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astxroiid · 1 year ago

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queen sized bed // mcu!peter parker

❥ one bed, motel after midnight, friends, young love, nsfw/18+, smut with a side of plot. dom!reader, mommy kink, unprotected sex, oral (m receiving), cream pie. ib: a little death by the neighbourhood.

wc: 2.7k (of pure filth + some fluff at the end)

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You huff, flopping down on the motel bed, still a little frustrated from dealing with the receptionist at the front desk.

He had definitely been more of an asshole than he needed to be. And considering you and Peter have just gotten off a rough mission, you definitely aren’t in the mood to deal with him.

Poor Peter ended up having to step in and diffuse the situation before you decked the concierge. You rub your face, trying to think less angering thoughts.

“I think I’m gonna take a shower,” you announce, while you sit up and start rifling through your black duffel bag.

“Okay, just let me know when you’re in the shower. I wouldn’t want to turn around and catch you naked because of this stupid open floor plan.” yes you would. Peter laughs nervously.

“Sure thing,” you grab the last of your shower supplies and walk through the bathroom archway and begin to strip.

Peter tries his hardest to focus on unpacking his stuff but his ears keep returning to the sounds of items of your clothing hitting the ground. His mind following suit in wandering to you slowly undressing. Revealing more and more of your soft body.

“I’m in now, Pete,” you call, pulling him from the thoughts he definitely shouldn’t be having about his best friend and team member.

“Okay,” his voice cracks. Peter mentally face-palms.

He hears the water running and his mind slips back into his thoughts of you; the water cascading down your body, the way the soap will flow from your hair down your spine, or how the body wash would look after you ran it all over your—

Thud. “Shit!”

You dropped a bottle, bringing him back to reality.

Stop thinking about your friend like this, Peter. Be real with yourself, man.

ﾟ+..｡*ﾟ+

You finish washing all the soap off your body and reach past the curtain, grabbing your towel and begin drying yourself. Attempting to get as much water off of your person as possible.

Once you’re dry, you wrap the towel around your body and step out of the shower.

You look up, eyes landing on Peter’s bare back.

He’s looking into the sink while brushing his teeth - wearing only his black sweats that you love so much.

Feeling a wanton throb between your legs and a small burst of confidence - you walk up to him, wrapping your arms around his torso.

Peter continues bushing his teeth while he moves his free hand down to yours, lightly rubbing his thumb over your knuckles.

You both smile.

It’s clear Peter doesn’t understand the energy you’re trying to set. So, you help him get there a little faster.

You glide the hand he’s not holding down his chest. Using just your middle finger to make a path to the waistband of his sweatpants.

Your finger trails from side to side, following the line of his pants seam, lightly brushing over the small patch of hair that disappears beyond his sweats.

You can feel his breathing faltering and hear his heart pounding in his chest. Though; you’re not sure if that’s due to your ear being pressed to his back or the fact that his heart is just beating that loud.

You let your finger dip just beneath his waistband, loving the way his breath hitches in response.

You keep moving your finger back and forth, teasing the poor boy.

Feeling satisfied with how flustered he is - you back away and Peter tries his best to focus back on brushing his teeth.

“Pete?” You call softly.

He glances up, looking at you through the mirror right as you let your towel drop to the floor. Peter flips his head around to look at you - unobscured by the foggy bathroom mirror.

He lets out a breath, letting his eyes rake over your entire body.

“Well? Are you just gonna stand there and gawk or are you going to come over here and touch me, Parker?” You tease.

“Right,” Peter shakes his head, pulling the toothbrush out of his mouth and quickly moving to you. He stands tentatively in front of you, unsure of what to do first. He looks down at you questioningly.

You giggle and grab his wrists. “Have you ever done this before?” The question is genuine.

Peter’s face goes red. “Uhm... no," his response barely audible. He tilts his head down in shame.

You smile while you move his hands to your breasts. “That’s okay. Let me teach you.”

His hands gently caress your chest and you let out a soft noise that makes Peter’s knees go weak.

“Please?” He begs, feeling a pull on his groin as you arch your back into him. He massages your breasts, attempting to - and succeeding in getting more noises from you.

He slowly slides his unoccupied hand between your thighs, rubbing between the folds, finding your clit with such ease you have to wonder if he lied about his inexperience.

Any coherent thoughts you had left the moment he pressed his finger into you and started rubbing at an amazing and yet still agonizingly slow pace.

You glide your hands up his arms and to his face. Bringing it down to yours. You kiss him softly, moving your mouth in an easy rhythm for Peter to follow along with.

Peter moves his middle finger to your entrance and pauses for your permission. You grind yourself against his hand, hoping that’s enough of a yes.

He takes it and slides his fingers in with ease, surprised at how wet you already are.

“Fuck, y/n,” he moans into your mouth. His sweats tighten as he starts to pump his fingers in and out of you, lewd noises already making their way out of your mouth.

He’s lost in the feeling of you. It’s all he’s ever wanted and more. Just you and him. Melding together in such a beautiful way.

The hand on your breast moves to your hip where he rubs his thumb over the bone lovingly.

You move one of your hands to the side of his throat as you start to kiss his neck, leaving marks everywhere while grinding your hips back and fourth on his hand.

Pete’s breath leaves him almost completely, knowing anyone could see what you’ve done to him turns him on more than he thinks you could know.

You pull away abruptly. Peter feels as though he's missing a piece of himself as he watches you walk away.

You're at the bed, beckoning Peter over with a finger.

He wastes no time. Quickly walking to you and smashing his lips into yours.

Your hand trails down Peter’s chest and beneath his sweatpants. You massage him through his boxers and he groans into your mouth.

If he hadn’t already told you, it would have been an easy guess that he’s only ever touched himself.

“You’re so responsive,” you tell him as you part from his kiss to catch your breath. “I love it.”

Your hand moves out of his pants to his hair, tugging lightly on the soft brown locks. He groans again.

You smile.

“Lay down on the bed for me?” you ask softly.

He nods his head, eager to oblige any command you give to him.

He spreads out on the bed, propping his head on the pillows and making sure to get exactly how he thinks you want him.

“Good boy.”

Peter can’t explain the pride that swells in his chest at the praise. All he knows is that he’ll do anything to get you to say it again.

You crawl on top of him, straddling his waist as you lean in to kiss his neck again. Peter’s hands grip at the sheets as he attempts to hold himself back.

You move your mouth down to his collar bone, sucking on sensitive spots. You feel peter writhe and moan beneath you

You slowly move down his chest, taking your time the lower you get.

You smile up at him and pull on the elastic with your teeth, releasing it and letting the material pop back down on his skin. You tease him more by lightly trailing your finger around his lower stomach.

Peter makes a strangled noise. “Y/N... please,” he begs breathlessly.

“Please, what, Pete?”

“T-touch me. Please. I don’t think I can take it anymore,” he’s on the verge of whining.

“Since you asked so nicely...”

You pull his sweats down at an agonizingly slow pace, then doing the same with his boxers.Savoring every inch of new skin being revealed to you.

Once Peter’s dick is free, it springs up and lays flat on his stomach.

You feel heat rush to your core, along with a familiar wetness.

You bite your lip and take it in your hand, rubbing your thumb over the head.

Peter’s own head falls back against the pillow as his hips and legs shake.

“I’ve barely touched you, baby,” you note and peter could probably cum just from the sultry tone in your voice.

He whines and grips the sheets.

You use his eyes squeezed shut to your advantage and surprise him with your tongue licking up his cock.

Peter gasps and looks down at you. You smile back as you take him in your mouth, moving your lips all the way down to the hilt.

The noise that comes from the man beneath you is divinity. You to moan around him. His legs shake and he can’t help but thrust into your mouth.

You gag, which only causes him more pleasure and a small mmph noise makes it’s way out of him.

He grabs a light fist full of your hair, pulling you away from his cock.

"y/n, if you keep going I'll finish now," he's out of breath, sweat starting to form on his chest.

"That's the plan," the deep tone and tantalizing wink you give him as go go back down have chills running all across his body.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Peter's while lower half convulses and you wrap you mouth back around him, grabbing a handful of his balls.

You wrap your free hand around the base of his cock. "You wanna cum peter?" You slowly pump his cock.

"'Wanna cum inside you... please," he struggles.

"Oh, baby. There's plenty of time for that," Peter feels like his heart is gonna explode from the leisurely pace you're stroking him at. "I'm asking you if you want to cum in my mouth."

He throws his head back and says through gritted teeth; "Fuck... yes, god, please..."

"Yes, what?" You prompt.

Peter's mind swirls with every possible word he could respond with in a matter of milliseconds. And, without thinking, he mistakenly says the one he's only thought about in his most intimate fantasies.

"Yes... mommy."

Fuck.

Peter looks down to see you smiling at him with mischievous grin.

"Mommy?"

His blood runs cold. Fear holing him still.

"I could get used to that," you wrap your mouth around Peter's balls, sucking hard as you go back to pumping his cock. Languid movements driving peter crazy as his mind swirls.

"Uh, fuck. Oh my-- shit, y/n..." he's loud, almost enough to make you worry about any residents in neighboring rooms.

You take your time, moving from sucking his balls to his cock, using any movement necessary to make him feel good. Completely focusing on pleasing the man beneath you. And you're doing an amazing job, you can tell by the noises. The occasional curse word surrounded by your name, blasphemous words, and a lot of whimpering.

He's close. The way his knuckles turn white as he grips the bed sheets. His thighs tightening, muscles flexing. His lips are pressed together and his whole body is stiff.

You bring your mouth down on his dick, taking all of him and squeezing his balls up to his shaft. You bring your pace up as fast as you can, relentless.

"H-holy, oh fuck- y/n."

Warm ropes of cum shoot down your throat, coating your esophagus in him. You swallow it all, continuing to suck at him until his whole body is shaking violently.

You pull off him with a pop, smiling like the devil.

Peter's out of breath, looking like a shell of a man and yet, so fucking hot. He's covered in sweat, chest, face, and thighs glistening. His cheeks are a rosy red you haven't seen from him before. His chest is heaving for air.

You kiss him so hard it steals any oxygen he might have gotten straight out of him. He grabs the back of your head, tangling his fingers in your hair and pulling you harder into him.

He's the one to break the kiss, still attempting to breathe. "You're amazing."

You smile. "C'mere," you lay on your back, pulling him on top of you. He props an arm on either side of your head, leaning down to kiss you as you place your arms around his neck.

You wrap your legs around Peter's waist, rubbing your soaked core against his cock. He whines for you in return.

His legs shake at the sensation, due to his sensitivity and a near-feral need for you. You pull away from the kiss, biting your lip.

"Peter," you breathe, almost a moan. "I want you inside me."

Words Peter Parker never believed he'd hear except when dreaming. He feels his cock start to harden again.

You feel it as well. Taking it as a sign to keep on.

"Peter... please," you pull his ear next to your mouth and whisper low; "i wanna feel your cock inside me."

He shudders, fully erect by now. Peter quickly grabs his dick, lining himself up with your entrance, waiting on your consent. He looks at you, the question in his eyes.

"Yes, peter. Fuck me," he needs no more reassurance. He slowly pushes into you, both yours and Peter's legs shaking from the pleasure.

"Ffffuck-" you interrupt yourself with a moan. One that makes Pete's brain go foggy, the only thought being fucking you.

He grabs your hips, expertly sliding himself in and out of you at a pace near divinity. Your mind is wiped of any coherent thought that could've ever been there except for the question of how he is do good at this.

"Fuck, shit. 'So tight." Peter rests his head on your shoulder as he fucks harder into you.

It's beautiful, in the most obscene way. The way your warm bodies are practically glued together, moving in a rhythm only your souls know. The noises flowing from your lips already have Peter rocking on the edge of release, and the groans from him are doing the same to you.

You place your fingernails at the tops of Peter's shoulders, dragging them down his back then around his ribs.

He takes in a breath, shuddering. "Fuck, fuck, y/n. I'm close. So close..."

"Cum inside me, Peter. Please," your walls clench hard around him and the sounds of his whines.

The feeling of your warmth wrapped around his cock, mixed with your sounds are the purest form of ecstasy for Peter.

He reaches between your bodies, pressing his fingers against your clit and circling fast.

"Oh fuck, oh my god," you moan loud, your whole body tensing as you cum harder than you ever have in your life around Peter's cock.

You look down, seeing you've squirted all over his lower half. Fuck. There's no time to think about it because Peter is following behind you.

He grabs your hips tighter, pulling your body as close to his as possible. Peter cums deep inside you, filling you with hot, thick ropes of his seed.

The way he looks in this millisecond of a moment will forever stay in your brain. Toned abs covered in sweat and glistening. Chocolate curls a mess, falling in his face. Face towards the sky, screwed up from a pleasure he's never felt before.

The way the light falls around his face illuminates him beautifully. Angelically even.

Peter pulls out of you slowly, both of you too sensitive. He walks to the bathroom, bringing back a damp rag.

"Here," he gently helps clean you up. Afterwards he cleans himself, tossing the rag and putting a new pair of boxers on. He hands you one of his shirts.

"Thank you," you pull the shirt over your head, feeling incredibly loved by Peter. Which prompts you to say; "Peter, I love you."

He smiles and looks so giddy he might float away. He crawls into bed, cuddling up to you. "I love you, too."

This one's been in the works for a while but holy shit, even I'm all hot and bothered from this lmao.

Reblogs and comments are always greatly appreciated! Thank y'all for reading!

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earthtomia · 5 months ago

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fic recs!

(all fics are x reader; specific characters below the cut)

╰┈➤ all time favourites! <3

╰┈➤ smut recs! 18+ ONLY

please respect the writers and do not interact with any content marked 18+ if you are a minor, thank you!

challengers (2024):

➸ art donaldson

➸ patrick zweig

criminal minds:

➸ aaron hotchner

➸ spencer reid

house md:

➸ gregory house

➸ james wilson

➸ robert chase

marauders:

➸ james potter

➸ remus lupin

➸ sirius black

marvel:

➸ bucky barnes

➸ frank castle

➸ matt murdock

➸ mcu!peter parker

➸ robert “bob” reynolds

➸ tasm!peter parker

star wars:

➸ din djarin

➸ han solo

➸ obi-wan kenobi

stranger things:

➸ eddie munson

➸ jonathan byers

➸ robin buckley

➸ steve harrington

supernatural:

➸ dean winchester

➸ sam winchester

the bear:

➸ carmen berzatto

➸ richie jerimovich

the pitt:

➸ frank langdon

➸ jack abbot

➸ michael “robby” robinavitch

➸ samira mohan

➸ trinity santos

miscellaneous characters:

➸ clark kent (superman)

➸ fox mulder (the x files)

➸ joel miller (the last of us)

retired characters:

(no new fic recs will be added for these characters!)

➸ indiana jones

➸ lip gallagher (shameless)

➸ rafe cameron (outer banks)

➸ thomas shelby (peaky blinders)

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thollandsgirl2013 · 3 months ago

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𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐭*

Parings → Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings → Smut, 18+, fingering, thigh riding, dirty talk, soft dom!Peter, overstimulation, wet dream, NSFW, explicit content.

Summary → After a wet dream, you wake up needy and Peter helps you find release.

It was the soft hum of the fan that brought you back to consciousness. The way the air barely moved over your flushed skin, sticky with sweat, body thrumming with the remnants of something sinfully good.

Your eyes fluttered open slowly, lazily, as if waking up from some sort of dreamscape. And in a way, you were.

You turned your head slightly, gaze landing on the small digital clock on the bedside table. 5:23 PM. Damn. That nap hit hard.

And then the memory of why your body felt like it was on fire slammed into you. You exhaled sharply, a shaky sound that sounded too much like a whimper for comfort. Your thighs instinctively pressed together as the memory of the dream—you riding Peter in your shared bed, his head thrown back, his moans broken and desperate—sent a shiver down your spine.

Your panties were damp. Uncomfortably so. The kind of wetness that left no doubt what your brain had been conjuring in your sleep.

You sat up with a groan, dragging a hand down your face.

What the hell, brain? At 5 PM in the afternoon?!

But at the same time…

You couldn’t help but wonder if Peter was around. Your body still buzzed with need, like your dream hadn’t ended. It had just... paused.

You slipped out of bed and padded out into the apartment in your sleep shirt and shorts, trying not to think about how your thighs were sticking together or how sensitive you felt all over. The faint sound of music and clicking buttons reached your ears.

You peeked into the living room.

There he was.

Your boyfriend, Peter Parker, in all his soft-boy glory, lounging on the couch in gray sweatpants and a worn Midtown High hoodie, completely immersed in his game of Mario Kart. His brows were furrowed in concentration, mouth slightly parted as he tried to beat whoever the game had pitted him against this time. He looked ridiculously cozy—and criminally hot.

You didn’t even think. You just moved.

With purpose.

“Whoa—!” Peter barely managed to pause the game as you straddled his lap, arms around his neck, legs bracketing his hips like you owned him. Because right now? You kinda did.

“Hey, babe,” he greeted with a soft grin, clearly amused. “You’re awake.”

But the playful look on his face faltered when you started grinding on him.

Slow, deliberate, needy.

His eyes widened slightly. “Y/N...?”

You didn’t answer with words. You leaned in and kissed him—deep and eager and just a little bit desperate. You moaned into his mouth, your hips working over the bulge forming under you. Peter's hands found your hips, gripping instinctively, but his body tensed.

His lips slowed before pulling away slightly, breathless and flushed, brows scrunching up in concern.

“Wait, baby. Hold on,” he panted, his voice low and husky but tinged with guilt. “I—I’m really sorry, but I just ate. Like, literally just finished the sandwich you made before your nap. I’m so full I might actually explode.”

You blinked, flustered, the haze lifting just slightly. “Oh. Oh God, I didn’t—I wasn’t thinking, Peter, I’m sorry—” You started to move off him, mortified, but his hands tightened around your waist.

“No, wait—don’t go,” he said quickly. “I mean, I can’t do the whole... you know...” He gave a helpless little shrug. “But I still wanna help.”

Your brows furrowed. “How...?”

Peter smirked. That infuriatingly hot, smug little shit smirk.

“You can ride my thigh,” he offered casually, like it was the most normal thing to suggest in the world.

Your brain short-circuited.

“I—what?”

“You heard me,” he said, leaning back with one arm slung over the back of the couch, all relaxed confidence. “You can ride my thigh if you want, baby.”

Your cheeks burned, and your thighs clenched involuntarily. He knew exactly what he was doing.

You swallowed. “Yes please,” you whispered, voice small and breathy.

That smirk grew into a grin. “Thought so.”

Peter helped shift you on his thigh, adjusting you gently. He tugged your shorts down and off, his hands warm and slow, eyes drinking in every inch of you like he was memorizing it. Then he slid your panties to the side with two fingers, brushing briefly over your soaked folds.

“God, you’re already this wet?” He breathed, eyes wide. “Were you dreaming or something?”

You buried your face in his shoulder, whining. “Peter... don’t make it worse.”

He chuckled, low and fond, and rubbed gentle circles over your clit for a second before guiding your hips to his thigh—thick and firm beneath soft sweatpants.

“Okay, baby. Show me.”

You started to move slowly, dragging yourself across the muscle. The friction was perfect. The pressure, the heat—everything you needed. Peter flexed his thigh every few seconds, giving you more, grounding you.

Your hands clung to his shoulders, moans slipping past your lips as you rocked faster, chasing that high that had been teasing you since the moment you woke up.

Peter watched you like he was witnessing a miracle, his free hand rubbing up and down your back, whispering filth-soft things in your ear:

“You’re doing so good, baby.”

“Fuck, you’re so hot like this.”

“I love watching you fall apart.”

Your climax built fast—shameless, messy, intense.

Your hips moved in slow, desperate grinds, dragging your soaked core along Peter’s flexing thigh. Every shift of your weight sent sparks shooting up your spine. Your moans were getting louder, needier, less controlled. You were trying to keep it together—but he was just watching you like you were some damn art exhibit, eyes dark and hungry.

“God, look at you,” Peter murmured, voice low and full of heat. “So needy. You’re drenching my sweatpants, babe.”

You whimpered, clutching his hoodie like a lifeline. “Shut up.”

“I mean,” he continued, way too pleased with himself, “you could’ve just asked for help, and I’d have given it to you. But nope. You had to climb into my lap like some desperate little bunny in heat.”

“Peter!” You gasped, scandalized and turned on beyond reason.

“What? Am I wrong?” His hand slipped between your thighs again. He rubbed two fingers in tight, slow circles over your clit, making your hips jerk. “You’re soaking wet, babe. And all from a nap? Damn. I must be doing something right in your dreams.”

You bit his shoulder, half in revenge, half because you couldn’t help it.

Peter just laughed, and his hand slipped lower. “Okay, okay. Let me take care of you, baby.”

Then—without warning—he pushed two fingers inside you.

You choked on a moan, your body arching against him.

“Fuck—Peter—”

“You’re so tight,” he whispered against your ear, his voice shaky but reverent. “And warm. Shit. You feel so good.”

He started pumping them slowly, deep and rhythmic, curling them just right, like he knew exactly where your buttons were. Spoiler: he did. He was your boyfriend, after all. This wasn’t his first time wrecking you.

But today felt... different. More intense. More desperate.

You were grinding on his thigh, riding his fingers, completely at his mercy. And he was watching all of it unfold, eyes wide and hungry, flushed from arousal even though he wasn’t the one being touched.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” he cooed, nuzzling your neck between kisses. “So fuckin’ pretty like this.”

“Please,” you gasped, nails digging into his shoulders.

“Please what?” He teased, slowing down the thrust of his fingers, rubbing your clit with the heel of his palm.

You cried out in frustration. “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop. I’m so close.”

Peter kissed your cheek. “Then cum for me, sweetheart.”

He sped up his fingers again, thumb circling your clit in tandem. The noises—wet, slick, obscene—filled the room alongside your moans.

Your climax hit you like a freight train.

Your whole body shook, your vision whiting out for a second as pleasure tore through you. You let out a broken, choked cry as you came hard, hips bucking against Peter’s hand. Your thighs trembled violently, face buried in his neck, panting and whimpering as aftershocks rolled through you.

Peter held you through it, whispering soft praise into your hair.

“Good girl... that’s it, baby. Ride it out.”

He didn’t move his fingers right away, just kept them buried in you while his thumb lazily circled your clit, dragging every last drop of pleasure from you until you were sobbing into his hoodie.

You finally pulled back, face flushed, eyes glassy.

“Y-you’re evil,” you muttered weakly, still trembling.

Peter just beamed. “You say that, but you literally just came harder than I’ve ever seen in my life. You almost passed out on me.”

You smacked his chest. “Don’t be smug.”

He kissed the top of your head. “I’ll stop being smug when I stop being proud.”

You melted into him, legs still wrapped around his hips, too blissed out to move.

“...Also,” Peter added sheepishly, “I may need new sweatpants.”

You both looked down.

Yeah. Soaked.

You groaned. “I’ll do the laundry.”

He grinned, brushing your hair back. “I’ll help. But first... wanna take a shower together?”

You raised an eyebrow. “I thought you were too full?”

Peter smirked. “I said I couldn’t fuck. Helping you again doesn’t require a full stomach.”

“Peter.”

“Yes?”

“Shut up and carry me.”

He stood up immediately.

‎∗ ࣪ ˖༺ 𓆩☆𓆪 ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

#peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker spiderman #peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker x you #peter parker spicey stuff #tomholland2013 #thollandsgirl2013 #tom holland #spider man #tom holland spiderman #tom holland fanfiction #mcu!peter parker x reader #mcu!peter x reader #marvel mcu

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motherofdogs1010 · 5 months ago

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Guys Not My Age II (Peter Parker x Reader)

Summary: They say sometimes older men are better when it comes to relationships, but Y/N finds that isn't always the case when she wakes up in bed with a certain younger man after breaking up with a certain Winter Soldier

Warnings: 18+ only, age gap relationship, older woman/younger man!, everyone is over 18!, fratboy!Peter Parker, cheater!Bucky, computergenius!reader, hacker!reader, toxicex!Bucky, consensual sex, semi public sex, heavy smut, drinking, swearing, unprotected sex, eventual pregnancy Current Warnings: HYDRA, violence, toxic ex behavior

Banner by @vase-of-lilies Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Series Masterlist

Dating Peter felt so easy.

Or maybe it wasn't the fact that being with Peter was easy rather than it was like secondary; it was as easy as breathing. There was no pressure to look a certain way, act a certain way... it was just her and Peter.

Their first date had been quite the success and ultimately led to a multitude of dates to now, three months later, they were officially a couple.

Peter had all but essentially moved into her room over at the Compound, something that she found funny but Peter had argued that her bed was comfier than the one that his fraternity provided for them, which led them to now as she laid against the many pillows she had with Peter snuggled between her breasts and letting out content little sighs.

"You are way too comfortable here", she teased, Peter moved his head to met her eyes.

"Shush, I am currently releasing all my stress here", Peter said, she raised a brow.

"Between my boobs?"

"It's my happy place."

She playfully rolled her eyes as she ran her fingers through Peter's curly, chocolate brown locks and he hummed happily.

For the most part, those around them had accepted their relationship with ease. Nat and Wanda did slightly tease her once Nat had spilled where exactly she had been when she mysteriously disappeared that night at the club, but overall, the reception to their pairing was well-received.

Well, mostly well received considering she saw the nasty look that Bucky would throw Peter when they were in the same vicinity.

"You're such a boob guy", she teased, Peter looked at her and winked.

"I'm an everything guy, babe."

Being a part of the Avengers could be seen as glamorous if you were someone with enhanced abilities, a mutant or even some type of god but for Y/N, it was stressful as she quickly tried to hack into the HYDRA database of yet another base.

Unfortunately for her, this type of database required her to actually access the it on-site, leading her to cower slightly behind the computer as the sounds of gunfire, fighting and the occasional sound of Hulk roaring filled her ears.

She was lucky Nat was sent to guard her as she uploaded the data found before putting in the lovely little virus she had made to destroy the information HYDRA had accumulated.

"Don't you just love your job?" Nat playfully asked as she fired her gun.

"Not at this moment, Nat", Y/N said, ducking a little as something was thrown her way. "There's a reason I like being behind the computers."

"And here I thought you'd say you like being under Peter."

"Nat!" Y/N scolded over her shoulder. "Please... I like being on top too."

Nat let out a laugh as Y/N saw the computer notify her that the data had not only transferred but also the virus had finished uploading, soon enough exploding the computer and all inside.

"Okay, I got it all", Y/N said, "let's get the hell out of here!"

That was easier said than done as the sound of gunfire and fighting filled her ears as Nat hovered over, taking out Hydra soldiers left and right but it seemed as if more kept coming out.

"Fucking hell", Y/N said, "where the hell are they coming from?"

"Reinforcements were called", Nat said, "explains why comms are down for now. Must have jammed the signal."

Outside in the cold Russian land, she could see Thor landing lightning strikes after one another and the sound of Tony, and Sam's blasters ringing in her ears. She knew Peter was out there, swinging around and webbing up soldiers as he probably talked off their ears and she hoped he wasn't getting too hurt.

Alas, that was the life of an Avenger, wasn't it?

"Duck!" Nat shouted, shoving them to the ground as an explosion shook the earth.

"What the fuck?!" Y/N said, looking over her shoulder as best as she could.

She was met with a towering, mechanical machine that walked on two legs, firing missiles from its arms as the operator manned it from within.

"Lovely, of course they have one", she groaned.

The ground shook harder at the force of another missiles as Nat ushered for them to move as they move to hide behind some overturn jeep.

"You're gonna need to make a run for it", Nat said, her eyes stern. "You need to get that info back to the Quinjet and see what the fuck they're so desperate to hide."

"You're crazy! It's a good 20 feet away from here!"

"I'll distract it."

Y/N wasn't sure why she listened to Nat but she could hear the literal walking tank shake the earth behind as her feet struggled to run in the crunchy snow.

She could see the quinjet, it was so close but it was the sudden pain in her shoulder that knocked her to the ground as immediate fire flared into her muscles. She cried out as her hand grasped her now bleeding shoulder, the snow doing nothing to cushion her fall as she turned over with wide eyes to find a soldier staring at her.

Or as she saw the medals on his coat, she realized he was a high ranking Hydra official as he tucked his gun away.

"You have something that belongs to us", he spoke, the blood gushing from her wound coating her hand.

The flash drive was hidden away in a small compartment in her belt buckle and she hoped he couldn't notice how it bulged out a bit.

"Fuck you", she spat, her body shivering from the cold and adrenaline that was now coursing through her.

He tutted at her, wagging a finger.

"Such a dirty mouth", he scolded, "soon enough you'll find that you'll be very willing to hand over the drive to me."

"Like hell I will", she gritted, feeling as if her body was on fire.

"Either way, you should be honored." He kicked her square in the chest and squatted over her as she gasped for air. "You could make the perfect subject for our project. Perhaps you'll prove yourself useful rather than a annoyance."

Before she could register, he knocked her hand off her wound and dug his finger into it, twisting and tearing as she screamed. Hot tears rolled down her face as he continued to dig, she swore she felt his hot tongue lick up her tears before it was all ripped away from her.

