometimes—only sometimes— coke, but he had sworn that he had kicked that habit. You weren’t sure what he was on tonight, but you were positive it was a combination of at least two substances.
So after stumbling with him back into the living room, tripping over your platform Versace heels a few times, and almost knocking over a few vases, you finally come to sit on a vacant couch.
“So, how’d you get your dad to agree to this?” You gesture around the room.
“Told him I was only having a few people over. He won’t know the difference, and either way, he’s halfway around the world,” he answers. “Plus, it’s not like he gives a shit about me anyway.”
“At least your dad’s alive,” you sigh (somewhat dramatically, you might add), and collapse on the couch behind you, your dress riding up slightly in the process. You observe how Harry’s eyes flicker over towards the tops of your newly exposed thighs, and while the attention would normally make you giddy, you feel the compulsion to pull the skirt of your dress further down your thighs.
Harry clears his throat awkwardly, but you watch as he examines you out of his peripheral vision.
“You, um, you look really nice tonight, Y/N. Like really, really, fucking pretty,” he blurts out.
“You already told me that, like, one hundred times, silly,” you giggle.
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he answers awkwardly. “Just thought I’d tell you again.”
An uncomfortable silence settles between you for a few moments after the barraging of compliments that Harry paid you.
“Hey, I’m going to go to the bathroom,” you finally speak up, standing up abruptly and smoothing your skirt off.
Harry’s quick to respond, standing up at almost the same time as you do. “Yeah, yeah, of course. You good?”
You force yourself to smile. “Mhmm. I’ll be back in a jiff.” You watch how Harry regards you strangely at your awkward choice of phrasing, and you cringe as you turn away from him.
You stagger towards the bathroom, and when you arrive at the one closest to the kitchen, it’s packed, even considering how large it is— filled to the brim with girls doing various things like applying makeup, or smoking, or snorting illegal substances off the marble countertop. You’d pushed past two girls making out, hands groping each other wildly, not a care in the world for the fact the others were in the bathroom, too.
Not in the mood to be overwhelmed by a gaggle of girls, you exit the room as quickly as possible and go to find another vacant bathroom. In your slightly drunken stupor, it feels like it takes forever to walk down the halls of the penthouse, and you brace yourself on the wall with the palms of your hands.
Trailing down a long hallway that’s completely uninhabited, your hand closes around every door knob you come in contact with, but each time you open a door, you fail to find a bathroom. Pouting frustratedly, you decide that if the next door you open doesn’t lead to a bathroom, you’ll give up on the whole thing and return to Harry. Plus, it wasn’t like you actually needed to use the bathroom; you just needed a breather.
Setting your sights upon one last room, you absentmindedly tug the door open. Your mouth instantly falls open as soon as you do this.
The good news about the current sight before you was that you had in fact found a bathroom. The bad news was that you had stumbled upon two people in quite a compromising situation, one of whom was the person you’d been looking for the entire night. You never would’ve imagined walking in on with a girl’s legs wrapped around his waist as he kissed her fervently. They were practically dry-humping each other, and you were even sober enough to hear the tiny whimpers that she emitted.
It takes you a few seconds to process the scene that unfolds before you, and when it all finally resonates with you, you let your mouth fall open in shock. “What the fuck?”
Peter pulls away from his partner, who you finally recognize as a girl you had APUSH with during your sophomore year. You think her name is Kelly? Maybe Karen? Maybe Kristen? Even without the disdain that you currently held for her, you could objectively say that she was a bitch.
Peter’s eyes are the size of saucers, and a deep crimson blush paints his cheeks. “Y/N.”
“I can’t believe you,” you seethe. “You were rejecting me less than two weeks ago and now you’re hooking up with her.”
“I have a name,” Kendra? Kirsten? Chrysanthemum? snaps back at you, then turns to Peter, a perplexed look on her face. “She tried to get with you two weeks ago?”
“‘I have a name,’” you mock. “And he tried to get with me first. Can we talk about this outside? I don’t really want her knowing our business.”
Peter obliges you, and you make your way into the hallway together.
“I don’t really know what to say to you, Y/N,” Peter answers sheepishly.
Crossing your arms over one another you scoff. “You’ve said and done enough.”
“Y/N,” he sighs, then pauses abruptly, running an awkward hand through his hair. “After everything that happened at your dad’s funeral, I felt so shitty, we should’ve talked about us at another time. It was wrong of me to treat you that way.”
You instantly perk up at his apology, uncrossing your arms. “So what are you saying?” A large part of you is optimistic that Peter wants to try to work things out with you, but judging by his tone and disposition, you know your hopes are futile.
“I still don’t think it would be a good idea for us to be together,” he replies. “Things aren’t great right now for either of us.”
“But it’s okay for you to move on? If I would’ve walked in, like, five minutes later, you probably would’ve been fingering her,” you snap crudely.
“Who am I to tell you what to do with your life? Who are you to tell me what to do with mine? You should be able to be with whoever you want,” he replies back in the same tone.
A wicked smirk settles on your face as you analyze his words. “Oh yeah? Anyone? Well, then I guess I’ll see what Mr. Obsorn’s up to at this very moment.”
He gapes at you. “You’re being cruel.”
You pout tantalizingly. “You used to like it when I was mean to you. Now you don’t like it anymore? Strange.”
Peter’s already dark brown eyes flame so deeply that they almost turn black. “Fuck you.”
Already having turned on your heel to return back down the hallway, you let out a coquettish giggle. “Yeah, yeah, you already had your chance!”
You wait until you’re finally out of Peter’s line of vision to let the tears fall.
_____
It hadn’t taken much to convince Harry that you wanted to find yourself in some place more private. After your debacle with Peter you’d sauntered over to where he was, still situated patiently on the couch that you had both been occupying. It had only taken a few swishes of your hips, some hair tousling, and a kiss on Harry’s cheek before he had led you to his room.
You hadn’t been in his room since before the Blip when you’d been forced to work on a lab report together for AP Chemistry. Your purpose for being in his room now was clearly very different.
Within a few minutes of being alone, he’d pinned you against his bedroom door and placed his lips on yours. His hands had traveled straight to your waist, and before you knew it they were traveling even further down until they rested on your ass. The whole interaction was as lackluster as it had been the only other time you’d tried it with Harry, but you didn’t have the capacity to think straight.
