#i used to write stuff like this all the time ten years ago | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

t-lostinworlds · 1 year

Text

I Spy, No Spy | Peter Parker

》 PAIRING: peter parker x avenger/secret agent female!reader

》 TROPE/GENRE: friends to lovers; fake dating-ish; fluff

》 SUMMARY: You're a trained spy, Peter was not. But you two ended up on a mission together where he was needed to be less of the chatty superhero in red & blue tights and more of a debonair undercover agent in a suit & tie. It shouldn't be too difficult, right? No mask, no web shooters. Just you and him pretending to be fiancés, hiding and making out in a closet to avoid getting caught—simple. Unless he included his overgrowing feelings for you, of course.

》 WARNINGS: peter being down bad & horny™️ for r (my fave genre of peter by the looks of it), slight self-deprecating peter, pet names (darling, my love, babe, angel), peter x suit x glasses (a dangerous combo), mediocre spy-ish stuff, canon typical violence (i.e. guns, knives, fighting, ass-kicking), slight jealousy/possessiveness (both parties), slight pettiness from r, closet make-out, little peter got excited (idk why i said it like that lmao it’s just a boner), cuddling w/ boob grab (not sexual lol).

》 WORD COUNT: 21.3k+ (is anyone still surprised)

✘ MOODBOARD

A/N: this idea has been in my drafts since sept or oct 2020? I think? basically i plotted this a decade ago a.k.a this happens after Endgame but before...anything else (NWH who? lol) this is more an alternate universe tho. i honestly have no idea how i feel about this but i did enjoy writing it. a pretty tame, fun lil spy au fic so nothing groundbreaking sksks anyways! i hope you enjoy!

📍 BLOG NAVIGATION ✩ PETER PARKER MASTERLIST ✩ MAIN MASTERLIST ✩

⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ✫*.

The sun rays that leaked through Peter's bedroom window tickled his eyelids, making them flutter open as he yawned.

A tired smile curled on his lips as he buried his nose into his pillow. It was rather comforting, hearing the faint chirping of birds, the soft rustle of the tree just outside his room, and hell, even the chants in the far-off distance of people training.

It was a peaceful Saturday morning, and Peter really liked that.

To top it off, summer had just begun, so no college work to worry about in the meantime. He was finally having a much-needed break from obligation and responsibilities—well, not entirely since the superhero gig didn't really have actual breaks. But he was hopeful that today was a quiet day, at least.

There were plenty of activities that could take up his whole day. He could start with a morning run around the large stretch of land, maybe pack up some breakfast and eat it by the lake, located at the edge of the area. He didn't mean to sound like some guru, but he could really use being one with nature for a little bit. Maybe he could meet his friends for lunch if any of them were free, or maybe he could spend the afternoon relaxing by the compound's private pool—

"Good morning, Peter."

Peter jumped with a squeak, limbs tangling with his sheets, making him fall off the bed with a loud thud. Groaning, he slowly sat up on the floor, rubbing the back of his head to soothe it.

That was certainly one way to get the sleep out of your system.

"Emergency meeting in conference room A-One in ten minutes."

Well, so much for his plans to relax.

"Got it, FRIDAY."

It was still a bit odd hearing the A.I. as an alarm early in the morning most of the time. She was certainly very helpful though. From scheduling to reminders, simple google searches to more complicated equation-solving whenever he would need help.

FRIDAY was like the compound's own Alexa but much, much more advanced. Well, she certainly wasn't meant to be used as such but nobody could truly blame him for not taking the perks for granted.

And there were a lot of perks living in the place—the Avenger's compound, to be specific—and despite being here for almost a year now, Peter still hadn't gotten used to its extravagance, much less exhausted all its resources.

It was a drastic change from the little apartment where he and May used to live, and he wasn't talking about the size alone.

She was living with Happy now, Peter visiting over for dinner whenever he could. She was a bit reluctant to let him move out at first. It was expected when they'd practically been living together for a good chunk of his life. But he was grown now, so wanting to dabble into independence shouldn't come off as a surprise.

Sure, it was more him being available and closer to saving the world type of independence, but independence, nonetheless.

Plus, Peter simply wanted to give them as much privacy as he could.

Happy and May were like teenagers in love and the things he heard despite the thick walls thanks to his enhanced abilities…he'd rather not think about it. His super hearing definitely helped in making the decision.

He still hadn't stopped patrolling New York, of course. If it was a quiet day on earth—more so, the universe—he still swung about the city, stopping any petty crime he would come across. But when an Avenger's level threat would arise, Peter was now only a couple of doors down, equipped and ready to join the mission.

It was difficult to juggle: his normal life, attending college, being Spider-Man on top of being an official Avenger.

Nonetheless, Peter wouldn't have it any other way.

Maybe it was because he enjoyed the thrill of taking the superhero gig to the next level. Or maybe it was because he was granted the opportunity to live lavishly in the compound. Maybe it was the sheer feeling of accomplishment and pride to be able to save the world.

Or maybe it was because he got to see you every day.

You, who Peter has an insanely huge crush—no, who he really, really liked.

He might even go as far as to say that he was falling for you.

The two of you had moved in at the same time.

He could still vividly remember how he'd just placed the last box on his bed when the building shook. He peered out his window to see what the commotion was about, just in time to catch the Quinjet landing on the well-kept grass. His brows had furrowed in curiosity when the door opened, watching Sam and Bucky come out first, then a third figure trailing right behind them.

Peter didn't really believe in love at first sight, but God did it feel like that when he first saw you.

Okay, maybe it wasn't exactly love—or maybe it was, who knows—but he really couldn't deny how intrigued he was of you, intimidated even. And that was when you walked into the common room in simple jeans and a pink hoodie.

He swooned the minute you smiled at him when you introduced yourself, his knees wobbling the minute you shook his hand.

It was later on that he found out that you were a former (more like forced) member of HYDRA, abducted at a young age, trained to be one of their elite spies, and brainwashed to do their bidding. Which was why it made so much sense how the one and only Bucky Barnes had a soft spot for you—quite surprising for someone who was known to be a huge grump.

You actually came from Wakanda that day, to erase whatever it was HYDRA planted into your brain. Now, you were a recruit on the team, willing to do good with the skills you now had.

You and Peter were around the same age—part of the young ones, as Bucky pointed out—so it didn't really take long for you to become friends.

Well, a friend he kept ridiculously fawning over, a friend who made his heart race whenever you were nearby, a friend who Peter didn't really want to remain as such.

He was thankful though, being your friend was better than being no one to you at all.

But still, it was difficult to suppress his feelings, especially when you were one of, if not, the sweetest and kindest person Peter had the pleasure of knowing.

Whenever he would stumble into the compound late at night, all badly beaten and bruised, somehow, you'd be the only one awake, helping him up to his own room where you'd then clean his wounds for him.

The first night it happened, you had said FRIDAY alerted you of his presence. You had rushed as fast as you could when the A.I. mentioned he was injured. After that, it simply became a routine for you both.

It was like an unspoken rule around the compound, how you were always the one who'd patch Peter up after missions—unless you weren't present, of course. There were even a handful of occasions where Peter would be the one patching you up, a rare instance where he'd be home from campus while you'd come back from an intense mission that rewarded you with fresh bruises and cuts.

He was convinced you were simply being nice to him, though. You did consider him as your friend and you were kind enough to help with an ailment or two. You were such a caring person overall. He was sure if it was any other person, you'd do the same. So, Peter wasn't exactly special in that regard.

But then you got assigned to help him train every weekend, which only made his overgrowing crush for you, well, grow some more.

It was a new requirement for recruits, learning how to fight without much use of technology.

From the wise words of the new captain: Gadgets and tech should be there as extra sets of tools, not as a replacement for your arms and limbs. If you rely on them too much, they're going to become crutches.

Bucky stared at Sam funnily at that—since his vibranium arm was both a tool and a replacement of his limb—but everyone got what he meant. Being able to take down bad guys with only your bare hands was definitely more helpful than not.

Peter didn't know if someone was secretly spying on him, or had overheard him gushing about you to Harley—or if said friend himself had ratted him out—that led to the two of you being paired together.

Bucky said that you were the best woman for the job to help improve hand-to-hand combat or overall fighting skills. You'd been training since you were young after all, and that was saying something. Peter was probably still learning his additions and subtractions while you had already mastered the art of jiu jitsu. Wanda added that the two of you were already close hence why you got paired together, simply to skip through that awkward phase of introductions.

Peter had a feeling the two were playing matchmaker. But he chose to ignore it.

Either way, it certainly didn't help his predicament.

Being so close to you in that regard, with you wearing those tight leggings and tank tops, grunting and sweating, your bodies getting tangled and just…yeah.

Training with you was enough to make his head—both heads, if being honest, but he'll keep the other one to himself—explode.

You were incredible.

So it didn't take much for him to get distracted by you during your sessions, either.

More often than not, Peter would find himself watching you in awe rather than trying to dodge your punches. You called him out on it a few times, and each time he'd turn pink, the tint on his skin turning darker when you'd order him to do push-ups as a means to discipline. You were strict at times, but he was still so lucky that you were also being patient with him when he couldn't get it quite right the first few times. Although, you being in command and in control only added to his endless list of things he was swooning over you for.

It was admirable the way you would have him so out of breath after a spar and he was the one with superpowers. You were being smart with it, tactical with the when, where and how to hit rather than just throwing a punch for the sake of it. You'd dance around him, gracefully, swiftly, strongly, each move precisely choreographed to outmatch him as if you'd already looked into the future to know what he was going to do next.

Peter was a goner the minute you pinned him down on the floor for the tenth time in that one session.

He didn't know if it was the smug smirk on your face, your knees on either side of his hips, the way you had his hands above his head, or everything all at once. But Peter's blood was definitely boiling with every touch, rushing up to his brain that quickly turned it to mush—or maybe it was rushing down. He really couldn't tell where the pulsing was coming from. If it was his heart or some other organ that gets filled with blood.

By then, he couldn't stop thinking about you, couldn't stop talking about you, head over heels like he was living and breathing for you.

Ned and Harley said it was an obsession at this point but in his defense, you were way out of his league.

And he hadn't even taken into account how you felt about him.

Sometimes, Peter would have an inkling that his feelings were reciprocated. With the way you'd smile at him, the way you'd say sweet things to him, and the lingering touches from time to time, how could he not?

But, what if that was his rose-colored glasses making them seem like something they're not? Was it truly acts of affection and adoration or was it Peter's brain just romanticizing the shit out of simple kind gestures done for a friend?

Then came the thought that you were sweet and kind to everyone. It was just who you are, a ray of sunshine through and through—a ray of sunshine that could kick your ass ten times over but still. He'd rather not give himself too much hope. It was safer to assume that you were only seeing and treating him as a friend and nothing more.

Besides, it was too far-fetched, someone like you feeling something for someone like him.

You'd walk down a hallway with your head held high, while Peter would keep his eyes trained on the tiles. You'd stare your enemy down with no hesitation, your presence commanding, threatening, both words and actions carrying that certain chill that would make anyone second guess crossing you. While Peter would dance around them to avoid proper confrontation, going for silly jokes and sarcastic quips to mask any nervousness he would sometimes feel.

You're one hell of a powerful, strong woman and that's without any enhancements or superpowers involved.

While Peter…well, he's just your dorky, other times clumsy, friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.

As he said, you were way, way, way out of his league.

So he really couldn't do much but admire you from afar—or up close, but discreetly—until he would grow the extra set of balls needed to actually do something about his feelings for you, especially with the possible outcome of rejection.

He'd like to believe he'd grown quite a bit of confidence after entering college. It was a slow progress but he did manage to break out of his shell. With the number of parties Harry Osborn had managed to drag him into, how could he not? He was quite glad that now, he was able to talk to pretty girls without much stuttering and blushing involved.

But somehow when it was you in front of him, he would suddenly revert to his old high school self again. His cheeks would either be red or pink, barely able to get his words out as he would sometimes stare at you for longer than he should, all awestruck and dazed with admiration.

Peter's point was painfully proven right once again when he saw you down the hallway.

You were wearing black leggings and a black tank top along with your favorite running shoes. It was your usual getup whenever you would train or workout. Yet no matter how many times Peter had seen you in them before, it never failed to make his heart skip a beat. It was nothing fancy at all, but God did it look stunning on you.

It was mostly unconscious, and well, his rational brain did sometimes take a backseat when it comes to you. But his eyes drifted over your body, from your exposed shoulders to your collarbones, flitting momentarily on your chest, before they went to your legs, your tight leggings leaving so little to his imagination as they hugged your thighs. He tried to move his gaze back up to look at you more appropriately but simply got stuck on your hips. There was a slight sway in them as you walked—in slow motion, he was sure of it—with such confidence, and the way you held yourself with power and poise was breathtaking.

Shit. Did the AC malfunction? Why is it suddenly so hot—

"Hi, Pete."