Shakily, she opened her eyes to find Peter standing in front of her. His fist clenched and she could see his chest heaving before seeing the man having been knocked back, and the force of Peter knocking him off having knocked the man out.

She panted as sobs left her, and it seemed the sound of it finally made Peter turn around. She saw the eyes of his mask narrow in concern as he knelt down, scooping her up.

"It's okay", Peter cooed, "I'm here."

He must have known better to swing them to the jet as he rushed on his feet inside.

Once inside, Peter ripped off his mask, she could see little bruises forming on his face as his eyes swam in worry as he looked at her shoulder.

"It's okay, baby", Peter cooed, "we're already falling back, Bruce will be here soon enough."

She couldn't even form any words as sobs just left her and she knew she must have looked pathetic, but Peter just cooed and stroked her face.

And even in this truly painful and pathetic moment, she knew she had made a good decision at giving Peter a chance.

Bucky was not a fan of Peter and if Peter was being honest, the feeling was mutual. When he was younger, the first time they met at the airport, yeah, he was amazed by his metal arm but now, now Peter thought he was a asshole.

Was he being harsh?

Maybe.

Was he being honest?

Yes.

So Peter stared at the short-haired, brunette man as they all waited outside the operating room.

"She'll be okay, kid", Tony said, nudging him.

But Peter could see Tony's eyes dart over to Bucky, who met Peter's gaze with equal hatred. Peter watched as Bucky sucked in one of his cheeks a little, clear annoyance and dislike written across his face as he stared at Peter.

Peter couldn't understand what the fuck did he want. He had to have known that Peter could hear the man lingering outside the door whenever he and Y/N were together or how obnoxious it was to have to hear him and Dot going at it.

If he was trying to piss them off, it was more of a disgust that he was getting.

A clear reaction he was not happy about.

Peter wondered if Bucky thought he was going to be a one time thing and that Y/N would come back crawling to him.

Peter ran his tongue over his teeth just as Dr. Cho emerged from the operating room.

Tough shit for Bucky because Peter wasn't going to be going anywhere.

Dr. Cho said the fortunate part of the bullet was that it was a clean in-and-out wound and even with that fucker digging his finger into it, Dr. Cho said it missed anything too major.

Snuggled into her bed with a million more pillows that Peter had brought into her room with her arm in a sling.

"I think you stole pillows from everyone in the Compound", she mused with a small smile.

"Not everyone", Peter reasoned, "I didn't take any from Bucky. God only knows what's on those pillows."

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn't help the laugh that escaped her.

"Hand me my laptop please", she asked, "I gotta decode that drive of HYDRA's files."

"Mr. Stark said you could wait before doing that", Peter lightly scolded, "Dr. Cho said no work for at least two weeks."

"Damn you for listening", she pouted, Peter grinned. "How else am I suppose to pass the time?"

"I can think of a way", Peter winked.

It would be a understatement for Bucky yo say how much he disliked Peter Parker.

In the beginning, he could gloss over the kid since he was only fifteen when they met and still under that fresh veil of being a hero. When he got to college and gained that new found confidence, Bucky thought nothing of it.

But when he witnessed Peter with Y/N that is where his tolerance for the Queens-born young spider ended.

Did he make a stupid, impulsive mistake?

Yes, but doesn't everyone?

She obviously did when she decided to give a kid that was almost a decade younger than her a chance.

Bucky tuned out Dot's mindless chattering as his mind swirled.

If anything was certain, he hated Peter Parker.

TAGLIST

@alwaaaysadream @theoraekenslover

#reader insert #x reader #chubby reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker #peter parker smut #peter parker x reader #marvel imagine #mcu!peter parker x reader #mcu x reader #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland x you

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 1 year ago

Note

Hi! I just found out about your blog (aka the best decision ever) and I literally fell in love. So my ask is (whenever you're taking requests btw) a peter parker x reader where the reader's doing the simplest of things and peters just, heart eyes. Thanks a bunch sweets <3333 xoxo

a/n: this is super short, but exactly what i needed to write on a terrible horrible stressful day

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist

“Alright, spidey-boy,” curled up in the crook of the sofa, you opened up the food delivery app on your phone, “what do you want for lunch? What do you want?” you repeated with rhythmic goofiness. Eyes ever glued to the screen before your nose and not the man lounging at the other end of the couch, you rocked gently as you scrolled through the options, “what do you want, my baby Peter? Oh!” your eyes then went wide in a slightly childlike manner at the idea your wordplay had suddenly conjured, “Peter, pita! What about that, huh? A little falafel action?” you finally glanced up to catch his eye, fishing for an answer, but not finding the one you sought. Like warm afternoon sun streaming through the windows, a soft and adoring smile crinkled up Peter’s eyes as he simply stared at you, “what?”

“Nothing,” his head shook gently from side to side as his loving gaze continued to pierce your soul, “falafel sounds great.”

#lea’s writing #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker imagine #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker request #peter parker blurb #peter parker fluff #peter parker drabble #spiderman x reader #tasm!peter parker x reader #mcu!peter parker x reader #mcu!peter parker x you #tasm!peter parker imagine #tasm!peter parker x you #tasm!peter parker fanfiction #tasm!peter parker fluff

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unearthlyeclipse · 2 months ago

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babe i love ur blog!!! pretty pls can we have some mcu!peter parker p!links !!!!!! im legit begging 🙏🙏

MCU! PETER PARKER :: SPIDER-MAN P!LINKS // NSFW/SMUT

A/N: Another one that I had waiting in the drafts!! Enjoy!! (Edit: Just realized I used the wrong Peter for the previous images,,,)

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, smut, aged up! MCU! Peter Parker/Spiderman, edging, femdom, submissive Peter Parker/Spiderman, teasing, riding, p in v, playful, nipple play, fingering, slight BDSM, sticky, slight exhibitionism, sex toys, overstimulation.

A difficult orgasm for Peter...

Peter couldn't help but cry out as you edged him.

Peter choking up over how tight you were gripping his cock, even as he came.

Watching Peter game on the best seat in the house.

Peter helplessly whimpering while sucking your breasts as you jerked him off.

Peter using his webs to tie you up, overstimulating you as you do to him.

You and Peter getting nasty after school.

Peter wanted to try out pegging and didn't realize how much he'd love it.

You were growing desperate after waking up next to Peter in the morning. He didn't mind you riding your feelings out.

Peter binding you with his webs again, making you squirm beneath your vibrator.

Getting off to a video Peter had sent to you whenever you felt lonely while he was out saving the city.

You and Peter getting distracted during movie night.

You and Peter both love the feeling of your hole growing sticky with his continuous loads.

Peter fucking you on his couch.

Watching Peter glaze your breasts with his cum.

Peter getting a bit side tracked while fucking you from behind.

Peter holding and fucking you, grunting and all.

You and Peter had made a playful bet while playing video games.

#p links #twt links #p!links #writers on tumblr #writeblr #marvel #mcu #marvel rivals #peter parker x reader #peter parker #spiderman #spiderman x reader #mcu!peter x reader #mcu!peter parker x reader

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gloomskulls · 6 months ago

Text

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ WHAT LIES UNDERNEATH [cult member peter parker x reader]

pairings: dark! peter parker x reader

blurb/part 2

⇢ ˗ˏˋ SUMMARY ୨୧ after losing your family, your friends, and your boyfriend, Peter Parker casually crashes in your life out of nowhere. His presence was welcoming, as his so-called village is too. But his hospitality seems to have something darker underneath

⇢ ˗ˏˋ WARNING ୨୧ NON-CON/DUB-CON (RAPE), heavy manipulation, toxic relationship, cult beliefs, oral (fem receiving), drugging (use of an aphrodisiac), p in v, multiple orgasms, breeding kink, obsessive behavior, mild violence, mentions of death, depression, suicidal thoughts, implied murder. lemme know if I missed any. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

If you don't wanna see my dark stories, please block the tag #madi: dark content

a/n: this is loosely based on Midsommar, it's a really good movie. I have changed some stuff that i didn't feel comfortable writing or I just didn't want to write. Also this maybe the worst smut you've ever read probably. don't steal any of my shit or I'll steal ur head.

"I'm sorry sissy, the darkness is consuming me, and I will take them with me"

Those were the last texts your sister sent you. You were worried sick about her cryptic message and wanted disclosure from her, but she hasn't written back.

Your sister has been known to be a rather mentally challenged person. She was just venting to you. Right?

It was unnaturally still in the air, sitting at your kitchen table with the phone pressed close to your ear. Your fingers drummed an erratic rhythm against the edge of the table, still collapsed trying to ground yourself. All night, your sister has not picked up her phone. The strange text messages she had sent earlier in the day replayed like a broken record in your mind.

How many times have you been thinking of something really wrong, more than you would admit, but still dismissing it?

Somehow tonight felt different.

You texted Harry to reassure you, but the typical unsympathetic reply only served to add more weight to that chest heaviness again. Now you are left alone with your thoughts, and each one seems darker than the other.

You were about to not pick the phone because it looked like a spam call to you. The number was unknown, but that gut feeling inside you made you press accept.

"Hello?" Your voice dared as you strove to steady it.

The unknown caller said your name as they spoke, "Is this her?" The voice on the other end was calm but carried a cold detachment that made your stomach drop.

"Yes," you replied.

"This is Officer Hill with the NYPD. I'm sorry to tell you we've had an incident regarding your family," she said.

Air disappeared from your lungs suddenly, and your grip tightened against the phone. "What kind of incident?"

"I understand this is tough," she said, her voice carefully measured. "But I need you to come to the station. It's better to speak in person."

The issue of reality has been stretched and heavy between you, and it was so unbearable. “No,” you spoke finally in a panic voiding interiorly. “Please, just tell me now. What happened?”

There was a moment's hesitation in Hill's case. In that moment, you could feel the world starting to crack around you.

"There is no easy way to say this," she finally managed to come up with. "Your parents and sister were involved in a fatal accident. I am so sorry."

You could not comprehend those words for a moment. They swayed in the air outside with an unreal and incomprehensible quality. "What do you mean? Are they okay? What—"

"They didn't survive," Hill said softly, and that cut through your spiraling questions.

The phone fell from your hand and banged tipsily on the table. To this resonating rattle in the small space, however, your ear was tuned out. Your chest tightened, and the phrase ran in your brain, echoing in shallow gasps.

They didn't survive.

The days that followed the funeral just passed in a haze of hollow condolences and noise deafening silence. Your world had been torn apart while everything moved forward—all relentless and lame. Harry, your boyfriend of 2 years stayed as he assured you, but his presence seemed more of a fulfillment of an obligation than any comfort.

He was not exactly a cruel person; at least not really overt, for distance was a high-dubious chasm with every awkward conversation and with every minute spent by him scrolling through his phone instead of talking to you. Not blind are you to those glances he exchanged with his buddies once they assumed you weren't watching. There is pity instead of love and comfort in his eyes whenever you cry.

The last straw fell on a quiet Friday evening. You had dragged yourself to the apartment of Harry, looking for refuge in his presence after yet another sleepless night. He was lounging in the couch with one hand gripping a phone while the other was a beer.

"I feel like I'm falling apart," you admitted softly and settled next to him. Your voice cracked, and at last, the tears that were kept in were poured out. "I don't know how to do this without them. I don't know how to… keep going."

Harry glanced towards your direction, the look on his face inscrutable. After that, he set his phone down and fell into this heavy sigh as he rubbed the back of his neck. "I understand, okay? But you can't keep unloading things like this on me. It's…it's too much."

Your heart sank. "Too much?"

"I'm not your therapist," he said in defensive. "I don't know what you want me to do. I can't fix this for you."

"I'm not asking you to fix it!" You snapped while accepting the anger that had replaced the hurt. "I just need you to be here. To actually care."

He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he diverted his gaze from her, tightening his jaw. "This isn't fair," he muttered.

"What do you mean fair!?" you yelled, your volume rising. "Me grieving my whole family? It isn't as terrible as needing the person who's supposed to love me to act and comfort me?"

Harry stood up immediately and started pacing the tiny living room. "I didn't sign up for this," he said. The words cut like knives. "I feel like… like I'm drowning too. I'm trying to keep my head above water, but here you are, pulling me under."

Your breath literally caught in your throat at that last sentence, as if a blow on the physical plane had hit home. "Is that really how you see me? As one who drags you down?" You asked in disbelief.

However, he stopped pacing and turned toward you, shoulders sagging. "I don't know," he said more quietly. "I don't know what I feel anymore. My friends tell me I should end it. They say I can't do this to myself. But I thought, you know, that might help."

"Help?" you echoed, voice breaking. "You think pity keeping me would help? Do you know how humiliating that is?"

Harry looked away. "Well, I'm sorry! alright!? It's not like I want to be part of your fuckin tenth reason in your suicide note!". Guilt was scrawled across his face when those words left his mouth. "I didn't mean for it to be like this."

You stood waveringly. Nevertheless, your voice remained firm. "If this is too much for you, then spit it out. Be frank for once, Harry."

He hesitated, his silence answering the question you hadn't dared to ask outright.

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. "Well, that's what I figured."

You took your bag and stepped out of the apartment, closing the door behind you just before the torrent of tears fell as you stumbled down the street. For the first time in weeks, you were truly alone. Sure, Harry wasn't the best boyfriend, but now you didn't have family, Harry, heck, you don't even have friends to pat you in the back and tell you it's alright.

You were truly alone, crying in the middle of the streets.

A week later, at the dinner party of an old classmate's friend, Peter Parker walks into your life.

Peter wasn't meant to be there—he admitted that soon after you started the talk. "I kind of crashed this," he confessed with a sheepish grin, rubbing the back of his neck. "I heard there was free food, and, uh… I have no self-control."

You laughed against your will. It was a real laugh that felt vaguely familiar after weeks of grief.

He was awkward but charming, with rapid tumbling out of words out of his mouth as he tried to start a small talk. "So, uh, how do you know Sam? Are you a friend from work? Oh wait, no, you don't look old enough to work with him—wait, not that you look like a kid or anything. I just meant—"

"It's okay," you interrupted, smile still there regardless. "I get it. I am also kinda crashing here, I never really got a proper invite, I just found out from one of my old classmates that there was a party, now here I am"

The more you could talk to him, the more you would discover how easy it was to be in his company. Unlike Harry, who had always been polished and withdrawn, Peter was frank and genuine, emotions laid out for all to see.

And by the end of the night, he had known your family. You had not intended to tell him, but somehow the way he listened— actually listened— made it spill out.

"I'm so sorry," Peter said softly, voice laced thickly with empathy. "That is… I can't even imagine what you're going through. But, if you ever need someone to talk to—or like, someone to distract you with dumb jokes—I'm here."

You've been taken aback by his earnestness. Finally, after what felt like years, someone might have noticed you.

It was indeed one of those nights which made time stretch out into eternity. You were there with Peter on a park bench where the faint light of the flickering city lights was shining through dense bushes and trees. The air was crisp, a cool kind that could very much seep into one's bones, yet Peter's company made it bearable.

He had this way of filling the silence without forcing it: sometimes talking, rambling on about whatever random thought invaded his head, sometimes just sitting with a person comfortable in the quiet, and today, he was acting especially thoughtful, staring at some faraway towers protruding above the skyline.

"Can I ask you something?" he suddenly blurted out, breaking the stillness.

"Sure."

He hesitated, bit his bottom lip as if he couldn't decide how to start, and began speaking. "Do you ever feel like…I don't know, like you're stuck?"

You blinked. It caught you off guard. "What do you mean?"

"Like everybody around you is moving ahead, but you're just there standing still," he explained, his words pretty crumbling out in that earnest, awkward way of his. "Like no matter what you do, you can't catch up."

The question was a little more awkward for you than you'd expected. "Yeah," you quietly admitted. "too many times than how I want it to be"

"It's tiring" he said, his eyes still far. "I get that. After my uncle… well died, after all that, I felt like I was trapped in this… I don't know, this loop. So, I couldn't allow myself to be happy because it would feel wrong, you know? Like I didn't deserve it."

You were gaping at him, flabbergasted by his openness. Peter was not the kind to talk much about himself—not like this, anyway.

"How did you get out of it?" you asked in a soft voice.

He smiled faintly. "I didn't. Not really. But I found something that helped."

"What was it?"

Peter gazed upward at the stars. "My hometown. It's a little dot in the middle of nowhere on the map. Quiet, kind of old-fashioned place. But there's something… something grounding."

He stopped for a brief while, casting a doubtful glance at you. "I go back every summer. It's like hitting a reset button or something. And, uh… would you want to join me this year?"

Totally unexpected. "You want me to go with you?"

"Yeah," Peter said quickly, blushing in the face of it. "If you want to. No pressure, or anything. Just you have been through a lot, and I thought maybe time away might help or something. It's not fancy or anything—definitely not the kind of place with five-star hotels—but it's peaceful. And I'd be there, so… you wouldn't be alone."

At his words, your throat became somewhat tight. He was not offering a vacation. He was inviting you to an escape.

"I don't know," You finally ventured with a little quiver of voice. "What if I just feel worse?"

"You won't," Peter said firmly, his brown eyes locking onto yours. "I won't let you."

There was something so genuine about the way he said it, like he truly believed he could protect you from the weight of your grief.

"What is it like?" you asked, helpless curiosity walking over your hesitation.

Peter's eyes set aglow at that moment, brimming over with a lot of excitement. "Oh gosh! Now where do I even begin? Okay, so there's this diner right in the middle of town. It's run by Mr. and Mrs. Beck. They've been married for like fifty years or something, and they make the fluffiest pancakes you've ever tasted in your life. And then there's this old library. Small, yes, but it has this weird charm, you know? Everything is crooked, and half the books are falling apart, but I love it. Oh, and there's this great big field just outside of town—it's perfect to stargaze because you can see the Milky Way out there. It's insane."

Now he was practically bouncing out of his seat, his enthusiasm almost contagious.

"It sounds… amazing," you found yourself admitting. A small smile tugged your lips.

"It's amazing," Peter said earnestly. "And I think you would love it. Everyone is so welcoming there. It's like… a little bubble of goodness in this horrible world sometimes."

For just a moment, you let yourself imagine it, far from the city and the reminders of everything that had been lost, somewhere I might again breathe.

"Okay," you said finally, barely above a whisper.

Peter's eyes lit up. "Really? You're going to come?"

"Yeah," you said, surprising even yourself. "I think I need this."

"Trust me; you won't regret it," Peter continued, his grin stretching from ear to ear.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt a flicker of hope. Maybe this trip wouldn't fix everything. Maybe it wouldn't fix anything. But for now, it was enough to know you wouldn't be facing it alone.

It was a surreal feeling about the trip toward Peter's hometown. It was almost a relief because you sensed that you were really leaving everything behind, even thought it was just a few weeks. Driving in a comfortable pattern with Peter talking animatedly about all of the town's strange things, while you listened and occasionally chimed in with a question or a laugh at one of his goofy replies.

As you drove farther from the city and the scenery opened to rolling hills and dense forests before you, Peter shifted in his seat to adjust the radio. The soft tune filled the car and merged with the sounds of the tires over the road.

"You are going to love it," Peter said, glancing at you with an innocent smile. "Air's so fresh it nearly smells fake, and the stars. They're nothing like anything you've ever seen before. I promise."

"I'll hold you to that," you said, smiling despite the nervous knot still twisting about in your chest.

The town came into view just about the time the sun started sinking, dipping the horizon in gold and pinks. It was a little bit smaller than you had in mind, the kind of place that probably knew everyone by name.

Peter slowed the car as you entered the main street, which was lined with quaint buildings that appeared to have been plucked from another era. A few of the local's whereabouts were either on their porches talking, in their gardens working, or taking their dogs out for a walk. They would almost wave at Peter as they drove past.

"See? Told you. Nicest people on the planet," said Peter returning the waves enthusiastically.

"No shit," you said, watching a woman coming across with a basket of flowers smile toward you warmly.

Peter stopped in a graveled driveway leading to a homely two-storied fairy tale house. Crooked white picket fence and wildflower-laden garden, there was little that screamed charm.

The moment the car stopped, from the front door, she came, a petite woman in her 30's with brown hair, beaming with kindness in her eyes and warmth in her smile.

"There's my darling nephew!" she called out.

Peter jumped out of the car, practically bounding onto her, hugging her. "Aunt May!"

"And you must be the girl Peter keeps talking about," she said, her bright eyes finding their way to you. "Peter has told me so much about you."

"Oh, um, hi," you said, stepping out of the car and giving a small wave.

"Then that's it," she said, surprising with her strong hug for her small figure. "It's so lovely to finally meet you. Come in! It's rather hot out here during the summers"

Once you stepped into the house, you were met with interior that was as cozy as anyone could expect, the design suggests mixes between vintage and modern furniture, with colorful throw blankets and knickknacks making it feel lived in. There was also a faint waft of freshly baked cookies, which you soon spotted on the kitchen counter.

"Make yourself at home," May said, "Your room's already set up upstairs. Peter can show you around."

"Thanks May," Peter replied, already grabbing your bag before you could protest.

Up came Peter, leading you to a small but cozy guest room overlooking the backyard.

"Hope that's cool," said Peter, dropping your bag next to the bed. "Not fancy, but it's quiet."

"It's perfect," you said, placing your backside on the edge of the bed and taking a moment to breathe.

In the following days, Peter became your own personal tour guide, leading you through the town every nook and cranny, and introduced you to everyone as if you were already a part of the community, and to your surprise, they all welcomed you with open arms

Mr. and Mrs. Beck would insist on serving you their best pancakes while there at the diner even after breakfast time.

"We have heard so much about you," Mrs. Beck said it with a twinkle in her eyes. "Peter's nearly counting the days until you came."

Peter turned red and scratched the back of his neck. "Thanks, Mrs. Beck. Subtle as always."

Library, this was to be; the charmingly ramshackle structure seemed to sag under the weight of its many books. Peter's eyes lit up as he walked through those rows of crooked shelves with his fingers trailing over the spines.

"This here was my escape growing up," he said, pulling a worn copy of The Hobbit from the shelf. "Any time things got… overwhelming, I'd come here. Just me, a book, and a whole lot of silence."

This was the kind of moment when one caught a glimpse into Peter's world of quiet, reflective, introspective thinking where the depths beneath the sunshine state, as always, reside.

The very field that Peter had described so vividly turned out to be even more breathtaking than you ever imagined. The grass stretched out in every direction, swaying gently in the breeze, and the sky above was that of a canvas painted with stars, brighter and bolder than he had ever seen.

With a dramatic sigh, Peter flopped onto the ground, patting a spot next to him. "Come on, you're not getting the full experience unless you lie down."

You hesitated to lie down beside him, letting the cool grass tickle your arms as you stared up at the infinite expanse of sky.

"Wow," you breathed.

"Yeah?" he said, turning his head towards you. "It's like the universe decided to show off or something."

They lay there silently for a good while with the sound of the rustling grass and an occasional chirp of crickets. That was the most peaceful you had felt in a long, long time.

Maybe it was a little initial self-talk that told you it was just small town hospitality. People in cities don’t wave at strangers, though maybe that’s simply what people do out here. Maybe they were just genuinely curious about a stranger in a little place where everyone knows everyone.

But as the day went on, those small gestures, those innocent jests began to feel… different.

It started out slow.

At the diner, Mrs. Beck lingered longer than she ought to while refilling your coffee, her smile warm but sharp, penetrating eyes boring onto you.

"You're feeling like one of us already, aren't you?" she would have said, almost as if it were a statement rather than a question.

You gave a polite smile with no idea of how to answer. "Uh, yeah, everybody's really welcomed here."

"Oh, good," she said, with a firm nod. "That's what we want."

There's something in the way she said it, words weighing a lot more than they were supposed to.

And so it went; the Becks household was not the only one. The pattern held true for nearly every encounter.

"How are you settling in?"

Not "welcome" or "hi and how long are you staying?" The last kind of question you would expect from someone meeting a newcomer. The question, however, assumed permanence. It assumed that you were settling in, that you live here now.

Initially, you passed it off as just another one of those quirks that could be attributed to small-town hospitality. Maybe that's just their way of being polite. But after a few more days, it became pretty hard to ignore the repetition.

You brought it up to Peter one morning as the two of you sat on May's porch, sipping coffee and watching the sunrise.

"Is it just me," you began, keeping your tone light, "or does everyone here ask the same question?"

Peter looked up from his mug, a confused smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "What question?"

"How I'm 'settling in.' Like, literally everyone has said it."

"Oh, that?" Peter chuckled, brushing it off with a wave of his hand. "That's just how people are around here. Small towns, you know? Everyone's in everyone else's business, and they just want to make sure you're happy. It's aggressively wholesome."

You nodded while struggling to let his explanation take root in you, but that feeling of unease lingered.

Then came the presents.

The librarian insisted that you check out a copy of Little Women, even if you just went there to browse.

"You'll love it," she said, sliding it over the counter to you with a knowing smile.

"How do you know?" you asked, only half-joking.

Her smile didn't waver. "I just do."

At the hardware store, the owner gave you a tiny potted shrub. "Every home needs a little bit of green," he said cheerfully, but his eyes had a dark intensity that made him more intimidating.

"Thanks," you mumbled awkwardly, holding the plant as you walked out.

It was the kind of gift given by a dead beat dad, not at all because you wanted it, but so they could wave it in your face.

The real breaking point occurred one night at the diner.

Peter was treating you to dinner there after spending the afternoon wandering around town. It was quieter than usual, the counter occupied only by a few regulars. The place smelled of coffee and fries, and while Peter was busy demolishing a plate of the latter, you excused yourself to go to the washroom.

The hallway at the back of the diner is dark and narrow, the overhead fluorescent lights humming in slightly grating tones. At the door marked "Women," you caught snatches of voices from the kitchen-garbled, urgent.

"…And she's settling in?"

"She seems fine so far. Peter's doing a good job keeping her comfortable."

You were frozen with your hand on the doorknob. Your pulse raced. "Good, she has to feel like she belongs, it's important."

Then there was a crashing sound of many dishes, followed by a long heavy pause.

"So," says the first voice, "you think she suspects anything?"

"No. Not yet."

There, silence fell between the voices after that, then just the faintest clink—the sound of silverware-and the quick pounding of your heartbeat resounded in your ears.

When you stepped back to the table, Peter's easy smile greeted you. "Everything cool?" he asked as he dipped a fry into ketchup. "Yeah," you said quickly as you slid into your seat. "Fine."

The mind remained racing.

They must be talking about someone else—a new hire at the diner. Maybe a new family into town. There was no way they were talking about you.

Right?

You tried to shake it off, sinking into Peter's chatter about the upcoming festival, but the unease clung to you like a second skin.

May's small guest room became so beautiful in the rays of the morning sun that they filtered through lace curtains and softly flecked the walls. You stared ridiculously at the ceiling, a heavy weight on your chest, making sleep unusually elusive. Thoughts had been just too loud and tangled.

Those whispers from the diner, the rehearsed kindness from townspeople, and the way he seemed to brush it all off so easily were elusive things you couldn't shake off. The most you told yourself was that it was probably nothing.

This is what you told yourself as you forced yourself out of bed and down the stairs. Peter wouldn't lie to you; he was the most genuine person you knew. Right?

The smell of pancakes and coffee greeted you in the kitchen.

By the stove stood Peter, his hair at odd angles and humming a tune under his breath. For a moment, you let yourself relax. This is Peter, your Peter.

"Good morning, sleepyhead!" he greeted, grinning at you with that boyish grin. He slid over a plate of pancakes drenched in syrup and topped with fresh strawberries.

"Morning," you replied, low enough to be heard.

"You okay?" he asked, tilting his head.

"Yeah, just didn't sleep much," you tugged and picked little at your food.

"Frowning," Peter said and kept down his fork. "Anything troubling you?"

"No," you lied quickly. "Just one of those nights."

He studied you for a moment, and you forced a small smile. Whatever the unease was, there was no reason for dragging Peter into it. He'd just dismiss it as he always did.

At last, the day was spent in a well-practiced blur of activities. It seemed Peter had made up his mind to keep you as busy as possible, even dragging you around the town park and to that creek he used to catch tadpoles as a kid. And if that weren't enough, he picked you up from the bakery where the sweet aroma of pastries was very strong. Offering you so many pastries till your stomach ached

Evening had cloaked the house in darkness, and so much for bottled up emotions. After dinner, the two of you sat alone in the living room: May well and truly off to bed. And that left you here with Peter sprawled across the couch flipping through some book, while you closed yourself into a tight little knot in the armchair.

"Peter," you broke the silence.

He blinked up at you with alarmed eyes. "Yeah?"

"I need to ask you something."

His brows knitted slightly, but he set aside the book. "Sure. What is it?"

You pause, heart racing. "Last night at the diner I heard something. Two people in the kitchen were talking about me."

Peter's face remained impassive. Still in his eyes, there was a flicker of something that disappeared as quickly as the light.

"What did they say?"