He’d led you to his bed to make you more comfortable, taking note of your reaction every few seconds. You did your best to focus on the scent of his expensive cologne or how soft his hair felt as you tangled your fingers in it, or how comfortable his duvet felt underneath you, but none of this did anything to quell your nerves or, quite frankly, arouse you.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers gently into your ear, moving some loose strands of hair away from your eyes. “I’ve been thinking about doing this with you again forever.”
You cringe at his admission, but once again, do your very best to suppress the apprehension that you feel. This is obviously a terrible idea, born from impulsivity, alcohol, and anger, but you can’t will yourself to stop.
You try to relax as his lips trail down from your ear to your jaw and finally to your neck, sucking tiny patterns into your skin, while his hands trail slowly underneath your dress and up your thighs. His hands are soft on your skin, but his movements are abrupt. Instead of savoring the experience, it seems as though he can’t wait to get it over with. To get you out of your clothes so that something favorable can happen.
But all you can think about is Peter. How Peter would hold you so much more tenderly, how he would paint your neck red with his kisses, and how instinctually you’d part your legs for him so he could touch you where you needed him most. How he’d trail his hands over your ribs, kiss down your stomach, and use his tongue to make you cry out his name. And it’s at that moment when you decide that you can’t do this anymore. You can no longer make stupid, capricious decisions. You can’t be with Harry in any way that’s not platonic. But most of all, you can’t be without Peter.
Mustering up the courage, you finally pull away from Harry’s kiss. “Harry, I can’t do this.” You grab his hand soothingly, hoping that this will mitigate some of the imminent hurt he’ll feel.
He regards you with concern. “What’s wrong? Did I do something?”
“No, no, it’s not you, it’s me,” you squeeze his hand. Cliche much? “I just feel like maybe, this is not the right time to do this. We both were drinking and that makes things so much more confusing. And, like, maybe we’re rushing into this?”
You’re not prepared for the way that Harry’s expression instantly morphs from one of confusion into one of anger. “I’m confused—what are you saying? Y/N, I’ve waited for you for twelve fucking years.”
“Harry,” you caution, finally sliding out from under his grasp. You cross your legs over one another and prop yourself up a few inches away from where he sits. “I don’t understand why you’re getting so mad about this.” You knew it was better to play stupid than to try to console him and tell him that you knew full well why he was feeling what he was. It was obvious that you had led him on and clear that you’d been doing so for years. But couldn’t he at least cut you some slack, especially during this difficult time?
“I’m mad, Y/N because I’ve spent so much of my goddamn time trying to get you to like me, trying to make you realize that I’m head over fucking heels for you,” he snaps. “I don’t know how much clearer I could’ve been. Calling you every damn day to check up on you, buying you sympathy gifts, spending this entire night with you when I could’ve actually been hanging out with other people.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” you hold up your hand to signal to him to pause his rambling. “You’re telling me that you did all of that, so what—so I’d suck your dick? So I’d let you go down on me? Do you realize how that sounds, Harry.”
“Stop playing dumb. You’ve known all along how I feel about you. How badly I want you,” Harry laughs bitterly. “And you completely strung me along. The flirting wasn’t fucking one-sided, Y/N.”
“I wasn’t entirely sure,” you mutter, looking down at your lap in embarrassment. “And I was just being nice.” Even you realize how much of a lie that is.
“‘You weren’t entirely sure,’ oh please, look me in the eye and tell me that. Look me in the eye and say that to me with a straight face, Y/N,” he dismisses you.
Your lip quivers, and you let out a shaky breath. “Stop it, Harry.”
“Oh, you’re about to cry, Y/N?” He taunts. “I should be the one fucking crying. You’re pathetic.”
You quickly wipe at the tears forming in your eyes. “Harry—Harry, you’re being mean.” You were pretty sure Peter had just told you the same thing a few minutes ago, but that wasn’t important right now.
“And you’re a bitch,” he states tersely. “You need to leave.”
“Harry,” you plead, placing a hand on his shoulder. He shrugs it off abruptly, and your hand falls back into your lap. You can barely see through the sea of tears flowing from your eyes. “Don’t be like this.”
“Get out,” he spits.
You climb off of his bed as quickly as your legs will carry you, doing your best to remain calm. “Fuck you,” you choke out. “Every time you think about why we stopped being friends—every time someone asks you what happened between us—every time you miss me—I want you to remember this moment. I want you to remember that you treated me like garbage because I wouldn’t let you fuck me.”
Harry remains silent, facing away from you and offering you no reaction. Just as your hand is on the doorknob to leave, Harry calls out your name to stop you.
“Oh and, Y/N,” he begins. You stop where you stand but don’t offer him the courtesy of turning around to meet his gaze. Just by the tone of his voice, you knew that he wasn’t going to say something pleasant. “I know all about you and Parker.”
You’re not even sure that you’re breathing at that point.
“I bet your father’s rolling in his grave right now,” he lets out a sarcastic chuckle. “I mean, Jesus, what kind of whore hooks up with someone at her dad’s funeral?”
“Go to hell,” you snap back, grabbing the handle to his bedroom door and slamming it shut.
“Maybe I’ll see you there!” Harry calls back.
It hits you at that instant that Harry is the second boy to reject you in about two weeks. It seems that regardless of how much you beg or how much you solicit yourself, you can never seem to attain the attention and affection of anyone fully.
It stings that you’d expected Harry to never be like the other boys that you and your friends complained about. He’d always been so respectful, so caring, so patient. Now, he was treating you like a stranger, as though you’d done the most egregious thing known to mankind. If this was the way that Harry truly was behind closed doors, then frankly, you wanted nothing to do with him.
_____
After your blowout with Harry, you’d gone searching for Gwen all around the apartment, and with a misplaced phone, you couldn’t contact her to find out where she’d gone. When you finally found your phone, you saw that she had texted multiple times looking for you. The last text she’d sent you had informed you that she was leaving with MJ but that she’d looked all over for you.
So, you grabbed your belongings and exited the apartment as quickly as possible. You hadn't exactly planned out what you’d do after leaving though…
You spent a good half hour wandering around the streets of the Upper East Side aimlessly, letting yourself sob uncontrollably into your tweed Gucci jacket. You had undoubtedly ruined the white fabric with your mascara-stained tears, but you didn’t care enough.
You missed your father. You needed Gwen. Hell, you would’ve even settled for being comforted by Pepper. But ultimately, you just wanted Peter. You hated that he was all you could think about. Even after getting into a fight with him that night, you still needed him. You couldn’t part ways with him so quickly, and you knew he felt the same way. You knew that he was pushing you away to protect himself, and you understood that. But you knew now more than ever that you were ready to commit to him.