Your voice snapped him out of his stupor. But your bright, beautiful eyes and your so-goddamn-pretty smile all while you stood right in front of him was more than enough to have him swooning again.

"H-Hey," he squeaked, painfully aware of how hot his cheeks had gotten. Add the fact that he hadn't been out under the sun much, he was sure you could see how pink it was. That knowledge alone probably made it a shade darker. Then came the fleeting thought that you might've caught him practically eyeing you up—

He quickly cleared his throat, keeping his head down to hide his blush as he opened the door to the conference room.

"After you."

"Thank you," you hummed, reaching a hand out to squeeze his arm before you moved past him.

It took a lot for his knees not to wobble at the gesture, even more, when he caught a whiff of your shampoo…or was that your perfume? But if you had just gone on a morning run and taken a shower—no, that wasn't your body wash. You didn't look like you'd just got out of the shower, so maybe it was just your scent. God, you always smell so nice.

"Holy—get your shit together man," he grumbled to himself, hastily wiping his sweaty hands on his jeans, fixing up his hair before entering the conference room.

It was relatively empty—well, the whole compound was given that the rest of the Avengers weren't at headquarters in the meantime, caught in other obligations whether personal or otherwise. The only other person in the room was Wanda, sitting across from you.

"Pete," you called, tapping the chair beside you before he could even choose a seat to take. There were plenty of vacant ones. Trying to calm his raging heart, he walked over to your side and sat down. But each beat only grew faster when you tilted your head at him with a smile. "Did you go on a run this morning?"

"Oh—uh, no, not yet," he said, trying his best to keep his eyes on yours rather than let them wander, like…down your lips. Shrugging to seem unbothered, he added, "FRIDAY announced the meeting just when I woke up."

"I haven't either," you hummed. So, it was just your scent earlier, the same one that was filling up his nostrils now as you leaned a little closer to him. "Maybe we can go—"

"Another day, another robbery," Sam cut you off as he and Bucky entered the room.

You moved away from him then, leaning back on your seat, attention now on the captain. An unconscious frown made its way onto his lips, because yes, he was slightly—greatly—annoyed at the interruption.

"Only this time, it calls for a national emergency," Bucky added, taking the seat next to Wanda.

"Global, if we don't stop it in time," Sam sighed, connecting a flash drive to one of the USB ports installed on the table.

"Oh no, did they steal the president's nudes?" Peter joked, immediately shrinking in his seat when the two men shot him a look. "Sorry, sorry, bad joke and definitely not the time—I'll shut up."

"That was funny," you whispered, flashing him a smile and Peter's face immediately burned. He wasn't given much time to respond when Sam cleared his throat.

"As much as that would be horrifying, it's something much worse." He pressed a button on the table that made the hologram come to life. There was only one item shown, a rectangular, gold-colored device, probably the size of a credit card but thicker by half an inch. Sam pointed at it and said, "The Gold Codes."

"The Gold Codes?" Peter muttered, brows furrowed in confusion.

"The president's nuclear launch codes," you answered, always willing to help him out on things he wasn't too well versed on.

"Oh." Peter nodded, smiling at you appreciatively before his face fell, eyes widening in realization. "Oh. That's definitely worse than his nudes."

You laughed, and it made Peter's heart do flips.

"And of course, its partner, the nuclear football. But instead of it being a whole briefcase, it's been reduced to this—" Sam flicked through the hologram, a black device coming up beside the gold codes. It looked like a plain external hard drive, roughly the same size as a pocketbook. It wasn't that big so it was definitely easy to carry around and, by the looks of it, easier to steal.

"Technology advancing sometimes isn't the best," Bucky grumbled.

You sat straighter in your seat, forearms resting on the table as you eyed the devices. There was a furrow between your brows, lips pursed as you tilted your head.

Peter couldn't stop his smile.

He always found your thinking face adorable.

You turned to Sam after a moment and asked, "Don't they change the codes every day?"

"Yes, but as our hundred-year-old resident said, technology is advancing so the card automatically syncs up to any changes made," Sam explained.

"That's the stupidest thing ever," Wanda scoffed.

Peter nodded in agreement. "Why did these even get stolen in the first place?"

"The one who was carrying the nuclear football was a double agent," Bucky said.

"Classic," you scoffed. "And have we found where it is?"

Sam nodded at Bucky, the super soldier rummaging around a bag that Peter just noticed he brought with them. He slid across a black envelope with gold detailing, your brows furrowing as you took it in your hand.

"Oh wow, an invitation to a charity gala tonight at The Aces," you gushed, scanning through the glossy, black paper before you turned to look at Peter. You probably saw the confused look he wore because you offered him a sweet smile before explaining, "It's one of the fanciest ballrooms in New York, most of the galas they hold are very exclusive for the rich and the rich-rich, like filthy 'I can end world hunger but I'm an asshole so I won't' rich."

"Thanks," Peter hummed, smiling.

"I got you." You bumped his shoulder with a wink, which quickly made him blush.

"But it's a smokescreen," Sam continued. "The real party happens later in the night."

"That's what she said," Bucky interrupted enthusiastically, earning a heavy eye roll from Sam and laughs from you and Wanda. The technically old man looked around the room. "What? Did I say the joke wrong?"

"You got the spirit," Peter chuckled.

"As I was saying, they're holding a black market auction later in the night in the small underground theater a floor beneath the building." Sam continued, swiping up the hologram until it showed a floorplan of a theater along with a couple of photos of high-tech armor, guns, and a whole bunch of things Peter couldn't exactly name. What stood out the most to him, though, was the logos: Stark Industries, Oscorp, Pym Technologies, Sable International, and the likes. "Stolen technology and weapons being sold to anyone who has the money to buy them."

"So, it's like the dark web, but fancier," Wanda quipped.

"Stealing items and then selling them to the highest bidder," Peter hummed. "Sounds like the British."

You snorted, quickly covering your mouth when everyone turned to you with raised brows.

"Sorry," you mumbled, kicking him under the table playfully, probably as a warning to stop making you laugh. Peter only grinned proudly in response. He always felt proud whenever he made you laugh.

"Anyway, the nuclear football is easier to find. It's locked in a room along with the other items they're planning on selling," Sam started, flicking through the hologram to show a floor plan of the whole building. He circled the large room in the middle before tracing a pathway leading up to another, much smaller room. "It's located on the east wing, right side of the main ballroom. It has double doors so you wouldn't miss it, especially with the armed guards."

"And the card?" Peter asked.

"Would be much more difficult to retrieve. It's going to be with the person who orchestrated this whole thing. The problem is—"

"You don't know who it is," you finished.

Sam nodded grimly. "Whoever is the mastermind of this grand scheme has been quite good at maintaining anonymity. The only time they're going to reveal themselves, along with the codes, is during the secret auction, which you can't get into unless you're chosen to be there."

"If you think the gala was exclusive, the auction is on a different scale," Bucky explained.

"We don't know what code or secret handshake will be needed to be able to attend the auction. Our best course of action is to attend the gala, scope the scene, and hopefully, get intel on how to join the auction without much breaking and entering involved," Sam said. "I had Harley tap into the security system of the building and guess what?"

"You found an even bigger problem," you and Peter said at the same time.

Sam nodded. "The whole building is now armed with sensors fit to detect every single Avenger's superpower, any Stark-grade weapons and also, vibranium. Bucky's metal arm, Wanda's magic, my wings, so on and so forth. Neither of us could simply swoop in because the second those silent sensors go off, or any commotion will start, poof goes the codes along with our criminal."

Bucky shifted in his seat. "Even if we discard all of that and try not to use it, going in there as, quote-on-quote civilians won't work either because—"

"Everyone would immediately recognize who we are," Wanda finished.

"Since there are only two people here whose faces aren't known publicly"—Sam looked between the two of you—"Peter and Y/N, you two are going to be the ones to retrieve the codes and the football."

"W-What?" Peter choked, eyes wide as he stared at the captain. "Don't they have my powers in the sensors?"

"They only have it for your web shooters and suit, and as far as I know, both are detachable."

"But that's me, that's how I operate," he stammered. Going out there as himself wasn't part of his skill set. He'd feel too exposed without his suit. Not to mention he was going with you. Which of course wasn't a bad thing at all but it only added this pressure to not mess things up. He couldn't live with himself if he'd fail this mission, fail you—or worse, have you get hurt because he wasn't capable enough. "How am I supposed to be Spider-Man without those?"

"You have to give yourself more credit, Pete," you said, placing your hand over his own, the one resting on his thigh. Peter's eyes followed your touch before he met your gaze again, his blush prominent, heart thumping so loud he was scared you might hear it. "You're more than just a suit. And you need to remember how you've managed to make your synthetic web in the first place. So I'm sure you'll do fine with your brain alone. Even then, you still have other abilities, and you have me."

Peter looked at you fondly, a smile curling on his lips as he turned his hand so your palm was over his, squeezing it to silently say thank you. He wasn't even aware of what he was doing, not until he saw your smile turn slightly shy. It was the quick glimmer in your eyes that made him realize he was absentmindedly stroking the back of your hand with his thumb.

"Seconded." Wanda smiled at the two of you, chuckling when you and Peter jumped slightly away from each other. You pulled your hand away, Peter frowning at the loss of contact. But he shook his head, turning his focus back on the mission.

"Y/N here also said you'd gotten really good at your hand-to-hand combat skills," Bucky said, an all-knowing smile on his face as he glanced between you two. "So, I don't think you'd need your web shooters as much if ever it comes to a fight."

"Which we hope won't result in that," Sam quickly added with a reassuring nod. "The plan is simple: scope and mingle, assess the scene, try and get some information as to how to get into the auction. Once you've done that, sneak into the vault to retrieve the nuclear football. I've already assigned Harley to make a duplicate device to swap with the real one so it won't trigger the alarm.

"Then, you sit at the auction and wait until the codes come up. I'm sure it will be presented by the anonymous seller so by then, we will be able to put a face on the mastermind. Our agents should already be blocking every single exit of the building by that time so all you have to do is to retrieve the code calmly. Try and ease your way into the main stage, charm and persuade, or whichever way works. Any more questions?"

You and Peter looked at each other, before you both turned to Sam, shaking your heads.

"Good. We've already set your fake identities up, google searches running for miles, the last thing we need are photos, together, individually, candid and professional which would only take a few minutes. Your fake names are already on the guest list, your outfits and everything else you need will be waiting for you at the hotel you're getting ready at as part of the whole ruse," he instructed. "You two are the best and only shot we've got in this. Plan your moves wisely and rely on each other. We can't afford to lose those codes."

"Yes, Captain."

•••

The hotel suite was fancy.

Peter had never been in one this expensive-looking before.

It had its own living room, a minibar, a huge bathroom, a king-size bed, and then a massive window that overlooked New York City. He definitely indulged himself with their complimentary champagne, and given the fact that he couldn't get drunk, he mostly did it for the taste—which was flavored expensive, to those wondering. Hell, even the chocolate they had tasted expensive.

Then again, the two of you were undercover as a rich, engaged couple so it was part of the whole thing. You never know whose eyes and ears were for who in these types of missions.

But still, it was quite the treat and he'd be stupid not to make the most of it—without getting too distracted, of course.

Peter was now all suited up, not in spandex this time. It was a crisp, black, formal suit made with fabric he wouldn't dare guess the cost and a brand he couldn't even begin to pronounce. He had a white dress shirt underneath, paired with a black tie. The one he was currently having a hard time doing as he stood in front of the floor-length mirror in the living room.

He groaned in frustration when he once again messed it up. He didn't wear this kind of clothes often, so he really didn't have much of a reason to learn to master the art of…tying?

"Need help?"

Peter turned around, the breath knocked out of him once he saw you come out of the bedroom.

Wow.

Oh wow you looked gorgeous in red.

It was an off-shoulder, long-sleeved dress, your arms covered in lace as the fabric hugged your figure. The skirt was long as it fanned onto the floor with a really high slit on your right leg to show off the silver heels you were wearing. Your hair and make-up were done to marry the whole style, all while enhancing your natural features rather than covering them. Your red-painted lips though—

"Wow."

"Yeah," you laughed softly, your gaze falling over yourself as your hands smoothed the fabric of your dress. "I don't know who picked it but it's really pretty and it fits really nicely. Perks of having body scans for our suits, I suppose."

"You look beautiful," Peter breathed out, still frozen in his place as he stared at you in absolute awe.

"Thank you," you said, your sweet smile turning into a smirk as you eyed him up and down with a nod. "You clean up nice, too, Parker."

"Oh—uhm, t-thanks." He blushed, shaking his head before gesturing both hands at you. "But you, I—wow, you look, wow."

"Shut up," you laughed, your dress flowing as you moved closer to him. "Here, let me."

Peter wasn't even given much time to recompose himself when you once again took his breath away by simply standing so close to him. Every inhale was just filled with your scent, his heart skipping a few beats as he scanned your face, only a couple inches from his and God did you look even more beautiful up close.