"They said you were doing a good job keeping me comfortable. That I need to feel like I belong." You paused, faltering with your voice. "Peter, what does that mean?"

Peter leaned forward, dangling his elbows on his knees. "It's nothing, they were probably just being nosy. People here care about each other, and when someone new comes in, they get… curious."

"That is not how it sounded," you said shaking your head. "It sounded like, intentional. It sounded much like plotting."

"You're overthinking this" Peter sighed rubbing back on his neck "Seriously, this town—it's different—close-knit. They just want to ensure you feel welcome, happy here, nothing but that".

“Then why does it feel so fake?” you pressed, raising your voice. “Everyone acts like they already know me. Like they’re expecting something to come from me.”

Peter tensed his jaw, and then he did not speak anything for a moment. He then stood up suddenly. "I brought you here for your help," he said in a hard tone. "I brought you here so you might begin a fresh mental state, a place where you could heal. And instead of appreciating it, you are looking for ways to tear it apart."

"I didn't ask for this!" you shot back, standing as well. "I didn't ask to be dragged into some town where everyone acts like I'm part of some… some secret club!"

Peter turned to you, eyes flashing. "You didn't have to ask! You were falling apart. You needed this. And I've been trying my best to make things easier for you, but you can't even see that, can you?"

The words hit you like a slap. Staring at him, breathless, tears filling your eyes. "Peter… why are you doing this?"

He softened immediately, shoulders slumping. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to—look, I just… I care about you. I hate seeing you so lost. I thought bringing you here would help, but maybe I was wrong."

You wiped your eyes, and the mind is busy with thoughts. Maybe he is right. Maybe you are over-reacting. Peter was not that manipulative. He was just worried.

"Okay," you said finally, your voice shaky. "But if this town is so great, then why does it feel like there is something you are not telling me?"

Peter's eyes drifted towards the window momentarily—as if to check whether there were eavesdroppers outside—"It is not like that," he said, whispering faintly barely audible.

"Then tell me what it is," you said. "If you want me to trust you, then stop keeping secrets."

Peter sighed deeply, his shoulders sagging. "Alright," he said. "But you're not going to like it."

"And that's supposed to mean what?"

He moved closer, looking you straight in the eye. "Some things are better demonstrated rather than told," he said, his tone even more pleading. "I'll tell you everything tomorrow. Just…give me another day."

You gawked at him, feeling your belly tie up in knots. Every instinct in you screamed to demand answers right now, but for some reason, the look in his eyes stopped you. He looked… desperate.

"Fine," you said with reluctance. "One more day."

Peter nodded, a relief washing over his face. "Thank you," he said almost inaudibly. "I assure you, it will all come into perspective soon."

But climbing into bed that night only made more pronounced the doubts gnawing at you louder than they had done before.

The cold, crisp evening air wrapped tight around you like a noose, as they led Peter into the woods. Try as you might to ignore the uncomfortable hollow in your gut, the longer you sat in this strange, unsettling village, the more you felt that something dark ran underneath it all. Every villager's smile, how they seemed to know just a little too much about you—everything just felt orchestrated, perfect.

You had held the doubts to yourself, buried deep down because Peter had always been the perfect anchor. But tonight, something flickered in his eyes—his tense shoulders and that almost undetectable flash of something darker crossing his face—told you that you were no longer in control.

You entered the clearing, gasping for air by the time you stepped into the structure resembling a stone chapel. The door agonizingly creaked open, bringing in the cold air from outside in juxtaposition with the stifling heat within. There, illuminated softly, were the others. A few you recognized from the eerily quiet familiar faces that watched you through predatory eyes.

It felt thick and heavy in the air, almost stultifying. The walls were closing in, and the silence was becoming almost oppressive. Peter gently but firmly drew you forward, his comforting presence still providing warmth, though everything else seemed wrong.

He was more weathered and older than you imagined, the drawn skin of his face tight over sharp features, pale and unblinking eyes matching his face. The robe hung dark and almost blended into shadows as he approached you. A murmur swept through the people gathered, and you paid little attention. Everything spun in your head and your heart drummed against your ears.

"Peter," said the man with a voice which grated like a rusty hinge, as if he had been whispering for years. "She has come."

Peter's eyes had been fixed on you for some time, and now he nodded slowly. The heat of his gaze made your skin crawl. The man checked you out from head to toe, and his intense eyes seemed to promise a lot of something. "Perfect," he said under his breath but not for too long so that others could hear him as he shouted, "She is the one. It's time."

Time, just like that word, seemed hollow, reverberating in the air around you like a bad omen. Instead, you opened your mouth to argue or question what part of this was really happening, but then, Peter squeezed your shoulder so tightly that it felt like it might crush your bones.

"It's okay," he whispered against your ear with his very warm breath. "I'll explain everything. You'll understand soon enough."

But understanding was the last thing you wanted to happen. All you had in mind was running. The man stepped forward, never breaking the eye contact. "Our village has managed to survive for many centuries and still thrive at its odds. But there is one rule that we have to abide by—there is one rule that can't be broken. After every eighteen years, one of our own must depart from this world and find someone in the outside world—from beyond these walls to someone pure."

Your mouth went dry. "What… what do you mean by that?"

"Every time a child turns eighteen, he must leave for a period of time to spend in the world outside, learn its ways; but after this period, he must return, and he must bring someone from the outside to add to the village."

Your body suddenly turned ice cold. "What do you mean, bring someone from the outside?" You spluttered. Your voice barely made an impression on the silence.

The smile of the man became broad. "A new family member. A mate. Someone to whom they will get married, with whom they will create children. This is the law."

You turned to Peter with wide eyes filled with horror as your heart stuttered deep in your chest. "What do you mean… a mate? You want me to…?"

Peter tightened his grip on your shoulder and breathed shallowly. "That's how it is done. This is how we survive. The village needs strong new blood. The children produced from these unions keep the bloodline pure, preventing inbreeding."

Inbreeding. That one word roared through your mind like no other thought. You couldn't breathe. You felt suffocated under the weight of all that.

"What… what are you saying?" you gasped, stunned and unable to take in everything being revealed to you.

Peter stepped even closer; eyes dark with something almost predatory. "That's how this works. You're part of the plan now. You have no choice. You are here because you were chosen. You are going to help us keep the village alive. Our survival depends on… "

"No," you whispered, stumbling backward as you tried to retreat. "No, this isn't right. You can't—this isn't—"

And suddenly, an old man stepped beside you, his shadowy tallness overshadowing you. "You will understand soon. You are not the first, nor will you be the last. Every child who leaves returns with someone. And they will mate, they will bear children. This is how we preserve our people, how we protect our bloodline." He said as if it was your duty, as if this was your destiny.

"No!" You screamed tearing the air with your voice now choked in emotions. "This is insane! You're insane!"

The gentleness from Peter that used to soothe you all vanished, replaced by the steely resolve. He took another step forward, and instinctively you recoiled. "I did not want you to have this," he said, his voice low and strained, "but it is how it is. You will come to understand, and you will see that it is for the best."

The other villagers watched you with silent intensity as the space surrounding you felt as if it were closing in on you, with walls pressing from all sides. You could feel their hungry and expectant eyes on you.

You wanted to run. You wanted to yell.

But as soon as the old man reached out his hand to grab you, Peter's hold on your arm tightened, his fingers digging into your skin, keeping you anchored. "You don't understand yet," he said quietly, his voice tinged with something darker, something that, as it sent chills down your spine, made you think he was going to take you off somewhere to be tortured. "But you will. Soon, it will make sense. The only way to survive is this. This is something we can't let you ruin."

You were trapped. The weight of their expectations crushed you, their smiles now twisted masks of something monstrous beneath.

"Your child will also do the same duty," the old man said softly. "When they come back to the village with their mate, they will fulfill their destiny. They will carry our future."

Your chest constricted. Every part of you screamed to escape, to run, to fight against the suffocating nightmare into which you had been dragged. All the while, in the depths of your consciousness, you knew that there was no escaping this; they had planned for this. They had chosen you.

Back against the stone wall of the chapel now, your breath came in rapid, gasping suction since the reality began to drown in you. It beat loudly in your chest, a frantic mind racing for exit routes, for freedom from the path that had been laid out for me like a spider's web in all its horrible detail.

Peter's gaze was cold and cruel; it was no longer the warm presence one had hoped for. The heady words of the old man echoed in your ears, chilling and impossible to escape, like a curse. "You will return. You will bear our future."

As impossible as it was to believe, you finally realized it, this fucked up cycle wanted you to be part of it—and not by choice.

But you weren't going to let that happen.

You pushed past Peter and felt the sharp sting as he grabbed at your arm. You broke free, legs now trembling beneath you, as you headed for the door. You had to get out. You didn't know where you were running, but the woods were the only option. The only chance at freedom. You burst through the chapel door and into the cold night air, stumbling over uneven ground.

You heard footsteps behind you, but you didn't dare look back. The wind howled around you, swallowing up any sounds from the village. Your lungs burned as you pushed yourself faster, harder, your breath ragged from panic clawing at your chest.

You didn't look up when you heard a car approaching, but you didn't stop either, as your mind told you to keep running, to escape, but your legs were beginning to fail you.

The car stopped short before you, the headlights blinding. You turned with a wild heart as the door to that vehicle swung open. A man in a police uniform stepped out, his expression unreadable.

"Hey, are you alright?" he asked, with a soft voice but underneath carrying an authority.

He wouldn't let you trust him, and you could be in danger. "I-I need help," you stuttered, barely able to catch your breath. "They're chasing me. They—they won't let me leave."

The officer stepped closer, his eyes darting toward the woods behind you. "Who's chasing you? What happened?" His voice was smooth, coaxing, calm.

You stumbled toward him, the last shreds of your resistance slipping away. His presence was comforting, the uniform a familiar sign of safety in this strange world that had turned upside down. "Please," you gasped. "I need to get out of here. Please help me."

The officer smiled, that warm, almost paternal smile that gave you a moment's feeling of cocooned safety. "You are well within safety here. Get into the car and I'll take you to the station. They won't find you."

You didn't even think twice about it. Worn out and shivering, you climbed into the passenger seat of the car. The door slammed behind you, then the engine revved into life. You sank into the seat, closed your eyes, letting the sound of the engine create an illusion of safety. Finally, you escaped. Finally, you could breathe again.

The engine growled before heading out with the officer looking at you and softening his expression to almost a grin. "A strange night out here, huh?" Are you really sure you are, okay?"

You shook your head, catching your breath. "I need to get away from those people… I don't know who they are but they're dangerous."

"People can be dangerous, can't they?" he mused.

You glanced at him. "Yeah, I guess. I just don't know who to trust anymore."

Soft chuckle from him, as if to sense that it sounds contrived, that it has to be learned. "What's trust? You just have to know whom to get along with and whom to avoid. It requires experience."

You just turned to the window and trees and darkness rushed by. The mind was reeling from the attempt at grasping everything that has happened as it was really too much: the town; the event; Peter's cold stare; and now this—this officer who has apparently materialized at just the right moment. He must be the one sent to rescue you.

"Where are we off to?" You asked

"Oh, just a little way out of town," he replied, his voice smooth, almost too smooth. "Nothing to worry about."

You nod, fatigue dragging heavily on your eyelids. For a moment, it felt good, like all was well. But then the cop's voice became a personal one.

''I'm Steve by the way, Steve Rogers. Was just coming here for a quick stroll," he began, "I never thought I was going to be out here, helping someone like you. It is really funny, how life turns out."

Brow furrowed, and incomprehension written all over the face. "What do you mean?"

The very slight narrowing of the officer's eyes at you, just for an instant, was followed by his returning gaze to the road ahead. "I spent a lot of time in these parts, and the people can be somewhat…. they are peculiar. But then, I guess you already know that."

Heck, what was he talking about? "What do you mean by a little hard to understand? Who do you mean by that?"

Just above a smile, something confidential, something dark, flickered across the officer's lips. "Well, my wife, Peggy… she was from around here. She got them, you know? Understood what was going on. It took me a long time to realize it, but eventually, I figured it out. I did too."

Your heart stops, hammering against the confinement of your ribs. "Peggy… Carter?" That name rang in your mind like a bell, sharp and dissonant. You had heard that name before, only in whispers, a long time ago.

From what you remembered Peggy Carter was one of the most vicious woman in the police force, even in her short time in doing her job. One day she got married to a man named Steve and nothing was heard from her again. As if she disappeared, she completely left her job and duty, and so did Steve who was a fellow police like her who also vanished from the face of the earth. That was all you knew, and all of that happened 10 years ago. Many believed they moved. Some believed

The officer's smile brightened, but now it had no warmth. His voice went down low, as if telling you a secret you weren't supposed to know, "That's right. Peggy Carter. She was special. A part of something much bigger than either of us ever realized. I didn't understand it at first. Thought she was just a regular woman… but then I saw it. I saw everything for what it was."

It had caught in your throat because your mind was connecting all the dots. Peter, in actual fact, couldn't stop saying that you were here for a bigger thing, that you actually belonged. And now there is the officer, Peggy Carter, the strange village thing, the quite twisted ceremony—now everything starts to get clearer while terrifying you.

Your pulse raced, and once more, you cast a glance at him, eyes wide with realization. "You… you’re one of them, aren’t you? You’re one of their… their plan.”

For just a second, something shadowy, something colder, flicked through his eyes; and with that flicker, somehow you knew you'd made a terrible mistake trusting him.

Steve Rogers, the cop smiled "I was hoping you'd come around sooner or later. You're a bit smarter than I thought," his voice was light, like he was discussing the weather. "However," a dangerous tremor lurked below his words. "Peggy always said you'd be the perfect addition - just like I was, just like she was."

You sprung back, your first instinct was to reach for the door handle, but before your brain could register what was happening, the vehicle shifted violently. Body flung against the door; your head crashed against the metal side with a sickening thud. Stars exploded behind your eyes, and suddenly, everything muffled.

When you woke up from what felt like the worst sleep in your life, but you weren't sleeping, or did you just doze off and you couldn't remember any of it? Everything felt like a blur, memories were juggled up, and everything seemed out of place. How did I get here again? You thought to yourself.

It was strangely silent all around. The engine's rhythmic humming gave way to a stifling, heavy silence. You couldn't move. The air around you was thick and stifling; you had a throbbing headache that was likely to make you nauseous.

You couldn't even comprehend what was happening before you saw the door of the car opened, your whole-body weight made you fall off the vehicle. You audibly groaned as your body hit the rough dirty cement

Lo and behold, standing right in front of was Steve Rogers, towering above you, his face expressionless. His cold stare that piercing through your soul at you while your arms continued to adjust the sleeves of his uniform with a calm expertise.

He circled you as if he was predator cornering its prey. He stopped just at your head. He looked at you with an expressionless face, he slowly smiled, the creepy type of smile you would see psychopaths do on movies.

You wanted to run, punch him in the face and fucking run. But you couldn't, it felt as if your feet have already given up on you, plus the blooming pain in your head made it hard to think.

"It just never gets the job done" He frowned momentarily, your eyes widened in fear as you saw him take a beer bottle from behind his back, you shook your head, no please, please, please. You tried your best to crawl away from him, but you couldn't even feel your legs.

You sobbed in defeat, but he just caressed your cheek and wiped your tears away, as if to lure you into a false sense of security. With all the softness of a feather, he said, "You'll be fine," really more to reassure himself than you. "The ceremony's just waiting for you."

Before you can act, a hard bang on your head seems to lurch your stomach. The officer had swung a beer bottle at your skull; it hit with a sickening crack and within the instant the pain exploded into darkness pressing behind your eyes, and the world went black.

It was the scent of incense—sickeningly sweet and heavy enough to churn in the stomach. Candlelight flickered. shadows danced on stone walls, making the small space feel smaller by the second.

You woke up all lethargic with a blooming headache. You felt relaxed underneath the soft bed that you laid, but once you took in the stone walls, it felt like a train has hit you. All of the events from a few hours ago running you over.

Your mind raced, scrambling for an escape route, but all you saw was Peter standing between you and the door.

He never looked more like a stranger.

The once boyish charm which drew me to him was now a hollow mask as he hid himself behind his dark eyes. The face had no malignance—worse, it was soft, almost tender, like he really believed in what he was about to do. And that thought haunted me most terrifyingly.

"You are trembling," Peter said, his calm and soothing voice only making the fear spike higher. "I know it's a lot, really overwhelming, taking it all at once… but… it will be okay, I promise you."

"Peter, please," you whispered, your voice breaking into pieces at the seams. You could hardly utter a word without your throat choking it. "You don't have to do this. Let me out. I promise I won't tell the police—"

But that was where he cut you off by shaking his head sadly. "You don't understand. This is my home. It is where I belong. And now, it is where you belong too. We are part of something bigger here. Something meaningful."

"Meaningful?" you spat. "You kidnapped me, lied to me, and brought me here to…" The words cracked at the tightness in your throat. You couldn't even say them. I dawned onto you that you have been too trusting with Peer, but who wouldn't? Who knew that clumsy little sweet Peter was capable of doing something this fucked.

Peter stepped closer, casting a shadow over the too small room where it suddenly felt claustrophobic and anchoring. “I didn’t kidnap you. I saved you.”

His voice is insistent, though not harsh. “You were lost out there. Alone. No family, no one who cared about you. Don’t you see? This is your chance to start over, to have a purpose. To be loved.”

“Loved?” The word struck your lips like venom. “This isn’t love, Peter. This is… this is sick.”

It darkened slightly his countenance, as a spark of frustration crossed his face before it was replaced by forced patience. "You're scared," he softly pronounced. "That's normal. But fear does not last. Once you embrace your role, once you understand what we're building here, you'll see that it's not sick. It's beautiful."

“No,” you whispered, the soft sound swallowed by the thrumming of your heart. “No, this isn’t survival. This is—”

“But” Peter cut you off firmer now like a knife slicing through your protests. “It’s already decided. The village chose you. I chose you. And now… it’s time to fulfill your purpose.”

Peter looked at you, with a voice deceptively soft. “It’s not about what you want. It’s about what the village needs. What I need. We can’t let our bloodline die. Every generation, we bring someone in—someone like you. It’s how we survive. How we thrive.”

“Not,” that voice barely came out through the rapid pounding of your heart. "No, this isn't survival. This is—"

The words sent the waves of nausea throbbing through you. Your knees buckled, landing you onto the edge of the bed, your body shaking violently. Peter knelt before you, hands gentle as they gripped your knees. The touch made your skin crawl, but you were frozen, paralyzed by fear.

"You are afraid," he repeated, the tone almost tender. "it needs to be this way. After the ceremony, you'll see there is clearly a need for it."

"Peter," you choked out, barely in a whisper. "Don't do this, please."

He tilted his head, softening in expression as if he really thought given how pitiful you look. "This is for them. For us. For the village. You'll thank me one day."

The door creaked open, and two women stepped in to the door. They moved with quiet, almost unnerving precision their white, long, and flowing robes covering the ground as they entered. Both had faces that seemed devoid of emotion—serene but cold as if they had performed this ritual hundreds of times before.

You instinctively tried to press yourself into the corner of the bed pulling down from Peter. “Who are they?” you asked unsure though your voice came out shaky and weak.

Peter turned toward the women; his posture casual almost welcoming. “They’re here to help,” he said softly as though the explanation should comfort you.

Help. The word in your stomach was like poison. You didn’t need help. You needed to escape.

One of the women carried a bowl filled with a dark unknown substance that shimmered strangely in the candle's light. She laid the bowl down on a small wooden table near the bed, her movements carefully controlled. The other carried a smaller cup with her fingers clutching tightly as she looked at you.

“Don’t,” you said, your voice trembling as you shook your head. “I’m not drinking that.”

It’s just to help,” he said calmly. "You’ve been through so much. You lived so much. You’re shaking. You’re exhausted. This will relax you.”

“I don’t want to relax!” you cracked your voice rising in desperation. “I want to leave! Please, Peter, don’t do this!”

He sighed, as though disappointed but his patience did not waver. “I know you’re scared,” he said reaching out to hold his hand on your knee. “But this isn’t about fear. It’s about trust. You trust me, don’t you?”

Your stomach tilted and a cold wave of nausea was rolling over you. Why would he even ask that question? "Peter, you are not the person I thought you were. I don’t trust you. I don’t even know you anymore.”

Peter’s jaw tightened somewhat ever so slightly, as if flickering with guilt. Peter was the funny and clumsy guy you met at a party, but this Peter. You don't know which dimension he came from. But his guilt was immediately gone in an instant replaced by the same calm, unnervingly patient expression, accompanied with a reassuring smile that could've been comforting in different circumstances.

“It’s my fear. I think that can be said,” he said, his tone softening again. "Once you let go of this, you will see. You’ll feel better.”

He gestured toward the woman with the cup to reach closer to you. Her movements were graceful, fast rehearsed as she held the drinking. The cup itself was simple, wooden. But compared to what's inside looked nothing compared to ordinary. It was a dark murky brown with faint swirls of crimson that seemed to ripple on its own.

Your stomach churned at the sight of it, you wanted to gag at the thought of even coming in contact with that liquid, you said again "I won't drink that." Your voice barely above a whisper.

The woman didn’t respond. She held the cup in her hand, as if waiting for you drink it still.

Peter reached for your hand and firmly gripped on it, but not a forceful one. "It’s okay,” he said softly, his eyes locking with yours. “This will help you. I promise.”

You tried to pull your hand away, but his grip tightened, and the woman moved the cup closer to your lips. Panic rolled. Your heart began to beat, and tears were falling from your eyes. “No!” you shouted thrashing against Peter’s hold. “Let me go!”

But he didn’t let go. His strength was shocking and unyielding as he held your and instructed the woman to force the drink in your mouth. The dark liquid sloshed down the rim, spilling onto your trembling chin as you refused to open your mouth, moving your head back and forth so that you could just avoid the unknown and disgusting liquid.

“Please don’t fight this!” Peter shouted; his tone now laced with urgency and desperation. "It’s better if you just let it happen."

The woman tilted the cup and poured the thick liquid into your lips. You clenched your teeth, refusing to let it in. Peter’s hand moved to your jaw, his fingers pressing firmly until your mouth opened involuntarily. Liquid graced on your tongue, its taste vile and metallic like rotting herbs and rust.

You gagged and coughed violently as they forced you to swallow. The bitterness burned all the way down, leaving an acrid aftertaste that made you want to rip out your tongue, you fell on the bed as you gripped your throat—massaging your throat, a pathetic attempt to soothe the taste that felt like it travelled all the way down to your throat, it didn't have any burning sensation, it just felt like your throat had taste buds.

You convulsed on the bed, “What the- What was that?” you asked; out of breath as you tried to gasp for air.

Peter stood “You’re going to feel it soon,” he said, pushing a damp lock of hair off your brow.

It was a gentle warmth blooming in your chest, then outward like the bright afterglow from the strongest of drinks. Then it grew. It scorched through your veins, making your skin feel alive with a burst of tingling sensations. Your breaths came quicker as you kept trying to dismiss the feelings, but they just wouldn't listen.

“W-What is happening to me?” came the stammers from you in a trembling voice.

Peter knelt beside you again, touching your knee ever so lightly with his hand. “The elixir is working its magic on you,” he said kindly. “It allows you to let go. To free yourself to connect with what is meant to be.”

This warmth soon transformed into a more diabolical sensation, a slow burn that throbbed low in your stomach that stretched to your clothed womanhood. Suddenly every nerve ending on your skin was hypersensitive, sending a shiver down your spine against that crawl of fabric over your body. Heart racing, but it was hardly with fear.

“No,” you whispered, shaking your head. “No, this isn’t right.”

Peter merely smiled all the wider and relaxed his squeeze on your shoulder. “It’s okay to feel this way,” he said. “Your body is just responding. It’s natural.”

While your mind was telling you every reason to fight it off, your body would have none of it. That heat, the damn heat; it clouded everything snuffing off every thought but that strange feeling growing in you.

Peter leaned in closer as he whispered “This is how it’s supposed to be. Don’t fight it. Just let it happen.”

Your brain screamed against this intrusion, invoking all the force it could muster to reject it, to reject him. But your limbs felt heavy, thick, sluggish, as though they had been clapped into a steel frame. The drug took effect, you loathed it and wished to deny the dull calling of unwanted pleasure.

"Please," you managed to whisper, letting your tears flow down your cheeks. "Don't do this."

In every way this was wrong. You didn't want to partake in this, you wanted out. Peter was not the person you thought he would. Maybe he was before all of this, but not now.

Peter held your face with both his hands—gentle yet firm. "It's been done," he said, pinning his gaze on yours with steady resolve.

The heat had become unbearable; it drummed against your thoughts and created ceilings that pressed down on you. You could hardly breathe, each breath barely manageable since all control was lost over thoughts revolving around him. The very touch of him inflamed every nerve in your body.

Peter continued to lean forward until the distance separating your two faces became almost nonexistent. The darkness of his brown eyes was rendered soft, for all that, it was chillingly out of place now. "You're trembling," he said softly, his voice dipping with mock concern as he brushed his palm over your damp forehead, lingering perhaps a moment too long.

You turned your head away, yet your body was heavy and unwilling to cooperate. "P-please," you whispered, not even sure what it was you were begging for at this point—mercy, some distance, anything but this.

Peter's hand slid down again to cradle your face, thumb grazing your cheek. The warmth of his touch felt like additional treachery against your body, which leaned into his hand, once again, even though the screams of your mind were saying otherwise. "Shh," he said, his voice dropping to a soothing pitch. "It's okay. You're safe here. With me."

His words twisted a knife that lodged in your heart, and you were still trying to find a protest when his other hand clamped on your waist—gentle yet firm. Just enough pressure was applied to make acutely aware of every detail of your closeness: the scent of wood smoke and something faintly sweet, flooding your senses and drowning all your composure.

"You've had to fight for so long," he said; there was almost a tenderness in his voice. "Let it go—let me take care of you."

You shook your head weakly, your lips parting to say no words that would come. Everything in you resisted, heavily dulled by the drug that now crumbled your defenses and left you helpless to bask in warmth blossoming in your chest and the sickening affinity of Peter's presence.

He angled his face, gazing down at you as the thumb of his right hand traced the curve of your jaw. "So beautiful," he murmured, almost a whisper. "Yet you don't even see it? You are something else—so special."

The tears that had built up in your eyes crashed down, scalding lines down your cheeks. "Please," you said again, but it came almost like a feeble whisper, your power to protest fractured.

Peter leaned forward, and his breath ghosted over your lips. "I've waited for this," he murmured, as though revealing a secret. "Waited for you. I thought I would never even have a chance with you since you were so fucking smitten with your dick of a boyfriend. But you're mine now,"

And before you could think, hit him back or convince him otherwise, his lips crushed against yours.

The kiss was languid, purposeful, and claiming. His mouth flowed with an unsettling confidence, an almost eerie manifestation of such rehearsed movement, if it existed at all. You wanted to break apart from him and scream and fight him, but your body let you down one last time; it was folded under the drug and against the full force of his presence.

His hands moved, one remained cradling your face, while the other tightened at your waist as a gentle reminder that you belonged nowhere else. It was a kiss more claiming than forceful, a silent proclamation of his ownership over you.

He finally pulled away but only to press his forehead to yours, feeling warm against your skin. "It's time" he whispered, it was loud enough for the women to hear. They immediately scurried out of the room and closed the door on their way out.

Before even asking what was going on, Peter attacked your neck. You shrieked at his sudden actions. He kissed, licked, and bite every single portion of your neck.

Peter's hot tongue licked your skin as he leaned closer, lips barely grazing the curve of your neck. A shiver made its way down your spine as he softly sucked on the sensitive flesh, forming this sweet vacuum that made your heart stand still.

Peter kept on kissing and nibbling at your neck, fueling his excitement that grew hotter like a fire, determined to engulf you both. His hands tightened around your waist, drawing you closer as he deepened the kiss, lips and tongue moving together in a dance that spoke both pleasure and pain.

You winced; you want nothing more but for this to end. You tried to imagine yourself in another scenario, a happy one. That one time where Harry bought you this wonderful necklace for your one-year anniversary. Things were still calm, peaceful.

You were so deep in thought that the ripping sound of fabric made you flinch. You have realized that Peter has ripped off your thin graphic t-shirt, leaving nothing but your bra on full display for him. But of course, the bra didn't stay on for long.

He ripped your bra off you with such force. He threw the bra elsewhere, that was the least of his worries as your he saw your mounds with all its glory. Blood rushed up to his cock at the sight of you half naked and slightly damp from sweat. You on the other hand just wanted nothing more but all of this to end.

Peter leaned in, his lips grazing your skin down to the soft curve of your delicate breast. His mouth latched onto your nipple, and he started to suckle; the soft gentle tug sent a jolt of sensation radiating through your body. Your hands fisted the sheets as you let out a shriek.

"You have no idea how long I have waited for this moment" His words came in muffled since he was still stuffing his face with your breasts, but you heard it loud and clear. How blind were you? Peter has been lusting over you, longer than you even met him, how come you never realized it? All the warning signs were there, but they were subtle, now they're just coming to light now that it was too late.