You knew that the way you had pushed him away in the past was beyond fucked up, and you knew that making him adhere to your time frame meant that he didn’t owe you anything. And, of course, there was the whole Harry situation. You regretted everything that had to do with Harry—not only what had transpired tonight. But maybe, just maybe, if you could go to him, and have a real heart-to-heart, then maybe things could be different.
Another capricious decision leads you to get on the train to Queens. You hadn’t been on the Subway in years. Your father had always denounced public transportation, explaining there was no reason for it when Happy was there to take you anywhere you wanted. Now, you certainly could’ve called your godfather to pick you up, but you didn’t want him to see you so defeated. Plus, you needed the time to think about what you’d say to Peter. How would you rectify this situation? If you could rectify this situation.
The trip feels so long and arduous—especially given the time—as it requires you to get off at various stations, sometimes walking for ten minutes at a time to catch the next departing trains. Part of you enjoys this, though, as it gives you time to think about how to approach this issue, and sober up too.
When you arrive in Queens, it’s 1:08 am exactly. You had texted Pepper and told her you were sleeping at Gwen’s. Hopefully, she didn’t question it.
You know the way from this station to Peter’s apartment. A walk that normally felt like a few minutes currently felt like hours. Finally, his apartment complex coming into your line of sight makes you wish that the walk could’ve possibly been a little longer. But you muster up all the strength that you have and enter the building.
The elevator ride upstairs has you wringing out your hands nervously and pacing back and forth. It feels like the exact same experience that you had earlier today going up to Harry’s apartment. This is the worst kind of deja vu ever.
The next few minutes feel like a blur as you walk to Peter’s apartment, doing your best to breathe and not to cry. You exhale shakily and finally let your knuckle come in contact with the wooden door that leads inside the Parker’s home.
May opens the door a few seconds after your knock, an incredibly shocked look on her face. Ever the beautiful woman, she has her long hair placed in a haphazard yet stylish bun. Glasses rest crookedly on the bridge of her nose, and she wears some comfortable-looking loungewear, notably a Star Wars t-shirt (that you’re pretty sure belongs to her nephew). She was obviously sleeping before you woke her up, and now you feel terrible. Even more than you already did.
“Y/N,” she states, blinking a few times to take in the sight of you. “What are you doing here, sweetie?”
“Um, oh, God, I’m sorry,” you breathe out nervously, feeling the tears starting to fall from your eyes for the umpteenth time that night. “I came here looking for Peter, but I just realized how crazy it was for me to come here uninvited in the middle of the night. I’m gonna go now. I’m so sorry for wasting your time, Ms. Parker.”
“No, no, Y/N, please, please come in. Talk to me, something is obviously wrong. Talk to me, honey,” she urges you, grabbing your arm to lead you inside her home slowly.
“I, um, I messed up really badly, and I’m trying to make it up to Peter, but I’m doing a shitty—I mean, I’m doing a really bad job, and he won’t forgive me. But I need him to. I need to talk to him so badly,” you ramble hysterically, your chest rising and falling in uneven, labored increments. “It’s just been a really bad night.”
“Oh, Y/N,” May coos softly, wiping your tears away with her thumbs. “It’s going to be okay. It is, honey, I promise. Peter’s taking a shower, okay? But you’re more than welcome to stay here and wait until he finishes. Do you want to do that?”
“Yeah,” you nod abruptly. “Please.”
“Okay,” she offers you a concerned smile. “Come here, honey.”
She guides you over to the largest couch in the living room and takes you into her arms, rubbing comforting circles into your back. You will yourself to stop crying but you can’t. The tears feel like they’ll never stop.
Another fifteen minutes pass until you hear the water shut off in the bathroom. When it finally does, your heart jumps.
“You know,” May states gently. “I’m not sure what’s going on between you and Peter—even though I can probably make some assumptions—but I want you to know that he does care about you, and I’m sure he always will.”
“I don’t know. I feel like he hates me,” you mumble, wiping some more tears away from your eyes.
May laughs. “Never. He could never.”
You fiddle with your fingers nervously. “Yeah, I’m not so sure. Like I said, I really messed up. I don’t know how to fix it.”
May continues to rub your back soothingly. “Well, you’re here now, and that has to count for something.”
“I don’t even know what I’ll say to Peter,” you sigh.
“Just be honest with him. He’ll be able to tell when you’re putting up a front, but he’s not as stubborn as you peg him to be. Peter just wants you to know that you care,” May answers.
“I do care; so much,” you agree fervently.
The sound of Peter’s bedroom door opening brings your conversation to a halt. You hold your breath as you wait for Peter to appear. You have no idea how he will react or if he’ll even hear you out. You try to take May’s advice and praise yourself for even seeking him out. However, your anxiety berates you and calls you obsessed, desperate, pathetic. He already turned you down one time, so why are you continuing? You don’t even know.
May calls to him. “Hey, Peter, you doing okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m exhausted, though,” he yawns. You watch as he emerges from his room in nothing but a pair of loose plaid boxer shorts as he simultaneously dries his hair off with a towel. You subconsciously shift in May’s arms to get a better look at him, your eyes gliding across his taut abs and the cords of muscle that adorn his arms and hands. Your tongue instinctually darts out to wet your lip, but you do your best to quell the budding arousal that you’re experiencing. Now is certainly not the time for that way of thinking.
As he walks closer to you, you feel like you’re going to faint. You can’t remember the last time that you were this nervous.
When he finally does set eyes on you, you see many emotions flashing across his face: anger, confusion, hope?
“Hi, Pete,” you choke out, offering him a cautious wave.
“Y/N,” he states. You can see a tiny wave of concern flash across his face as he takes in your fully disheveled state. “What’s wrong?”
“So many things,” you reply through teary eyes. “So many things went wrong tonight. But, please, please, Peter, let me talk to you; please hear me out.”
“I’ll leave you two alone,” May announces softly. You pull away from her, and she gives you a knowing look as if to say, “You’ve got this!” She then slowly makes her way to her room; however, you’re pretty sure she lingers outside of it around for a few minutes.
Peter makes his way over to where you are on the couch, but instead of sitting, he remains standing with his arms crossed.
You swallow nervously before answering. “I know you say you don’t want to be with me. That you think it’s a bad idea for us to be together, but I can’t do this anymore. It’s killing me to be apart from you. I think about you all the time. I—I don’t know how much longer I can go on without you. And I don’t want to beg you to be with me, I know I look so pathetic coming here and pleading with you, but I don’t know how else to apologize.”