His blush deepened when you reached for his tie, your brows furrowed in that adorable way he'd come to familiarize as you slowly did it for him.

Peter honestly didn't know what to do with his hands, yet there was some sort of pull that he couldn't resist, like an instinct as he gently rested them on your waist. He was distracted by how close you were, but not enough to miss the way your breath hitched at the contact. Testing the waters, he squeezed it gently, biting his cheek to stop his smile from growing when he saw your fingers falter.

But oh did the pride bubble in his chest.

You shook your head, finishing up his tie with a smile. It was Peter's breath that hitched this time when you smoothed it over his chest, your palms flat against the muscle, touch so sweet, skin so warm. You looked up, your smile faltering when your eyes met his.

He didn't know how long you stared at each other. He also didn't know who moved a little closer first, but he definitely wasn't complaining. Not when he was so close that he could count exactly how many eyelashes you had. And he gladly would've if your voice hadn't snapped him out of the trance that nobody could ever put him under but you.

"We should get going," you whispered, but you still lingered for a few more seconds, more than enough for his brain to run its course, thinking that maybe, his feelings for you weren't as unrequited as he thought.

It was the sound of a beeping alarm that broke you two apart.

"Come on, we can't be late," you said after a breath, flashing him a sweet smile before going to grab your things.

"Wait," he cleared his throat, patting around his pockets before finally retrieving a velvet box. You turned around just as he'd opened it, showing you the ring that resided inside.

Your eyes widened, lips opening and closing as you gawked at the sparkling diamond for a few seconds before you met his gaze. "Peter—"

"Oh shit! It's not what it looks like!" he panicked.

Peter did always find himself daydreaming about you often, and he would be lying if he said he hadn't already pictured something similar to this moment. But even he could recognize how many steps he'd basically jumped over by showing you a diamond ring. And as much as he would love to fast-forward to that part, he'd also like to take you out on a date first. Well, if he'd even get the courage to ask you that, anyway.

"I-uh, you know, us, covering as an engaged couple? So, of course, uhm, you'll need an engagement ring?"

"O-Oh," you fumbled, nodding quickly before you offered him your left hand. "Yeah, of course."

Peter took it in his delicately, fingers running over your knuckles before he carefully slipped the ring on. Squeezing your hand, he reluctantly let go.

"Did you pick this?" you asked, bringing your hand up to your face, fingers wiggling as you admired the ring.

Peter nodded. "Yeah, I did—well, Bucky helped."

"It's beautiful."

"It looks even more beautiful on you."

Your eyes snapped up to look at him, your smile growing as you hummed, "Charmer."

"It's the expensive suit." He shrugged, a teasing grin with a blush to match.

You laughed that lovely laugh of yours, adoration and pride swelling in his chest.

"Oh, Harley asked me to give you this," you said after a moment, pulling out a familiar pair of glasses before handing it to him. "He said it's all you need to do your magic."

"Nah, it's just a little tool kit I put together, really, kinda like a small computer so nothing magical about it," he chuckled, waving the glasses before putting them on. "It's carbon-based nanotech, passable through metal detectors. I've managed to look up what security system they had installed in the safe and there's sort of a minicomputer inside so it should be easy to bypass the system. I already have the program in here that would run through all the probable security codes so all I need to do is activate the glasses and it would automatically unscrew everything and connect to a hopefully pre-existing female micro-USB slot with the male counterpart in this old thing and—" he paused, face heating up as you gazed at him with a twinkle in your eyes. "What?"

"Nothing, just—you're amazing," you sighed, smile widening before you nodded. "Let's go?"

Peter ignored that way his whole body tingled at your praise and offered you his arm.

Not like it was a new reaction whenever he was around you, anyway.

"Let's."

•••

"Mr. Reid, the car is already waiting for you."

That was the first sentence Peter heard when you reached the hotel lobby. He looked behind him before looking at the man in a suit, pointing at himself in confusion.

"I'm not—"

"Lucas, honey, come on," you cut him off, slipping your fingers in his. You flashed him a knowing smile, squeezing his hand before you tugged him along as you followed the guy.

Right. Fake identities.

"Woah." Peter gawked at the car in front of him, leaning closer to you as he whispered, "Is that a Rolls Royce? Like, the new one?"

"Sort of. It's the Phantom Extended." You nodded with an amused smile. "The best way to blend in with the rich, don't you think?"

Peter was about to open the door for you but then the butler—at least, he assumed that was who he was—beat him to it. So, he opted on helping you with your dress instead, making sure it didn't get caught on anything as you settled inside.

"Thank you, my love," you giggled.

My love.

Peter luckily didn't slip on the expensive lambswool floor mat as he got into his seat.

It's pretend. Get a grip.

Once the car started moving, you pressed a button on the center console, the clear glass that separated the front and back immediately turning into an opaque white, completely secluding the two of you from the driver. He looked at you curiously, nervous—okay, and maybe a bit excited—as to why you decided you suddenly needed privacy. Peter had heard a lot of stories about what goes on in the rear cabin of expensive cars, especially with the partition up, so could it be—

"Did you get to read about our fake identities? The one Sam sent?"

Thinking with the wrong head again, aren't we, Parker?

"I, uhm, no, got too preoccupied with the ring and getting dressed," he admitted, looking at you guiltily. The mission had barely started and he was already messing it up. "I'm sorry."

"Hey, no, it's okay," you reassured with a smile, hand on his thigh, squeezing for good measure. He wasn't able to relish in the warmth of your touch for long as you shifted in your seat, turning around to face him. "I mean, everything is very last minute. I'll just tell you about it.

"Lucas Reid, the young 26-year-old and dashing CEO of Reid Enterprises. You inherited the company at nineteen when your father died of illness," you started.

Peter scrunched his nose. "So, basically, I'm a trust fund baby?"

"Sort of, but you do prove that you did the work," you said. "Company sales skyrocketed when you took the seat."

"What about you?" Peter gestured at your ring, blushing. "Well, apart from being my fiancée."

"I run my own fashion company." You shrugged, winking at him as you added, "Can't be living in my future husband's shadow now, can we?"

Future husband.

God how Peter wished for that to be true.

He shook his head, hands rubbing on his thighs. "Do we have a backstory? Like, as a couple?"

"Not much. Five years ago, we met in Milan during fashion week—"

"Let me guess, sparks flew right off the bat?" he chuckled.

"Love at first sight, obviously," you scoffed, rolling your eyes teasingly.

Not too far off from reality.

"Besides that, it's all the basics from there. Dates, extravagant gifts, and then two months ago, you proposed."

"Right," he started, bumping your knee with his lightly. "So, when's the wedding?"

You laughed, "We're not sure yet. Too busy."

"Of course," Peter sighed, rolling his eyes playfully. "Can't get me out of my office, now can you?"

"I have my ways," you hummed, wiggling your brows at him.

Peter was so sure his face had gone so red.

"You always do," he chuckled shyly, shaking his head before smiling at you. "Can we go over the plan real quick?"

You smiled. "Of course."

Peter knew what to do, obviously. He'd already gone over the plan probably a hundred times in his head. But he simply wanted to make sure he wasn't missing anything, especially something that could potentially jeopardize the whole mission. He couldn't afford even one single misstep, not when you and your safety could be put at risk—and the millions around the world that would suffer if those weapons got into the wrong hand, of course.

"We're almost there," you said once you've gone over the plans twice, eyes scanning across the windows. "It's just on the next turn."

Peter's heart quickened.

He didn't even notice that his emotions had gone evident on his face. Not until you squeezed his arm.

"You okay?" you asked, brows furrowed in concern.

"Yeah! Yeah, of course," he said quite unconvincingly. It was when he heard the ticking of the turn signal did his nerves shift to overdrive, his eyes wide as they met yours. "Shit, I don't think I can do this. I mean, I'm not usually out there with my face showing, you know? And I'm so so so not James Bond, I'm the farthest from James Bond I'm like, Lame Bond. I'm not smooth o-or charming or suave enough to be a spy—oh no. No, no, no, what if they find me out right away? I'm going to mess everything up and this is going to go horribly wrong and—"

"Hey!" you interjected, hands cupping his face, squishing his cheeks slightly as you pulled him closer, eyes boring into his with determination. Peter didn't know if it was the proximity that shut him up, or if it was your scent that overpowered his senses—probably both. "You're going to be fine. You've got this."

He gulped, nodding before letting out a shaky breath.

You smiled reassuringly, thumbs brushing over his cheeks, his skin turning redder with each caress. "Be observant, you don't have to talk. With this kind of crowd, trust me, the quiet ones are the most intimidating. If there's anything you feel like it's a bit off, trust your gut, and let me know, okay?"

"Okay," he breathed out, nuzzling into your palm absentmindedly, finding a sense of comfort from your warm touch.

"And if it gets overwhelming, just follow my lead."

•••

Peter got out of the car, nodding curtly with a tightlipped smile at the driver who opened the door for him.

He decided at the last minute that Lucas Reid was going to be a stoic, passively quiet CEO with a resting 'serious' face that only means business.

Peter straightened up his suit before he offered you his hand, the huge rock on your finger glinting underneath the city lights as your palm met his.

He gently guided you out of the car, helping you fix up your dress before offering you his arm. Your fingers curled around his bicep as you kissed his cheek with a soft thanks. Peter smiled at you warmly, pulling you closer to his side as you made your way inside the building.

Stoic and passive except towards his lovely fiancée, of course.

He might or might not have stumbled upon a few Mobster Spider-Man fanfictions on some website not too long ago. And he might or might not have taken some inspiration from it.

"Please take a basket to put your phones and any other electronic devices in and step under the detectors one by one," one guard instructed.

Adjusting his glasses, he pulled out his newly upgraded phone. It was sponsored by the Avengers obviously since he couldn't exactly rock up with his old, cracked one, with him being rich and everything. He smiled at the lock screen photo—it was of you and him, your lips pressed against his cheek, taken just a couple of hours ago to have photos to make this engaged couple gimmick believable—before he placed it in the basket you were holding up for him.

You smiled reassuringly before you stepped under the metal detector first, Peter following just closely after.

He let out a nervous breath when he saw how heavily armed the guards were. A variation of M17s and a couple of AK-47s were in the hands of fully uniformed men from head to toe. They look like your typical SWAT team, but Peter knew they were more dangerous than that, especially when their morals were as corrupted as he'd presumed.

He was an enhanced superhero, yes, but he sure as hell wasn't bulletproof. And as much as he could probably dodge a few shots, he would rather not take the gamble of finding out exactly how many he could avoid.

That wasn't what he was worried about, though. Because as he felt your fingers slip back into his, he was reminded of how vulnerable and defenseless you were. No superpowers, no bulletproof vests, still an amazing badass who without a doubt could take on two guys in a fight and win, but still a human who could get badly hurt by a simple pull of a trigger.

There were only so many bullets he could jump in front of you for.

"We're going to be fine," you whispered, squeezing his hand as if you could sense his worry. "I got your six."

Peter squeezed back. "And I've got yours."

The two of you stayed close to each other, arms linked as you headed towards the ballroom. But once the huge archway came into sight, you leaned closer to him.

"You go ahead," you whispered in his ear, squeezing his bicep. "I need to go to the bathroom."

Peter nodded.

He knew that some agents had already hidden some of your equipment hours before. Well, he hoped they successfully did, anyway. If not, then, you both might have to compromise.

Peter didn't know what exactly he was expecting when he entered the ballroom but it definitely wasn't as fancy as this.

The ballroom was grandiose in itself with its ornate marble columns and crown moldings, complementing the beautifully impressive murals that covered the ceilings. Even the red curtains that draped along the walls seemed far too luxurious for the mere fact that they were curtains for crying out loud.

Peter had never seen so many chandeliers hanging all in one space, not to mention, ones that seemed to be decked out in gold and crystals…or were those diamonds?

Everything was decorated with a color scheme of cream, black, silver, and gold, from the round tables and accompanying chairs. To contrast were various glass structures illuminated by some kind of light as they glinted and shimmered even from the corner of his eye. There was an open bar in one corner, a long table of finger foods and various desserts, and live music coming from the string quartet on a rotating, circular stage right in the center of a—is that an indoor fountain?

"Wow," you gasped as you appeared beside him, your eyes twinkling underneath the chandeliers. "It's gorgeous."

"Yeah," Peter sighed, eyes trained on the way your face glowed in awe as you admired the space. "Gorgeous."

Your smile brightened as you tilted your head, gaze meeting his. Then, your brows furrowed, stepping in front of him and eyeing the top of his head. "Come here. I need to fix up your hair."

Peter ducked his head without question, hands around your waist as he let you settle the mess of his windswept curls. He found the furrow of your brows absolutely adorable, but the way your tongue slightly poked out of your red lips made him want to just pull you in and kiss you senseless.

You tucked a few short strands behind his ear, gently pressing your thumb into his concha, the earpiece fitting snugly before he heard a faint crackle and then a deep voice.