He had grown more daring now, sucking, kissing, and licking every inch of your breasts. He nibbled and sucked at the curves, gently biting the flesh around them. Meanwhile, his hands traveled all over her torso, cupping and squeezing dear breasts as if to remember every contour.

"So beautiful," he whispered in between kisses. "Perfect. Mine." Those words sent a shuddering chill up your spine.

Peter stared into your eyes while he was sucking and nibbling on your breasts. They would have been a sweet sight if the present state of affairs were any different.

He released your nipple from his mouth, as drool connected from his lips to your erect nipples.

With urgent impatience, Peter fumbled with the buttons of his shirt and then tore it off, revealing a sculpted torso that demanded attention. The muscles of his torso flexed while he moved, and for a second, you could not help but look at the sheer grace and control that radiated off his body.

Now, Peter had long ceased to be interested in himself; he was now concentrating all his energy and attention on you. The moment he grabbed hold of your pants, and his fingers had clasped tightly around the waistband, panic ran through you at the sight of him pulling down on them. You didn't want to give in, not now, not ever.

Your hands went straight up to push against him; you punched at his chest with all the remaining strength that you have that wasn't stripped off by the drug. Your fruitless attempt on trying to gain some space between your bodies.

"Peter, no," you said, your voice wavering but earnest. "I don't want to. Please!"

His eyes never left the prize, and nothing was going to stop him. He yanked your pants down, regardless of how you kicked and thrashed against the force with which he was pulling. Your underwear met the cool air.

A wave of embarrassment washed over you as you realized that Peter was staring down at the small scrap of fabric that barely covered you in your most intimate area.

He wrapped his fingers around your underwear's waistband. You tried to squirm away from him, but he held you tight, his grip like a vice. In one swift motion, he ripped the fabric from your body, leaving you completely bare.

Peter's eyes had wandered across every inch of your naked body, you tried to look away from him, but your face was met with a wet pillow, you didn't even notice that you have let out a few tears.

Peter dove on to your crotch and his warm breath rolled over your sensitive skin like a wave of fire. His tongue flicked out as he suckled at your clit, and involuntarily, jolts of electricity pulsed up your spine. You attempted to push him off you once more, but Peter was far too strong

Peter continued his assault on your pussy, you felt a familiar sensation happening. You shook your head as your body betrayed you. Peter seemed to notice this, "There she is"

Before you knew it, he inserted a finger in your hole as he continuously licked your clit with such vigor.

You let out a strangled moan as your hand flew to his hair. Peter smirked at this as he slowly fucked you with his finger, which was a stark contrast to his tongue who ravished you like you were his last meal

"God, such a tasty pussy" He murmured, which just sent vibrations to your pussy. He continued, his tongue circles your clit, licking and sucking on it like he can't get enough. "Good lil fuckin pussy" He moaned as if he's the one getting head.

He continues to lap on your juices, slurping any arousal seeping through as if he hadn't drunk water in many years.

His voice low and soft, whispering how good it is, how perfect your sweet pussy was for him. "Fuck, baby, you're so fucking sweet—so good for me. God, I'm so glad your mine now." He kisses it so passionately, muttering praises to it while his tongue laps you up.

And as he continued to lick and suck at your clit, you felt a building pressure inside yourself. It felt like every nerve ending had been ignited by Peter’s ministrations.

Your legs stiffened, your hips jerked upwards, and your entire body began to tremble with anticipation.

With such joy and pain, you felt like you were seeing stars right in front of you. The intensity was too much to bear as your grip on Peter's hair tightened

That instant when the knot finally snapped and a deluge of pure, harmless ecstasy engulfed you, your body contorted, muscles oscillating and contracting rhythmically; an intense orgasm swooping upon you like a tempest.

Your legs stiffened and your toes curled in pleasure. You clutched at anything and everything. Peter's hair, bed linen, anything to hold on to the threads of reality, as everything before your eyes dissolved into an ocean of forced bliss.

River of tears were falling from your eyes. You couldn't help but reminiscence your time with Harry. For the first years you were together with Harry, he was sweet and loving, even if your relationship has turned sour after Harry found another hobby, he would never force himself inside you. When you had sex, it was always consensual.

With the final ripples of the orgasm fading away, Peter finally pulled his head from between your legs. His gaze brushed over you with a kind of possessive pride, and he took the disarray of your body in the messy fondle of your hair, the daze that lingered from where he brought you so close to the edge that you fell over it, and the slick of sweat glistening over your skin.

“You look tired,” Peter said with a soft almost guilty tone, "But I'm afraid that that was just to prepare you, were just beginning"

When those words came out his mouth you shook your head as you begged him, "Please Pete, please" You sobbed, your words barely even intelligible.

"Shhhhhhhh" He shushed you, "The more your accepting, the sooner this will end" No, you didn't want to accept this, there must be another way, there must be.

As he stood up and took off his pants, exposing his erect cock. His cock slightly bounced once the boxers were fully off of him. He climbed on top you as both of you were now fully naked as the day you were born.

"The bedding ceremony is about to begin” Peter said, low in his throat, his voice husky with desire. “It's going to hurt, but I think I prepped you enough”

He then aligned his cock to your slit. You gasped as his bulbous tip entered you, he wasn't big, but he was thick. He slowly pushed his cock inch by inch inside you, your sensitive flesh was still sore from the previous orgasm.

Peter suddenly thrusted deep inside you, fully losing patience, with a forcefulness that took your breath away. His cock touching your cervix when he bottomed inside you, it felt almost painful how intense it was.

“Please, Peter,” you pleaded, attempting to push him away. "You're hurting me."

But Peter just smiled at you, it gave you tingling shudders through your spine. “That's the first step of the ceremony” he said, pulling out then plunging back in. “You just have to learn to accept what I’m giving you, if you learn maybe Goddess will reward you"

His relentless cock was battering your insides, and you were starting to tear up. It was nearly unbearable agony; the pleasure was subtle that you could barely even get the gist of it, the searing warmth that burned itself into your very essence.

“Stop,” you said again, trying to wriggle out of his grasp. "Please just stop."

Through the pain and the fear, you never lost hope. So you fought back with a passion you never had before.

Your hands raked Peter’s chest, ripping at his skin to the point he grunted in surprise. Your fingers sank into his skin, but he only chuckled—a sound that was hollow and empty.

Unfazed, you fought on. Your teeth dug into his shoulder, biting down hard enough to make him hiss. But even as he grimaced, he wouldn’t stop — his hips pumping a relentless rhythm, one that threatened to swallow you whole.

You swung your fists, punching into Peter's face and chest with a frenzied abandon. Forced down in front of him as he sunk his cock deep within your needy hole, you tried to twist away, to squirm free as he held you in place, the weight of his body pinning your hands above your head, forcing you to take this.

And you tried, even though it was entirely pointless. You kicked your legs to try and buck him off you. But he was too heavy — too powerful — and he laughed again as he kept your legs pinned down beneath him.

With each thrust Peter grew more aggressive; almost brutal the heat inside you was burning you up; threatening to consume all reason and make you numb.

You were lost in the agonizing bliss, as Peter's cock continued its merciless assault on your insides. The fire in your belly grew more intense, it felt like it was spreading through your insides like wildfire.

"God, you're squeezing me so hard" Peter breathed as his thrusts slowed down just a little bit.

Yet whilst you sensed you were in pieces on the inside, that you were toppling apart, something in you relished it. It felt like your body had turned against you, reacting to the vicious attack with a disgusting cocktail of agony and pleasure.

Peter thrusts forward and you felt your hips bucking in time with his, your mind spinning in horror. It was like your body had created its own consciousness that responded immediately to the arousal with animal instinct that couldn't be suppressed.

You were losing yourself in the sensations, being sucked into a world both dark and depraved, where no line could be drawn between pain and pleasure. It was the most terrifying feeling in the world, when you wondered if you would ever find a way out of the grip of this monster who was responsible for everything.

With every thrust, Peter became more aggressive, more brutal - You could feel yourself losing control; teetering on edge, ready to plunge headfirst into unknown; uncertainty ignited both fear and anticipation.

Your breaths were coming in small gasps now as Peter gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your skin like a vice. You attempted to move; attempted to wriggle against him—but it was futile: he was too strong

This friction just poured gasoline into the flames that had been raging within you—turning those pleasurable sensations into unbearable ones. The edge of your sight blurs out; stars dance along the border of your vision as the world narrows down on a single point of focus: Peter

In pure ecstasy moment you found yourself surrendering, submitting to the wave pleasure that is tearing up your body. Its fear inducing and freeing sensation — like leaping off a precipice without a net — not knowing what awaits at the base.

The world went white and quiet. You hear Peters voice in your ear whispering "Come for me" and with that your body explodes into thousand pieces

You weren't sure what happened, your mind all fogged and your pussy sore. The only thing you have noticed was that Peter was still thrusting inside you.

He leaned as he whispered the most haunting words into your ear, "I almost feel bad for you. I guess you should always follow what your parents says, don't trust strangers"

@gloomskulls 2024. DON'T COPY, TRANSLATE OR USE ANY OF MY WORKS HERE OR ANY OTHER WEBSITES. Photos don't belong to me

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love-hs28 · 6 months ago

Text

Late Nights and Close Calls

Summary: You and Peter sneak a bottle of champagne from one of your dad’s - Tony Stark’s - parties at the Avengers Tower. Giggling and hanging out in your room, one quiet moment leads to you almost confessing your feelings to your best friend.

Mcu!Peter Parker x Stark!Reader Fluff 1.2k Words Posted on: 2-19-2025 masterlist

The bass from the party downstairs thrums through the walls of the Avengers Tower, muffled but insistent, like the pulse of New York City itself. You lean against the door to your bedroom, biting back a grin as Peter scrambles to follow you inside and shut the door behind him, cradling a stolen bottle of champagne like it was radioactive.

“I can’t believe you actually went through with it,” you whisper, your voice tinged with awe and laughter. You walk over to your bed and flop down on the mattress, Peter quick to follow.

He turns to face you, his boyish grin equal parts triumph and nervous energy. “What can I say? I thrive under pressure.” He wiggles the bottle in his hands. “Besides, it’s not like Mr. Stark’s going to miss one bottle right?” You know he’s trying to convince both himself and you of this.

You let out a snort of laughter, crossing your legs as you got comfortable on your bed and as Peter sat next to you, leaning against the wall. “I sure hope not. We’re dead if he catches us. And by ‘we’, I mean you.”

Peter smirks, a teasing edge in his voice. “Good to know where your loyalties lie, Stark.”

You roll your eyes, but are unable to hide your smile as you reach and grab two mismatched mugs from your nightstand. One of them has a Spider-Man design on it that Peter had jokingly given you as a birthday present, and he secretly smiled to himself at the realization that you’d actually been using it.

“Here. Fancy drinking glasses for our super-classy operation.”

Peter chuckles and pops the cork with a loud pop, making both of you jump and laugh. Bubbles froth over the top, and he quickly pours some into the mugs in your hands, spilling more than he probably should.

“To bad decisions and avoiding your dad’s wrath,” Peter says, setting the bottle on the nightstand to grab his mug from you, holding it up in a mock toast.

“To bad influences,” you shoot back, clinking your mug against his. You both take a sip, eyes smiling at each other over the tops of the cups.

The champagne was sweet and fizzy, a little stronger than you had expected, but the warmth it brought to your chest was welcome. You scoot over you so you’re sitting next to Peter, your shoulders close enough to touch every time one of you moves.

“This is way better than listening to my dad schmooze with a bunch of billionaires,” you say after a minute or two of talking, tipping your mug towards Peter and resting your head on his shoulder for a moment.

“You mean you’re not interested in talks about stock portfolios and advanced AI?” Peter quips, raising a teasing eyebrow.

You laugh, the sound light and easy thanks to the drink. “Not even a little.”

The two of you settle into a rhythm of a familiar banter and conversation, the champagne loosening any nerves. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d laughed this much. Peter was good at that - at making you forget the weight of expectations, the constant pressure to be more than just the Tony Stark’s daughter.

Somewhere in the middle of a story about one of Peter’s disastrous attempts to ask a girl to homecoming freshman year, you found yourself staring at him. His face was animated, his hands gesturing wildly as he spoke. The soft glow of the city lights through your window and your desk lamp cast golden highlights in his hair, and his eyes—warm and expressive—crinkled at the corners when he laughed. It was one of your favorite things about him.

You didn’t realize you were smiling until Peter stopped mid-sentence, turning his head to meet your gaze.

“What?” he asks, his voice softer now, the teasing edge gone.

You shake your head, heart fluttering in a way you didn’t quite know how to handle. Damn, this champagne was making it hard to think… it totally wasn’t Peter that was causing your brain to short-circuit, right?

“Nothing. Just… you’re really great, you know that right? I’m glad you're my best friend.”

Peter blushes, looking at his mug and trying, but failing, to suppress a smile. “Thanks, y/n. I’m glad you’re my best friend too.”

He turns his head to look at you again, and your breath catches, the words hanging between the two of you like a live wire. For a moment, you think he might say something more—something that you were also thinking, something that would change your friendship forever.

Another moment of silence passes as you just stare into each other’s eyes. You get a sudden urge of confidence, thanks to the effects of the alcohol neither of you were very familiar with.

“Peter, I–”

A loud boom from outside causes you both to jump, and your heads turn to look out your window, where you see an array of fireworks going off, some in the shape of Iron Man’s helmet. It was as if Tony was listening in on you and purposely stopped you from saying what you were about to confess.

Great timing, dad. Thanks a lot.

Peter laughs awkwardly, running a hand through his hair. “Your dad sure knows how to throw a party,” he turns to meet your eyes, but looks away quickly with a shy smile, still blushing from your almost-confession.

You laugh softly, also avoiding Peter’s gaze and fixing your stare to your mug. “No kidding.” You didn’t know if you were thankful for the interruption or should yell at your dad later for setting off his stupid fireworks. Maybe it was for the better, though; Peter seemed to want to ignore it, so maybe you should too.

What you hadn’t noticed, though, was that Peter had also been staring at you all night, just as much as you were staring at him, if not more.

Thankfully, the effects of the champagne hadn’t quite faded yet, so the awkwardness between you two faded as quickly as it had appeared; something that always seemed to be happening to the two of you.

You bump your shoulder against Peter’s. “Wanna head back out there?”

Peter smiles at you, taking a sip of his champagne. “Nah, I’d rather stay here with you. Besides, I think it would be pretty obvious that we’ve been, you know, having fun up here.”

You blush at the accidental insinuation that Peter had just made, but you knew he only meant that you had been drinking. He seemed oblivious to it though, so you decided not to make a joke about it and spare yourselves any more awkwardness.

“True,” you say with a soft laugh, “I’d rather be here too, anyways. You don’t totally suck to hang out with.”

Peter laughs softly and it’s his turn to bump your shoulder with his, the slight contact almost making you shiver. “Yeah, yeah, you’re not so bad yourself.”

You spent the next hour or two doing the same thing you always did—making each other laugh and testing the hell out of Peter. And, even though neither of you said what you were really thinking, it was okay. You knew there would be other moments—other nights like this where the words might finally spill out.

For now, this was enough.

Thank you for reading! My first mcu!peter fic yay!! I have lots more in my drafts lol, so lmk if u wanna see more of himmmm. Tom Holland was my first ever celebrity crush and I am a MASSIVE Marvel fan, so this Peter holds a special place in my heart :) Again, thanks for readin and I hope you liked itttt! xoxo

#mcu!Peter Parker x reader #stark!reader #mcu!Peter Parker x stark!reader #Peter Parker x reader #Peter Parker x stark!reader #Peter Parker imagine #mcu!Peter imagine #Peter Parker fluff #mcu!Peter fluff #mcu!Peter parker #mcu!peter #Peter Parker x reader fluff #mcu!Peter Parker x reader fluff #Peter Parker fanfic #mcu!Peter Parker fanfic #Peter Parker x stark!daughter #mcu!Peter Parker x stark!daughter

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im-sleepdeprived · 3 months ago

Note

can you do one where peter gets hurt a little bit and gets all whiny and crap and the reader is trying so hard to stay focused. LOVE YOUR STORIES BRO!!!!!

I LOVE THIS IDEA !!! it’s definitely such a peter thing to do. here’s a short, cutesy little thing, i hope you like it and im sorry it took me so long to get back to you💞✨ !! warnings are just peter being a big whiny baby whose desperate for affection, small mentions of injuries, 1,3k wc <333

“Ow!”

“Peter, be quiet! Stop whining, I’m almost done.”

“I’m in pain, baby,” he whined.

It hadn’t been a surprise to be disturbed by a knock on your window, Peter usually stopped by after patrol which was why you’d started leaving it open for him. But when he hadn’t slid the window open after those few soft taps, you’d gotten a little worried.

So you’d gotten out of bed to open for him, only to find your boyfriend perched before you, mask off, pouting heavily at you.

Of course, you’d helped him in and gotten him laying across your bed so you could start to clean him up. You’d started keeping a first-aid-kit at hand since you’d found out he was Spider-Man. It had been of great use.

But it hadn’t taken you long to realize that his wounds, as far as his usual patrol wounds went, weren’t bad. Not at all. In fact, you were positive that he could’ve gone home, slept the rest of the night, and woken up good as new as if nothing had happened in the first place. Maybe your boyfriend had forgotten that he had super-healing abilities.

Or maybe he just liked the way you babied him.

“Oh, are you now?” You asked, glancing up at him with a raised brow. There was really nothing for you to do other than wipe the few cuts and scratches with antiseptic and place small bandaids over them. He just enjoyed pestering you.

“Yes,” he said so seriously, you almost laughed. This Peter was a stark contrast to actually-injured-Peter, who would do everything he could to assure you he was fine when he was literally bleeding out before your eyes. You didn’t like that. At least this was funny.

“Petey, baby,” you laughed softly, adjusting a small bandaid on the high of his cheekbone where he’d had a small scrape. “You’re actually pretty put together tonight. Must’ve been a pretty quiet night, hm?”

“No,” he sighed dramatically, grabbing the wrist by his face gently, keeping you close to him. “No, it was horrible sweetheart, I’m gonna need extra care tonight. You know, to help the trauma.”

Shaking with laughter, you leaned in and pecked his cheek, right beside the cut you’d just bandaged. “The ‘trauma’, Petey? Really?”

A large, dopey grin broke over his face as you pecked his cheek and he squeezed you wrist a little. “There. That’s perfect, such a big help sweetheart, you have no idea what you do for me. You make the pain bearable, pretty girl.”

You rolled your eyes affectionately, pressing another kiss to his cheek. “There, all better?” You asked him as you pulled away where you were met with a scowl.

“Y/N, honey, I’m suffering! I’m knocking on death’s door, angel! Give me something!”

You absolutely lost it at that, falling back onto the bed in a fit of giggles. “I can’t help you when all you do is whine!” When you opened your eyes, Peter was hovering over you, trying to keep his little facade of being upset and in pain, which was fruitless with the large smile blooming on his lips.

“You’re so mean, you know that?”

“Oh really? I’m the mean one?”

“Yes! You just found out your boyfriend, the love of your life, your future husband, the father of your future children—”

“What?!”

“—is dying, and what do you do? You laugh!!”

Another laugh escaped you, this time the sound infecting Peter as well. “I-if you’re dying, doesn’t that mean you won’t be my husband or the ‘father of my future children?” You manage out between laughs.

Peter gasped offendedly. “I…I…” he tried to defend himself to no avail. You’d caught him.

You laughed even harder. “It’s okay, Petey. I’ll tell my future children all about you.”

He didn’t seem to like that very much. In one swift motion, his hands were on your hips, picking you up as he laid back on the bed again, his back pressed against the headboard before he plopped you down onto his lap.

“Oh hi,” you grinned at him, loosely looping your arms over his shoulders, his own hands coming to rest on your waist.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he murmured, his eyes soft and loving as he looked up at you.

Leaning down, you pressed your forehead against his. Peter’s hands tightened on your waist, tugging you closer till your chest was pressed against his.

“I have another wound you haven’t patched up for me yet.” He spoke softly.

“Yeah?” You asked, fully expecting him to be playing a bit, the smile already starting to tug at the corners of your lips. “Where, sweetie?”

He smiled right back at you, sticking his hand between where your chests were pressed together and pressing on the spider emblem on the center of his suit, making the fabric deflate with a soft breath and flood around him.

Pushing the suit away for him, you noticed a scratch on his chest you hadn’t realized was there before, making you frown. It wasn’t deep and it wasn’t bleeding, but it was long and a harsh shade of red, the skin around it tinged pink with irritation, and it definitely could’ve used a cleaning.

“Petey, baby, why didn’t you show me this before?” You asked softly, shifting in his lap as you leaned over to grab the kit again.

Peter sighed, biting back a smile. This was exactly what he’d needed, that soft, gentle voice of yours you used on him whenever he stopped by bruised and banged up. “Why, you think it’s bad sweetheart?”

“No, no, thank god…” you muttered as you got to work on the scratch. “But I bet it burns. Does it hurt, honey?”

“Yeah,” he answered, letting out a soft groan for show as he leaned further back against your headboard. One of his hands left your waist and found it’s way to your hair, playing with the strands and giving one a gentle tug every now and them.

“Peter,” you grumble, refusing to look up at him.

“Your hair is so soft.” He murmured in awe, as if he’d never seen anything like it before.

“Genetics.” You deadpanned. “Now stop distracting me, I’m trying to help you!”

“You are helping me, pretty girl. Just watching that gorgeous face while you bandage me up is doing half the healing already.” Another tug to your hair.

You swatted his hand away before poking his side with a soft smile. “No bandages for this one, sorry Pete. I’m just gonna have to heal you with kisses.”

“That sounds great,” he beamed widely. “Your kisses make me heal way faster than bandages, trust me, I speak from experience.”

Ignoring him, you leaned down and peppered a few soft kisses along his chest, staying beside the cut but never kissing the wound itself. You could feel his breathing stutter, the rhythmic movements of his chest turning irregular beneath your lips.

Peter hands on your waist tightened, his grip pushing you down on his lap. “Baby…” his voice was a soft, desperate thing, a deepness in his tone that made your stomach flip. Well that wasn’t right.

You sat back up, picking up a leg to swing over and slide off his lap but his hands on your waist slid down to your thighs quickly, stopping you.

“What’re you doing, pretty girl?” The utter betrayal on his face almost had you second-guessing what you’d done for something way worse. “Why’d you stop?”

“You’re hurt, Petey,” you answered simply, “we’re not doing anything tonight.”

“W-what? I’m not hurt, no, I’m fine! I’m perfect!”

“Really? I thought you were at death’s door.”

“Oh that…Yeah, no, he sent me away. Said it wasn’t my time.”

“Right, of course,” you murmured, nodding your head with all seriousness.

“Your kisses were working,” he stated sincerely, “you have to keep going!”

“Whatever you say, handsome.” You smiled, leaning in to press your lips to his.

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oncasette · 2 months ago

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Hello! Hope you're doing ok. Can i request Tom! Peter Parker x reader with this

Prompt : "why are you acting like this?" "why do you think?!"

𝗛𝗔𝗩𝗘 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗕𝗘𝗘𝗡 𝗪𝗔𝗜𝗧𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗟𝗢𝗡𝗚?

mcu!peter parker x fem!reader

summary: 1.0k

"Yeah? You sure it's just studying that's doing that?" he bites. Okay.

"Peter," you snap, finally and somehow just now at your wit's end. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"We're all talking now," he says, but the vicious bite in his tone seems to have fizzled out.

"Alone," you hum with a placating smile.

or the one where peter gets jealous and starts badmouthing you at your birthday party.

a/n: can be read as tasm!peter as well, but there's a reference to ned so i feel like it def reads better for mcu!!

masterlist | read on ao3

You didn't think inviting your best friend of seven years to your birthday party would be a bad idea. You thought it would be a great one, actually. A no brainer. He'd been so wonderful at the last six. He'd even planned your twenty-first all on his own without any help, and it'd been a blast.

But this year, for some unknown reason, he seemed hell-bent on ruining your birthday.

"She's not that good at school, you know," Peter sighs into his cup, eyeing the man across from him. Jason. The kid you'd been tutoring in chemistry for the last semester and you'd invited last minute. Honestly, it'd been such a whirlwind of a comment, you hadn't been sure he was actually coming until he'd rolled up to your apartment with a bottle of white and a gift.

"I had to help her every day after school to keep her from failing senior year," Peter continues, despite the daggers you were shooting him from across the table.

Why was he lying? Sure, you'd gone over to his and May's place after school more often than not, but that was more an excuse to spend time with your friend than have him keep you off the metaphorical chopping block.

"I don't know man, she's been pretty good with me," Jason shrugs off the comment. It softens your anger a bit. Just barely.

"Yeah? You sure it's just studying that's doing that?" he bites. Okay.

"Peter," you snap, finally and somehow just now at your wit's end. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"We're all talking now," he says, but the vicious bite in his tone seems to have fizzled out.

"Alone," you hum with a placating smile. You're doing your damndest not to ruin the night for your other friends at the table, but you can tell from their lingering stares that idea is hanging on by a thread.

"Oh, yeah- uh, sure," he stutters, hesitantly pushing his seat back and following where you'd stormed off to your bedroom. You feel a bit like a looney tunes character, cartoonish steam surging out from your ears. He shuts the door behind him quietly.

"What are you doing?" you ask. You're fuming. Heat surges through you from nostrils down to toes. You think if you were to spit, it'd burn a hole through the carpeting.

"Wha... I don't..." he swallows, jaw clenching. It burns you hotter, though it's unfortunately more than rage warming your system. God, you hate that he still has that effect on you. After all these years, after all the hours you'd spent in his presence, he still had the ability to reduce you to this.

"Why are you acting like this? You've never... been like this," you huff. "And on my birthday?"

He says your name softly, stepping forward.

"I'm not trying to..." he trails off, eyes scanning your figure. The silence washing over you leaves you feeling far more vulnerable than you'd felt a minute ago. "Why do you think I'm acting like this?"

"I don't know," you mumble. You look down at the ground. He steps closer, one hand coming up to your chin to lift your eyes back up to his. You have to force yourself to take a deep breath before you continue. "You were so normal before everyone came over, and then suddenly at dinner you're belittling me and being-"

"A dick," he finishes. "I was being a dick."

"Yeah," you snicker in spite of yourself. "You were being a dick."

His adam's apple bobs as he prepares himself to continue. "I don't like Jason."

"So you were mean to me about it?" you ask.

"Just... just listen to me for a second, okay?" He waits for you to nod. You want to kiss him. Or punch him. "Your friend... Jason... He's just, so... Jock-y. And he's kind of an asshole. And I'd never even heard of him before tonight because you'd never said his name when you told me about your tutoring sessions and then suddenly he's at your door for your birthday party and you're looking at him with these big moony eyes and I just-"

He inhales sharply. If anything, the boy sure knew how to ramble.

"I just hate him," Peter finishes.

"I don't understand," you say.

His eyes fall shut, head tipping back, still holding onto your jaw.

"I hate that you invited him to your birthday. I hate that he showed up. I hate how much I hate that he's here because it's making me say things I don't mean," he sighs. "I hate that you like him as much as you do."

"Are you jealous, Peter?" you ask softly. His eyes open again, big and wide and staring imploringly into yours. He chews on the inside of his cheek for a second before he nods.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm jealous," he admits. "And I know that's silly because you have other friends here and it wasn't even supposed to be just us-"

He isn't given a chance to finish that excuse though before you've leaned in that extra couple inches and slanted your lips against his. You can feel his surprise. He stiffens, hand trembling against your jaw for a second, before he surges forward with more enthusiasm than you've seen in him since him and Ned finished the LEGO millennium falcon sophomore year of high school. All of him, every inch of him that he can manage, presses into you. A hand finds your waist, the other sliding back from your jaw to cup the back of your head. His head tilts as he attempts to deepen the kiss only to let out a whine when you pull back.

"You- What was that?" he asks. "Not- not that I'm complaining."

"You don't need to be jealous," you whisper. Back outside your bedroom, you hear the rest of your guests shouting for you to hurry up so that they can cut the cake and have you blow out your candles. Reluctantly, you're able to pull yourself out of Peter's ironclad grip on you.

"C'mon. You can help me brainstorm a new wish," you say as you grab his hand to lead him back out to the party.

"A new wish?" he asks.

"First one already came true."

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #tom holland #tom holland x reader #mcu #mcu!peter parker x reader #mcu!peter parker #spiderman #spiderman x reader #r's sleepover

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astxroiid · 8 months ago

Text

harry's girl // any!peter parker -- non powered!au/virgin!peter

and she's loving him with that body, i just know it.

❥ you're dating Harry Osborne, Peter's best friend since kindergarten. And that should be totally fine... except Peter can't stop thinking about you. ((NSFW)) ib: jessie's girl by rick springfield.

wc: 6k - should be more, imo but, whatever, i'm lazy.

navigation — mit!au

Peter Parker and Harry Osborne had been inseparable since, basically, birth. Well, except for the four years of high school that Harry's dad had sent him away to private school.