He stares at you blankly. “Y/N, the reason that I say we can’t be together is that I know how easily you change your mind. How easily you get confused and bored and how difficult it is for you to make sense of how your actions hurt others. In a relationship, that’s not okay. I just feel like—I don’t know, you have no regard for how other people feel sometimes.”
“You’re right,” you agree. “But you had no regard for how I felt tonight. You totally dismissed how I was feeling after I walked in on you and Kameron. Do you know how badly that hurt? The way that you made me feel is the way that you seem to feel when Harry and I do anything together..”
“First of all, her name is Keira. Secondly, I saw how you and Harry were at the party tonight. You were practically sitting in his lap begging for him to sleep with you,” Peter retorts.
“I didn’t go to the fucking party for Harry. I went to the party for you. I can barely get out of bed most days, but I got up today for you, and I made myself look pretty for you, and I went searching around Harry’s entire fucking apartment for you,” you sob. “And when you rejected me tonight, I made a complete fucking fool out of myself. I thought that trying to distract myself with Harry would make me feel better. But it didn’t—he hates me just as much as you do. He called me a whore and a bitch.”
Peter immediately sits next to you on the couch, his eyes filled with rage. Once again, seeing Peter in such a worked-up state made your thighs clench together. “He called you what?”
“He said I was a whore,” you repeat, wiping away some more tears. “He knows about us, and when I rejected him, well, he went off. Said all of these horrible things to me.”
“That fucker,” Peter mutters under his breath. “I’m going to kill him.”
“But I’m not your girlfriend, so you shouldn’t care,” you reply dryly.
Peter stares at you for a few seconds as though fully taking you in. Thoroughly analyzing your facial features and trying to understand the implications of your words. “Y/N, it’s impossible for me to stop thinking about you too. I’ve tried so hard to remind myself of what I said to you the day of your father’s funeral. Tried to force myself to stick to my words. But I didn’t mean any of that; I was an asshole. Hell, it killed me to reject you again tonight. And I do believe that we’re bad for each other; but not all the time. I do believe that this might not work. But maybe, just maybe, there’s a chance that it could?”
Your ears perk up at his words, but for once, you choose to keep your sarcastic remarks to yourself.
“I think it could,” you reply quickly. “I know it could. Because I want you, I want you so badly, and I’m willing to work for it. To work to make this good for the both of us.”
“Yeah?” Peter’s eyes flicker from your eyes to your mouth. “You sure?”
“Mhmm,” you nod enthusiastically. “More sure than I’ve ever been of anything.”
“Maybe we can try this and see how it goes,” he suggests, his hand having found its way to your cheek to stroke it.
“I’d like that,” you say. “I’d like that a lot.”
When he finally leans in to press his lips to yours, you swear you ascend to heaven. Where you had tensed up as Harry had kissed you, you relax under Peter’s embrace, letting him guide you through laying back on the couch and moving his hands to skirt up your thighs. You buck against him as his tongue moves in tandem with yours, and you tug at his wet curls.
“Wanna go to my room?” His fingers glide up and down your arm gently.
“Yes, please. But wait, don’t you think your aunt is going to be suspicious?” You inquire with a smirk.
He trails kisses from your cheek down to your neck down to your collarbone. “She’s asleep.”
“You’re positive?” You whimper, your arm resting comfortably around his neck.
He finally tugs you up from the couch and ushers you toward his room. “Spidey senses remember?”
“Is that what those are for? Not getting caught during late-night sex?” You giggle as he closes the door to his room behind you.
“We’re having sex?” He stares at you with wide eyes.
“Oh, God, shit, I just assumed?” You panic.
“Just messing with you, pretty girl,” he steps closer to you and grins. “I wanted to fuck you since the moment I saw you in this dress.” He grabs your hips to pull you closer to him, then kisses you softly again.
You feel like you barely blink before he has you on his bed, underneath him. You melt under his embrace, reveling in the feeling of his gentle kisses on your lips, your cheek, and your neck.
You bring his larger hand around to the small of your back so he can find the zipper on your dress. “I’ve been waiting for you to take it off me since I first saw you tonight,” you answer breathlessly.
He quickly obliges you, his fingers deftly pulling down the zipper to reveal your back. He plays with your spine, rubbing tiny circles into it, as he simultaneously uses his bare knee to spread your legs wider for him. You moan as his knee comes in contact with your wet center. You sit up momentarily for him to help you out of your dress, and you swear he looks as though he’s seen God when you’re finally out of the garment. You tuck your knees under your lap and straighten your spine so he can take you in. Your cheeks have a beautifully rosy glow, your chest rises and falls in uneven breaths, and your skin shines beautifully under the dim lighting of his bedroom. You watch as his eyes flicker toward your erect nipples, then down toward where you need him the most.
“You’re the most beautiful person in the entire world,” he answers as earnestly as possible. Connecting your lips with his again, you bring his left hand to cup your right breast. His slim fingers instantly go to tweak your nipple, and you moan into his mouth. When he replaces his fingers with his mouth, you almost pass out. He’s barely even given you any stimulation, and you already feel like you might come. You let your hands play with his hair as he alternates between swirling his tongue on your left and right breast.
“Touch me, Petey,” you practically beg. “I’m so wet for you.”
Peter lets one hand travel down from your breast to your panties. He curses when his fingers come in contact with the soaked material. “Gonna take this off, okay? Lift your hips for me.”
“Yeah,” you agree. “Okay.” He tugs the material down your thighs, leaving you fully naked.
His hands rake over your stomach. “My beautiful girl. I really did miss you so much.”
His words alone are enough to make you cry, but when he drags his index finger from your clit down your opening, you think you might start crying real tears. “Peter, Peter, please don’t tease.”
“We’ll see,” he shrugs. “How badly do you want my fingers?”
“More than anything,” you plead. “Please.”
“Someone’s desperate,” he tsks. “Good thing I’m feeling generous.”
You could almost laugh at how submissive you’ve become to him. But it’s so hot to see him assert some dominance over you that you don’t mind it at all.
You yelp when he finally inserts his finger into your pussy. The wet, squelching sound, in combination with his rapid thrusts, makes your head fall back in euphoria. You let your hand travel down to play with your clit, and he adds a second finger, then eventually a third.
“You make me feel so good,” you cry out. “God, Peter.”