"Parker, can you hear me?"

"Aye, aye, Captain," he muttered.

He heard a few snickers in the background followed by Sam scoffing sarcastically.

"My, aren't you two cute."

Peter's brows furrowed, confused eyes meeting yours. "What does he mean?"

"I answered the same way," you giggled, shrugging as you smoothed over his tie and buttoned up his suit jacket.

Peter's heart fluttered at that.

"We'll be on the line listening. Be discreet. Only communicate what's necessary."

You and Peter shot each other a look, grins widening into a knowing smirk.

"Aye, aye, Captain."

"Jesus Christ."

The line went quiet, presumably Sam muting their end until further notice.

Peter shook his head, chuckling before turning to you. "So, what now?"

"Scope," you said, waving back at a random woman who was making their way over to you both. You turned to him with a smile. "And mingle."

•••

Peter was so far out of his element.

He was already a terrible liar when under pressure, stuttering and blubbering until he would end up telling the truth. And that was around people he got along with.

Now how was he supposed to make small talk with the rich all while pretending to be rich himself when he clearly was not?

His best course of action? He didn't talk.

It fit well with the persona he'd created, anyway.

He was mostly following your advice—well, more like literally following you around. He was like your trophy fiancé in some way, and honestly, Peter wasn't opposed to it.

You were taking charge, and all he had to do was scope the scene, nod and smile whenever he was acknowledged while mostly speaking only to you.

From an outsider's point of view, he probably looked like such a puppy for his girl, only meeting your eyes, hovering by your side, his attention and touch always on you. A hand on the small of your back, an arm around your waist as he hung onto every word that slipped past your beautiful red-painted lips. For them, he was simply a man completely enamored by his soon-to-be wife. So it definitely sold this whole fiancé gimmick you two got going on.

Then again, it wasn't like he had to pretend that much, either. It wasn't hard to act all smitten with you because he already was. And, okay, he was playing it up a little. Peter would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy acting like you were his and he was yours, even if it was only for a mission.

Other than that, he also quite enjoyed indulging in the food and beverages that were paraded around by the waiters. It tasted so good, so obviously made with high-quality and expensive ingredients, but most importantly free. Could you blame him for taking advantage of it?

He was being an opportunist, he was well aware, which was why he didn't think much about downing the very tasty champagnes they offered, especially when he was free from any consequence that the drink brought—well, one of the consequences.

Because as much as he was immune to the buzz of the alcohol, he couldn't say the same for the effects it brought on his bladder.

It didn't really expand when his abilities got enhanced.

With how utterly gorgeous you looked tonight, it shouldn't have surprised him that the second he left your side, some men in this gala would take his absence as an opportunity to make a move.

He might've been acting like a guard dog, he admits, glaring at anyone who dared to glance at you wrongly. You were "his fiancée" after all, he was simply playing the part of your possessive protective husband-to-be.

That was what he told himself, anyway.

But still, when he came back after his little bathroom break, Peter wasn't too keen on what he saw.

You were talking to some dark-haired man wearing a bold, fully gold-colored suit and an even bolder beard. He didn't look old, but he didn't exactly look young, either. Or perhaps his facial hair played a part in that regard. He was—as much as he hated to say it—well-built and good-looking. If Peter was to guess, he was probably in his early 30s.

The interaction looked innocent enough, and Peter wouldn't have found it a big deal if this guy wasn't eyeing you up like you were a piece of meat.

"Amelia Devonché," the man greeted, his French accent thick, his flirtatious tone, even thicker.

So that's your fake name.

"The one and only," you said, smiling as you tilted your head. "Although I don't think we've been introduced."

"Halbert Auclair," he said, bowing as he held out an open palm.

Halbert? What kind of name is that?

"Pleasure to meet you," you hummed, slipping your hand into his.

"Pleasure's all mine. You look quite lovely tonight, mademoiselle," he crooned, bringing the back of your hand to his lips and kissing your knuckles.

Peter's jaw clenched, an intensely heated emotion boiling his blood, only relaxing slightly when he heard your fake giggle.

He'd heard your real one enough to differentiate the two.

"Why, thank you, monsieur."

Clouded by his emotions, Peter took long strides towards you, swiftly wrapping a possessive arm around your waist and pulling you to his side, kissing your temple and then, without thought, near the corner of your mouth.

Your eyes snapped to meet his, a fleeting look of surprise on your features before you quickly masked it with a smile. "This is my fiancé—"

"Lucas Reid, one of the youngest yet richest CEOs here today," Halbert interjected, offering his hand out to shake.

"Hmm," Peter said with a curt nod, his grip a little tighter when he shook it.

"Man with few words, I see," Halbert chuckled dryly, flexing his fingers once they were free from his hold.

Peter bit his cheek to stop a smirk, pushing his glasses up before slipping his hand into his pocket, looking at you with a much more relaxed smile.

"My fiancé isn't great with crowds. Always stuck in his office, he is. The only thing in his mind is the business, and well, me," you gushed, resting your left hand on his chest, tilting your head to flash him a smile. "Am I right, handsome?"

"Very much so, darling," Peter said, unaware of how his voice sounded. He was still running on jealousy that he couldn't help but gently take your hand from his chest, bringing the back of it to his lips and then kissing the diamond ring on your finger. He smiled at you sweetly as he ran his thumb over your knuckles. "You still owe me a dance, my love."

You blinked a few times, lips parting before you shook your head with a soft laugh, "Oh, yes! How can I forget."

"Have a lovely night, madem—"

Peter didn't even wait for him to finish his sentence as he gently ushered you towards the dance floor, just in time for the string quartet to play their version of Quando, Quando, Quando.

So…he didn't quite think this through.

Peter had no idea how to dance.

His boiling jealousy was quickly replaced with nervousness and dread as you guided his hands, one on your waist, the other curled around yours.

You were so blatantly staring at him that his nerves could only grow tenfold. It was only a matter of time before you realized just how jealous he acted. Hell, he only just realized it after the emotion had left his system. And despite avoiding your eyes, he could still sense it, how you were trying to figure out why he'd done what he just did.

Peter cleared his throat, "Something wrong?"

"Are you okay?" you countered, placing your hand on his shoulder before moving to the music.

He didn't know if he should be thankful or slightly embarrassed that you were the one leading the dance. But then again, there probably would never be a time when Peter wouldn't follow your lead—dancing or otherwise.

He'd follow you to the ends of the earth if he could.

It was working, though, bodies synchronously swaying to the sound of strings as if you'd done this plenty of times before. It was either a testament to how good you were at basically everything—a quick learner, a leader, a teacher and hell, a dancer—or just how well you two complemented each other.

Peter believed it was both.

"Yeah," Peter chuckled timidly, eyes trained on the ground to avoid your eyes and to make sure he wouldn't step on your foot. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You just seemed…" you paused, hand squeezing his shoulder lightly. "Angry."

Peter blushed.

Jealous. Not angry.

"I'm not," he brushed off, shaking his head. "Got nothing to be angry about."

"Right," you hummed, and it sounded like you didn't believe him at all.

"Did I mess up?" Peter sighed, worried eyes finally meeting your curious ones.

"What? No. You just came off as quiet which isn't a big deal," you reassured, smile widening with amusement. "Where did that South London accent come from, though?"

"Wait." Peter blinked, frowning. "I did an accent?"

"Yeah, you did," you laughed. "Which I didn’t even know you could do."

"I guess I was too nervous to even realize," he admitted, chuckling. "I've been binge-watching The Great British Bake Off lately, maybe I just picked it up."

"So nervousness makes you do accents," you hummed, smiling. "Interesting."

"What?" He narrowed his eyes at you teasingly. "Don't tell me you like a British accent too, like, half the world apparently."

"It's cute," you admitted with a shrug. "But I like your accent more."

Peter blinked. "Really?"

"Yeah, I like the kid from Queens," you said nonchalantly.

Peter almost stepped on your foot. If you weren't a trained spy with quite good reflexes, you might've gone home with a bruised toe.

You shook your head, giggling as you pulled him back to the rhythm of the dance. "You're going to have to keep the charade if you speak to other people, now, though"

"Yeah, didn't really think about that." Peter scrunched up his face, clearing his throat before he looked at you shyly. "I really don't dance."

"Well, you're doing great so far," you hummed, pulling him closer as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

Peter secured his on your waist then, both of you gliding across the dance floor to the symphony of the strings as you held each other's gaze. It was impressive, really, that this was the first time you both danced together, but danced like two spiders spinning their silks in a synchronized choreography to create a large heart-shaped web.

Then, he felt bold, confident.

He didn't know if it was from that same pull from earlier tonight, his senses being muddled by your overpowering presence, your warm body pressed so close against him, or the sweet lure of the music that added something to the air.

Perhaps it was everything all at once.

But Peter couldn't help but lean even closer, the tips of your noses just a hair's breadth away.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered, his gaze fluttering across your face before meeting your eyes.

Peter reveled in the way your smile got shy.

"You've said that already."

"Once will never be enough."

You shook your head with a giggle, eyes twinkling, "And you said you aren't smooth."

"Like I said," he started, lowering his voice, shrugging with a teasing grin, "It's the expensive suit."

Peter's heart warmed at your sweet laugh, that certain pull growing stronger at the lovely sound. He dipped his head, noses touching before he pressed his forehead against yours. He squeezed your waist when your breath hitched, warm and inviting as it tickled his lips, tempting, oh so close—

"Ahem."

You both jerked back, eyes wide with surprise.

"Sam! You've ruined it!" Peter heard Wanda hiss through the earpiece.

"He was finally getting somewhere!" And that was Harley.

Peter's whole face grew hot with embarrassment, squeezing your waist, still keeping you close as he looked away.

He completely forgot about the comms being live and open to everyone back at the compound.

Then again, all of them had been suspiciously quiet until now.

"Well, damn, I'm sorry? But this is an important mission, not a radio drama?"

"You just had to cockblock—"

"I'm surprised you even know what that means, you white fossil—"

You cleared your throat, smiling at Peter shyly. "Any intel?"

"I think that French dude is our bad guy," he answered swiftly, ready to change the subject or else his knees might go out.

"Auclair?" You raised a brow at him with a smirk. "How so?"

Peter might sound like he had a vendetta against the guy who shamelessly flirted with you. But, he did have a few points to back his claim.

"It's kinda weird how quickly he knew about us. Unless he stole the guest list and researched every single one of the names or he's the host. Also, he really made a point in stating how rich I am. You only do that when you want money for the auction. And if that's not proof enough—" Peter pulled a black and silver playing card out of his pocket, the same one Halbert gave to him during the handshake. "Seven of hearts, well, kinda. It's more arrows than it is hearts. All of them are pointing downward no matter which way you turn it. Look—" He turned the card, an almost holographic effect as the arrows remained south. "That's not how normal playing cards are. So I assume it means downstairs to the secret auction. And we've got about an hour max until it's seven. And if that's not obvious enough—" Peter showed you the back, tilting it to the light to expose the words 'Big Toys, Bigger Guns' in the middle in gold lettering.

"Cheesy, but it works," he finished.

"That's a really good catch, wow," you praised, grinning proudly. "Someone's getting the hang of this already, huh?"

"Watching those James Bond movies finally paid off, I guess," he chuckled, nodding at you. "Plus, I got a good teacher."

You smiled. "Keep a careful eye on him," you instructed, snorting a little when he all but glared when he found the man. You squeezed his slightly tensed shoulders. "Subtlety."

"I don't think I need to be subtle because he keeps eyeing you like he stands a chance as if the rock on your finger isn't big enough. You're my fiancée. So me glaring at some guy with too much beard who looks at you far too long for comfort let alone appropriate isn't out of the ordinary," he grumbled, shaking his head. "Men are pigs I tell you."

"Someone's committed to the bit," you teased, smiling far too bright for it to be innocent. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're jealous."

Peter quickly snatched a champagne flute from the tray when a waiter walked past, handing it to you with a small curtsy.

"You look parched, my darling."

You rolled your eyes but took the glass anyway, your grin telling him that maybe you like the accent more than you were letting on.

But she likes your accent more.

Peter couldn't stop his heart from melting at the thought.

He was also glad that his distraction worked, his jealousy hopefully forgotten as he guided you toward the bar once the song finished.

"Door's unguarded," you murmured against the glass, sipping gingerly before you handed it back to him. "Stay here and keep an eye out. I'll find us a key."

Peter nodded, sitting on one of the stools as he carefully and deliberately followed your movement. Not that he thought you couldn't handle yourself, but an extra pair of eyes will always be better than none. Also, he was being observant of his surroundings, his enhanced senses helping in making sure there wasn't anything suspicious going on, keeping him on high alert in case he needed to jump in.

He watched with pride as you slyly stole a keycard from a gullible enough guard who was too distracted by your flirting. It was an impressively swift sleight of hand that if he wasn't paying attention enough, he would've missed it.