Both boys had tried to stay in touch, but with the distance, and honors classes, and clubs it was difficult.

After high school, both Peter and Harry ended up at The Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Elated to see one another, Harry had invited Peter to a beginning of the year party being hosted by one of his friends.

Peter tentatively accepted.

He had walked into this house expecting something not completely unlike the grandeur he found. Marble floors, giant windows, and authentic art adorning the magnificence of the estate.

A home so nice, Peter never believed he'd ever step foot in one. Classical music was flowing from all corners of the manor, bringing Peter out of his daze.

I mean, who plays Mozart at a college party?

Except; this isn't college, it's an institute. And this is no mere party, it was a gathering of some of the richest and smartest twenty-something's in the country to drink expensive booze, or liquor rather, and have sex.

A lot of which was already taking place around him.

Peter found an antique looking loveseat in the corner of the drawing room and slunk into it.

He opened his phone, scrolling through a random social feed and allowing his mind to go numb.

"Parker!" A tall, thin boy emerged through the crowd of bodies, smiling from ear to ear.

"Osborne." Peter smiles back, standing to greet his friend.

"I'm glad you made it! I didn't know if it was your scene or not, but I hope you enjoy it all the same."

Peter nodded, looking to Harry's side and making eye contact with one of the most beautiful people he's ever seen. "Oh. Hello," His voice is small.

"Hi," you smile at the charming boy in front of you.

Peter feels himself internally retreat back, instantly self conscious of what you think of him. Was he weird for being on his phone at a party? Were the clothes he picked out wrong? Did he seem uninteresting?

"Ah, Peter. This is my girl," Harry squeezes you closer to him and you both smile as he gives Peter your name.

Having his fear confirmed, Peter gives a tight smile.

⡠﹞⚘﹝⠢

Peter didn't care much for the party. The drinks were nice, but he'd honestly rather be home.

He found himself outside on the porch, propped on the railing and watching his sigh disappear in the cold night air.

⡠﹞⚘﹝⠢

Days turned into weeks of school, studying, reluctantly being drug off to parties, and staring at a wall - trying not to notice you and Harry in the corner, making out.

Every now and then, Peter would watch Harry drag you off to one of the bedrooms, trying to ignore the pit in his stomach.

Most often, though, Peter would hide in the bathroom. He was trying to avoid the sight altogether.

That's where he is now. Sat on the edge of the tub, head rested in his hands as he internally screams at himself.

You can't have a crush on your best friend's girlfriend! That's the biggest rule in bro-code! What the fuck is wrong with me?

Peter rubbed his hands down his face. Sighing. His rumination broken by the sudden slam of a door. Giggling and shuffling.

Peter hadn't given much thought to choosing a bathroom that was connected to a bedroom. Until now.

He cracked the door open and the sight before him made his mouth dry. You were pushing Harry onto the bed, scooting your dress down your body.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Peter quickly, but quietly shut the door. Heart pounding, he slides down the wall.

"God, you're so beautiful," Harry sighed.

Peter pressed a fist to his eye. God I'm an idiot.

It wasn't long before he heard moaning, damn near screaming, and dirty talk he'd rather have never heard from his best friend.

"Such a good girl... just like that... fuck."

Peter would cover his ears but it'd do no good. Instead he covers his face, ignoring the twitch in his pants at every single noise you make. He tries not to think about what's going on behind that door.

But his mind keeps flowing back. To you. To your body, your moans. It's not long before Peter is hard and imagining how good it'd feel to be inside you.

He can hear everything. Every time you cum, which has been many. Every time the position changes. Even every time Harry puts his hand around your throat.

It's everything Peter can do to not touch himself right there in the bathroom. He's gripping at the sides of his pants, trying - desperately - to hold out.

Finally, he can hear Harry finish. All three of you out of breath. A kiss. And what sounds like clothes being put back on.

"I gotta go, baby. The boys are wanting me to do a final round of shots with them."

"I gotta go too, my roommate wants me to bring take-out on my way back."

With that, silence follows for the first time in what felt to Peter like hours.

⡠﹞⚘﹝⠢

When Peter got home he ran a cold shower instantly. Scrubbing his body raw and pushing his mind away from anything to do with you.

Harsh indeed, but necessary.

And as he laid down in bed, he tossed and turned all night. The only dreams and thoughts he had were of you.

⡠﹞⚘﹝⠢

Peter Parker awoke the next morning more erect than the night before. He had his subconscious to thank for that.

This began a series of sleepless nights for Peter. Each night restless, and each morning flustered.

He had opted out of the last three parties Harry had invited him to. All being on a Friday night, Peter lied and said he had a weekend full of studying to do.

"Always the most dedicated student, even in your twenties, I see," Harry had mused this afternoon.

Peter gave an awkward nod of his head and walked away.

Later in the evening, Harry had texted Peter.

I know you said you're busy this weekend, but you should drop by my place for some lunch tomorrow.

Peter flopped his phone beside him on the couch, sighing. He hated what his feelings had made of him. He was avoiding his best friend of years all because of a stupid crush.

He picked his phone back up.

I'm sure I can squeeze in a lunch. It better not be that pizza from last time though.

Peter smiled at the memory of the burnt pizza Harry had attempted to make, turning his head back to the tv.

⡠﹞⚘﹝⠢

Peter walked into Harry's apartment, following the information given to him the night prior about the door being unlocked.

He looked around, admiring Harry's decorations. His friend is nowhere to be found. Peter called out,

"Hey, Harry?"

Silence.

Maybe he's getting changed or something.

Peter makes his way back to what he assumes to be the bedroom. He freezes about a foot away from the door. It's wide open. And he can see the whole room.

To put it gently, you and Harry seemed to be having a great time.

You were on top of him, blanket wrapped around your waist with your bare back showing. Soft moans flowing down the hallway.

Peter couldn't take his eyes away from the indents Harry's fingertips were making in your lower back.

Shit.

Peter's pants tightened. He couldn't look away. The way you were slowly rising and falling onto Harry's lap instantly being etched into Peter's mind.

"Fuck... Harry... m'gonna..." you threw your head back.

He had never heard such an angelic sound in his life. Poor Peter believed he might have a heart attack at the sight before him. All he could do was blink.

The echo of your climax rattled its way through the apartment. And finally, Peter came back to earth.

Fuck. Fuck, what if they see me? God, it's gonna look so weird.

A split-second decision had Peter quietly scurrying to the door. How do I keep ending up in these situations? He stepped out into the hallway, catching his breath. Peter tugged his phone out of his pocket, and messaging his friend.

Hey, I'm here.

In a moment Harry was opening the door, sleep shorts the only clothing on his thin frame. He was smiling.

"Peter! I told you the door would be unlocked."

"Yeah," Peter gave a sheepish smile. "I was just nervous."

You and Peter ended up sitting together at a small table in the kitchen while Harry stayed around the stove, cooking.

"Hope you don't mind her joining us, Peter."

Peter feels a pit in his stomach surrounded by the both of you. Too many conflicting emotions swirling in the room for him.

"No problem," he waves his hand. "Only gives me more of a chance to learn about my best friend's girlfriend."

You giggle and give Harry a look only you two understand. Peter looks confused.

"What? I thought you two were... but you said...?"

"Harry and I aren't exactly dating, Peter."

God, his name sounded like heaven coming off your lips. So much so he almost didn't render what you'd said.

"Oh," was all he could allow out without sounding too excited.

"We just enjoy each other's company," you smile.

"And if one of us finds something more permanent, no one's hurt," Harry shrugs.

"Got it," Peter's heart skipped a beat.

So maybe he had a shot after all.

⡠﹞⚘﹝⠢

After brunch you and Peter ended up on the couch, chatting while Harry cleaned the dishes. He had insisted.

Peter had a question long held in his throat. One making his heart pound, no matter the fact that it was a simple question. It was still a question to you, nonetheless.

"So," Peter rubbed his hands on his jeans. "The thing about you and Harry...." God. It was such a simple question. Why couldn't he get it out?

You looked at him, smiling. His mind went blank. Any question he had was forgot.

"What about it?"

Peter scrambled to finish his question. "Uh, do you like it? Him?"

"Most of the time."

"Most of the time?"

"Yeah, it's just-" you pause yourself, finding the right words. "Because of our... arrangement, Harry only focuses on what he needs. Which, I can't complain too much, I do the same. But-" you twitch your mouth from side to side.

"But, I enjoy caring for my partner. And when my partner does the same."

Peter is taking mental notes. He nods his head, ignoring the ache in his crotch at details you give.

"Yeah, I get that."

"Right? And - I enjoy my time with Harry, but he really isn't the kind of man I prefer in bed."

Peter's heart races.

"What kind of man do you prefer?" He pushes.

"Well, Harry's very assertive. And I really like a man to let me do the work. Someone more submissive," Peter please get the hint. You pray.

"Oh." Peter, being as inexperienced as he could possibly be, was confused. He made a mental note to figure out what you were talking about.

You had known the moment you'd met Peter that he was the exact kind of man you needed. Sweet disposition seeping into every facet of him. He was everything you'd been craving for months, if not your whole life, really.

You study Peter, seeing him squirm slightly under your gaze. You scoot closer, pressing your thigh to his. Peter feels a tingle down his back at the warmth you spread to him.

You prop a hand on the back of the couch, toying with the hair at the nape of Peter's neck. He stiffens, then relaxes into your touch. "What do you think, Peter?"

He snaps from his daze. "Uh... about what?"

"Y'know... what would you prefer, with whoever you're with." God, I hope this isn't too forward.

"Oh," he's quiet. Too quiet. You wait with bated breath. "Well, I uh, actually don't know..."

"What do you mean you don't know? A man's gotta know what he likes!" You smile, moving your fingers along his scalp momentarily.

"I, well," Fuck, Peter, just spit it out. But really how is he supposed to tell the woman of his dreams, best friend's girl, the most amazing person he's ever met; that he's never done anything more than kiss a woman? And it wasn't more than a peck at that.

You wait, staring at him with wide eyes. You hope he feels the same as you. About a lot of things, really. But especially this.

"I wouldn't really know. Because," he takes a breath, eyes anywhere but you. "I've never really done anything to be able to learn what I like."

You smile. Not a malicious nor mocking smile, but a genuine, heartfelt, earnest smile. "Peter," it almost sounds chastising. "You don't need to do anything with anyone else to know. You just need to know what turns you on the most."

"Hm?" Peter's lips are pressed tight as he moves his honeyed-brown eyes back to yours.

"What can you think about, or watch, that gets you off the quickest?" You let your nails lightly drag across the back of Peter's neck, watching as he shivers from your touch.

He shifts uncomfortably, feeling your eyes on him. How the hell did he get himself in this situation? Beginnings of a hard-on in his pants, your fingers dancing on his skin, and mind a mess of any thoughts other than the one he needs to be having.

Peter never really watches porn. He's heard of it, of course. He's seen the memes about the websites, screenshots of funny faces - but when he's alone with himself, he usually just closes his eyes and waits for it to be over. How does he tell a woman like you that? Without sounding like the weirdest person ever?

"I, uh... don't know..."

You huff a laugh through your nose. "Well if you ever figure it out, I'm curious to know what gets a cute boy like you off," you smile and stand, ruffing Peter's hair as you walk towards the kitchen.

'She called me cute. She wants to know what gets me off. Maybe I have way more of a shot than I thought.'

⡠﹞⚘﹝⠢

Later that night, Peter rested against the headboard of his bed. He stared at the search bar on his phone, a familiar orange and black logo in the top corner.

Peter wracked his brain, trying to figure out what to look up to understand what you meant.

And I really like a man to let me do the work. Someone more submissive.

Peter sighs, typing 'submissive man' and holding his breath as he hits enter.

The videos the boy is left to find stir something deep in his stomach. The leashes, the ropes, the positions, the words.

It's not long before Peter's hand makes its way into his pants. He's pumping himself breathlessly, struggling to keep his phone steady. He's imagining you. You doing exactly to him what they're doing in the videos.

God, it's perverse. It's depraved and even a little bit carnal. It doesn't take long for beads of white ejaculate to roll onto Peter's hand. He trembles and whines.

Shame washes over Peter like a hot wave upon the sand. Fuck. He's so stupid. So gross. Thinking of his best friend's girlfriend like this. Peter drops his phone beside him, rubbing his face with his undefiled hand

Technically they aren't really 'together'. Says the sanguine voice in the depths of Peter's mind. But wouldn't it still be weird? Obviously not to Peter if this is how he thinks of you in his spare time.

Regarding his thoughts of you; his mind dances back to before, imagining how your lips would feel on his neck, hand around his cock, whispering sweet praises and he begs you to let him cum. He's definitely hard again.

"Fuck," he whines. Peter's hand returns to his cock, throbbing in his fist. He bites down on his shirt collar to keep from whimpering too loud and begins to fuck into his hand again. This time more forceful than the last. He's squirming under your imagined touch, shaking as his mind races to fantasize about you holding him down, having your way with him.

And there he goes again, bursting at the seams with his desire for his best friend's girl.

⡠﹞⚘﹝⠢

Peter finds himself over at Harry's place more frequently than before. The lie he tells is that he hates being home. Not a complete lie, but not a complete truth either. The thought at the forefront of Peter's mind: how can I spend more time around her?

And it works. You and Harry believe him, though anything that keeps Peter around you won't look into too much. Harry makes or orders food, he stops asking Peter out to parties - inferring his best friend's aversion for them.

Sometimes, late at night, you and Harry talk about him.

"So what do you think of Peter?" He'll ask.

Your hand dances on Harry's chest, swirling circles and stars. "I think he's cute," you'll admit. "He's very sweet, and shy. It's endearing."

Harry will nod his head along. "I think he likes you," said nonchalant because it is. Harry always is. "Have you noticed?"

"Do you think so?" Risking sounding too eager is an irrelevance.

"Sweetheart, if you could see the way he looks at you, you wouldn't be questioning me right now."

You smile to yourself before pausing. "Would that be weird for you? Seeing your best friend with someone you've fucked?"

He smiles down at you. "If they looked at each other the way you two do, not at all. I'd wish them the best."

⡠﹞⚘﹝⠢

Somehow, you ended up with Peter's number. Somehow, you ended up texting him all night, every night. And somehow, neither of you minded.

Endless conversations about mindless nothings. Just getting to know each other. There were plenty of times where Peter would worry about Harry. He'd reassure himself that his best friend said he wouldn't care and either way, there was nothing going on between the two of you.

And then, you'd send a goodnight text with a kiss beside it. Or a good morning text with a pet name in it. And Peter's heart would flutter.

You often discussed school and home lives. That's how Peter found out that you attends MIT as well, and that you live in an apartment with a roommate who chews too loud but is otherwise fine. And, more importantly, how he found out that you don't spend as much time with Harry as Peter's past predicaments would make it seem.

This is how you find out Peter lives alone in a tiny apartment near the university, that he has a tendency to stress himself to death, and that he's more lonely than he seems.

Leading you to the text you'll send today.

I've heard rumors of an amazing coffee shop near your place. Wanna come with?

Sent at the perfect time for him to have just gotten home from his last class. You knew he needed a break, he was working himself too hard on one class alone.

Absolutely! Meet you there?

Peter's chest tingled and he responded. A date? No. But almost.

⡠﹞⚘﹝⠢

Peter made it to Mug & Meadow about four minutes before you, waiting by the door.

When you arrived, he held the door for you. Ever the gentleman.

A wave of warm air washes over you. The scent of espresso mingling with burnt vanilla. You step onto the dark wood floor, taking in your surroundings while Peter lets the door swing closed.

Dark, chocolate colored walls matching the wooden floors, except, around the counter has a black and white, diamond-tiled design. Arched windows across the front of the store. Warm lighting pieces scattered about the ceiling.

Light jazz dancing through hidden speakers, soft chatter melding with the beats. Wow. You smile and turn back to Peter, seeing him taking in the surroundings as well. He looks to you, smiling back.

After ordering, Peter tells you to find a seat while he waits on the drinks. You choose a two seated table off to the side. A window to one side and the rest of the store to the other. A nearby bookshelf calls your name.

Peter finds you with your nose off in a leather-bound collection of Robert Frost works. "This place is nice," he sets the cups down on the provided coasters.

You place the book down on the hardwood table, old wax sticking to your fingers ever-so-slightly.

"Yeah," you give your breathless response. "I love it."

"Already? But you just met it," Peter jokes.

"When you know, you know," you sip from your steaming cup. "Who says I don't believe in love at first sight?" You give Peter a knowing look.

He falters. "Uh, well, I was talking to the barista and he said this place is also a library. Which is super cool," He's redirecting.

"Really? That's awesome."

"Yeah, it's something to do with the fact that the owner is like a simi-famous author with the last name Meadow, hence the name," Peter waves a hand up, referring to the shop.

"We definitely have to come back here forever," You take another sip of your drink.

Already booking our next almost-date.

⡠﹞⚘﹝⠢

Peter's stomach swirled, heart beating fast. He was pacing around his living room. A small space, albeit well decorated thanks to May's input and Christmas presents from last year.

"When you have girls over, you'll thank me for helping," And here he is now, mentally thanking her.

You'd asked Peter when the three of you were hanging out at Harry's place last weekend if you could come over. Just you. No Harry this time. A simple question. 'I just wanna hang out with you," it was all you'd given as a reason and it was more than Peter needed to say yes to you.

He's started to say yes before you even explained, not needing a reason more than just seeing you. But the nerves from being alone with you had started to get to him.

Maybe I should've said no. What if she thinks im weird? Especially without the cover of Harry's coolness, Peter felt almost naked. He checked his phone as it chimed.

Google maps says I'm a block away!

Peter nearly chokes on his tongue. Shit, shit, fuck. Okay, how does everything look? There's no messes, no gross smells? Oh, god, how do I look? He ran back to the mirror in his bedroom, double checking his whole outfit.

A simple look. Jeans, sneakers, and a black hoodie layered with a red flannel over it to combat the mid-fall/early winter Massachusetts weather.

Peter brushed his dark curls into place with his fingers, tucking any loose hairs away. He cups a hand over his mouth, letting out hot breath. He brushed his not even five minutes ago, but let his anxiety get the better of him.

A knock on the door and the ding of his phone send his mind flying. Peter takes a deep breath and checks his phone as he walks to the door.

37D right? If so, I'm here!

He slips the phone into the pocket of his jeans and calms himself, reaching for the door handle. "Hey," he smiles wide, happy to see you despite his nerves.

"Hello," you smile back, nearly losing yourself in his warmth. Late November on a cloudy day indoors, and you feel you might get a sunburn. "I brought the takeout we talked about!" You shake the bag excitedly.

"Did you get the egg rolls? It's the only way I can grant you admittance into my abode, I fear."

"I have, although I'm sure you wouldn't leave a fair maiden out in the cold, would you?" You laugh.

"Never one so pretty," Peter steps to the side, guiding you into his apartment. He shuts the door behind you, offering to take your coat, hanging it on the rack beside his door.

"So what movies did you pick? Only the best I'm sure."

"What makes you say that? I could have a real shit taste in movies you know. What if I only watched the Shrek movies?"

"Oh no!" You giggle. "I gotta go."

So far, Peter feels like he's doing great. He's got you to laugh twice and the smile on your face has yet to falter.

You set the takeout on the coffee table and Peter helps you set everything up, begging you to let him do it because you're the guest. You insist on your help.

Within minutes; your laying with your legs over Peter's lap, throw blanket over your legs, plates of food in hand and the movie's starting.

"Can I know what movie this is?"

"Shh, it's starting," Peter squeezes your leg, spreading warmth throughout your body. "And no, it's a secret."

For the duration of the movie you find yourself scooting closer and closer to Peter. Eventually, both your hearts are pounding in your throats as Peter wraps his arm around you, pulling you tight against his side. You wrap your arm around Peter's waist.

He's trying not to breathe too quickly. Efforts fail when you bury your face in his neck, hot breath fanning across his skin. He stiffens slightly. You notice.

You glide your hand from where it rests around his waist to his thigh, rubbing lightly. Peter is trying his best to focus on the movie and definitely not the growing ache in his pants.

You nuzzle your nose below his jaw, purposely breathing against his neck again. Peter lets out a sigh, not a negative one, more so a breath he'd been keeping in. Perhaps for as long as he's known you.

Peter finds himself stretching his hips forward. More subconsciously than anything. You take the chance, heart in your throat, and slide your hand over Peter's crotch.

God, is this actually happening? Peter's mind is trying to find any way he could be misreading this. Oh, shit. You press your palm into Peter's lap.

He looks down at you, a new emotion in his eyes. You share the same look in yours. A beat of a moment passes and you're sending Peter's head reeling and you slowly move closer. Sharing breath and keeping his eyes locked with yours all the way up until you close your eyes and press your lips against his.

With a body full of confidence and a mind full of you, Peter kisses back. It's sweet and gentle like him, yet as needy and passionate as you. He hums and you melt at the sound.

You feel his bulge grow under your hand and you keep your movements soft. Earning whines from him kissed into your mouth. You hold his crotch tight and rub your thumb up and down. Peter huffs into you and pushes his hips against your hand. He's never experienced as much pleasure in his life as he has right now and yet, he finds himself nearly begging for more.

You oblige to his unspoken request and straddle his hips. The broken kiss causing a fleeting warmth between you. "And this is okay?" Your words are sincere and nearly concerned.

"Nothing has ever been more okay than this," Peter puts a hand on the back of your neck, pulling you to kiss him. You both smile.

You press your hips into him, earning the cutest whimper you've ever heard in your life. You grind yourself into Peter's growing bulge and he rests his head against the back of the couch, moaning loud.

The boy in front of you looks like a dream. Face flushed, dark ochre curls a mess, lips parted as his head lay back. You use the opening to kiss at his throat, leaving marks you know won't fade anytime soon.

With each rock of your hips Peter moans louder. Having never had a man as vocal as him, you drink up all he'll offer. You have that pretty bulge of his trapped right against your hips, exactly as you want him.

Your movements are getting faster, as are Peter's moans. Whimpers only increasing your need for him.

Peter can hardly stand it. He's gripping your hips about as tight as he can, trying to hold himself back but fuck the pressure feels so good, and you look so hot right now. Your kisses are sending chills down his spine.

He pulls you to kiss him on the mouth, needy and fervent. Your mouths move in unison, an unspoken rhythm known only to the two of you.

You grab his hair and pull his head back. "Fuck," he chokes, looking down at where your grinding against him.

You feel his cock twitch inside his pants, begging to be touched, pleading to be sucked off. You switch your pace to an even tempo with hard pushes and watch as Peter's eyes darken under you.

Peter grabs your hips tighter, and goes still. He lets out a low whine. You feel his hips jolt beneath you and you pause. His face is flushed a deep rose all the way to his neck.

You stare in disbelief. Peter hides his face in your neck, holding your body close. You look beneath you, seeing a dark spot form in Peter's jeans.

"Aw, baby," you pull his face from your neck, looking him in the eyes. "Don't be embarrassed, that's so fucking hot."

It's Peter's turn to hold the look of disbelief. "Really?" Every ounce of shame draining from his body by the look on your face alone.

"Absolutely. I've never made a man cum from so little before."

Peter's sigh of relief doesn't go unnoticed. You smile and kiss his cheek, loving and kind, same as him. You quickly kiss down his neck, making way towards his pants. You slide onto your knees on the floor between Peter's legs.

He's breathing fast again. Fingers restlessly fidgeting beside him. He's not sure he believes what's happening is real. There's no way you're between his knees right now, looking at him like that.

Peter holds a breath as your fingers move to the button on his pants. His zipper deafening in the surrounding silence. You press a kiss to the wet spot in Peter's boxers, looking him directly in the eyes as you do. You feel him twitch against your lips.

There's no way...

You gently pull him out of his underwear, shock evident in your eyes when you see he's hard again, cock covered in his own cum. Peter twitches at the contact, more sensitive than ever.

"Fuck, Pete... that's so hot."

Never in his life. Never did Peter believe he'd ever experience anything like this. To be honest, he'd convinced himself he'd die a virgin. Sad, true, but a reality to him all the same.

You slowly, teasingly, stroke Peter's length and watch as his hips shake. "F-f-fuck..." You run your thumb over the tip of his cock, biting your lip with anticipation.

You can't help yourself, can't stand it any longer. You wrap your mouth around the head of Peter's dick, the taste of his cum has you rolling your eyes back into your head. Peter whines and you take him in, all you can fit.

His strangled moans fill the room as you work him up. Peter can hardly breathe, swapping between looking at the ceiling and you.

The noises from you are lewd. That alone would have Peter finishing faster than ever if not for his sheer determination to experience this pleasure for as long as he can. That said, he's still not going to last long. You can tell.

You pull off of him with a pop, watching the mixture of cum and saliva flow down his shaft.

"Fuck, that was-- you're amazing," Peter's dopey smile stretches his cheeks.

"Just wait until you're inside me, Peter."

Peter chokes at the implication. His dick twitches on his lap. An aching boner growing once more.

He watches as You begin to undress yourself, slowly, in front of him. Taunting his erection with each piece of exposed skin. Your shirt is the first to go, immediately exposing your hardened nipples.

Peter's struggling to keep himself together.

You slip your jeans down your legs, giving Peter a show with each fabric gone.

Instinctually, Peter wraps a large hand around his aching, sensitive cock. He slowly pumps himself.

You grab his wrist, grip firm. "Did I say you could touch yourself?" You're completely naked, eyes stern as they look into Peter's.

"No..."

You raise an eyebrow, silently asking.

"No, ma'am," Peter is so unbelievably turned on right now.

"Good boy," you smile, releasing his wrist and kissing his cheek.

God.

You step close to Peter, grabbing his hand. "Feel how wet I am for you," Peter feels he might faint before even touching you. He presses a finger between your folds. Fuck, you're soaked. "That's what you do to me."

He looks up at you, pleading. He nearly whispers your name. "I need you."

Those words are all you need to plant your legs on either side of his hips. You reach between your bodies and wrap your hand around Peter's length. He moans. You glide his tip along your slit, soaking him in your arousal.

Peter violently grabs the arm of the couch, white-knuckling the fabric. You slide his cock inside you and you lower your hips. Moaning loud at the sensation of him filling you up. Peter's panting, staring between the two of you in disbelief.

No way this is actually happening right now. Fuck, she's so tight. So warm, so amazing...

You slowly begin to bounce on Peter's lap, loving the way his eyes and head roll back. "Fuck, Pete."

You place your hands on his shoulders, picking up a pace near intense. Your lips find his in a heated embrace. Moans slipping from both your mouths like a symphony of pleasure.

Your body squeezes around Peter's cock and he's brought to the edge all too quickly. You wrap a hand around his throat, squeezing the pulse points. He grabs your hips so tight you're sure you'll have marks left. You don't mind at all.

"God, you're so good. So, fucking, good. Please... don't stop," he's panting, out of breath and dizzy from pleasure. Peter never believed this would be his first time. Not with you. Not like this. Not this amazing. It's the most euphoric sensation he's ever felt in his whole life.

"I want you to cum inside me, Pete, please," your voice is pleading, needy.

"But--"

"--I'm on the pill. Peter. Please. Cum inside me."

Never needing to be told more than twice; Peter pulls your hips down against his own, holding you hard against him. He cums deep inside you, shaky whine echoing throughout the apartment.

He rests his head against your chest, huffing. You tangle your fingers into the hair on the back of his head. He kisses between your breasts, slowly moving to your neck. "Fuck, you're amazing," Peter pants between kisses to your hot skin.

You hum, kissing the top of his head. "I take it you enjoyed your first time?"

Peter's head snaps back up to you. "How did you--"

"--Peter..." Please don't make me tell you how obvious it is. He turns red, hiding his face in your neck.

"God, that's so embarrassing."

"Not at all, it's actually really hot."

"Really?" His eyes shine beneath you.

"I've always wanted to be someone's first. And the fact that it was you, Peter...."

Peter kisses at your chest again, moving to leave matching marks to his own on your neck. You let out a small, yet heavenly, moan. When he feels the way your body squeezes around his, he whines and presses an embarrassed face into your neck. His arms wrapping tightly around you.

You feel him harden inside you, gasping. "Peter."

This is going to be an amazingly long night.

i will most definitely be reusing that coffee shop description in future fics - i love it!

very proud of this one - please remember likes are appreciated but comments and reblogs mean the most <3

2K notes · View notes

sunshine-lux · 1 month ago

Text

Clueless (vi.)

summary: teenagers tend to do stupid things when they're scared and in love but y/n and peter really take the cake! between arguments, football games, and parties- peter and y/n try to keep it together for their friends' sake. they're not doing a very good job at it, though.

pairings: Stark!reader x MCU!peter parker, Stark!reader x harry osborn, MCU!peter parker x gwen stacy

warnings: light swearing (i'm getting more comfy with it), one or two innuendos, underage drinking, peter being stupid, some mentions of death but it's not serious at all! f!reader. i think that's it!

word count: 12.3k!!!! double digits!!