The stimulation of your clit in conjunction with the feeling of Peter’s fingers curling upward is heavenly. When he curves his index finger upwards to hit your g-spot, you let out a yelp, and your eyes widen. You’re so close and it’s only been five minutes.
“You gonna come for me?” Peter murmurs, speeding up his pace. You give him an enthusiastic nod, and when he leans forward to take your right nipple into his mouth, swirling it around his tongue, you let out one last cry and finish on his fingers, stifling your moan with your free hand.
“That was—that was good,” you offer Peter a blissed-out smile, reaching up to caress his cheek.
You return to kissing each other for a few minutes, moaning as your sensitive clit comes in contact with Peter’s boxer-clad erection. He finally pulls away to remove his boxers from his body. Your fingers glide across his abs as he strips himself of the last piece of clothing she wears.
He’s just as pretty as you remember—painfully hard against his stomach, at least over 6 inches, and pink tip leaking with precum. You have the urge to get on your knees and place him into your mouth and make him cry out your name. You take him in your hand and wrap your hand around him, letting your thumb brush across his tip and collecting some of his arousal on your fingertip.
He bucks his hips against your hand and groans out. “Jesus, babe.” You beam at the pet name he gives you. You set a comfortable pace, stroking him faster from tip to base. You take the opportunity to mark up his neck and play with his abs.
“Do you like the way I make your cock feel?” You purr in his ear. “You’re so hard for me. Can’t wait for you to be inside me.”
“If you keep doing that, I’ll come all over you,” he moans enthusiastically. “Let me fuck you.”
You separate for a minute for Peter to grab a condom from his bedside table. “I see you planned for this.”
“I was hopeful,” he shrugs with a tiny smile. Unwrapping the package, he’s quick to place the condom on himself.
“I want to ride you,” you assert when Peter pulls you back into his embrace. Peter kisses you again, this time much more slowly and sensually. You settle on top of him, rubbing your core against his cock. You moan into his mouth as he grinds himself against you.
“I missed you a lot, Y/N,” Peter repeats slowly. “I’m really glad we made up. I—I care about you so much.”
Your mouth falls open in pleasure when Peter slowly inserts himself inside your pussy. “Go slow,” you breathe out.
He grunts as he slowly sheaths himself inside of you. Despite being soaked, it takes you a minute to adjust to his size, as you hadn’t had sex in, well, over five years. Your fingers could only have so much of an impact on you.
When he finally bottoms out, you both share a collective moan. Peter brushes a few strands of hair out of your face. “So gorgeous.”
You lift yourself up slowly to ultimately land back on his lap again. “Peter,” you whimper. “Oh my God.”
You rise up and down more quickly on his cock, stifling your moans in his neck. When he starts to meet his thrusts with yours, your head falls back. Peter keeps a secure hold on the small of your back as he continues a consistent pace.
“Missed you. Missed your tight little pussy,” he moans into your ear. He licks and sucks at your breasts, marking them up with his teeth, and swirling your nipples under his tongue.
A comfortable silence arises between you two. The way that he stares into your eyes and cradles your body in his makes your stomach swarm with butterflies and your head go dizzy. When his hand goes down to your clit, you feel the familiar sensation building in your stomach. A look of desperation flashes over your eyes as Peter speeds up his thrusts, and allows his fingers to dance more quickly across your clit.
“Peter, Peter, Peter,” you chant. “I’m gonna—keep going just like that.”
One particular enthusiastic thrust makes you scream out, and your hand instantly flies to your mouth to cover it.
“You feel so good around me,” Peter grunts. “I’m close, too.”
The more Peter continues at the pace he’s established, the closer and closer you get to that very special precipice. And then, like an explosion, it hits you out of nowhere.
You shriek, rising up and down on Peter at an animalistic pace. “Peter, fuck, Peter, I’m coming. Oh my God, baby!” He presses his lips to yours quickly and moans into your mouth, as your pussy contracts, and you gush all over him. Your vision is enveloped by nothing but complete white, as you experience a level of pleasure that you’re sure you’ve ever achieved before. Making love to Peter after having resolved most of your problems makes you feel giddy in a way that you’d only dreamed about. To feel so loved and appreciated and worshiped by him are things you wouldn’t trade for anything.
That familiar look settles in his eyes after you’ve orgasmed, and you work to help him reach his own climax. “Y/N, shit, Y/N.”
“Come on, baby, give it to me, Peter,” you beg, repeating your past movements. “Come for me, Petey.”
With those words of encouragement, he lets out a choked groan that makes you moan out with him and buries his face in your neck as he explodes into the condom.
When he finally comes down from his high, he helps you off of him to lay next to him. Grabbing a washcloth from the bathroom, he helps you clean yourself up and then settles into bed next to you.
“Hi,” you say softly, moving some curls away from his forehead.
“Hi,” he iterates, his hand coming to rest on your hip.
“I’m so sorry for everything. I know I’ve said that already, but Peter, you mean so much to me,” you state sincerely. You can feel a lump forming in your throat at your admission. “I understand that it took so much for you to forgive me, and I understand that you didn’t actually want to in the first place. But I can’t be without you in my life. I just need you to understand that.”
“It was killing me to be away from you, too, Y/N. Like I told you, I missed you just as much,” he replies softly.
“All I’ve ever wanted was to be with you. I hope you realize how much I truly mean that,” you tell him. “I only pushed you away because I was afraid of losing you. I thought that if I let you be there for me, then you’d get tired of me and my problems. That you’d leave me.”
You register that you’re crying when Peter swipes away some translucent droplets from your cheeks. “I could never leave you. You are incredibly annoying sometimes, and so stubborn, and a little bit aloof, but that doesn’t stop me from caring about you like I do.”
You take the opportunity to bring your reunion to a close by wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him gently. “Goodnight, Pete.” You snuggle into his embrace, and he lets his head fall into your neck comfortably, his hands still rubbing languid circles on your back.
You sleep wonderfully that night—certainly the best you have in weeks. When you finally wake up around 11 am the next morning, you notice that Peter is still asleep next to you. Smiling softly at him, you rake your fingers through his curls and place a kiss on his forehead lovingly.
Untangling yourself from his sheets and letting your feet hit the floor of his bedroom, you rummage through his drawers for an oversized t-shirt to pull over your body. Tugging your panties over your legs, you also pull on some of Peter’s fuzzy socks to keep your feet warm.
In your exhausted but elated stupor, you barely have time to think about the fact that May is probably up and waiting for Peter in the kitchen.
It is a Sunday morning after all.
Dragging your feet to the kitchen, you let out a tired yawn.