Still, Peter couldn't help but roll his eyes at how stupid and easy these guards tend to be, any focus and rational thought out the window all because of an alluring smirk, a teasing touch and a glimpse of skin—the simplest seduction from one gorgeous woman.

But then again, he wasn't exactly one to talk. Because as innocent as a bright smile from you, Peter would literally do anything you ask him to.

He was far too focused on you that he didn't even realize that someone had replaced your seat, not until he heard his name—well, the fake one.

"Lucas Reid."

Peter turned, eyes landing on a woman wearing a gold dress, curled, long hair framing a somewhat familiar face. Peter wasn't blind, he could see she was objectively pretty. But she simply could never hold a candle next to his gorgeous fiancée—fake or otherwise.

"Greta Auclair," she said with a smile, holding out her hand.

Peter didn't miss the flirtatious undertone in her actions. How could he when she was so adamant on fluttering her eyelashes at him, or the way she wasn't subtle at pushing up her chest, the low-cut top doing so little to hide…it? Them?

Not that he was looking. It was simply in his line of sight.

"Auclair," he hummed, shaking her hand briefly as he tried to make sure his accent didn't sound so forced. He honestly didn't know why he decided to make things harder for himself. "Any relation to Halbert?"

"Twin sister," she waved off, flipping her hair to one side.

Peter nodded without another word, attention swiftly shifting to search for you in the crowd.

"I must say, I've heard a lot of things about you," she hummed as she leaned forward, fingers curling around his bicep, gold-colored, manicured nails glinting underneath the light as she squeezed the muscle. "Apart from being a quiet man, of course."

Peter's resolve faltered a little, the gesture completely catching him off guard.

What's up with this family and overstepping personal space?

"Good things, I hope." He smiled tightly, crossing his arms over his chest, subtly shaking her hand off.

"Oh yes, very good things," she giggled, hand on his thigh as she leaned forward with a smirk. Winking, she added, "Naughty ones, too."

Peter gulped as he leaned back.

"O-Oh, uh—"

"Lucas."

He quickly spun around on his stool to the sound of your voice, facing you fully. His eyes widened in surprise as you gently nudged his knees apart but he didn't even hesitate to make room for you to stand in between. He placed his hands on your hips when you pulled him closer, your arms snaking around his neck.

Peter didn't know exactly what was going on, but he certainly wasn't complaining. Besides, like he said before, he would always follow your lead.

Yet still, he looked up at you in both curiosity and confusion, trying to gauge what was going through your mind. But you certainly were better at reading people than he was. Or perhaps that was you simply being a master at masking your emotions. Because apart from the slight edge on your smile, he was coming up empty.

"You must be Amelia," Greta interrupted.

Your grip on Peter's shoulder tightened, eyes rolling with a scowl before you turned to Greta with a forced smile. "Yes, hi."

Peter's brows raised at your uninterested tone, even more when you didn't even bother prolonging the conversation as you turned back to him, body leaning closer.

Interesting…

"Can you help me find the bathroom?" you purred, tone seductively sweet to match the implication of your words. You pressed your chest against his, faces only inches apart as your fingers played with the hairs on the nape of his neck.

Peter short circuited.

He merely stared at you in awe, blood growing hot, heart pumping erratically as his grip on your waist tightened.

Peter would be lying if he said he wasn't at the least bit turned on.

"Please?" you added with a pout when he didn't manage to speak for a good few seconds.

It was the slight pinch on his skin that snapped him out of it.

"Of course, my love," he said, clearing the lump in his throat as he hastily stood up.

Peter wasn't even given the time to get his bearings straight when you immediately took his hand in yours, pulling him away from the bar and down the hallway. He squinted at the sudden brightness of the ceiling lights, greatly illuminating the cream wallpaper with intricate gold-colored patterns, similar crown molding from those in the ballroom, and various paintings hanging on the walls for guests to admire. The space was obviously still for public access, but it was relatively empty.

Once you two were alone, you didn't bother hiding your emotions. And Peter could clearly tell that you were angry.

It was making him slightly nervous.

"Is everything okay?"

You ignored him.

Peter frowned when pulled your hand from his and put some distance between you. He watched as you tensely opened a metal door, entering in haste without looking back. He ran after you to avoid getting locked out, the two of you entering another much smaller hallway that could only fit one person at a time. It was more of a tunnel, to be honest.

He never liked it when you were upset, especially during a high-risk mission. But most of all, he hated disappointing you, and with the way you were acting, he could only assume he'd done something wrong.

Peter was hot on your tail, carefully watching your every sharp turn, just to make sure he wasn't going to lose you. Though, it wasn't long until you two emerged into a hallway that was similar to before.

You were staring straight ahead, heels clicking angrily as the skirt of your dress rapidly swished with every harsh step.

Oh you were pissed.

"Did I do something?"

"You shouldn't be distracted on the job," you said, tone clipped.

"But I wasn't distracted," he defended, his frown deepening.

"Flirting, distracted, same thing," you scoffed, rolling your eyes. "It's not the time to woo girls. This is not a frat party."

Flirting? Woo girls?

"But I wasn't flirt—wait," he paused, his smile breaking out as realization dawned on him.

He could be quite oblivious sometimes, but he was not dumb. This wasn't going over his head, not when the way you were acting looked far too familiar. He'd seen the same thing happen only a couple of minutes ago, after all.

Because you weren't angry.

Much like how he wasn't angry moments before your dance.

Peter stopped, looking at you carefully with arms crossed over his chest, smirking as he quoted your words,

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're jealous."

You halted in your tracks, shoulders straightening with a huff before you continued walking.

It told Peter everything he needed to know.

He couldn't wipe off his smirk, pride bubbling in his chest, confidence boosted that little bit more as he jogged after you.

"There's going to be two guards at the door," you instructed monotonously once he reached your side, eyes avoiding him. "I'll distract one. You take care of the other one."

Peter stood straighter with a salute, still grinning from ear to ear.

"Yes ma'am."

You rolled your eyes, but he didn't miss the way the corner of your lips quirked up.

•••

"Excuse me, ma'am, this area is restricted."

"Oh, dear! My apologies, is this not where the bathroom is?" you gasped, and Peter was impressed at how clueless you sounded. If he didn't know you beforehand, he never would've guessed that you'd be one of the most elite and smartest spies there ever was. "Would either of you fine gentlemen guide me to where it is?"

Peter heard the two guards grumble before one spoke up gruffly, "Go. I've got this covered,"

"Yay!" you giggled, clapping your hands excitedly. "Thank you so much!"

Peter couldn't stop his grin at how cute you were.

When you and the other guard were out of sight, Peter made a run for it. Guard Two only caught a split-second glimpse of him before his fist harshly connected with their jaw, wincing when he heard a faint crack.

"Sorry," Peter whispered with a grimace, standing straight and adjusting his glasses. "Didn't mean to hit that hard."

He quickly turned towards the sound of grunts and hisses, fists colliding against muscles and then a body falling onto the floor. He rushed towards where you disappeared, entering the hallway just in time to see you fixing up your dress. Your eyes met his when he walked over to you, your smile sweet yet proud.

"Need a lil help carrying this guy," you said, gesturing behind you.

He nodded with a chuckle, eyes trained on your face once he reached your side before his brows furrowed.

"You got a little—" Before he could think about it, he reached a hand up, thumb rubbing over the corner of your mouth, attempting to get rid of the smudged lipstick.

He couldn't help but stare, easily putting him in a trance as he smoothed his thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it away slightly before letting it plop back, your warm breath tickling his skin when your lips parted.

Your little outburst of jealousy earlier might've boosted his confidence a lot more than he'd initially let on.

"Peter," you murmured. "The guard."

"Oh! Right," he cleared his throat, moving over to the unconscious guard, hauling them over his shoulder effortlessly as if they weighed nothing. He walked over to the second guard, doing the same over his other shoulder. When he turned around, he saw you standing there, brow raised. He shrugged, smirking. "Super strength."

You shook your head, rolling your eyes, "Show off."

Peter laughed.

After carrying both guards into the room—unlocked thanks to their keycards and fingerprints—you busied yourself with their weapons.

Peter was looking through the various crates and boxes, all labeled with familiar and not-so-familiar logos, some in different languages, while others were completely blank. Some items weren't hidden at all, from high-tech guns in glass displays to alien guns in wooden crates, various iterations of vibranium shields, and holy shit, is that a Wakandan spear?

"Where the hell did they get all of these? This is so much ammo in one room—"

Peter's words died in his throat when his eyes landed on you.

You were leaning over, one foot resting on one of the boxes on the floor, your fingers grazing your leg as you carefully pulled your skirt up inch by tempting inch until your thigh was exposed to him. Your gun holster later came into view, the straps squeezing the supple flesh tightly and fuck—

Peter had never wanted to be an inanimate object so badly ever in his life.

He quickly averted his gaze when you pulled your skirt back down. He pretended to read the labels on some crates as he cleared his throat, tugging at the collar of his shirt because Jesus it's getting really hot in here.

"Take this," you said, walking over to him with your hand extended, your fingers curled around the barrel of a gun.

Peter's eyes widened as he looked at the gun and then at you. "We haven't gotten to this part of my training yet."

"Come on, you've seen some movies."

"Since when did movies become tutorials?"

You stared at him for a moment, shaking your head with a chuckle before holding up the gun before him to demonstrate.

"Safety on when you don't want to shoot, safety off when you want to shoot," you said, flicking the pin on the side of the gun. "Cock it only once. It's semi-automatic so after that, all you need is to pull the trigger for continuous shots. Grip with two hands, dominant hand tight around it, other hand on top. Don't try to be arrogant by holding it with only one, especially when you've never fired a gun in your life. Point and shoot, simple. Make sure you aim at the bad guy, though."

You took his hand and placed the gun in his palm, smiling at him sweetly as if you hadn't just given him a loaded weapon.

"Got it?"

Peter stared at you dumbfounded, gulping as he held it to his chest, "That's definitely not all there is to it when using a gun."

"Hey, don't worry," you said reassuringly, squeezing his shoulder. "It's just for precaution. You might not even need to use it."

Peter nodded with a sigh, staring at the gun in his hand before he slipped into the hem of his pants, snuggly kept there by his belt.

Rookie mistake.

"Make sure the safety is on before you put it there, wouldn't want an accident to happen."

Peter froze before he quickly pulled it out, aiming the barrel as far away from him as possible.

He groaned in utter embarrassment when you laughed.

"Can you just carry it for me?" he asked, pouting for good measure. "Please?"

"You're fine," you giggled, gesturing at your leg. "And I only have one thigh holster."

Yeah. I saw.

"I really don't want to shoot myself in the balls," he said, physically shuddering as he screwed his eyes shut. "And I think you're aware of how clumsy I get sometimes."

You laughed out loud, shaking your head as you moved back toward one of the unconscious guards. Peter watched you curiously as you started checking their suits, a faint 'aha!' leaving your lips before you started taking one of their jackets off.

Peter's brows shot up. "What are you—"

"Jacket off," you interjected, showing him a shoulder holster. He did as told as you walked back to him. You helped him slip the harness on, clicking buckles and adjusting the straps before taking his gun and slotting it in soon after. You tilted your head as you smooth it over him. "Better?"

"Much," he breathed out, smiling at you gratefully as he slipped his jacket back on. "Thanks."

You returned his grin, patting his chest before you went and looked for the safe.

Which didn't take too long.

"They could've at least made it inconspicuous, shit's too easy," you scoffed, gesturing at the safe that had a huge American flag on it, stars and eagles, too, as if it wasn't obvious enough. You looked at him with a knowing smile. "Do your magic."

Peter squatted in front of it, taking his glasses off and twisting the nose bridge. There was a soft whirring sound before the glasses turned into a mini, android spider.

Carbon-based nanotech will always impress him. Imperceptible to metal detectors all while never losing its function and durability.

"Of course it's a tiny spider," you muttered, delight laced in your tone.

"What?" He looked at you over his shoulder with a teasing pout, holding up the spider in his palm. "You don't like him?"

You purse your lips, shaking your head before meeting his eyes. "He's cute."

"And hopefully he works, too," he said, turning back to the safe before carefully placing the little guy on the keypad. It took a few moments for the mechanical spider to do its thing. Peter let out the breath he was holding when the safe opened without a hitch. He looked at you with a grin, gesturing at the device inside. "Voilà."

You scrunched up your face. "And that proves that you can't be good at everything."

"Hey!" he gasped. "It wasn't that bad."

"Just leave the French accent alone," you teased, though your eyes were shining with admiration. "But that brain of yours is definitely something else."

Peter blushed, waving your compliment off, "Nah, it's just—"

"Shut up, Parker," you scoffed playfully, but your smile was genuine. "You're incredibly smart and annoyingly amazing. It's not up for discussion."

"Thanks," he chuckled shyly, cheeks turning redder. He gestured at the nuclear football, before looking up at you. "You have the decoy, right?"

"Oh, right." You nodded, reaching into the neckline of your dress before you pulled the rectangular device out, showing it to him with a proud grin.