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Y/N dropped into her seat beside Peter without saying a word. She didn’t look at him, didn’t even pretend to. Her notebook hit the desk harder than necessary, but she kept her expression neutral, jaw set tight as she stared down at the notes from yesterday’s class.

Peter sat there stiffly, pencil tapping nervously against his desk. He hadn’t stopped thinking about the fight. About what he said. About the way she slammed the car door and didn’t look back. And now she was here—so close, and yet he couldn’t feel further from her.

“Morning,” he mumbled, barely audible.

Y/N didn’t respond.

He glanced sideways at her, only to find her pretending he didn’t exist. Her expression was calm, but her foot bounced under the desk—a habit Peter knew meant she was annoyed. Or anxious. Probably both.

“Look,” he said under his breath, leaning a little toward her. “Are we gonna pretend that didn’t happen?”

Still nothing. Her eyes stayed locked on the board.

Peter sighed. “Y/N.”

She finally turned her head, eyes cold. “What do you want, Peter?”

“I just—I didn’t mean all that stuff, okay? I was pissed.”

“No kidding.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn't have said that stuff about Harry. Or you.”

There was a beat. And then Y/N said, “But you did say it. So…”

He winced. “I was being stupid. I know that.”

“You think I’m just throwing myself at the first guy who gives me attention,” she said, still not looking at him. “That wasn’t you being stupid. That was you being honest.”

Peter opened his mouth, then shut it again.

She gave a tight, sarcastic smile. “Thanks for that, by the way. Super empowering.”

“I didn’t mean it like that—”

“You never do,” she cut in, finally turning to look at him fully now. Her voice was low, but sharp. “But you say things like that anyway. Like I’m supposed to be okay with it.”

Peter stared at her, thrown.

“You think I’m being dramatic?” she added, eyes narrowing slightly. “I know that look.”

“No, I—” He ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what you want from me, okay? I’m trying here.”

“Then maybe try actually trusting me,” she said. “I thought you did.”

“I do,” Peter said. “It’s not about that.”

“Really? Because from where I’m sitting, it feels exactly like that.”

The bell rang before he could respond.

Y/N stood, grabbing her bag. “Don’t worry. I won’t be bringing any more ‘weird older guys’ around your presence.”

“Y/N—”

But she was already walking out the door.

Peter stayed frozen at his desk, watching her leave, stomach twisted with guilt and something he didn’t want to name.

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MJ was walking down the hall when suddenly, a hand grabbed her wrist and yanked her sideways into an empty classroom.

“WOAH—”

“Shh!” Peter slammed the door behind them.

MJ blinked at him. “Nah, don’t ever do that again.”

Peter looked wildly stressed. Hair disheveled, hoodie strings uneven, backpack half-zipped. Definitely unraveling.

MJ crossed her arms. “This better be good.”

Peter ran a hand down his face. “Did Y/N and Harry walk into the café together?”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Last night,” he clarified. “When she showed up after the fight. Did they meet there or did they come together?”

“...Why?”

Peter ignored the question. “Did they walk in together or not?”

MJ tilted her head. “You really wanna know?”

“Yes.”

“I might have told Harry where to find her.”

“MJ.”

She smiled innocently. “What?”

Peter’s eyes bulged. “Why would you do that?!”

“She was upset. He asked. He showed up. I was at work!”

“You let them sit together—”

“I served them coffee. I was on the clock.”

“Okay, but that was basically their first date—”

“Oh my god.” MJ dragged a hand down her face. “Peter. Why do you even care?”

“I don’t,” he said, too fast. “I just—he’s weird. And sketchy. And a total womanizer—”

MJ blinked. “Okay. And?”

“I’m the only one being logical here! I worry about her.”

“Right. Because your concern has nothing to do with the fact that she let him hold her hand, laughed at his jokes, and maybe, just maybe, likes him.”

Peter’s jaw clenched.

MJ stepped closer. “You’re jealous. Just admit it.”

“I’m not—”

“You are.”

Peter looked away, like the floor suddenly got very interesting.

And MJ wasn’t done. Not even close.

“You’ve been doing this cat and mouse thing with Y/N for over a year, Peter. You flirt. You linger. You hover. And just when everyone thinks you’re about to grow a pair and actually say something—you backpedal. Hard.”

She didn’t even blink.

“You did it last year with Liz. Everyone thought you were gonna ask Y/N to Homecoming. Hell, I know you wanted to. And then boom—suddenly you're escorting Midtown’s It Girl to the dance like Y/N didn’t exist.”

Peter opened his mouth to protest, but MJ cut him off.

“And now you're doing it again with Gwen. Gluing yourself to her, acting like nothing’s wrong, dragging her along too. You don’t get to be confused and territorial and then expect everyone to wait around while you figure it out. Both of those girls are super sweet. And they don’t deserve this.”

Peter just stood there, guilt crashing over him like a wave.

MJ shook her head. “You don’t get to act like this if you’re still pretending you’re into Gwen. Either make a move or move on, Peter. But this weird emotional limbo thing you’re doing? It’s exhausting.”

She opened the door.

“Oh,” she added over her shoulder, “And if you ever drag me into a room again, I will end your life.”

Then she was gone.

Peter just stood there, heart racing, throat tight, and chest aching—because MJ was right. And that was the worst part.

As he was leaving the empty classroom, he spotted her by the lockers, shoving her books into her bag with more aggression than necessary.

He hesitated. He could still feel MJ’s words echoing in his skull, pounding like a migraine. But he couldn’t let it go like this. Not again.

“Hey,” he said, stepping beside her.

Y/N glanced at him, eyes still tired. “Hey.”

He scratched the back of his neck. “Are we… okay?”

She zipped up her bag and shrugged. “I mean… I guess.”

Peter winced. “I’m sorry about what I said. About Harry. That whole thing. I didn’t mean to come off like that.”

Y/N looked at him carefully. “It wasn’t just about Harry. It was the way you said it. And the things you said to me. Like you don’t trust me and I’m just some dumb girl.”

“I know,” he said quickly. “And I’m so sorry. I really am. I was just—I don’t know. I was mad. And dumb. And jealous—” He cut himself off, chest tightening. “Forget that last one.”

She gave him a small look, unreadable.

Peter cleared his throat. “Can I… make it up to you?”

A beat. Then, Y/N cocked her head slightly. “You wanna walk me home?”

His face lit up, too fast. “Yes. Absolutely. I’d love to.”

Y/N almost smiled. Almost. She threw her backpack over her shoulder and nodded for him to follow. And just like that, they were walking side by side down the hall again—close, familiar, dangerously close to normal.

Peter’s heart climbed into his throat.

He had to say it.

Tell her, now. Tell her about Gwen.

“Hey, um…” he started, fiddling with the strap of his backpack. “About the game tomorrow—”

Y/N turned to look at him, eyes softening just a little.

And he faltered.

She just invited you to walk her home. She’s letting you back in. If you tell her now, she’ll be pissed again. She’ll think you lied. What if she doesn’t even care? What if it’s not a big deal? Just act like it’s still a group thing. Just play nice with Harry. Don’t ruin this.

Peter forced a smile. “You excited?”

Y/N gave a little nod. “Yeah. Kinda. Big game and all.”

Peter nudged her shoulder. “You’re gonna look cooler than half the team just sitting in the stands.”

Y/N finally smiled. “Well… duh.”

They kept walking, and for a second, it was just like old times.

But Peter felt it in his chest—that knot of guilt curling up tighter and tighter.

Because things felt good. Too good.

And he was still lying.

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The lunch table was quieter than usual.

Ned and Peter were missing—dragged off to the library for “studying,” apparently. Y/N had a hunch it was just Peter trying to avoid this exact dynamic: her, Gwen, and MJ sitting side by side.

Y/N picked at her salad while MJ scrolled through her phone. Gwen sipped her lemonade, then set her cup down and said it casually—too casually.

“So…” Gwen looked between the girls, all wide eyed innocence. “Guess who called me last night and asked me out on a date?”

Y/N looked up, half smiling, pretending she didn’t already know. “Who?”

“Peter,” Gwen said, trying not to seem too smug. “Kinda unexpected, right?”

MJ made a little noise, raising her eyebrows. “Huh.”

Gwen turned to Y/N. “I know you’ve said you two are just friends, but… I mean, you’re super close. Even at the gala, it felt like he would've rather been there with you. I don’t wanna step on your toes or anything.”

Y/N’s brain was reeling. He really didn’t tell me. After everything—after their fight, the apology, the offer to walk her home—he still didn’t tell her.

She blinked. “No, it’s… it’s fine. We’re just close. That’s all.”

Gwen gave her a soft smile. “Okay. Just wanted to be sure. You’re kind of intimidating, you know.”

Y/N forced a laugh. “Oh god. Noted.”

He asked her. He gave her the opening—asked how she felt. He never asked you. Never even hinted. And you thought…

The ache in her chest throbbed deeper. Panic, jealousy, humiliation. Something sharp, something bitter.

“Well,” Y/N said, brightening her tone like flipping a switch, “I’m bringing Harry to the game. As a date.”

MJ’s eyes snapped up.

Gwen looked surprised. “Oh my gosh, really?”

Y/N nodded, sipping her water a little too fast. “Mhm. Why not?”

In her head: Why did I say that?

Now she had to stick to it. Had to lean in. Had to play this ridiculous game Peter started.

Gwen smiled again. “That’s… kind of iconic, honestly. I think you guys are cute together.”

“Yeah,” Y/N murmured, glancing down at her tray.

Across the table, she watched Gwen. Blonde hair, soft makeup, pale pink nails. She wore a flowy skirt and a sweater with little daisies on it. Her voice was calm, gentle. Everything about her said safe.

She’s everything you’re not.

Y/N wore her usual baggy jeans and boots. There was still a faint bruise on her knuckle from training with Vision last week. She’d laughed too loud in Physics. She never knew when to shut up. Gwen was soft edges; Y/N was sparks and static.

And maybe that’s why Peter chose her.

Maybe he always would.

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Peter hadn’t said much since dragging Ned in here under the pretense of “studying.”

Now they were tucked in the corner, hidden behind a stack of Bio textbooks, and Peter was chewing on the cap of his pen.

Ned finally put his book down. “Okay. Spill. What’s with the tension?”

Peter blinked at him. “What?”

“Don’t ‘what’ me. Ever sinceI told you I saw Y/N with Harry at MJ’s job you’ve been so weird. I woke up to like ten cryptic texts from you. What’s going on?”

Peter ran a hand down his face. “It’s nothing.”

“Peter.”

“…I asked Gwen out.”

Silence.

“You what?” Ned whisper-yelled. “As in, to the game? Like—a date-date?”

Peter nodded, miserable.

Ned’s jaw dropped. “For someone so smart, you can be a real idiot sometimes.”

Peter looked away. “I know.”

“No, seriously. Why would you do that?”

“I don’t know,” Peter muttered. “Okay, I do know. It was stupid. It’s a mistake.”

Ned just stared at him, waiting.

Peter sighed. “Because it’s easier. Because I panicked. Gwen’s… Gwen’s nice. She’s cool. She’s safe.”

“Safe?” Ned echoed.

Peter nodded, quiet now. “She doesn’t make my brain stop working and my heart beat out of my chest. She’s not… her.”

Ned softened a little. “You mean Y/N.”

Peter didn’t say anything.

“She’s Y/N Stark, dude. You’ve been in love with her since summer of freshman year.”

“That’s exactly the problem,” Peter said suddenly. “She’s Y/N Stark. Everyone wants her. She’s brilliant and beautiful and terrifying. She’s electric. She’s—she’s the kind of person a genie would grant you as a wish and then laugh when it turns out too good to be true.”

Ned tilted his head. “So you asked someone else out because you think she’s too good for you?”

“I think… if I let myself love her the way I want to, it wouldn’t be fair to her.”

Peter’s voice was barely above a whisper now. “I know what happens to the people I love, Ned. And now I’m Spider-Man. The stakes are higher. There’s always going to be someone coming for me, and if Y/N’s with me… she’s a target.”

He looked down, eyes wet. “Even if she’s stronger than anyone I’ve ever met. Even if she could probably fry a supervillain with her pinky. It doesn’t matter. I couldn’t handle it. If anything ever happened to her, I—”

He cut himself off, shaking his head.

Ned sat back, stunned. “Pete…”

“I’d rather be with someone who won’t stick around long enough to get hurt,” Peter said quietly. “And she’s got Harry now anyway. He’s rich, powerful, he can protect her. He’s probably what she deserves.”

Ned looked at him like he wanted to hit him. “You absolute moron.”

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The bell rang, and students poured out of the classroom, flooding the hallway with noise and chatter. Peter waited just outside the door, rocking on the balls of his feet. His backpack was slung lazily over one shoulder, and his expression was calm—hopeful, even.

He spotted her instantly, weaving through the crowd. Her face was unreadable.

“Hey,” he said, falling into step beside her.

Y/N didn’t respond.

Peter blinked, confused, but tried again. “You good?”

A beat. Then another.

“Sure,” she said flatly, eyes straight ahead.

He frowned. “Are you mad at me again?”

“I don’t know, Peter. Should I be?”

Peter’s brows knit together. “I—I thought we were good. I said sorry, remember? You asked me to walk you home.”

They were already nearing the main doors of the school. Peter glanced over at her again, trying to read her expression. She wouldn’t look at him.

He cleared his throat. “Y/N/N… am I still walking you home or—what’s going on?”

She stopped walking.

He paused a few steps ahead, turning back to face her. “Y/N/N?”

“Nope,” she said brightly, too brightly. “I’m going out with Harry.”

Peter’s stomach dropped. “What?”

“I said I’m going out with Harry,” she repeated, like it was obvious. She shrugged. “Change of plans.”

“Y/N, what?! You asked me to walk you. And now you’re just… canceling at the last second?”

By now, they were fully outside. The autumn air hit Peter like a slap, sharp and cold but nothing compared to what came next.

Y/N turned to him, finally meeting his eyes. “Yeah. Because despite what you think of him, he hasn’t lied to me.”

Peter blinked. “What are you—?”

“Unlike you.” Her voice cracked a little. “God, you were just gonna pretend like nothing happened. You were gonna walk me home, sit in my room, lie to my face. And for what, Peter?”

Peter’s mouth opened, closed. “Y/N, what are you talking about—?”

“Have fun with your girlfriend, Gwen. Or whatever she is to you now.” she snapped, turning on her heel just as a sleek black car pulled up to the curb.

Harry Osborn stepped out of the driver’s seat, leaned against the door like he was posing for a magazine cover, and grinned when he saw her.

Peter watched helplessly as Y/N’s entire face lit up. Her anger melted for a moment, replaced by something warm and easy. She jogged down the steps toward Harry, who opened the car door for her with a smirk.

Before getting in, Harry glanced up—locked eyes with Peter—and gave him a lazy wave and an unmistakable wink.

Peter just stood there, rooted to the spot, mouth dry, heart pounding.

What the fuck.

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Y/N flopped backward on the couch in the Tower’s living room, letting out a dramatic sigh as she stared at the ceiling. Her boots were still on. Pepper would yell if she saw her.

Harry, lounging beside her with a controller in hand, clicked the game to pause and tilted his head.

“So,” he said casually, “what happened with your boyfriend this time?”

Y/N groaned. “Do not call him that.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Harry smirked, nudging her boot with his foot. “Your not-boyfriend-who-gets-way-too-upset-when-you-hang-out-with-me.”

She shot him a look. “We’re not talking about this.”

“Too late.” He stretched dramatically. “Did you two fight again? Or is he just doing that brooding in the shadows, ‘nobody understands the burden of being a nerd’ thing again?”

She exhaled through her nose. Then she sat up.

“He lied to me,” she said.

That made Harry pause.

“He lied, like it was nothing. We talked. We were starting to feel like us again, and then I find out from Gwen that he asked her to the game as a date.” She let out a hollow laugh. “I mean, I don’t care. I do, but I shouldn’t. But I’m so tired of playing this weird game with him.”

Harry didn't immediately respond. He leaned forward, arms resting on his knees, watching her carefully.

“Sounds like he’s a dumbass.”

Y/N snorted.

“Seriously,” Harry said. “You? Y/N Stark? New York’s It girl? Genius-level intellect? Literal walking thunderstorm of hotness and rage? He should be writing you sonnets, not keeping secrets like he’s in some bad teen drama.”

She didn’t smile — not quite — but her lips twitched.

He leaned back, one arm lazily thrown across the back of the couch, fingers brushing the edge of her hair. “You want to hit something? We can go to the gym. Or I can teach you poker. I always cheat, though.”

“I’d shock you.”

“I’d consider it foreplay.”

She laughed for real then, and he grinned, satisfied.

They sat like that for a beat, her head tilted back, his gaze still on her.

“I’m not going to kiss you,” she said suddenly, eyes still on the ceiling.

“I didn’t ask,” Harry said simply. “But thanks for letting me know.”

She looked at him then, surprised by how soft his expression was — no cocky grin, no teasing smirk. Just... calm.

“I like the attention,” he added, shrugging. “And I like you. But I know I’m a distraction.”

Y/N didn’t respond.

Harry leaned in, just slightly. “You don’t have to kiss me to prove anything, Stark. I’m already wrapped around your finger. Besides,” he smirked again, “you’d just be thinking about him anyway.”

Y/N opened her mouth, but couldn’t form a reply.

“C’mon,” he said, springing up and grabbing the controllers. “First to ten wins. Loser owes the other one a secret.”

“And if I don’t lose?”

“Then I’ll still tell you one. I’m just that generous.”

She rolled her eyes but scooted closer.

It wasn’t love. It wasn’t even flirty.

It was a distraction. A really good one.

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The two teenagers walked side by side down the hallway toward the elevator. It was late, the lights dimmed, casting a warm glow on the floor as Y/N trailed her fingers along the wall. Harry had his hands in his pockets, still looking perfectly unbothered as usual.

“Thanks for hanging out with me today,” Y/N said, glancing up at him. “Even if you totally destroyed me in Mario Kart.”

Harry grinned. “I wouldn’t call it destruction. More like... elegant domination.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “You picked Rainbow Road every time.”

“I play to win, Stark. You should know that by now.”

She smiled—finally, a real one. And then she hesitated, chewing her lip. “Okay, so... there’s one tiny thing I forgot to mention.”

Harry tilted his head. “Do tell.”

“I might’ve... sort of told my friends that you’re coming to the game with me tomorrow. As my date.”

She braced herself for whatever smug thing was about to come out of his mouth.

But Harry just burst out laughing, head thrown back like he couldn’t believe her. “Y/N Stark,” he said through a grin, “I didn’t think you had it in you to fight fire with fire like that. I see I’m rubbing off on you.”

Y/N flushed. “It’s not like that! I just—things got messy and I panicked and—”

“Relax,” he said, still smirking. “I’d be honored to be your date.”

“Fake date,” she corrected quickly, pointing a finger at him.

Harry raised his hands in mock surrender. “Fake. Real. Same difference when you’re with me.”

The elevator chimed open. Harry stepped in, then turned to face her. His eyes flicked over her face for a moment, softer now.

He leaned forward, pressed a kiss to her forehead—quick, but deliberate.

“See you tomorrow, sweet cheeks,” he murmured, the smirk tugging back at his lips.

And then the doors closed.

Y/N just stood there for a second, blinking at the elevator.

She exhaled. “Oh god,” she muttered, rubbing her forehead like she could erase the memory.

This was fine. Totally fine.

Nothing she couldn’t handle.

Right?

Y/N was still standing in front of the elevator, forehead tingling, smile tugging at her lips like it wasn’t sure if it should be there or not.

And then—

“What the hell was that?”

She jumped about a foot off the floor and spun around to see Tony standing there, coffee mug in hand, jaw on the ground.

“What?” she blinked, playing innocent.

Tony pointed dramatically at the now-closed elevator doors. “Did he just kiss your forehead? Did he just call you sweet cheeks?” He clutched his chest like he was moments from a heart attack. “What are you, a Bond girl now? Is this my life?”

Y/N groaned. “Oh my god, Dad, stop being so dramatic.”

“We’re just friends,” she added.

Tony’s eyes nearly bugged out. “You call that friendship?”

He threw his arms up and started pacing. “God, I don’t even wanna know what you do with Parker then. Jesus. My blood pressure.”

Y/N blinked. “Nothing. Oh my god.”

Tony stopped, planted his hands on his hips. “Y/N, I don’t know how I feel about this Harry Osborn situation. I know him. I was him.”

He pointed at himself with exaggerated horror. “This is what karma looks like. This is it. The universe is laughing in my face.”

“Okay, dramatic and delusional,” Y/N muttered, brushing past him.

Tony followed, still spiraling. “Sweet cheeks. He called you sweet cheeks. This is my villain origin story.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the grin on her face. “You’re not normal.”

“And you are grounded.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Fair.”

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Peter sat on the fire escape outside his window, knees drawn up, hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands like he was thirteen again and hadn’t just asked Gwen Stacy to a football game in a moment of emotional panic.

The Queens air was chilly, sharp in that way that reminded him fall was on its way. His phone sat beside him, buzzing every now and then — group chat notifications. Mostly MJ roasting Ned for eating an entire rotisserie chicken after 9pm again.

None from Y/N.

He hadn’t heard from her since earlier. Since she told him she wasn’t walking home with him anymore. Since she left with Harry.

The metal creaked softly behind him.

“Figured I’d find you out here.”

Peter didn’t turn, but he smiled a little as May climbed through the window and sat beside him, holding two mugs. She handed one to him. It was hot chocolate.

“Thanks,” he said, quietly.

May just nodded, looking out at the skyline. “Want me to guess, or are you gonna tell me?”

Peter sighed. “It’s… dumb.”

“Of course it is. You’re sixteen. Everything feels like the end of the world when you’re sixteen.”

He laughed, weakly. “I think I messed up.”

“Oh?”

“I lied to someone. Someone I care about. And now she’s mad. And she left. With someone else. Someone cooler. And richer. And taller. And probably fluent in French or something stupid like that.”

May raised an eyebrow. “So… girl problems.”

Peter looked at her. “It’s more than that.”

“Of course it is,” she said, sipping her hot chocolate.

He was quiet for a second, then said, “I asked Gwen to the game. As a date.”

May blinked. “Okay… is that not what you wanted?”

“No. I mean — yes. I mean…” He groaned and put his head in his hands. “It wasn’t supposed to be a thing. I just panicked.”

May gave him a moment.

“I like someone else,” Peter admitted. “And I’ve liked her for a long time. And she… she was finally opening up to me again. And I lied to her. I didn’t tell her I asked someone else out. I was gonna walk her home and pretend like everything was fine and—”

“And she found out.”

“Yeah.”

May didn’t say anything. Just looked at him gently over the rim of her mug.

“You already knew it was Y/N, didn’t you?” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

May smiled, a little sad, a little proud. “Honey, I’ve always known it was Y/N.”

Peter blinked. “What?”

“You get this look when you talk about her. You light up. Even when you’re trying not to. You talk about her like she invented air.”

Peter turned away, heat crawling up the back of his neck.

“She’s been here for Thai food nights. She’s slept in our couch. She helped me set up the Christmas lights last year, remember? You don’t just let anyone into your world like that.” May bumped his shoulder. “I don’t think you even realized it until recently.”

“I don’t deserve her,” Peter said, voice cracking. “She’s Y/N Stark. She’s smart and fearless and kind. Everyone loves her. And I’m just—”

“You’re Peter Parker,” May said, firm and soft all at once. “That’s more than enough.”

He didn’t answer. Just stared out at the city.

“I like Gwen,” he said eventually. “She’s nice. Easy to be around.”

“But she’s not Y/N.”

Peter’s throat tightened.

“I got scared,” he admitted. “Of it being real. Of finally getting everything I’ve ever wanted and… losing it.”

May was quiet, letting him speak.

“Everyone I’ve ever loved is gone. My parents. Uncle Ben. And now I’m Spider-Man. If anything ever happened to her because of me—”

“She’s not just anyone,” May said. “You know that.”

“I do. She’s Tony Stark’s daughter. Natasha and Steve trained her. She can handle herself. But I— I don’t want her to ever have to. Not because of me.”

“You’re not protecting her by pushing her away,” May said softly. “You’re just hurting both of you.”

Peter’s voice dropped. “I think I already did.”

May placed a hand on his shoulder, grounding him.

“You know what I think?” she asked.

Peter didn’t respond, but she continued anyway.

“I think you’re scared because you love her. And it feels big. And messy. And unfair. But that’s the good stuff, Pete. The scary, overwhelming stuff — that’s what makes it real.”

He looked down at his hot chocolate, steam still curling into the air.

“So what now?” May asked.

He was quiet, then smirked faintly. “I guess I have to play the game.”

“The football game?” she asked.

“No. The dumb teenage jealousy game.”

May snorted. “Well, at least you’re aware.”

Peter smiled a little, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

May reached out and ruffled his curls. “You’re gonna figure it out. Just maybe… don’t wait too long.”

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Peter dragged his feet down the crowded hallway, backpack slung lazily over one shoulder and dark circles under his eyes like he hadn’t slept properly all week — because, well, he hadn’t.

“Dude,” Ned said beside him, trying to sound neutral but already bracing himself for emotional whiplash, “you gotta pull it together.”

Peter shot him a look. “She skipped first period, Ned. First. Period. She never skips. And she hasn’t texted me back since yesterday.”

“She’s mad.”

“I know she’s mad,” Peter hissed. “She’s never been this mad. I think she might actually kill me.”

Ned nodded solemnly. “Yeah. I’m a little scared of her, too.”

Peter ran a hand through his hair, clearly spiraling. “Do you think—like, what if I pushed her too far this time?”

“I’ve never seen her like this,” Ned admitted. “Or you. Your guilt is literally eating you alive.”

“I deserve it,” Peter muttered.

Meanwhile, down the other end of the hall, MJ and Y/N were weaving through the crowd with far more confidence—though Y/N’s sunglasses were still on indoors, which MJ clocked as a clear sign of emotional war prep.

“I kinda feel bad,” Y/N muttered, tugging her sleeves over her hands. “I’ve never given him the silent treatment like this. It’s petty. I’m being petty.”

MJ scoffed. “No. You’re reacting.”

“I shouldn’t even let him get to me like this.”

“Too late,” MJ said. “Also? Ned and I are officially children of divorce. Parker’s an idiot. Did I tell you he dragged me into an empty classroom yesterday to interrogate me about your little ‘date’ with Harry?”

Y/N’s head whipped toward her. “It wasn’t a date.”

“Tell him that,” MJ said flatly.

Y/N groaned. “Ugh.”

And then, of course, fate had to be cruel: they turned a corner and came face to face with Peter and Ned in the middle of the hallway.

Peter straightened like he’d been electrocuted. “Oh—hey! Y/N! Hi.”

He was way too chirpy. His voice cracked slightly.

Y/N blinked behind her sunglasses. She could practically feel MJ smirking beside her.

“Hey,” she said, calm and collected. “Didn’t see you this morning.”

Peter tilted his head. “Yeah, weird. You, uh… missed AP Bio.”

“Did I?” Y/N blinked. “Huh. Must’ve overslept.”

Ned glanced at Peter like she’s gaslighting you and you’re letting her.

Peter tried to smile. “Right. Totally. Sleep’s important.”

“Mhmm,” Y/N said, lips twitching like she wanted to smile but wouldn’t let herself.

A beat of silence. The hallway around them buzzed and passed, but it felt like they were in their own little standoff bubble.

“So,” Peter said, scratching the back of his neck. “You ready for the game tonight?”

“Sure,” Y/N replied, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “I mean… I won’t be alone.”

Peter’s jaw tensed. “Right. Harry.”

“Yup.”

MJ cut in before Peter could combust. “We’ll all be there. It’s gonna be great. Go Midtown football.”

Ned gave her a please look and she just smiled like a cat with a secret.

Peter looked back at Y/N. “Guess I’ll… see you there?”

Y/N gave a little nod, still unreadable behind her shades. “See you there, Parker.”

And with that, she walked past him. Peter stared after her, trying not to look like he was watching his whole life fall apart in real time.

Ned clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Man. She’s good at this.”

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The group hovered near the school gates, where a crowd had already started gathering to get into the football field. The fall air buzzed with excitement—music playing from somewhere, cheerleaders scattered in uniform, students rushing around with face paint and posters. Midtown was in full game-day mode.

Peter stood just a little off to the side, hands shoved in his jacket pockets, trying way too hard to look like he didn’t care. Like he wasn’t already tense. Like he hadn’t been glancing around every five seconds wondering when he would show up.

Next to him, Ned was cracking up at something Y/N had just said.

MJ raised a brow. “Okay, but you cannot talk, Stark. You’re the one who couldn’t stop laughing when you had to do the morning announcements last month.”

Y/N snorted. “You kept making faces at me.”

“I was just looking at you.”

“It was funny!”

They all burst out laughing, even Y/N—bright and easy and full of that electric spark that always surrounded her.

Peter’s eyes flicked toward her on instinct. Her smile. Her laugh. The way her eyes crinkled a little when MJ teased her. He looked away quickly, pretending to check something on his phone. He was not going to be the guy who couldn’t stop staring.