“Good morning, Peter—oh wow, Y/N?” May yelps, almost dropping the coffee mug in her hand. “I didn’t know you stayed the night.”
“Oh, um, yeah, it was late by the time that Peter and I finished talking, so I just slept over. I hope that was okay,” you answer uncomfortably.
Her eyes rake over the outfit that you wear. She obviously knows what you stayed over to do. “No problem.”
You quickly pivot on your heel to walk back to Peter. “I’m going to go wake up Peter.”
May nods awkwardly, and you make your way back toward Peter’s room.
When you arrive back inside Peter’s room, you take a careful seat back on the edge of his bed. The action awakens him, and he turns to face you.
“Hey, baby,” you call to him gently. “Did you sleep well?”
“Because you were here, yeah,” he offers you a cheeky smile. “Why are you smiling so wide, pretty girl?” You blush at the nickname as he takes his hand in yours.
“Just happy,” you answer genuinely. You snuggle up next to him and let your eyes flutter closed. And for the first time in weeks, you register that you’d woken up honestly, indisputably happy, and naturally, just as you’d expected, Peter was the cause.
(a/n): Hello bitches, I found this in my draft and this was originally "hero x villain" but I changed it to Peter and (Y/n) because I write Peter Parker fanfics, enjoy<3
Summary: Peter loves you, but your the villain.
Warning: blood, angst
w/c: 360
The weather was cold, little drops of snow falling down the sky, making Peter shiver. Peter had unsheathed his swords in an instant, ignoring the chilly wind.
Peter had fallen for your naïve words before but not this time. You eyed Peter’s stance, almost lazily, while he glanced at the sword on your hip.
Why hadn’t both of you bothered to attack?
Each breath you took turned into smoke. Peter breathed steadily as you crossed your arms, probably waiting for a reply.
“Why would you even love me?” Peter sighed, pinching his nose, looking around the snowy forest.
“I don’t know. I loathe you, I hate you and I wish you’d never lived. You are like a poison that is eating me inside out but I can’t help but love the thrill.” Your words were laced with pure venom.
“It means you love rivalry. You don’t love me because you can’t.” Peter said. Saying those words almost broke him but he didn’t dare to show any kind of emotion.
Your gaze hardened but Peter swore something had crumpled inside you. He shrugged it off as a fleeting thought, convincing himself that it’s part of your plan.
Instead, you dropped your swords and started walking towards Peter, slowly. He was obviously confused, gripping tightly into his swords.
You pressed your palms against Peter’s swords, seemingly unconcerned by the blood it drew. “Then finish me. Finish me.” You said, fearless.
Your other hands curled over Peter's hand, so warm and soft. Peter ignored the burn of unshed tears in the back of his throat. You nodded, lacking the usual sinister glint in your eyes.
You were empty now, unsurprised and accepting of your fate.
Peter wanted to fling the sword away and rush into your arm, but the world was never easy. It could never be this easy.
“Go on.” You murmured, resting the tip of the blade against your sternum. “Do what you need.” So Peter did.
A trail of crimson in white snow leading to a crumpled, red pool around Peter's fingertips when pressure is applied.
The sword may have pierced through your chest, yet it pierced two hearts.
Just wanted to thank you all so soooo much for all the support and patience! I apologize for the delay, I was finishing up my spring semester at school! Just to warn everyone, I am still new to Marvel so I apologize in advance if I miss a few things in the plot or mess up somehow, but the story is based on Peter and reader (You!)
Spiderman x Pregnant! Stark! Reader
Rated: M
Disclaimer: language, smut, teen pregnancy, violence
(Isn’t he so handsome? I just wanna play with his hair!!) :’’)
It all happened so fast. First you were evacuating school, next your father had scooped you up ranting on about some wizard, and now here you were somewhere in space, standing between a semi-argument between Peter and your father.
It practically went down like this:
Peter: This suit is awesome I was gonna go home but-
Tony: You shouldn’t be here!
Peter: You made me this suit so technically it’s your fault
Tony: What did you say!!??
Peter: Ah! Nooo!! I take that back I’m just saying-
blah, blah, blah....
You started to zone out during the rest of the conversation/argument. The nausea was starting to come back, and you knew anywhere would be safer for you and your unborn child than here. Of course, you couldn’t blame your father, he had no idea that you were pregnant (neither did Peter) and he knew how much you wanted to be an avenger, so he’d often drag you along on their missions. He was going to freak when you told him, Peter would probably pass out, knowing your father will kill him.
The wizard’s magical red cape floated over to you and extended it’s cloth-like arms in offer to warm you up. It must have noticed you shivering with your arms folded.
“I-I’m fine, t-thanks...” You stutter, making the cloth shrug before it wrapped itself around you, clearly not taking no for an answer. It was soft like velvet and warm. Like fresh out of the dryer warm.
“Thanks,...um....magic cape?” You giggle, drawing Peters attention to you.
“Y/N!? When did you get here!?” His puppy eyes widen as a huge smile spreads across his cute face. His arms are around you and your face is pressed against his strong chest before you had the chance to say anything.
“I’m so glad you’re safe...” He whispers in your ear before kissing the side of your head sweetly.
With your pregnancy hormones leaving your brain on autopilot throughout the days, you were sure you could have fallen asleep right then and there in your boyfriends arms.
“Of course she’s safe. She’s with me.” Tony chimed in, he sounded irritated. “Do you think I would let something happen to my daughter?”
“Oh! N-not at all Mr. Stark! I was just worried about y/n since the school closed and the streets were-”
“Yeah, yeah. I get it kid. Calm down.” Tony rolls his eyes.
Peter breathes a sigh of relief before looking down at you, his eyes fill with concern.
“Are you feeling okay, y/n? You’re pale as a ghost!”
You didn’t want to lie. You hated lying more than anything and it was eating you up more each day of not announcing your pregnancy. Pepper found out because she overheard you on a phone call with the doctor. You then told her that you missed two periods, and she then brought you to the doctor for a checkup and ultrasound.
“i-I-I-m....Peter....there’s-” You pause to take a deep breath. Peter waits patiently and strokes your hair as you try and collect yourself.
You look up into his eyes. Those deep, beautiful brown puppy eyes. His pupils were wide and large with love for you. His hands were on your hips gently.
A large knot tightened in your stomach, your heart began to race, and tears welled up in your eyes. How would this affect everyone when they knew you were pregnant? How could you be safe against Thanos!?