Peter stared at you, mouth agape.

"What?" you snorted, shaking your head at his surprised face. "I don't have pockets!"

"You could've asked me to carry it."

"I can't exactly bring you with me into the ladies' restroom now, can I?" you said, shrugging. "And I couldn't just hand it to you in the middle of the ballroom with all those people."

"Touché," he hummed, taking the device from your hands. His brows furrowed as he turned it in his palm. "Is it supposed to be warm?"

"It's been with the girls in the past hour or so, of course it's going to be warm."

"Jesus Christ," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head as he tried not to let his curious thoughts wander.

He was failing, though. Miserably so.

Because holding the device when it's been in your boobs made him wonder exactly how warm your boobs would actually feel if it was direct contact, right in the palm of his—

"What?" you asked, none the wiser, briefly. Because then it was immediate, the realization crossing your face, probably noticing just how red his face had gotten. "Oh my god—Peter!"

"Sorry!" he squeaked, hurriedly turning his back on you, focusing on the task at hand.

"My boobs are clean, by the way."

"That wasn't the route my thoughts went to," he grumbled.

"Yeah, I figured," you giggled. "Just wanted to confirm."

He rolled his eyes even though you couldn't see him.

Focus. You got this.

But just as he was about to switch the devices, you moved closer to him, bending over until you were at eye level with the safe, your scent overpowering to the point of being distracting.

"Y/N," Peter sighed, head hanging low as his hand fell onto his sides. "You're making me really nervous when you're breathing down my neck."

"Sorry! Sorry," you laughed, heels clicking as you moved further behind him. "I'll just…step back."

With bated breath yet careful fingers, Peter swiftly switched the devices, blowing out his cheeks in relief when nothing happened.

"Great job, Pete."

He shot you a smile over his shoulder and closed the safe, letting his spider friend reverse its steps before taking him off the safe, pressing its tiny tummy for it to turn back into glasses.

Peter put it back on, running his fingers through his hair before turning to you.

You beamed and held out your palm.

But just as he was about to hand you the device, he quickly pulled it back with narrowed eyes.

"Are you putting this in your boobs again?"

You stared at him in amusement. "I didn't grow any pockets at the last minute, so yes."

"Don't you think it's dangerous?" he reasoned, carefully waving the device to get his point across. "I mean, this is the real thing."

"It's not radioactive," you chuckled. "It's not going to suddenly blow up."

"We don't know that—"

"Hey, don't worry," you hummed, your reassuring smile turning mischievous. "I'll still have my boobs at the end of this mission."

Peter rolled his eyes. "I'm concerned about you, like, as a whole person."

"Yeah, I know, and that includes my boobs."

He groaned, "Is this becoming a thing?"

You shook your head, laughing, "No, no, I just didn't think I'd find out that you're a boob guy, during a mission, no less."

"I'm not a boob guy," he scoffed.

Peter was a you guy, to be honest, as in you as a whole person—eyes, boobs, lips, butt, thighs, everything included.

And personality, obviously.

You laughed, leaning close to kiss him on the cheek, throwing him off-guard that you were able to take the device from him without breaking a sweat.

Peter sighed in defeat.

He really wasn't any better than any of the guards in this building.

"Come on," you called, hands now free, the device properly hidden with 'the girls' as you opened the door for him. "We need to get going."

•••

You both were navigating your way back into the ballroom when the hairs on the back of Peter's neck stood up.

"People incoming," he warned, grabbing your hand as you pulled you down a hallway. His enhanced hearing just about picked up the sound of guns being loaded. "Armed."

"How many?" you asked, your free hand picking up your skirt as you walked even faster.

He tried to listen closely, calculating the footsteps that echoed down the hall sans both of yours

"Four," he confirmed, brow raising. "Maybe Five."

"That's too many. The minute they'll see us, they're going to get suspicious. It's going to be too late for both of us to take all of them down without at least one sending a signal," you rushed, testing out every door down the halls in hopes that you'd get lucky. "We need to find a place to hide."

"Shit," Peter cursed, looking from left to right of the hall. "They're coming from both sides."

"In here!"

He wasn't given much to process your words when you all but grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and pushed him inside a room. The space was quick to grow smaller when you followed suit, your dress knocking over a broom on your way in.

Of course it had to be a janitor's closet.

As if his life wasn't already filled with enough clichés.

Peter grabbed the handle to pull the door close, darkness swallowing you both as it clicked shut. He felt around the metal knob only for his fingers to fall on an entirely flat surface.

"There's no lock," he said, so deathly confused. "What kind of door has no lock?"

"Quiet!" you hissed, pressing your palm over his mouth.

Peter stared at you wide-eyed, his pupils slowly adjusting to the lack of light that he was only now able to gauge just how close you two were.

"Listen," you whispered.

He nodded, closing his eyes as he concentrated on distinguishing the voices.

"The guards have been knocked out."

"Nothing is missing in the room."

"Still, check everything. Be on high alert for anything out of the ordinary."

Peter's eyes snapped open, panic settling in as he heard the footsteps growing nearer.

"Shit, shit, shit!" he cursed, voice muffled by your palm. You removed your hand, eyes confused yet expectant. He explained in hurried whispers, "They're not suspicious of anything being stolen yet but they're coming this way. If we get caught, they're going to immediately find out what we're up to and we're doomed."

Peter watched as your face went through different types of emotions. First, it was worry, a flicker of panic crossing your eyes only to be replaced by something else entirely. The crease between your brows deepened, lips pursed as you tilted your head.

It was that all too familiar thinking face he'd grown to adore.

A second later, your brows shot up, eyes wide, and—if he didn't know any better—twinkling as if a light bulb lit up on top of your head.

"Not unless we make them believe we're just some couple needing a quick fix."

"What?" Peter asked, confused.

You only gave him a sheepish smile and a barely-there whisper of,

"I'm sorry."

Peter wasn't given the time to ask what you were apologizing for when you suddenly grabbed him by the nape of his neck and crashed your lips against his.

He stumbled, his back hitting the shelves. Although the way his head was spinning was definitely not because of the impact.

Peter groaned, kissing you back immediately and with fervor, his hands gripping your waist, head tilting as he pulled you closer.

He shivered when your hand moved down his chest before moving inside his jacket, only realizing that you were slipping the nuclear football between the holster, tugging the straps a little tighter to stop it from slipping out.

Then, you guided his hands, much like with your dance earlier. Yet this time, one landed on your exposed thigh as you hiked your leg against his waist, placing the other on top of your ass.

Peter felt like he was about to faint.

But with every bit of respect he had for you—which was a lot—he still hesitated.

He was unsure as to how far he was allowed to go, deeply worried to cross the line of no return. He didn't want to make you uncomfortable by pushing your boundaries.

He also didn't want to ruin everything he had with you. Whether that was you being his friend or you being his teammate, he really didn't want to lose any of it.

Peter didn't want to lose you.

"It's okay," you whispered against his lips, probably sensing his inner turmoil. "Touch me, Peter."

That was the last thing that made any sliver of his self-control snap.

He growled, squeezing your ass and your thigh simultaneously, pulling your body flush against his as if you could go any closer.

Your gasp was met by a low groan, your hand fisting his jacket as the other took home in his styled hair.

The door swung open, a momentary stream of light illuminating the tiny room. There was a disgusted growl before the door slammed close, darkness covering you both again but neither of you stopped.

Peter gripped your hips, pushing you back slightly until you were the one pressed against the closed door. He cupped the back of your neck, arm curling your waist as he slotted his thigh in between yours in a desperate need to be inhumanly closer.

Your soft moan just about made his knees buckle.

It also made him feel daring enough to gently tease his tongue against your bottom lip. You let him in with his ease, both of you moaning as your tongues did their own dance inside your mouth.

It was intoxicating.

The faint taste of champagne mixing with the taste of you.

It was something that Peter probably spent a great amount of time thinking about yet nothing in his imagination ever came close. No matter what his brain had conjured in the past, it could never do you justice.

It was addicting.

Your pretty little sighs in response to his soft groans, how you were everywhere, your scent, your taste, your overwhelming warmth engulfing his very being. Peter was drowning in all things you, the very thing that could make him breathe again.

It was too much, yet he needed more.

You were so close, but not close enough.

Peter's hands glided down your body until he was cupping your ass, their warmth settling on each of his palms. But just as he was about to tell you to jump up into his arms, you placed a firm hand on his chest.

Your lips detached with a soft pop, the back of your head softly thumping against the door. You gasped for air, hands fisting his jacket before you rested your forehead against his.

He really needed to remember the fact that he could hold his breath longer than any average human could.

Peter put his hands back on your waist, fingers squeezing as he nudged your nose.

"Y/N, I—"

"Like you, too."

Peter's eyes widened, head pulling back as he stared at you in shock. Whatever confession he had left his brain, a lump caught in his throat, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as he failed to string any letter into words.

Oh boy he was flustered.

The thought of you, you, someone so confident, someone who is way out of his league liking him back, him, little nerdy, dorky, stumbly old Peter Parker, it made his heart soar.

"I'm a trained spy, Pete, I know how to read people," you giggled when he stayed silent for a few seconds. "It's written all over your face. You really haven't been subtle about it the whole night, either."

"I don't think subtlety is my specialty," he whispered, a shy smile growing on his lips as he pressed his forehead against yours, the tips of your noses brushing in the sweetest of ways.

"It really isn't." You nodded in agreement with a wide smile of your own.

"So I don't think I need to be subtle about this," he started, gaze holding yours. He was nervous, but if he didn't say this out loud, he might just explode. "I'm falling for you."

"You're so cliché," you giggled, his cheeks growing hot, his whole body melting, his heart jumping out of his chest and landing straight into the palm of your hand when you added, "I'm falling for you, too."

"Really?" he asked, surprised yet his voice came out a little shy.

It was obvious enough. The words had been said. But he wanted to make sure because this just seemed like one big lucid dream and he'd actually die if he were to wake up any moment now.

"I mean, I haven't been subtle about it either," you giggled, kissing him briefly yet sweetly, brushing your nose with his as you breathed out, "But yeah, I do. I feel so strongly for you Peter that I just—I feel nervous, I feel giddy, I feel safe and appreciated and I just feel so, so happy whenever I'm around you and I just, whatever I did in the past didn't matter because you accept me for me and I trust that you've got the best intentions, I trust you with my life, and you're just the sweetest most thoughtful and I'm just glad to have known you and—" you paused, shaking your head with a soft laugh, "I'm such a sap."

God this felt like a dream come true.

"I like you being a sap," he chuckled shyly. "But I'm just…me, though."

"Exactly," you confirmed, smile genuinely laced with pride. "You're brilliant, Peter Parker. How can I not fall for you?"

Peter's cheeks were starting to hurt with how wide his smile was, but he sure as hell wasn't complaining.

"You're so way out of my league," he whispered, arms wrapping around your waist.

"I could say the exact same thing to you," you giggled, pecking his lips. "But let's debate about this another time, yeah? We still got some codes to find and a bad guy to catch," you said, turning around swiftly to face the door before he could even have a chance to stop you.

"Wait, don't—" Peter sucked in a sharp breath, his grip on your waist tightening as his face landed on the juncture between your neck and shoulder. Your back was against his chest, bodies pressed up far too close. "—move," he lowly groaned against your skin.

"Oh."

Peter felt his whole body heat up from embarrassment. Because he knew you could definitely feel it behind you. He could hear the fast pace of your heart, and if that wasn't a tell-tale sign, he didn't know what was. And no matter how much he tried to pull away, even just slightly, the small space of the closet wasn't letting him do so.

"I'm sorry, I am so, so, so sorry, I didn't mean for that to happen I—"

He tried to move away from you again, but clumsily elbowed the shelf on his right instead which made a few empty buckets topple over from the top. He quickly pulled you back to avoid you getting hit by the falling cleaning supplies, but in turn, it made your ass press against him a little harder.

"Fuck," he groaned, body going rigid when you gasped. You probably think he was a proper pervert now. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to do that either. And I tried to control it I swear but it's just—my senses are enhanced and you're so close and that kiss was really hot and you're even hotter and your ass really feels nice in my hands—shit! I shouldn't have said that, I should not have said that. I mean not! Not that it's untrue, it's very, very true. You've got a really pretty and nice ass and I should really shut up goddammit—"

You cut him off with a giggle, head tilting to the side as your fingers reached up, burying it in his now messy brown hair.

"I feel flattered that a kiss got you this excited," you teased, earning a soft whine from him.

"It's not just a kiss when I've been wanting to do it for so long," Peter confessed, kissing your shoulder softly before he mumbled, "And it's not my fault that you're out here looking like a goddess."

"Look at you," you giggled, squeezing his forearm that was wrapped around your waist. "That expensive suit is really doing wonders with your smoothness, huh?"

"It brings out the suave in me," he hummed, grinning. "Makes my eyes pop, too."