Suddenly, Gwen jogged up from across the parking lot, slightly out of breath.

“Hey!” she called, waving. “I have to go take care of some pregame stuff—cheerleader drama, don’t ask—but I’ll meet you guys at the bleachers!”

Before anyone could respond, she leaned up and pressed a kiss to Peter’s cheek.

“You look cute,” she said, flashing a bright smile before sprinting off toward the stadium entrance.

Peter blinked. Face flaming. His neck did that awkward whip thing as he turned straight to look at Y/N.

She was already looking at him.

Just for a second.

And then she looked away fast, lips tightening, eyes hardening.

He felt it in his gut.

Before he could even process it, a familiar black town car pulled up just down the curb.

Harry.

Y/N’s entire face lit up. Her eyes sparkled as she took off toward the car.

“Harrry!” she called, practically bouncing. He stepped out, grinning.

Peter watched—jaw clenched, stomach churning—as Harry pulled her into a hug, lifting her just slightly off the ground with a laugh.

“Missed me already, huh?” Harry said into her ear.

Y/N laughed, pulling back. “You’re late.”

“Traffic. Blame the masses of people who don’t know how to drive in this city.”

She tugged him toward the group. “Come meet the gang.”

“This should be fun,” he said, smirking as they walked over.

Y/N gestured. “This is Ned, MJ—you already know MJ—and– yeah Peter.”

Harry held out his hand to Ned. “Harry Osborn. Nice to meet you.”

Ned’s eyes widened. “Oh my god. New York royalty.”

Harry barked out a laugh. “You flatter me.”

To MJ, he offered a wink. “MJ, always a pleasure. If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t be here with our lovely Y/N.”

MJ rolled her eyes. “Please. You found your own way in the second you spotted her across the ballroom.”

Harry turned to Peter last. A beat of silence.

“I almost didn’t see you there, Parker,” he said, smiling wide. “You’re so quiet. Stop hiding, man.”

Peter’s jaw ticked.

“I’m not hiding,” he muttered.

Harry just grinned bigger.

Y/N, oblivious—or pretending to be—was already chatting with MJ and Ned again.

Peter stood frozen in place, heart pounding, already regretting everything.

The bleachers were already packed, the student section buzzing with pregame energy. Midtown’s marching band played a medley of fight songs while cheerleaders hyped the crowd near the field. The sun was dipping behind the scoreboard, casting everything in a warm, golden hue.

Ned, MJ, Y/N, and Harry had claimed a long row near the 50-yard line. Gwen hadn’t arrived yet, and Peter had lagged behind a little to grab snacks for the group. When he finally showed up, drinks and chips in hand, MJ had to scoot down, making space for him next to Ned.

So it went: Gwen’s empty seat on the end, then Peter, Ned, MJ, Y/N… and Harry.

A lineup so cursed it might’ve been coordinated by the universe just to test Peter’s will to live.

He sat down with a tight smile, handing Ned a soda and settling in. He didn’t look at Y/N. Not directly. But he was very aware of her laughing at something Harry said. She was curled into her jacket, hair flowing with the wind, and Peter could see the glint of her necklace catching the sun.

It was the one May had given her last Christmas.

He frowned.

“I don’t know what that face is,” Ned muttered to him, “but you’re scowling like she burned down your childhood home.”

Before Peter could reply, Gwen appeared— lips glossy, cheeks flushed from running.

“Hey, sorry!” she said, breathless. “Band crisis. Nothing new.”

She waved as she approached, and Harry, ever the gentleman, stood.

“Gwen,” he said with a grin, “you look lovely.”

Gwen beamed. “Thank you, Harry. And thank you for coming! I mean, having two of New York’s biggest socialites in our student section? That’s serious morale-boosting stuff.”

Peter rolled his eyes so hard it might’ve caused permanent damage.

Harry, of course, just laughed and said, “Anything for Midtown.”

Gwen squeezed past Peter, dropping into the seat beside him and flashing him a smile. “Sorry again—I had no idea the band needed a last minute flag runner.”

Peter forced a grin. “It’s fine. You made it.”

“Barely,” she said, bumping her shoulder against his. “But now I’m here with all my favorite people.”

Across Ned and MJ, Y/N shifted. Peter caught the motion and immediately glanced toward her—just in time for her to glance back at him.

They both looked away instantly.

It was the most painfully obvious game of emotional dodgeball either had ever played.

Gwen, meanwhile, leaned forward to catch MJ and Y/N’s attention with a bright smile. “This is seriously so fun. I’ve never sat with a student section this… dramatic before.” She laughed, then added, “.”

MJ snorted. “Welcome to Midtown.”

Gwen’s eyes flicked between Harry and Y/N, then back to the girls. “By the way, Y/N, I’ve been meaning to say—your whole thing with Harry? Super cute. You always blush when someone mentions him. It’s adorable.”

Y/N blinked. “I—what?”

Gwen grinned. “No, really! I noticed it even at the gala. I totally called it. You’ve got this little spark in your eyes whenever he’s around.”

She turned to Harry with a playful nudge. “You two are kind of perfect together.”

Peter’s jaw clenched. MJ didn’t even try to hide her laugh this time.

Harry, completely unfazed, tilted his head and smiled at Y/N. “Guess we’re perfect now, huh?”

Y/N’s cheeks went red—probably from the attention, maybe from something else—but she just shrugged. “We clean up nice, that’s all.”

Across the row, Peter blinked slowly and drank half his soda in one go. Gwen turned toward him, oblivious. “Aren't they adorable?”

“Adorable,” he echoed, flat.

Meanwhile, Ned had leaned toward Harry, whispering something that made him laugh—loud and unbothered.

It was so effortless.

Peter shot Ned a glare, and Ned just raised his brows like what??

Harry leaned back against the bleachers, arms spread behind Y/N as he grinned at something on the field.

Peter could feel the heat rising in his neck. He was about to combust. He turned slightly, pretending to be interested in the coin toss, but really? He was watching the way Y/N’s eyes crinkled when she laughed. Again.

The whistle blew. The crowd erupted. Kickoff.

Midtown’s football team rushed the field, and everyone in the bleachers jumped to their feet.

Y/N and Harry were among the loudest.

“LET’S GO MIDTOWN!” Harry shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth. “MURDER THEM, BOYS!”

“WE CAN’T SAY MURDER THEM,” Y/N yelled, cracking up as she elbowed him. “That’s so aggressive.”

“You’re aggressive,” he shot back with a grin.

“Oh my god,” MJ muttered, already exhausted.

And then—TOUCHDOWN.

Midtown scored on the opening drive, and the crowd went feral. The drumline was going wild, cheerleaders cheered, and Harry turned to Y/N with a triumphant shout.

He grabbed her by the waist and lifted her, spinning her around once before setting her down, both of them laughing and red faced from the cold and the chaos.

She threw her arms around his neck in a victory hug and beamed, breathless. It was genuine. She looked happy.

Peter was watching. Of course he was watching.

He blinked once. Twice. Jaw tight.

“Oh, hell no,” he muttered, practically venomous. “Not at my school.”

He turned to Gwen with a forced grin. “That was sick, right?”

Gwen, still cheering, nodded. “Such a good start!”

Peter leaned in. “Hey, come here!”

Before she could process it, he tugged her close, arms wrapping around her waist. She squeaked in surprise and laughed as he grinned down at her.

“You look really cute, by the way,” he said. “Did I tell you that?”

Gwen smiled, cheeks pink. “No but thank you.”

He laughed again, a little too loud, letting his hand linger against her back.

MJ and Ned sat frozen between them and Y/N like they’d just been teleported into the worst teen drama in history.

Ned leaned toward MJ, whispering through a fake smile, “Are we… witnessing a live custody battle?”

MJ didn’t even blink. “This is a full psychological war.”

Meanwhile, Y/N—still catching her breath from the touchdown celebration—turned and caught Peter wrapped around Gwen.

He was saying something in her ear. Gwen was laughing. Peter was laughing. His hand was on her back.

Y/N’s smile faltered.

Oh.

So he was really gonna do it, huh?

She narrowed her eyes, lips pressed into a tight line.

Fine.

If that was the game he wanted to play, she could play it better.

Y/N turned her full attention to Harry, who was mid trash talk about the other school’s quarterback, and laughed loud—like really loud. The Peter-look-at-me kind of loud.

She reached for Harry’s hand—just for a second—and he grinned like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Peter looked. Of course he looked. His eyes snapped to their hands instantly.

Game. Set. Match.

“Y/N’s definitely doing this on purpose,” MJ said through her teeth.

“Honestly– I respect it,” Ned replied.

Peter moved his arm from Gwen’s waist to drape across the back of her seat instead, his hand barely brushing her shoulder. Gwen leaned into it slightly, not thinking anything of it.

Y/N definitely noticed.

She huffed, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear as she leaned into Harry, letting their shoulders bump. “Okay, fine. That touchdown was kind of hot.”

“Right?” Harry said, smirking. “I didn’t know Midtown could deliver like that.”

From the corner of her eye, Y/N saw Peter tense up. Saw the way his jaw ticked, even if he tried to hide it by sipping his soda.

Ned took a long sip of his drink, not looking at either of them.

MJ stared straight ahead like she was pretending to be anywhere else.

The game had barely started.

And they were all already losing.

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Harry Osborn had to admit—he was having an excellent time.

This wasn’t the kind of game he was used to. He’d gone to fancy prep schools, where football games were all tradition and decorum and polished school spirit. This? This was something else entirely. The bleachers were packed, the energy was unfiltered, and the drama? Chef’s kiss.

He glanced down the row—Gwen had just said something to Y/N that made her do that tiny, awkward little laugh. The one where she tilted her head and bit her lip like she was trying not to react. The one she did when she was holding something back.

Harry didn’t miss the way Peter Parker immediately looked over, watching Y/N like he might blow up at any second.

Harry smirked to himself. There it is.

He leaned back casually, one arm draped over the back of the bench behind Y/N—not touching her, but close enough to be noticed. Peter’s jaw twitched. Bingo.

Ned said something—Harry didn’t catch it—but it made him laugh out loud. Not a fake one either, a real, belly-deep laugh. The guy was funny. Quirky. Smart. He liked him.

But the best part was watching Peter and Y/N play their little game like no one could see it. It was like emotional ping pong. Y/N leaning into Harry’s shoulder while she cheered, Peter nudging Gwen a little closer and laughing at her jokes just a little too loud. Harry was pretty sure MJ had muttered “kill me now” under her breath at least twice.

“Wow,” Harry said, sipping from his water bottle. “You guys do not play around. This student section is intense.”

Y/N turned to him, eyes gleaming, flushed with excitement. “Rivalry games are chaos.”

He grinned. “I thought you were exaggerating. I stand corrected.”

When their team scored again, Y/N practically jumped out of her seat, grabbing Harry by the shoulders and shaking him. He laughed and picked her up slightly, spinning her half around before setting her back down, her laughter ringing in his ears.

And yeah, sure, part of him was playing it up for Peter. Why not? If he was going to be dragged into the middle of this bizarre love triangle, he might as well enjoy the perks. But the part that surprised him was how real it felt. Y/N was so… unfiltered. Ridiculously fun. And for once, he didn’t feel like the guy on a magazine cover or the heir to anything. He felt normal. Invited.

He risked a glance down the row.

Peter was watching them again, jaw clenched. Gwen said something to him, resting her hand briefly on his arm. He nodded, distracted.

Still looking at her, Harry noted.

And for a flicker of a second, something in Harry’s chest tugged. Just a little.

He knew she wasn’t doing this for him. Not really. Every glance at Peter, every tilt of her chin—it was all part of some silent battle between the two of them. Harry was a pawn. A shiny, charming, well-dressed distraction.

But damn, wouldn’t it be nice if—for once—it wasn’t a game?

If the way she laughed, the way she lit up, the way she clung to his arm during touchdowns… if that was for him.

Still, he wasn’t bitter. Not even close.

Because if he had to play the role of the guy who got under Peter Parker’s skin—got to hold Y/N’s attention for the night, get a front row seat to this mess of unresolved tension and fireworks—he’d play it with pride.

He leaned in close to Y/N and said, “Hey, you think Peter’s gonna blow a gasket before halftime or after?”

Y/N’s grin was instant. “After. He’s trying really hard to keep it together.”

“Admirable effort,” Harry said, glancing down the row again. “But let’s make it harder.”

She laughed, bumping her shoulder into his.

And Peter Parker’s head snapped around so fast it was a miracle he didn’t get whiplash.

God, Harry loved public school.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Halftime came in a blur of whistles and stadium noise. The marching band was setting up on the field, the snack lines were flooding, and most of the students scattered across the bleachers in search of churros or gossip. Gwen had run off again to deal with some leadership thing, ned had gone to the get more snacks, and Y/N and MJ had wandered off to the bathrooms. That left Peter and Harry… alone.

Peter didn’t mean to seek him out. He really didn’t. But there was Harry, standing a little off to the side behind the bleachers, scrolling through his phone with that stupid perfect hair and that stupid smug expression like he owned the place.

And Peter—tense, frustrated, and one glare away from combusting—walked straight over.

Harry looked up when Peter stopped in front of him.

“Well, if it isn’t loverboy,” he said lazily, slipping his phone into his coat pocket. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Peter narrowed his eyes. “Cut the crap, Osborn.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Wow. We’re jumping straight to last names now. Spicy.”

Peter stepped in closer. “I don’t know what your deal is with her, but you need to back off.”

Harry blinked slowly. “Her? As in Y/N? My date?”

Peter’s jaw tightened. “You know what I mean. The flirting. The touching. It’s rude. And annoying. Have some respect, man.”

Harry tilted his head slightly, his smirk returning. “Pretty sure Y/N doesn’t find it rude. She likes it when I touch her.”

Peter saw red. His fists clenched, shoulders squared. It took everything in him not to deck him right then and there.

“God, I knew it,” Peter said, voice low and dangerous. “You don’t care about her. This is all just some game to you. You think she’s just another challenge, something to win.”

Harry’s smile didn’t falter, but his gaze sharpened just enough to show he was paying attention now.

“She deserves better than that,” Peter hissed.

And Harry—cool, collected, annoyingly unbothered Harry—just shrugged and said, “Then be better.”

Peter flinched.

Harry stepped closer, voice dropping just enough to land like a punch. “If you’re so sure she deserves more, then go be it. Otherwise… maybe step aside and let someone who actually sees her have a shot.”

Peter stared at him, jaw clenched, breath tight in his chest. Because deep down, Harry wasn’t wrong. That’s what made it worse.

“She doesn’t even like you,” Peter snapped.

Harry raised both eyebrows, grinning again. “You sure about that?”

Before Peter could respond, the sound of Y/N’s laugh rang out from behind them. Both boys turned—she was heading back with MJ, clutching a bag of popcorn and smiling like nothing had happened. She looked happy. At ease.

She saw them and slowed slightly, sensing the tension. Her eyes flicked between them.

Peter took a step back like he hadn’t just threatened to commit murder. Harry threw an arm casually around Peter’s shoulder, smirking as he leaned in to whisper.

“Relax, Parker. I’m just playing the part you walked away from.”

Then he clapped Peter on the back and walked off toward Y/N without looking back.

Peter stood frozen, fists still tight at his sides, heart pounding in his ears.

He had no idea what was happening anymore.

But he knew one thing—he was losing her.

The second half of the game kicked off, but Peter might as well have been watching static.

His hands were stuffed in his jacket pockets, his knees bouncing restlessly under the bleachers bench, eyes fixed on the field—but not really. He could barely follow what was happening. Every cheer that erupted next to him sent a fresh stab through his chest.

Especially when they were her cheers.

Y/N was laughing again—loud, beautiful, effortless—as Harry leaned in to say something only she could hear. Peter didn’t catch the words, but the way she tossed her head back, mouth open in a smile that made his stomach twist? Yeah. He caught that.

A week ago, she would’ve laughed along to his jokes like that.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to play it cool, phone out, scrolling through nothing. His leg was still bouncing. His mind, a mess.

He wasn’t trying to show off anymore. Wasn’t laughing with Gwen. Wasn’t trying to “win.”

Because he wasn’t winning. Not anymore.

He was losing. Badly.

Gwen glanced over. “You okay?”

Peter looked up, blinking. “Yeah. Just… tired, I guess.”

She frowned a little. “Too tired to go to Flash’s after party?”

Peter turned to her, confused. “Flash is throwing a party?”

“Victory party,” Gwen said with a little shrug. “I know you don’t like him, but he promised me he wouldn’t mess with you or Ned tonight.”

Ned perked up instantly from beside MJ. “Wait, what about me?”

Gwen leaned forward to look at him. “I was saying we all got invited to Flash’s party.”

“Oh sick!” Ned grinned. “We should go! I’ve heard rivalry game parties are legendary.”

That’s when Y/N chimed in, glancing up from her conversation with Harry. “Go where?”

MJ rolled her eyes. “Flash’s party. Gwen’s dragging us.”

Harry leaned forward behind Y/N, slinging an arm across the back of her seat. “That’s a great idea actually. My first public school party. Can’t deny me that honor, right?”

Gwen beamed. “Exactly!!”

Then she turned to Peter again, all soft smiles and hopeful eyes. “Please come with us? It’ll be fun.”

Peter’s eyes flicked to Y/N. She wasn’t even looking at him. She was twirling a strand of her hair, laughing at something Harry said. So easy. So gone.

He looked back at Gwen. “Yeah. Okay. Fine.”

Because he couldn’t let her go to that party alone.

And definitely not with Harry Osborn.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Midtown won.

Which meant Flash’s house was packed.

There were lights strung up along the front porch, music booming so loud the floorboards seemed to vibrate. People were already spilling out onto the lawn. Somewhere deep inside, someone was cheering about a keg stand.

“Okay, ground rules,” Harry said casually as the group approached the front steps, his voice light but his eyes glancing toward Y/N. “You’re allowed to drink.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “How generous.”

“But I won’t,” Harry continued. “Because I am your responsible designated driver. I’d rather not get yelled at by Iron Man or arrested by Captain Stacy.”

“A gentleman and a self-preservation king,” MJ muttered approvingly.

Behind them, Peter rolled his eyes so hard it might’ve caused a migraine. Gwen’s fingers were laced through his—warm, soft, safe—but his attention was locked on the way Harry placed a guiding hand on Y/N’s lower back as they stepped inside.

The bass dropped. The crowd screamed. Flash’s parties were just as obnoxious as Peter thought they’d be.

Harry turned to Y/N with a lazy grin. “Any drinks for the princess?”

Y/N giggled. “Sure. Surprise me, Osborn.”

Harry smirked like it was a personal challenge. “That’s my specialty.”

He disappeared into the kitchen, and Y/N and MJ followed after, slipping through the crowd like they weren’t causing complete chaos just by existing.

Peter was still standing near the door when Ned elbowed him in the ribs.

“Bro,” Ned hissed. “This is it. This is the place to let loose and tell a certain someone how you really feel.”

Peter gave him a look. “We are at Flash’s house. This is, like, the least romantic location of all time.”

“So? Romance thrives in adversity. That’s a fact. Shakespeare probably said that.”

Peter groaned. “I’ve never even drank before. I don’t know how this stuff works.”

Ned shrugged. “You’ve heard of liquor courage.”

Peter hesitated. His eyes followed Y/N as she threw her head back laughing—laughing at something Harry said as he handed her a drink in a red solo cup.

Liquor courage. Maybe it was exactly what he needed.

“I’ll be back,” Gwen said suddenly, tugging Peter’s hand to get his attention. “One of my friends just got here. I’ll come find you in a bit, okay?”

She kissed his cheek, gave him a little wave, and vanished into the crowd.

Peter turned to Ned.

“Okay,” he said, eyes narrowing. “Let’s find some bad decisions.”

The party was in full swing.

Music throbbed through the walls, bodies pressed together in the makeshift dance floor in the middle of the living room, red cups littered every flat surface. Somewhere in the chaos, someone was singing into a hairbrush and Flash was shouting about being the MVP of life.

Y/N had lost count of how many drinks she’d had. She wasn’t drunk—not really. Just… floaty. Everything was a little fuzzy at the edges. Her cheeks were warm. She laughed at everything Harry said, let MJ spin her around in the kitchen, danced like no one was watching even though everyone was.

But Peter was.

From across the room, Peter sipped something that tasted like gasoline and stared.

She was glowing.

Y/N Stark in a crowded room was like a magnet—people were drawn to her without even realizing it. He hated that Harry got to be close enough to make her laugh. He hated that she wasn’t looking at him.

Until she was.

Their eyes met.

And then Gwen pressed up beside him, giggling, and kissed his cheek. “You’re so warm,” she murmured, unaware—or pretending not to see—how Peter went rigid.

Y/N saw.

Her smile faltered. Just for a second.

Then she turned, said something quick to MJ and Harry, and slipped out of the room.

Peter didn’t even think.

He shoved his cup into Ned’s hands and followed her.

Upstairs, the hallway was quiet. The music was muffled now, just a bassline vibrating through the floor. He spotted the open balcony doors and walked toward them, heart hammering.

She was leaning against the railing, her drink dangling from her fingers, face tipped up toward the stars.

“Hey,” he said softly.

Y/N turned, and her expression flickered when she saw him. “Shouldn’t you be downstairs? With your date?”

Peter sighed. “I saw you leave.”

“Congratulations. You have eyes.”

“Y/N…”

She shook her head, lips pressed tight. “Why are we fighting so much?” Her voice cracked slightly. “We’ve never fought like this before.”

Peter moved closer. Close enough that he could smell her perfume—faint and electric, like the air before a thunderstorm.

“I think you know why,” he said.

“No,” she whispered. “I don’t. I really don’t.”

He reached out, gently took her cup from her hand and set it on the balcony ledge.

“I hate this feeling,” Y/N admitted. “I hate fighting with you. More than anything.”

“I know,” Peter said. “So do I.”

She sniffed and gave a tiny laugh, eyes flicking up to his face. “Your cheeks are so flushed. I’ve never seen you drunk before.”

Peter cracked a grin, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Says you! You’re starting to slur your words a little.”

“Am not,” she said, grinning.

“Are too.”

They both laughed—real and easy—and for a moment, it was just them again. No drama. No fights. Just Peter and Y/N under the stars, making each other smile.

Then the quiet slipped in again.

Y/N’s voice dropped. “We’re not normal anymore.”

Peter’s heart twisted. “No,” he said. “We’re not.”

“I missed you,” she whispered.

Peter looked at her like it physically hurt him to say the next words. “So did I,” he said, barely above a breath. “So bad.”

Their eyes locked. Her gaze drifted to his lips. His followed.

They leaned in.

Almost.

But then—he stopped. Just barely pulled back.

“We can’t mess this up.”

Y/N blinked. “What?”

He swallowed. “We can’t. Not this. Not us.”

“You were about to kiss me…” she said, voice thick with disbelief.

“I know.”

“God, Peter, would it really fucking kill you if we kissed?!”

He flinched, like the words physically struck him. “We can’t do this.”

“Why not?!”

“Because I—” But he didn’t finish. Couldn’t.

Y/N stepped back, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”

“Y/N/N—”

“I hate you,” she spat, but it came out sounding heartbreakingly soft.

And then she turned and left him standing there.

Peter stayed frozen, the cold wind biting at his face as the door clicked shut behind her.

He didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

Didn’t say a word.

“…Shit.”

Y/N descended the stairs with shaky breath and a glassy look in her eyes. Her lips were still tingling. Her heart was still racing—but not in the soft, glowing kind of way. This felt like something was tearing inside her. Something that had been holding out hope for way too long.

She spotted MJ and Harry across the room near the kitchen. MJ was absolutely roasting some jock who had worn flip flops to the party, and Harry was doubled over laughing, clutching his drink like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard.

Y/N blinked, dazed, and slipped between partygoers to rejoin them. She forced a smile, tucked herself under Harry’s arm, and laughed along.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the room—

Peter stood against the wall, eyes wide, breathing hard.

“Bro,” Ned said quietly, “you look like you just watched someone get murdered.”

Peter turned to him, frantic. “I had her. Ned, I had her. And then I let her walk away. What is wrong with me?! Put me out of my misery.”

Before Ned could respond, Peter’s head snapped up.

Because across the room, Y/N locked eyes with him.

Her expression was unreadable.

And then something shifted.

Something snapped.

Before he could even process it, Y/N turned, grabbed Harry by the front of his shirt, and kissed him.

Full-on. Deep. Desperate.

MJ froze mid sentence, blinked, then slowly stepped away, muttering under her breath, “Okayyyy,” with a little laugh as she disappeared into the crowd.

Peter’s heart dropped. No, it plummeted.

He couldn’t breathe.

Then, Gwen appeared beside him.

“Oh—there you are,” she said with a bright smile, wrapping her arms around his waist.

He blinked, staring at Y/N across the room. Still kissing Harry. Still not looking away.

So Peter did the only thing he could think of.

He wrapped an arm around Gwen and pulled her closer. “Dance with me,” he said quickly.

She raised an eyebrow, but followed him to the makeshift dancefloor.

And just like that, Peter was touching Gwen’s waist, spinning her, saying anything and everything to make her laugh—and it worked. She giggled, cheeks flushed. But then—

She looked up.

Across the room.

At Y/N and Harry.

Still kissing.

Still pressed together.

And then she looked back at Peter.

At the way his eyes kept flicking toward Y/N when he thought no one noticed. At how forced his smile was. At how his hand tensed against her waist like he was holding onto something that was already gone.

Gwen understood.

Deep down, she always had.

But now, it was undeniable. This wasn’t real. She was a stand-in. A band-aid. A safe choice.

And even though it hurt—god, it hurt—she was going to let him pretend. Just for tonight. Because sometimes it was enough to feel chosen, even if it wasn’t forever.

Back on the other side of the room, Y/N finally broke the kiss.

She was breathing heavy, heart pounding, but her eyes were locked on Peter.

Still dancing. Still whispering.

Still trying to pretend it didn’t wreck him to see her like this.

So she turned to Harry, wild and impulsive and a little drunk, and said, “Wanna get out of here?”

Harry blinked. “Right now?”

She smirked. “Not like that. Just… upstairs. Somewhere quieter.”

Harry, to his credit, caught the glint in her eye. The pain she was trying to bury. The performance she was committed to. But he still said, “Lead the way, sweetheart.”

Y/N grabbed his hand and made sure—made absolutely sure—that Peter saw her as they climbed the stairs together.

She knew exactly what it looked like.

She wanted him to know.

She wanted it to hurt.

Peter’s jaw clenched. His entire body stilled. Gwen's voice became muffled, the music drowned under the sound of blood rushing to his ears. He watched as Y/N disappeared upstairs with Harry, hand in hand, laughing.

He had no idea if she meant it.

No idea if it was real.

But the damage was done.

And Peter Parker was spiraling.

Hard.

Y/N stumbled through the doorway with Harry behind her, his hand loosely on her back to make sure she didn’t trip. The music from downstairs thumped through the floor, muffled now, as the door clicked shut behind them.

Harry locked it.

Not for that reason—but because he didn’t want anyone barging in. Not when she looked like this. Not when she was shaking, chest rising and falling like her emotions were stuck somewhere between rage and heartbreak.

There was a bed—typical teenage boy's room, probably Flash’s older brother’s—and Y/N collapsed on it like her bones had given out. Harry stayed standing for a moment, watching her. He’d seen this kind of sadness before.

But not in her.

And not like this.

He slowly sat down beside her.

“Hey,” he said gently, “You okay?”

Without a word—without hesitation—Y/N turned and kissed him again.

It wasn’t like the one downstairs. That one had heat, electricity, defiance.

This one was sad.

Desperate. In a bad way.

Harry pulled back, blinking. “Whoa. Hey, hey,” he said softly, cupping her shoulders. “Maybe not like this.”

Y/N’s face fell. Her bottom lip trembled. “So you don’t like me either?”

“What—?”

“You don’t wanna have a super hot makeout with me?” she sniffled, eyes glassy. “That’s fine. Totally fine. I get it.”

Harry couldn’t help it. He let out a breath of a laugh. “I never said all that.”

Y/N blinked.

He smiled a little, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “I just said I’m not doing this while you’re drunk, Y/N/N. It wouldn’t be right. And you know it.”

Then—boop.

He gently tapped her nose.

She pouted.

“You’ll thank me in the morning,” he added. “I entertained your little act downstairs, but we’re not doing that here, sweetheart.”

That’s when her eyes started to fill again. Real tears now. Her voice cracked.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Harry. Please don’t be mad. I’m an idiot. I made it weird. You probably hate me. I made you uncomfortable, didn’t I—”

“Stop it,” he said, firm but warm. “Stop. Breathe.”

She hiccuped.

Harry reached for a tissue box on the nightstand and handed her a few. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable. You didn’t scare me off. I don’t hate you.”

Y/N wiped her eyes, miserably quiet.

Harry looked at her like she was a puzzle he was still figuring out. Like he could see through every layer.

“Y/N/N,” he said, “any guy would be lucky to be with you. You’re smart, you’re terrifying, you’re hotter than sin—”

She let out a wet snort at that.