Another thing that you hated more than lying was relying on others. That was why you’ve been training since you were twelve years old. You wanted to defend yourself and save others, not the other way around. You refused to be a damsel in destress, not that you looked down on others for it. You were a Stark. There was nothing that you wanted more in the world than to be a hero like your father.
Now you were just a burden. You were a damsel in distress, you’re pregnant and you were only going to get bigger.
“Peter, I’m-”
“Save it for later you two.” Tony cut you off before you could finish your sentence. He was crouched behind a half wall that overlooked the opening to a large room in the ship.
You looked over at Peter helplessly who stroked your cheek in response before he took your hand in his. The webbed pattern of his costume made them feel rough.
“Hang in there, sweetie. We’ll get out of this soon and bring you home, okay??”
You could only nod and hope he didn’t notice you were crying as he lead you over to your father. The knot in your stomach felt larger and tighter, it was getting hard to breathe.
“I found the wizard.” Tony says as you and Peter approach him.
You felt the urge to vomit increase as you crouch besides your boyfriend and father. The cape around you must have sensed it because it unraveled itself around you and floated over toward Tony who shooed it away from him.
“That goon knows he has the stone...” Tony said, more to himself than to you and Peter.
During the ride to space with your father, he told you the whole deal with Thanos wanting all six of these so called “Infinity stones.” Tony said Thanos plans to get all six stones to destroy half the worlds population. Legend says that if all six infinity stones are in the hands of one person strong enough to helve their power, they can destroy an entire planet, solar system, and of coursed...people.
You and Peter look down over the half wall to see a man strung up below in front of a sneering goon. His hair was salt and pepper colored and he also had a beard. From what you could make out, he had striking blue eyes, although you weren’t sure if it were from the lighting below.
“Alright..so that’s our guy?” You ask, the nausea slowly dropping to your relief.
“That’s him. Damn, I wish we could have just thrown that damn thing in the garbage disposal...” Tony grunted.
“Why didn’t you? Than Thanos wouldn’t have all those gem-stone things.”
“Ah the wizard and his buddies made some oath to look after it.” Tony replied.
“Screw the oath! Mankind is at risk here!” You sigh before looking over at Peter. His eyes were fixed on the wizard below. His eyebrows slightly furrowed it almost looked like he was frowning. You knew that was his thinking face.
“How the hell are we going to get him out of this?” Tony grumbled to himself, that’s when Peter perks up.
“Hey! Have you ever seen an old movie called Alien!?”
You couldn’t fight off the smile that formed across your lips. You remembered that one rainy afternoon during the summer. Peter was over sitting around in the lounge with you. The two of you spent the entire day playing card and board games and making food. You decided to end the day with a horror movie, which took you a good half hour of convincing for Peter to agree.
Peter got creeped out easily toward parasite-type of stuff, so he wasn’t the biggest fan of those movies. But he could never say no to you. During the whole movie you found yourself laughing as Peter would duck his face to hide in your shoulder and curse at every jump scare that the movie had to offer. He hardly touched the homemade popcorn you two made he was so scared.
Once Kane got impregnated by a facehugger it was all over for Peter. He started to blame you for his future nightmares and sleepless nights. He was genuinely freaked out and you felt bad for laughing, you really did. But he was too damn adorable and all the snuggles and feeling Peter’s warmth around you during the chilly evening felt amazing.
Once he mentioned Alien you knew exactly which part he was referring to. The end of the film, where Ripley opened the pod doors, pushing the alien out into space to float for eternity.
Tony paused for a moment, considering it. “That’s actually not a bad idea.”
“A little dangerous, just be careful.” You say, resting a hand on Peter’s muscular arm.
He gave you a sweet smile as he took your hand in his to place a gentle kiss on the top of it.
“Always will be, so I can come back to you.”
You could feel your dad cringe as the two of you shared a sweet but brief kiss.
“Wait...should I help?” You ask, once Peter pulls away from your lips. Even though you knew you weren’t up for any fighting or anything that involved physical activity but again, you refused to be helpless.
“You could be a distraction.” Peter suggested. “Or kick his butt before we throw it out into space.”
“Whatever we do, we have to do it fast before that goon destroys the wizards ass.” Your father replies.
You and Peter exchange a nod before you cautiously climb off the half wall. You noticed there were multiple things you could grab onto such as knobs and random ledges.
“Painful, aren’t they!?” You hear the goon sneer to the wizard. “they were originally designed for microsurgery.”
You crept up behind the goon slowly and as quietly as you could. Even from behind the creature was extremely hideous. It almost looked like an alien. As you got closer you could see the wizard was being held up by these needle-like things. They looked sharp as knives and were a silver-gray color. Some pierced his upper chest but most pierced his face.
“And any of them-” The goon continued but that’s when you cut him off. Lifting and spinning your entire body into a graceful and perfect roundhouse kick. Slamming your foot into the back of his head, knocking him straight off the ground.
The wizard looked up at you alarmed and partially shocked, while the goon glared up at you with a dirty scowl.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
The goon snarled at you just as you heard a loud “THUD!” from behind you, knowing it was either Peter or your father.
“Just saving a friend, dude. Stealing stones that ain’t yours is not cool. Didn’t your mother ever tell you about stealing?”
Your remark made the goon growl as he shot up to his scrawny feet, glaring at Tony behind you.
“I could end your friend’s life in an instant!!!” The goon snarls, very pissed off.
“I got to tell you, he’s not really my friend.”
You look over to see your dad floating in air, his helmet over his face. The eyes in his helmet glowed a bright vibrant blue as he spoke.
“Saving his life is more of a professional courtesy.”
“Your powers are no match to mine. You saved nothing.” The goon sneered, raising its hands. Large metallic objects floated over to him.
“Yeah, but the kid’s seen some movies.” Tony replies, just as he shoots a rocket from his hand, this action blasts the goon and the objects he was holding down toward the open hole of the ship.
Feeling the instant and intense pull from space, you hurl yourself to the closest staircase, wrapping your arms and legs around the banister as tightly as you could.The wind blew your hair furiously.
You noticed the magical red cape fly over to the wizard once he flew down after the goon. It offered him its long cloth to hold onto before Peter catches him with a string of web. You crane your neck to watch the scene below as spider-like arms spring out from the back of Peter’s suite grasping onto the edges of the hole as he pulls the wizard back inside the ship with him. Your father then seals the hole.
Peter hurries over to you, releasing his mask from his face, his hair all fluffy and messy, reminding you of a hyper puppy.
“y/n! It’s okay! You can let go now!”