You let out a sweet, hearty laugh.

Peter chuckled, heart warming as he buried his face into your neck.

"How about you take this because I really don't want to accidentally drop it," he started, pulling the device out of his jacket and handing it over to you, kissing your shoulder with a deep breath, "And just give me a second to calm down."

You giggled.

But what you said next did anything but help.

"Yes, sir."

•••

It was quarter to seven when you both made your way down to the underground theater.

There were fewer people this time around. Peter supposed it was expected. What, with a secret auction selling dangerous weapons, you simply couldn't hand out invitations like it's free candy. It could land in the wrong hands—well, right hands, in this case.

He fiddled with the card inside his pocket, free fingers pushing up his glasses, eyes narrowed at the guards by the entrance.

"Shit," he cursed under his breath, noticing how they were ushering people into the theater individually. "I think it's a card for each person and we only have one—"

Peter stopped when he found no sign of you.

"You're not supposed to disappear without letting me know," he said through his comms.

He heard you giggle in response, "I was supposed to be back before you even notice."

"Point still stands," he grumbled. "Where are you?"

Peter grinned when he felt a familiar warmth behind him, your arms wrapping around his waist as you rested your chin on his shoulder.

"Hi."

"Hi," he chuckled, taking your hand to pull you by his side. He circled his arm around your waist, brow raised. "Where'd you go?"

You smiled innocently, yet the proud glimmer in your eyes was unmistakable. You held a hand up, a black and silver card pinched between two fingertips.

Always ten steps ahead of him.

It made him want to push you against a nearby wall and kiss the living daylights out of you.

"Now, how'd you get that?"

You winked. "You know I have my ways."

Before Peter could respond, everyone suddenly turned around to the sound of a commotion.

"Sir, you're not allowed without an invitation," one guard said.

"But I had it!" a man with a stark white beard exclaimed, patting around his pockets, "It was here!"

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave, sir."

"Well, you just lost your highest bidder!"

Peter turned back to you, impressed. "You need to teach me how to do that."

"I can't teach you all my tricks—" your laugh died once you walked by a lamp, illuminating both your faces in this otherwise dimly lit entry hall. You pulled him back under the light, your eyes widening. "Oh shit."

"What?" he asked, worried. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, it's just—" you snorted, gesturing to get him to come closer, hand cupping his cheek. "There's lipstick all over your mouth."

Peter blushed, chuckling, "Would it be so bad to just leave it?"

"You look like you just ate a can of tomato sauce."

Peter pouted.

You shook your head with a laugh, thumbs brushing as much lipstick stain as you could. Just when he thought you were done, you cupped his face, pulling him closer to kiss him firmly on the cheek.

"There," you hummed, giggling, "Since you want my lipstick on you so bad."

"It's hot," Peter shamelessly admitted with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes but grinned anyway, taking his hand and pulling towards the entrance.

"Come on. Let's go spend the millions we don't have."

•••

It took a few more minutes for everyone to settle in their seats. You and Peter choose the front-right corner. It was near the stage but not at the center of attention.

As the clock struck seven, the main stage lights lit up. There were a couple of marble statues littered across—for decoration he assumed—and vases filled with wildflowers he could never name. Right at the center was a white podium, a huge projector screen behind it.

Then, a flash of gold appeared on the stage.

Peter immediately knew who they were.

"Welcome, everyone," the Auclair twins said in sync.

"Why is it always evil twins?" he said.

Obviously, he knew about Halbert, he was the one who gave him the card. But he didn't expect his twin sister to be in on it, too. But then again, the guy seemed to be all beauty with no brains.

And no, he wasn't biased.

"I knew there was something off about her," you scoffed, arms crossed over your chest, pout prominent as you glared at the stage. You were starting to look like you were throwing a tantrum. But Peter decided not to say anything.

Yet.

"I think you all know why we've gathered here so I won't bother you with unnecessary semantics," Greta started, waving her hand at the projector, now showing a live feed of the room you broke into earlier. "Any or all of those high-grade toys could be yours tonight, if you're willing to empty out your pockets, of course. But, to lift everyone's spirits up," Greta paused, giggling wickedly as she dug her fingers into the neckline of her dress, procuring the star of the night, and the bane of yours and Peter's existence.

"The Gold Codes and the nuclear football, available for bidding at the end of the night," she purred, waving the card around as if it wasn't one the most dangerous items on the planet. "We have to save the best for last, of course."

"So hiding things in your boobs is a common thing then," Peter said, catching the sour look on your face from the corner of his eye. He was trying really hard to bite back his smirk.

"So you found the codes before anyone else did."

"What?" Peter looked at you confused. "But I didn't."

"You did," you said, jaw ticking. "You just didn't know you were already looking at it."

It took Peter a moment.

"I was not looking at her boobs."

"Sure you weren't," you scoffed, rolling your eyes.

"Darling," he drawled teasingly, playing up the accent, the fire in your glare unmistakable as you met his eyes. He pinched your chin between his forefinger and thumb with a grin. "You've got nothing to be jealous of."

Huffing, you pulled your face off his grasp, "Shut up."

"You know," he started, daringly throwing his arm over your shoulder. You were never one to cross when you were angry. But Peter simply wanted to have some harmless fun. After all, this was the first time he'd ever seen you like this. "I still haven't decided if you're cute or hot when you're jealous."

"Don't tempt me to punch you."

He chuckled, leaning to press his lips against your temple. His smile widened when he felt your whole body relax beside him.

"So, what’s the plan?" he murmured against your skin.

You shifted in your seat, resting your head on his shoulder.

"We wait until the codes and the football are up for bidding," you mumbled. "Then, I'm going to be a show-off, placing a higher bet over anyone while moving closer to the stage. Once I'm in good proximity, cause a distraction and I'll swipe the codes."

"Got it," he confirmed, flinching in his seat when he heard the bang of a hammer.

"Your numbered paddles are under your seats. Now, let's begin."

Peter had only seen auctions in movies, and they always seemed to be the most boring thing ever.

He never expected them to be as anxiety-inducing as this one.

It was probably the fact that these were dangerous and deadly weapons, carelessly sold to anyone who had the money to buy them.

His heart would sink every time he'd hear that fucking hammer.

Peter was fidgeting with the bridge of his glasses, eyes sharply trained on the stolen Chitauri gun being wheeled off the stage.

"Relax," you whispered, hand on his knee to stop it from bouncing. "We've got backup near the premises. Once we secure the codes, they'll immediately interfere. None of those weapons are getting out of this building."

"They're buying it like it's candy," Peter grumbled frustratingly. "As if lives won't be put at risk if it gets out there."

"Next up, Oscorp's drone satellite," Greta introduced excitedly. "Bigger, better, deadlier than the one by Stark Industries."

Peter's fist clenched. "Why do they always find the need to one-up each other?"

"Egomaniac billionaires," you supplied, hand curling around his fist, bringing his knuckles up to your lips before you intertwined your fingers together.

It helped him calm down a little.

"Things are starting to get boring, don't we think?" Greta laughed, waving around the controller. It was either she wasn't aware of how dangerous the device in her hand was, or she simply didn't care. Her wicked grin told Peter it was the latter. "So how about we do a little test run?"

"Shit," he cursed, sitting upright. "That's not part of the plan."

"You're the faster one," you said, tone calm as you tugged your skirt discreetly and pulled your gun out. "When I give the signal, immediately run towards her and secure codes."

"What signal?"

You stood up, gun raised.

Everyone froze as you shot at the wires that held the scaffolding that was hanging on top of the stage. It immediately gave way, dropping onto the wooden stage and blocking both exits on each side.

Chaos erupted then.

The people running towards the small entryway made it difficult for the guards to get in right away.

But Peter was still staring at you in shock.

"Go!"

He snapped out of it, taking long strides towards the stage, reaching the twins just in time before they could even manage to escape.

"Mr. Reid," Halbert chuckled darkly, pushing Greta right behind him before pulling out a revolver. "You should've bought a gun."

"Well, good thing I did," Peter quipped, reaching inside his holster only to find nothing. He looked up, eyes wide. "Shit. I dropped it."

"Oh my God—" Peter heard you groan in disappointment, and he could practically hear that eye roll.

He would've found the time to be embarrassed if Halbert hadn't started shooting at him. He dodged every bullet easily. His enhanced reflexes paired with how inaccurate this guy's aim was, it wasn't really much of a challenge.

And no, he wasn't showing off.

Okay, maybe a little bit.

Peter couldn't stop his chuckle when he heard the familiar clicking of an empty cylinder.

"Well, looks like I didn’t even need one," he bragged as he stalked towards Halbert, yanking the gun out of his hold before hitting him on the side of the head with the butt of his own gun, rendering him unconscious. He turned to Greta with a mocking tut, "Your twin isn't the wisest, isn't he?"

"No," she scoffed, smile widening as she glanced over his shoulder. "But he bought us time."

Peter saw the entryway clear of civilians, the armed guards swiftly invading the theater.

"Shit."

A flash of red caught his eye, your sharp heels clicking rapidly before you slid on the floor, picking up the gun Peter dropped. You knelt on one knee, gun in each hand, aiming it toward the guards and raining hell on them motherfuckers.

You didn't miss a shot.

He shook his head in awe, "And you said to hold it with two hands!"

"I've fired guns since I was twelve!" you said, tilting your head to throw him a smirk. "I think I can be an exception."

How could he argue with that?

Peter swerved to the right, heart thumping as the glint of a knife covered his periphery. He grabbed their wrist, pulling him forward in one swift motion and throwing the culprit towards the seats.

"Who brings a knife to a gunfight?" he huffed as he kicked away the knife that fell out of their hand.

Peter's attention got stolen by your growl.

His eyes landed on you just in time to see you grab a man's forearm from behind, using all your body weight and the right momentum to throw him over your shoulder, a pained scream when you undoubtedly dislodged his arm, the knife clinking onto the floor. You kicked the guy on the head, his eyes rolling back as he turned limp. You stepped on the knife's handle to fling it into the air, catching it with your left hand before flipping to your right, holding your skirt taught before cutting a new slit on your skirt. Then, you spun, red dress flowing with the motion as you kicked the guy running towards you on the side of his throat.

If Peter wasn't in love before, he sure as hell was now.

"What?" you panted when you caught his gaze, brows furrowed.

"That was so hot," Peter breathed out, your eyes rolling for the umpteenth time before they suddenly widened.

"Down!"

He ducked as you threw the knife, the blade soaring past him and landing into the guy's shoulder, the gun that was aimed at Peter's distracted ass dropping onto the floor.

He looked back at you in absolute wonder.

And did his pants grow a little tighter?

"Will you marry me?"

"Jesus—focus!"

"Is that a 'no'?!" he called out teasingly, elbowing one guy on the chin before hurling his unconscious body toward his allies. He called it the bowling move. Taking a gun from the floor, he turned to you with a pout. "Can't believe you'd reject me, babe!"

"Kinda in the middle of something here!" you yelled back, shooting a guy on the leg before knocking him out with the butt of your gun. You stood straight with a deep breath, tilting your head with your lips pursed before nodding behind him. "How about you help me get those codes first?"

Peter turned, seeing Greta dragging her twin towards the side exit.

"Oh yeah, right," he chuckled sheepishly before going after her. "My bad!"

Fully catching him off guard, Peter flew forward and landed on his chest when Greta swiped his legs. He rolled onto his back, narrowly avoiding the six-inch heel she dug into the floor where his head was supposed to be.

"So you can fight," he breathed out, doing a kip up to get back on his feet.

"I bite too," she hummed, winking. "And I've been wanting to sink my teeth into you, pretty boy."

"Uh, thanks?" he chuckled dryly, face scrunched up. He swerved the knife she threw at him, looking back only to see she got two more, one on each hand. He sighed, "Great. You throw knives."

"What?" she asked, tone mocking as she flipped one in the air, catching the blade in between her fingers with ease. "You don't like knife play?"

"That doesn't sound like fun," he grumbled, running towards her, swiftly ducking as she kicked her leg before grabbing her by the ankles.

Greta fell on the floor with a thud, yet she was quick to kick his knee with her other foot, Peter hissing as her sharp heel dug into his skin. She used this slim window to pull her leg forward, dragging Peter with it and making him land right on top of her.

"Quite a handsome face. Maybe we can go out for dinner sometime," she purred, running her tongue over her lip as she traced his jaw with a knife, sharp tip teasing his throat. "The real party happens later in the night, of course."

"Yeah, no thanks," he breathed out, pulling his head back and quickly grabbing her arms, flipping her onto her stomach in one swift motion. Peter pinned her down using his body weight as he knocked the knives out of her hands. He pulled her wrist towards her back, his knees tight on either side of her hips as he sat up. Holding her wrists with one hand, he undid his necktie with the other, tying her up securely before letting go.

"Kinky," she huffed out a giggle.