“—and anyone who rejects you is either an idiot,” he continued, “or just not the guy. That’s not on you.”

Y/N looked down at her lap, voice small. “I really thought he was the guy.”

Harry sighed. “Yeah. I kinda thought he was too. For what it’s worth.”

They sat in silence for a moment.

Then Harry stood. “Come on. Let’s get you sobered up a bit. I’ll grab you some water, maybe a piece of that sad pizza I saw in the kitchen.”

“You’re not taking me home yet?” she asked, wiping at her cheeks again.

He grinned. “Can’t have you like this in front of Iron Man. I like being alive.”

She let out a half-laugh, half-sob, nodding.

Harry turned to the door, then paused.

“Hey,” he added, looking back. “You’re not alone. Okay?”

Y/N looked at him, vulnerable and messy and aching.

She nodded again.

And for the first time that night, she actually believed it.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Harry helps Y/N into the passenger seat of his sleek black car, buckling her in like the gentleman he is. She’s tipsy, not drunk anymore, just quiet. Worn out.

MJ stands on the curb with Ned, both watching.

“You got her?” MJ asks, voice soft.

Harry nods. “Yeah. I’ll get her home safe.”

“My dad’s coming to pick us up, so don’t worry about us,” she adds. Then smirks. “Peter and Gwen left a while ago.”

Harry glances over, unreadable. “Right.”

“Thanks for looking out for her.”

He shrugs like it’s nothing. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Y/N sinks onto the couch with a heavy sigh. Her heels are dangling off her feet, and her eyes are glazed from more than just exhaustion.

Harry crouches in front of her, resting his forearms on his knees.

“You’ll call me if you need anything, yeah?” he says. “I’m the hangover king. Got all the tricks.”

Y/N gives a weak smile. “I will. Thank you. For tonight. And… for everything.”

He waves her off with that same effortless grin. “Please. You think I’m passing up the opportunity to be your knight in designer armor?”

She laughs.

He stands and starts walking to the elevator, turning back at the last second. “Hey, Stark?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re gonna be okay. Even if it doesn’t feel like it right now.”

And then he’s gone.

The tower is quiet. Everyone’s asleep.

Y/N pads barefoot into the lab, still in her day clothes, makeup a little smudged. Tony was hunched over one of his holographic schematics, coffee in one hand, a wrench in the other. Music played softly in the background, FRIDAY dimming the lights to match the late hour.

He paused, hearing footsteps pacing just outside the lab. Back and forth. Back and forth.

He sighed.

“Y/N,” he called without looking up. “If you’re trying to wear a hole in the floor, congrats, you’re close. Just get in here.”

A beat.

Then: the door slid open and Y/N stepped inside, arms crossed tightly over her chest.

Tony turned around and studied her. “You look like hell, honey.”

She let out a dramatic groan and flopped onto the nearest chair, legs tucked under her. “I think I’m having a breakdown.”

Tony set the wrench down. “Is this a ‘there’s a villain loose in Manhattan’ breakdown or a ‘someone broke my heart and I want ice cream and an alibi’ breakdown?”

“Neither. Both. Ugh, I don’t know.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Color me intrigued.”

Y/N leaned forward, dropping her face into her hands. “Okay, so… hypothetically—hypothetically—what would you say if I told you I liked a guy who doesn’t like me back?”

Tony’s smirk vanished. “I’d say… he has garbage taste.”

Y/N snorted, but it was watery, her eyes getting glossy again. “Dad—”

“No, I’m serious. Who is this kid? You’re smart, you’re kind, you’ve got a face that belongs on the cover of Vanity Fair and hands that can fry an entire Hydra base. What’s not to like?”

“Apparently a lot,” she muttered.

Tony rolled his chair closer, softer now. “You wanna talk about it?”

She hesitated, then nodded. “It’s Peter.”

Tony blinked. “Our Peter? Peter Parker?”

She nodded again.

Tony leaned back, sighing. “I mean… I did kind of see that one coming.”

Y/N’s head snapped up. “Wait, what?”

He gave her a look. “Sweetheart. I have functioning eyes. You light up like a Christmas tree around him. And I’ve caught the way he looks at you when you’re not paying attention.”

She frowned. “You think he likes me?”

“I think he’s either madly in love with you or incredibly confused by the fact that he’s madly in love with you.”

That made her smile. Barely.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Lately it’s like… he’s always with Gwen. And she’s so pretty and confident and sweet and she says things like ‘Peter, you’re amazing’ and he glows.”

Tony frowned. “Y/N…”

“And I know it sounds dumb but sometimes I feel like I’m too much. Like I’ve got all this… noise inside me. And maybe he likes the quiet. Maybe I scare him.”

Tony’s face softened completely.

He stood, walked over, and knelt in front of her. Hands on her knees.

“Y/N Stark,” he said, voice low, “you are the best thing I’ve ever built. You hear me? You’re brilliant. Brave. Ridiculous. And so full of life that any guy who can’t see how lucky he’d be to love you — isn’t worth your time.”

Her eyes watered. “Even if that guy is Peter?”

He sighed, then smiled. “Look, I love the kid. Really. But if he ever makes you feel like less than you are… well, let’s just say I know a guy who can launch him into space.”

She laughed. A sniffle, a wipe of her cheek.

Then her voice turned quiet again.

“There was a moment tonight,” she said. “On the balcony. It was just us. And he looked at me like—god, like I was the only thing that existed.”

Tony didn’t say a word. Just listened.

“We were about to kiss,” she admitted, her voice shaking. “I know he was going to kiss me. And then he didn’t. He pulled away. Said we couldn’t mess this up.”

Tony’s expression dropped. His jaw tightened.

“And I—I get it, maybe. But it felt like this final confirmation that he’s never going to choose me. He had the chance. And he didn’t take it.”

Tony exhaled slowly, rubbing his hand over his face. “My baby…”

Y/N let out a half-laugh, half-sob. “I told him I hated him.”

“You don’t.”

“I know,” she whispered. “But it hurt. It really, really hurt.”

Tony nodded, sitting beside her now, pulling her close. “Then cry it out. You’re allowed to cry. Doesn’t make you weak.”

She leaned into him, cheek against his shoulder.

“I just wanted him to want me. Just once. Not Gwen. Not Liz. Me.”

Tony kissed the top of her head. “He’s an idiot.”

She smiled into his shirt. “You’re just saying that.”

“No. I’m saying that because I built an Iron Man suit in a cave with a box of scraps and even I wouldn’t be dumb enough to reject you.”

Y/N snorted.

Tony grinned. “C’mon. You want some ice cream?”

“Always.”

“And hey,” he added as they walked out of the lab, “for the record? You’re the most beautiful girl in the city. Possibly the planet. You make Gwen Stacy look like a warm up act.”

“Dad!”

“Just saying. Someone’s gotta hype you up. Might as well be me.”

And as Y/N leaned into his side, finally letting some of that ache bleed out into safety — she thought maybe being a Stark didn’t mean she had to carry it all on her own.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺

taglist: @f2lix @the-faceless-bride @lovely-foxes-exe @uhmellamoanna @gyus-lvr @aomi04 @liaverse37 @pettypeety @pleasingregulus @theyluvmesblog @sqfewrd @ultrunning @boomitsallie1

author's note: i'm evil laughing behind my screen rn. guys i'm so tempted to lose the plot and let y/n and harry become a thing BUT NO! we simply cannot let that happen. i'm trying to plant the seed for something but idk if you guys will catch on...

when i was writing the party scene all i could hear in my head was "party on u party on u party on party on u" LMAO

i've decided the official y/n x harry songs are bad for business by sabrina carpenter and perfect by one direction. which btw, can be found on the official clueless playlist!

146 notes · View notes

thollandsgirl2013 · 5 months ago

Note

Hi! Can I request a Peter Parker X Stark! reader and she wants to try on Pete’s spidery suit and web shooters and he thinks she looks really good in it so he kisses her and Tony comes in and thinks they’re doing some weird type of role play?❤️

Hello there! I had so much fun writing this one! I'll probably say it turned out to be one of my favourite fics. Thanks for requesting! Hope you enjoy reading it too.

𝐒𝐮𝐢𝐭 𝐔𝐩, 𝐁𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐩

Parings → Peter Parker x Stark! Reader

Warnings → Fluff, Humor, Slight Spice, Making Out, Overprotective! Dad! Tony, Embarrassment, Light Suggestiveness.

Summary → You blackmail Peter into letting you try on his Spider-Man suit. It fits too well, leading to making out—and Tony walking in.

"Pleeeaaase, Pete?" You whined, leaning over his desk with the best puppy dog eyes you could muster.

Peter didn’t even look up from his notes, his pen gliding across the page. "Nope."

You groaned dramatically, throwing yourself back onto his bed. "Why not?! I'm the one who worked on half of your suit!"

"Keyword: half," Peter quipped, turning his chair slightly to smirk at you. "Mr. Stark did the heavy lifting, and, oh yeah—it’s my suit."

You sat up on your elbows, pouting. "That’s not fair! I bet it would look so cool on me."

"It’s not about looking cool, babe," he said, finally turning to fully face you. "It’s dangerous tech, Y/N. The suit has all kinds of built-in features, and I don’t want you accidentally webbing yourself to the ceiling or activating instant-kill mode."

You rolled your eyes. "As if I don’t know how the tech works! I built most of it with Dad. I probably understand the suit better than you do."

Peter gave you an unimpressed look. "That’s debatable."

Frustrated, you crossed your arms. If begging didn’t work, it was time for drastic measures. You sat up, narrowed your eyes at him, and smirked. "Fine. You leave me no choice."

Peter arched a brow. "Uh-oh."

You stood up, placed your hands on your hips, and announced, "No kisses for a month."

Peter froze. "Wait. What?"

You grinned, seeing his reaction. "Yep. No kisses. No sex. No cuddles. No cute little nose nuzzles. No hand-holding. No forehead kisses. Nothing."

His jaw dropped. "That’s—That’s cruel and unusual punishment!"

You fake-sighed, placing a hand over your heart. "Well, if my boyfriend refuses to let me try on the suit that I worked on, then I guess I have no choice but to take extreme action."

Peter looked genuinely distressed now, running a hand through his curls. "That’s so unfair. You can’t just—"

"And!" You interrupted, pointing an accusing finger at him. "You’re so ungrateful! I spend hours helping you upgrade that thing, and you won’t even let me try it for five minutes?" You dramatically turned away, placing a hand over your forehead. "Oh, the betrayal!"

Peter groaned loudly. "Ugh! Fine! "

You immediately spun around, grinning. "Wait, really?"

He gave you a deadpan look. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just—just don’t break anything, okay?"

You let out an excited squeal, doing a little happy dance before rushing over to grab the suit from where he pulled it out of his closet. "This is the best day of my life!"

Peter crossed his arms, watching you with a defeated sigh. "You’re ridiculous."

"You love me."

"Unfortunately, yes."

You snickered before holding the suit up in front of you, inspecting it. The fabric was smooth under your fingers. "Ooooh, I feel powerful already."

Peter rolled his eyes. "Okay, just—put it on already before I change my mind."

You nodded and started unzipping your hoodie, shrugging it off before kicking off your sweatpants. You were left in just your bra and panties when you noticed Peter had gone completely silent.

You turned to see him staring.

Blatantly.

His lips were parted slightly, his brown eyes locked onto your figure as if he had just seen the most captivating thing in the world.

You smirked. "Pete."

No response.

You snapped your fingers. "Peter Parker, my eyes are up here."

He blinked rapidly, his face immediately flushing. "I-I wasn’t—! I was just—!"

You crossed your arms, tilting your head playfully. "Just what?"

"Admiring my girlfriend," he admitted, looking sheepish but utterly smitten.

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn't hide your grin. "Uh-huh. Sure, Romeo. Now turn around."

Peter huffed dramatically but turned his back to you. "You act like I haven’t seen you in less."

"Yeah, well, you don’t get to ogle while I’m trying to be Spider-Woman for the day," you quipped, stepping into the suit.

As soon as you pulled it up over your shoulders, it felt huge. The fabric sagged, the arms hung loosely, and the legs were way too long. "Oh my God, Peter, your body proportions are so weird."

He laughed. "Hey! I have a perfectly normal body proportion, thank you very much."

You pouted, looking down at yourself. "It’s so baggy! Ugh, I look ridiculous."

Peter turned around, smirking. "You could always take it off."

You shot him a look. "Nice try." Then, you pressed the spider emblem on your chest.

Immediately, the suit shrank.

The fabric adjusted perfectly to your body, molding to every curve, every inch of your skin. Your stomach, chest, legs—everything was snug.

Peter stopped mid-breath.

His eyes traveled from your legs to your ass to your chest, and suddenly, his Adam’s apple bobbed. "Uh…"

You turned to the mirror, blinking. "Oh. Damn."

The suit hugged you perfectly. The fabric stretched in all the right places, highlighting every dip and curve of your body. Your ass? Amazing. Your boobs? Fantastic.

Peter made a strangled noise.

You turned to him with a smirk. "You okay there, bug boy?"

His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. Then, without a single word, he took two long strides forward, cupped your face, and kissed you.

It wasn’t just a peck. No, Peter devoured you, his lips molding against yours hungrily. His hands found their way to your jaw and waist, pulling you against him as he deepened the kiss.

Your hands gripped his shoulders, melting into him as he pressed you against the wall. His hands started wandering—one settling on your jaw, tilting your head up, while the other slid down to firmly grab your ass.

You gasped into the kiss, breaking apart for just a second. "P-Peter—"

"You look so hot in my suit," he mumbled against your lips, kissing you again, voice breathless and desperate.

You giggled between kisses. "I knew it!"

Peter groaned, nipping at your bottom lip as his hands squeezed your ass. "Not fair," he muttered, moving down to your jaw, leaving soft kisses.

You shivered, wrapping your arms around his neck. "I mean, if you wanna keep making out with me in your suit, I’m not stopping you—"

Then.

The door opened.

"Ay, kid, I need Y/N for a sec—WHAT THE HELL?!"

You and Peter immediately froze.

Your dad, Tony Stark, stood in the doorway, eyes wide, mouth open, looking horrified.

You and Peter were practically glued together—your arms around his neck, his hands on your ass, both of you looking like deer caught in headlights.

Tony blinked. "What. The. Actual. Fuck."

"Dad!" You yelped, shoving Peter off you.

Tony raised his hands, shaking his head rapidly. "Nope. Nope. Nope. I do not wanna know why you’re in the Spidey suit and sucking face with Spiderling. I do not wanna know what kinda freaky roleplay stuff you two are into."

You turned bright red. "IT’S NOT—"

"Oh my God," Tony muttered, rubbing his temples. "I need bleach. No, I need therapy. I need Pepper."

Peter, looking about five seconds away from fainting, squeaked out, "M-Mr. Stark, I—I swear—"

Tony pointed at him. "You. Out."

Peter blinked. "But… this is my room—"

Tony turned his glare up to maximum dad mode, eyes narrowing dangerously.

Peter swallowed hard. "I'm out."

And with that, he bolted straight out of the door.

"You. Family meeting. Now."

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. "Kill me now."

Tony sighed, mumbling to himself as he walked away. "Why couldn't she date a nice, normal guy from down the street?"

From the hallway, Peter called out, "I am a nice, normal guy!"

You groaned again. "Oh my God, Peter, shut up!"

‎∗ ࣪ ˖༺ 𓆩☆𓆪 ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

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motherofdogs1010 · 7 months ago

Text

Guys Not My Age I (Peter Parker x Reader)

Warning: 18+ only, age gap relationship, older woman/younger man!, everyone is over 18!, fratboy!Peter Parker, cheater!Bucky, computergenius!reader, hacker!reader, toxicex!Bucky, consensual sex, semi public sex, heavy smut, drinking, swearing, unprotected sex, eventual pregnancy

A/N: Re-write of 'Need to Know'

Series Masterlist

Banner @vase-of-lilies Dividers @firefly-graphics

Her head throbbed and pulsated as she begun to wake up.

The overall shittyness of a hangover taking over her body as the loud, blarming phone alarm rung hard in her ears as she groaned. She buried her face into the pillow as she felt movement coming from next to her, immediate confusion filling her mind as she heard, "Shit, sorry. Forgot that I had the stupid alarm on."

She recognized that voice even with it being laced with grogginess and sleep as she snapped open her eyes, wincing from the daylight that peeked over the curtains.

She was met with an unfamiliar room that looked like the standard college dorm: books and notes in an slight mess on the desk with a laptop hanging by it, posters on the walls and the distinct sound of boys laughing and footsteps coming down the halls.

Turning her head, her eyes widened as the memories of the previous night filled her as she resisted to gulp as she was met with the shirtless image of Peter fiddling with his phone.

The memories of the night before felt like a tidal wave washing over her as she remembered having gone out to drinks with the Avengers team to celebrate their latest takedown of yet another Hydra compound (she handled hacking into the tightly encrypted computers) and she knew Tony had partly also wanted to take her out to get her back out onto the dating scene.

She watched as Peter scratched his head for a moment, seemingly beginning to wake back up as she came to the realization of her naked body under the blanket and the realization of her memories being confirmed as she saw a glimpse of the scratches on Peter's back.

Sitting up as she tugged up the blanket, she wondered how the hell she was suppose to do a walk of shame out of her as Peter said, "anyway, want to get breakfast?"

"What?"

Peter tilted his head a little, "want to get breakfast? I thought since we were getting along so well..."

The ache between her legs from last night a reminder of how well they got along.

It wasn't like she didn't enjoy it or anything, but it was the realization that she had slept with someone nearly ten years younger than her.

"Peter, I'm-"

"I know. You're 30 and I'm 21, I don't care." Peter shrugged and she couldn't help but get distracted by his strong physique. "I told you I don't want a girl my age, I've wanted you."

It made her heart clench at statement.

"All I'm asking for is you take a chance", Peter pleaded, bringing their lips into a soft kiss.

It made her melt.

"Fine. One chance."

Peter grinned.

"But I refuse to be seen by a bunch of frat boys so you better make sure they clear out of here. I'm too old to be dealing with that."

"You're barely 30, no even that old."

Y/N downed the shot of tequila that Tony had passed her, laughing as she felt the burn in her throat and hearing Tony cheering. Say what you want about Tony, but he knew how to party as he had taken them to some nightclub that he bought for shits and giggles.

"Enjoying the burn", Tony teased, Y/N laughed.

"It's the tequila sweats that I hate", she said back.

Standing up from the little VIP booth Tony had rented for them all, Y/N scoped out her surroundings. She saw Nat dragging a bashful Steve to the dance floor, Steve was awkwardly moving around before he finally got the hang of it and began dancing with Nat. Y/N laughed as she watched Steve get down on the dance floor, she spotted Vision (who had his human form on) with Wanda near the bar as Wanda was getting another drink.

"Are you having fun?"

Y/N looked in the direction to see Peter standing there with a grin, Y/N smiled back at him.

"I wondered where you were", Y/N responded, "I always forget your 21."

"My baby face makes it that way", Peter joked.

Y/N had to admit, Peter Parker was a very attractive man, especially right now with his hair gelled back, a white button down that had the sleeves rolled up and dark slacks. Tony said Peter had changed a lot since high school, having managed to join a fraternity in his first year of college; she had only met Peter in the last year so hearing that he was anything but confident before was a little shocking since he walked around like a little mini Tony sometimes.

Peter moved a little closer to her as Tony announced that he was going to join Wanda at the bar.

Sam and Clint were missing, both men having taken some time off to go visit their families, especially for Sam since he wanted to be there for one of his nephew's birthdays.

Although, the person that everyone seemed to ignore that wasn't there was a certain Winter Soldier, but it seemed everyone was on the rocks with the man at the moment. But cheating and immediately bringing around the girl you cheated with will do that, won't it?

Of course that was the second main reason behind Tony bringing nearly all of them out to the club was because of her confiding in Tony about being ready to get back out there. She felt no issue confiding in Tony considering how close of friends they were, she was coming out in his upcoming wedding to Pepper in just a few months time.

"It's a cute baby face", Y/N teased, Peter chuckled.

"I'm glad you're having fun", Peter said, "you deserve it."

Y/N smiled as she tugged up the neckline of her red mini dress, the fabric clinging to her large breasts and hips. It was an off the shoulder dress that she chose just for the occasion with long sleeves and paired with some red bottoms that Nat was letting her borrow.

Y/N watched as Peter looked a bit indecisive as if he was second guessing himself before he blurted out, "Would you like to dance?"

"Don't you think you should be dancing with someone your own age?" she teased before Peter snaked a toned arm around her waist.

"Age is just a number, right?" Peter answered with a wink. "When it comes to two consenting adults, of course."

She wouldn't be an idiot to say she hadn't noticed the younger man's eyes roaming her figure. But she never thought much of it considering she had been in a relationship with Bucky, but that bridge was burned a lot time ago.

She was here to have fun, dance a little, drink... there was no harm in just a dance, right?

"Alright, Spiderboy", Y/N said, "show me what you got."

Wanna know what it's like (like) Baby, show me what it's like (like) I don't really got no type (type) I just wanna fuck all night

The sound of Doja Cat singing could be heard even in the women's restroom, the door locked in a rush as Peter pressed her harder into said door. Their tongues dancing across one another as she could taste the alcohol on his tongue, Y/N moaned as Peter slotted his knee between her legs, pressing against her wet cunt and beginning to rock her hips against him.

But Peter pulled his knee away and she whimpered, breaking the kiss for a moment before she felt one of his hands trail under her dress, finding her thong.

"You're soaked", Peter teased, she shuddered as Peter ran a finger down her slit. "I bet I could slid right in."

As if that was his cue, Peter slid a finger into her, Y/N let her head fall into Peter's chest as he slowly began to pump his finger in her.

"Don't tease", she moaned as she brought his face down to hers.

What's your size? (Size) Add, subtract, divide ('vide) Daddy don't throw no curves (curves) Hold up, I'm goin' wide (wide) We could just start at ten (ten) Then we can go to five (five) I don't play with my pen (pen) I mean what I write

She connected their lips again as Peter slid another finger into, fingering her harder now as he began to rub her clit in tight circles. Y/N cried out at the sensations as she rocked her hips in time with Peter's movements.

Peter began to trail kisses down her neck as her eyes rolled back into her head, her mouth falling open as pants escaped her mouth.

"Fuck you're beautiful", Peter said as he quickened his fingers. "Come on, Y/N, cum on me."

Y/N felt like she was in the Twilight Zone right now, but fuck it, she was enjoying it with the way Peter was fingering her. She could feel that tight knot building in her as Peter's fingers reached an area in her that made her nearly tear up in pleasure, his fingers practically massaging it as she began to tug on his hair as her toes began to curl.

"P-Peter", she panted, "gonna...cum..."

She saw Peter grin in satisfaction as her orgasm hit her like a freight train. She felt breathless and fuzzy as Peter fingered her through it before she whimpered at the overstimulation, which Peter pulled his fingers out.

"Still think I should find someone my own age?" Peter teased, she narrowed her eyes as she panted.

Peter slid his fingers into his mouth and sucked on them.

"I always knew you'd taste sweet", Peter said as she reached for his belt buckle.

Peter brought a hand up, squishing her cheeks together and forcing her lips into a pout; he pressed a sloppy kiss to her lips as she successfully managed to get unzip Peter's slacks, slipping her hand inside to begin to tease the younger man in front of her.

"Now, you wanna be a tease?" Peter groaned as he began to move her to one of the many sinks in the bathroom.

I just can't help but be sexual (whoa) Tell me your schedule (yeah) I got a lotta new tricks for you, baby Just sayin' I'm flexible (I will) I do what I can to get you off (I will)

Peter had gotten her on the sink, legs spread and her thong stuffed in one of his pockets as he began to rock into her. Her eyes rolling into the back of her head as she felt Peter hike up her leg on him higher, sending him into deeper territory and brushing up against her G-spot as he began to rub her clit in time with his rocking.

"P-Peter", she slurred, eyes beginning to water from pleasure.

"Fuck, you're squeezing me so good", Peter whined as he gripped the sink below her.

His thrusts becoming rougher as he buried his face in the crook of her neck.

Might just fuck him with my makeup on (I will) Eat it like I need an apron on (yeah, ay) Eat it 'til I need to change my thong (yeah, ay) We could do it to your favorite song (yeah, ay)

Her makeup was ruined, she was sure of it from the amount of kissing, sweat and tears. Y/N shivered as Peter bite down on a part of her neck, making her clench around her even tighter and causing him to let out more groans of pleasure, his hips slapping into her even rougher.

The sound of skin slapping skin rung in bathroom, echoing off the walls as she brought Peter's face back to her own, smashing their lips together as she squealed when her second orgasm hit her, her legs shaking and back arching.

You're exciting, boy, come find me Your eyes told me, "Girl, come ride me" Fuck that feeling both us fighting Could he try me? (Yeah) mmm, most likely

She had pushed Peter onto one of the toilets in the bathroom, his dick red and leaking when she had straddled him before sinking down onto him. Y/N shivered as she felt Peter stretching her out again and she knew she was going to be feeling him the next day as she moaned and threw her head back at the delicious stretch his cock gave her cunt again.

Peter gripped her hips before grabbing her ass and smacking it, she pulled her face towards his, connecting their lips as she begun to rock her hips.

Oh, wait, you a fan of the magic? Poof, pussy like an Alakazam (yeah) I heard from a friend of a friend That that dick was a ten out of ten

She could someone knocking on the door, but she could care less right with Peter buried so deep inside her as his hands that gripped her hips so tightly began to help rock her.

Baby, I need to know, mmm

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~🕷️🕸️💻~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sometimes Y/N wondered what Peter had been like before he went to Empire State and joined his fraternity, and in this moment as they sat across from one another at one of the on-campus cafes, she figured maybe this might have been it with how he fidgeted a little.

"Nervous?" she mused, "this was your idea."

"I can't be nervous on a date with a pretty girl?" Peter remarked and she chuckled.

"Not after last night." Peter grinned and ran a hand through his fluffy, chocolate brown hair. "Besides, this isn't a date. This is you trying to convince me why I should go on a date with you."

"Sorry, it's just... I've liked you for awhile, but I didn't say anything because-"

"Because of Bucky?"

Peter looked down sheepishly and Y/N reached over to grasp his hand.

"And then when you two broke up, I didn't think it would be right to tell you because of how everything went down."

"You're doing a lot better than he did", Y/N said. "I appreciate that you waited, Peter. That's really sweet of you."

Peter grinned a boyish grin that Y/N couldn't help, but replicate back at him.

She had agreed to a date with Peter.

In the back of her mind, she couldn't help but think of the thoughts that others might have with her being seen with Peter. She examined her face in the mirror, trying to see if she had any wrinkles, age-related blemishes and sighed.

"You look stressed." Slightly startled, Y/N turned around to find Nat standing the doorway of her room with a curious look on her face.

"Just a little."

"Where are you off to? Hot date tonight?" Nat asked with a grin.

"About that", Y/N trailed off, looking at her outfit.

A white, blue-floral printed dress that cinched at the waist and was off the shoulder adorned her body with her keeping her makeup clean and simple, and her face loose and away from her face.

"Who's the lucky person?"

"Peter."

Nat was silent for a moment as Y/N felt the pit of anxiety in her stomach at the thought of her friend's judgement before Nat said, "well damn, didn't think the kid had the balls to make a move."

"What?" Y/N asked as she went to grab a pair of platform sandals.

"Anyone would working sense could tell the kid was eyeing your ass all the time", Nat nonchalantly said with a shrug. "Don't tell you didn't notice?"

"I noticed", Y/N defended, slipping her feet into the shoes. "I just thought it was because he was young."

"I also take it that you were with him when you disappeared from the club?"

Y/N's eyes widened as she looked away before Nat let out a laugh.

"Damn, you have to tell me all the details when you get back", Nat teased. "But I'm glad you're getting back out there again."

"You don't think it's weird? With me being older than Peter?"

"If men in their sixties can date women young enough to be their daughters, why can't you go on a date with a younger guy?" Nat shrugged.

Y/N gave Nat a smile and sucked in a breath.

"So, how do I look?" Y/N asked, posing for a moment.

"Like Parker will most likely fuck the shit out of you."

"Perfect."

Peter texted her not too long after that he had arrived and in an air of her favorite perfume, she met him out in the living room of the compound.

A sense of satisfaction fell over her as she noticed Peter's eyes raking over her body as she took in his appearance. His hair slightly gelled away from his face, a white button down shirt and black slacks framed his body.

They were alone in the living room, a rare event since the space always had at least one person present but apparently not today.

"You look amazing", Peter complimented, stretching out his hand and grasping hers.

He gently pulled her towards him as his eyes hungrily stared into hers.

"Thank you", she said with a small smirk. "I thought you'd enjoy this. Never worn it before."

Lost in their own world, they never noticed a certain figure hanging around the corner, seething as he watched Peter met her lips in a soft kiss.

His metal hand clenching into a fist as he turned away, fuming at the sight before him.

TAGLIST

@theoraekenslover

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