He bends down to gather you in his arms. You let go of the banister to wrap your arms around Peter’s neck. The two of you touch foreheads and close your eyes listening to the sound of each others breathing.
“Th-t-that was s-some kick, y/n!” Peter praised, completely out of breath. “I-it was s-so....so cool!! I-”
“Breathe, Peter.” you say with a smile, cupping his face in your hands gently. You stroke at the loose long strands of hair that hang from his face, brushing them back so you can look into his eyes.
Peter laughs and takes a deep breath. “Sorry! That was just...so cool!”
You laugh in. response hugging him close to you and resting your head on his shoulder. You didn’t ever want to let go, but with the arguing you heard from your father and the wizard, you knew it’d be best to intervene.
“Hey, what’s going on?” You ask, as Peter sets you down gently to your feet. He walks over to the wizard.
“I’m Peter by the way!” Peter greets him, extending an arm out to him.
The wizard looks at him for a moment before responding,
“Doctor Strange.” You noticed his cape had returned to him.
“Oh! You’re using our made up names! I’m Spider-man then!”
Doctor Strange then looks over at you curiously. You catch the drift and introduce yourself.
“I’m y/n Stark...his daughter..” you gesture toward Tony. “I don’t have a made up name....not yet...”
Doctor Strange just gives you and Peter a look before walking back over to your dad.
“The ship is self-correcting its course. Things on autopilot.” Tony announced.
“Can we control it? Fly us home?”
Your head started to spin you felt super dizzy. You weren’t sure if it was from the kick or just your hormones but something felt off.
“Y/n? What’s wrong?”
You could feel Peters arms around you, you could hardly stand any longer so you fall into them.This caught Doctor Strange and your fathers attention
“Y/n!?” Tony called.
“Is she not well?” Doctor Strange asked.
Peter sat on the floor with you cradled in his arms, His fingers are stroking your hair and his warm breath fanned your face.
“Y/n...what was it you were trying to tell me earlier?”
You swallow hard, looking up to see your father and Doctor Strange in front of you with concerned looks on their faces.
“Y/n, what’s going on? Did that goon hurt you?” Tony bent down so that he was eye level with you.
“No...” You rasp, feeling your eyelids starting to grow heavy. The world around you was fading. You could feel your head pounding.
Sleep. You needed sleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: I’m sorry if the ending was a bit rushed. I’m hanging around my boyfriends work and his little cousin was chatting my ears off wanting me to play with her. l it was super hard to focus!
Thank you so much for reading! and for your support! Stay tuned for more! :)
Also let me know if you want to be tagged!! :P I apologize if you weren’t tagged my computer is acting up! I’ll try to fix it for the future! :D
Summary: Peter teases you in class so you get him back.
~
Note: who next? This one is more of a short blurb!
~
Warnings: public touching, oral (male recieving), fingering, ALOT of dirty talk, edging
~
"Bet that feels good, doesn't it, princess?" He whispers in your ear, his bottom lip trapped in between his teeth as he "focuses" on the teacher.
You practically had sweat dripping off your nose as Peter flexed his two fingers inside you, making your eyes widened as you stifled a moan.
"Oh my-"
"Shhh sh sh," he says quietly, smirking cockily, "Wouldn't want the teacher knowing how good of my little whore you are now would we?"
You wanted to moan just listening to his words. He couldn't stop there, though. He had to up the anty.
Peter suddenly pushed his long, curled fingers as deep into you as they could go. This made your jaw drop and eyes flutter closed as your legs tightened around his hand. He smirked, watching you struggle to keep quiet. You were under his control.
You were sitting at the back of the class where you weren't visible to anyone else. The desks were two-seater tables with no visible area around the feet, which left for many days of being on your knees. But right now, Peter was loving the class time he was spending with you.
You grabbed onto his jacket, fist clenched tight as you took in heavy breaths. You knew he could smell how drenched you are and hear your heart beating out of your chest.
"W-What if we get c-caught?" Your voice was weak and barely audible as you bit back the instinct to scream his name.
Peter chuckled quietly, rolling his eyes. He curled his fingers more, making you squeak quietly before slamming your hand over your mouth.
"We're not," he whispers, "Cause you're going to be a good girl and take my fingers without making a sound. Right?"
You looked at him with wide eyes, but nodded weakly. Petet flexed his fingers inside of you again and you just wanted to unravel right then and there.
This wasn't fair- this was cruel. He kept edging you further and further but never let you cum. The second you peak your release, he pulls out, then slams his fingers right back into you. You were fed up.
"S-Stop." You barely mustered, biting your finger to keep from moaning. Peter's fingers deep in your cunt didn't listen.
"P-Peter-"
"That's not my name."
"I'm s-sorry, sir."
You were a stumbling, stuttering mess. He curled his fingers and began thrusting and rutting into you once again. It was driving you insane.
You went to grab the table to keep you from screaming but caused your pencil to roll to the floor. This caught to attention of others, so Peter stopped all movement and acted completely innocent but not moving his fingers out of your tight cunt.
You gulped, bending over to pick up your pencil as everyone looked away. This is when you saw the evident bulge in Peter's jeans, making you smirk.
Quickly, before anyone could see, you got under the table. You were careful to keep your chair quiet but you nearly whimpered as Peter's fingers pulled out of your walls.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Peter whispered harshly, watching you unzip his jeans. His eyes widened as you were quick to pull out his throbbing length, tip red and sensitive.
"Y/N, don't- oh shit." A moan nearly escaped his lips as you quickly started licking up and down his base then back up to his tip. You had to act fast so you didn't get caught.
You began to suck harshly on his tip, making Peter bawl a hand in your hair, pulling lightly. You moaned quietly against him, sending vibrations through his raging cock. He let out a breath of a moan, trying hard to contain himself.
Suddenly, you bobbed your head until he bottomed out touching your throat. This made your eyes water, but you pulled away, looking up at him innocently. He glared under the table, but choked on an inhale as you did it again.
You kept doing this, until he got closer and closer. Then, right as he was about to cum, you pulled away, slipping back into without anyone seeing. Peter was out of breath, panting as he realized what just happened.
"You just-"
"Edged you. Yep." You smirked, knowing he'd love nothing more than to grab you by the throat and slam you against the wall right now.
Peter scoffed, chuckling darkly to himself.
"This is our last period, princess," he whispers in your ear huskily, "Just wait until it's over. May is out of town so you're sweet ass is coming home with me. I'm gonna make sure you don't cum until the sun comes up."