Peter rolled his eyes, pulling her up by the shoulders until she was seated on the floor. He walked around, dusting off his suit and adjusting his glasses—they got sticky tape on the sides to not let them fall off during fights. He thought about this ahead, thank you very much—as he stood in front of her.

"I guess it's true what they say about the quiet ones," she said, head tilted as she shamelessly ran her eyes down his body before meeting his eyes. "You're a different kind of man, Lucas Reid."

"The name's Parker," he said with a deep voice as he buttoned up his jacket with the utmost seriousness on his face. "Peter Parker."

You scoffed loudly.

Peter immediately spun, his landing eyes on your figure standing behind him, your jaw tight, arms crossed over your chest, a scowl on your pretty face with that fiery glare to match.

Oh you were pissed.

But Peter had a feeling it wasn't at him.

"You've been itching to do that the whole night, have you?"

"Maybe," he chuckled.

You rolled your eyes, nodding towards Greta.

"Just take the codes."

Peter stared at you like you'd grown a second head.

"What?" you asked, voice taut, so clearly getting annoyed.

"You take the codes."

"Why can't you do it?"

"Because I respect women?"

You blinked a few times before dropping your head with an exasperated groan.

"What? You know where it's hidden!" he exclaimed in defense, gesturing towards the bound woman. "I'm not just slipping my hand in there!"

"I have a feeling she won't mind," you muttered to yourself, but thanks to his enhanced hearing, he heard you loud and clear. "You've practically been humping each other."

Peter decided to keep quiet, scared that you'd actually punch him this time.

Though the glare you shot him was proof that you knew he heard you.

You shook your head, another eye roll before you walked over to Greta, bending at the waist until your face was level with hers.

"Let’s make this quick. Left or right?" you asked.

"Dégage, salope," she hissed.

You gasped, hand over your mouth in feigned shock. "Now, that's not nice."

"Wait, what did she say?" Peter asked as he stood by the sidelines, not too close but not too far. He was giving you the space to do your thing.

"She called me a bitch," you cooed, pouting condescendingly. "Fine. Since you don't want to make this easier for us—"

Before Peter could even question what you were about to do, you stomped on a knife, catching the handle mid-air and straight up slashing the blade in front of Greta.

"Woah!"

Peter downright expected you to have chopped her whole head off—okay, maybe slit her throat because the knife wasn't that big.

But nothing happened.

No chopping, no slicing, no blood, nothing.

Well, not until a split second later when Greta gasped, the top half of her—really expensive, he assumed—dress sliding down her body.

Peter looked away immediately, face hot as he screwed his eyes shut, turning his back on her for good measure.

"Jesus Christ, Y/N," he muttered, taking his glasses off to rub his face with his palm.

But he couldn't wipe his smile off.

Peter knew you could take the codes without having to cut her dress. You were simply being petty. And it was safe to assume it had something to do with the way Greta had been shamelessly flirting with him for the whole night.

Your jealousy fed his ego a little bit.

"You can look now," you said, tone low. "She's covered."

"Are you sure?"

You scoffed, "It's not like you don't want to see it, anyway."

Peter swiftly turned, only catching a glimpse of Greta now wearing Halbert's jacket with the matching gold tie gagging her mouth.

He immediately turned to you who was standing to the side, looking anywhere else but at him. He walked over, rubbing up and down your arms until you uncrossed them. He pulled you closer by the waist, nudging your nose while mirroring your pout.

"Don't be mad."

"I'm not mad."

"Then why did you do that?"

"I had to get the codes."

"Yeah, but it didn't have to involve boobage exposure."

"Boobage exposure," you snorted, the corner of your lip twitching as you finally met his eyes. "I feel like that's something you enjoy."

"I didn't even look!" he defended, his smile widening when you tried your best to hide yours. "I promise. I didn't want to, either."

You shook your head, sighing, "You're such an annoying dork."

"Your annoying dork."

That made your smile appear.

"My dork, huh?" you hummed, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

Peter smiled, pulling you closer, tip of his nose brushing yours. "Well, if you'll have me, that is."

"Have you as what, exactly?"

"Your boyfriend," he said, slightly surprised by his own boldness. But then again, you two had already established what you felt for each other. The fear of rejection wasn't there anymore. Shaking his head with a smile, he added, "Wait, answer that on our date this Friday?"

"Love the newfound confidence, Agent Parker," you said, giggling. "And yes, to both questions,"

"I really like the sound of Agent Parker," he hummed, wiggling his eyebrows at you. "Am I a certified spy now?"

"Eh, if you don't drop your gun next time, then sure."

"Come on," he sighed, pouting. "I could use a name change, you know, like Spy-Dork-Man."

Peter burst out laughing when you physically cringed.

"Tell me one good reason why I shouldn't kick you because of that god awful pun."

"Because I'm your dork now, bad puns included, so you're going to have to get used to it from early doors."

"Touché," you laughed.

Peter looked at you adoringly, but just as he was about to kiss you, a sudden ruckus of applause made you both jump, stance on defense reflexively.

It was the team, right in front of the stage, clapping and wolf-whistling like a bunch of assholes.

Peter groaned, hiding his face in the crook of your neck as he wrapped his arms around you.

"About time you two solved this…tension you have," Wanda said as she reached the stage, gesturing at the two of you before she held her hand out to Bucky. "Hand it over, Super Soldier. She technically kissed him first,"

"Maybe I shouldn't have held Sam back from unmuting the line in the closet," Bucky sighed, pulling out his wallet and handing over twenty dollars.

"You had a bet?" you gaped at the two of them.

Peter turned to Sam. "You tried to interrupt us again?"

"I wouldn't have to if you guys didn't constantly forget that your comms aren't reserved for the two of you only," the Captain chuckled.

"You guys were so cute, though," Wanda said with a smile.

"The smooching sounds were a bit much." Bucky grimaced.

"Don't forget the abundant talk about boobs and ass," Harley laughed, appearing from behind everyone with a bag in hand. "Good thing you finally grew those balls though, Parker. I've grown really tired of hearing you whine about your obsession—sorry, I mean, crush on her."

"Shut up, man," Peter groaned, burying his face back on your shoulder to hide.

"Leave him alone," you laughed, rubbing his back in comfort.

"I wished I could've hacked the cams earlier so it would've been like watching a James Bond movie meets rom-com live," Harley said. "But the audio was good, popcorns still definitely enjoyed."

"Lives were on the line and you guys enjoyed popcorn," you deadpanned.

Sam laughed as he patted both of your backs. "Nah, we just knew you two got it handled."

"What are you guys doing here then?" Peter countered, glaring at them.

"Clean up," Wanda said, cracking her fingers before adding, "I also need to erase your faces off of people's memories because blowing your covers wasn't exactly part of the plan."

"And this guy practically gave out his real name," Bucky chuckled, patting Peter's shoulder before moving over to the unconscious men lying on the floor.

"I couldn't let the opportunity slip!" Peter protested. "It's probably going to be my only James Bond moment, I had to take it."

"That was pretty stupid," you said, scrunching your face at him with a laugh.

"I know that now, thanks," he grumbled.

"Here." Harley tossed him his web shooters and mask, and Peter felt a sense of comfort as he snapped them onto his wrists.

"Pete, you think you can swing us home?" you asked, slipping your fingers into his.

"Yeah, of course," he chuckled, squeezing your hand. He could definitely get used to feeling your affectionate touch constantly.

"Right, we're going to leave this to you guys, now bye!" you called out before you all but dragged him towards the exit, Peter's groan and your laugh echoing down the hall when Sam yelled,

"Use protection!"

•••

You both were honestly too tired to even attempt and continue what started in the closet.

Well, you did try to.

When you landed back at the compound, you both decided to go to your separate rooms and take much-needed hot showers first. But getting to your quarters in itself probably took around ten minutes, all because Peter simply couldn't help but stop every couple of meters down the halls, pressing you against the nearest wall to kiss you senseless.

It took you shutting the door on his face for you both to finally wash off the sweat and grime of the day.

After he was all cleaned and clothed, he didn't waste any time making his way out of his room. But when he opened the door, you were already standing there, fist in the air, mid-knock.

Peter chuckled as he grabbed your waist and pulled you into his room, giggles and satisfied sighs bouncing off his walls as his lips covered your own. He grabbed the back of your thighs and lifted you with ease, a murmured comment from you about him showing off his super strength as he carried you to his bed.

But the second you both hit the mattress, it was simply far too comfy and soft that the intense heat of the kiss gradually simmered into a mellow warmth. His body was covering yours, fingers intertwined, lips moving slowly, lazily yet just as sweet.

And after a few more moments of you two languidly kissing, you ended up settling with cuddles for the night.

Now, here you were, being the little spoon with your back pressed against his chest, limbs tangled, bodies warm and snug under the covers. He was drawing lazy circles on your stomach, his eyes growing heavier with each rise and fall of your chest, the steady beat of your heart lulling him.

Peter thought you were already fast asleep. And he was just about to follow suit until you spoke up,

"Are your hands cold?"

"Not really," he murmured, voice a little rough. "Why?"

"You can always use my boobs in case you need to warm them up."

He groaned, burying his face onto your shoulder. "Are you ever going to let this go?"

"What?" you giggled softly. "You just seemed so interested in their warmth earlier. I'm allowing you to quell your curiosity."

Peter lifted himself a little, just so he could get a clear view of your face.

"Is this a genuine invitation for me to cup your boobs?"

"Only if you wanna," you said, turning to him with a soft smile, eyes half-lidded. "No playing, though."

He nodded with a laugh, settling behind you and gently sneaking his hand under your shirt, no pressure or anything so that you'll be able to move away whenever you wanted to. Then again, you were skilled enough to break his wrist, anyway.

But you didn't do that, not at all.

Instead, you shifted in your place, providing more space for his arm to fully wrap around your torso until he was cupping a boob in his hand.

You sighed, body melting into the mattress even more, your back warmly pressed against his chest as you nosed his pillow.

"They are really warm," he hummed, his whole body relaxing as he let his hand just…be there, without any malice whatsoever. "This is oddly comforting."

"Yeah," you mumbled, a loud yawn following suit. "Like stress balls."

Peter chuckled, "That's one way of describing it."

You hummed, yawning out a soft, "Good night, Pete."

Peter smiled. "Good night, angel."

The next response he got was your soft snores as you finally drifted off to sleep,

Peter didn't expect his night to end with you sleeping in bed with him, all cuddled up in his arms, let alone, with him cupping your boob—which he surprisingly found comforting and adorable rather than anything else.

But he did expect to fall asleep with a huge smile on his face.

And then later in the morning, the thing that would wake him up wouldn't be the sunlight anymore, it'd be your warmth, tickling his skin as you cuddle closer to him. A tired, yet satisfied smile would curl on his lips as he would bury his nose into your hair, breathing in your sweet scent. It was much more comforting, hearing your little snores and sighs, or even your occasional mumbles about whatever it was you were dreaming about.

It was new, but definitely something he could get used to.

It was going to be a peaceful Sunday morning with you, and Peter really loved that.

✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ♛ *.

↬ reblog & leave a comment if you enjoyed! feedback is always appreciated!

✉ NO TAGLIST: go follow @t-lostinlibrary and turn on notifications to get updated on my works!

© t-lostinworlds, 2023 ✘ I do NOT give any permission to repost, translate, & use any of my works (writings, gifs, dividers, etc.) on any platform, with credit or otherwise. Please respect that. Thank you.

#isns #peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x reader #peter parker fluff #peter parker oneshot #peter parker imagine #peter parker x female reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker one shot #peter parker reader insert #spider-man fanfiction #spider-man x reader #spider-man one shot #spiderman x reader #spiderman fanfiction #tom holland #my writing

910 notes · View notes

internet-ink · 1 year

Note

Would you write a fic where LW and reader have been best friends for years, both play for arsenal. They’ve both been in relationships until this year. Reader thinks she’s straight until she realises she’s in love with her best friend

Confessions

Thank you for the request anon!

I haven’t wrote anything like this before but I hope you enjoy it :)

This past year had been a difficult one. It started out great - I was with a wonderful guy, I was doing well at Arsenal, and I had my best friends surrounding me.

Then it all went to shit.

In the space of a week I had caught my boyfriend in his bed with another girl and my childhood dog had passed away.

This was ten months ago and now there was another issue arising. My landlord had decided that now would be a great time to evict me. One night I had a few people round and apparently someone had complained about the noise. He said that he had past complaints about the noise from my flat which just wasn’t true but I really couldn’t be bothered to argue with him.

I had nine days to find a new place to live. Originally I had planned to just find another place to rent, however with the days going by and having no luck finding anything I was beginning to worry.

“Y/N! Pass the fucking ball!” Katie shouted, interrupting my thoughts. I snapped out of my day dream and quickly passed the ball to her.

“Sorry.” I replied.

She ran over to me and put her hands on her hips in a sort of ‘you better tell me what’s going on’ way.

With a sigh, my shoulders deflated as my mind went back to all the issues in my life. “I’m just stressing about this whole finding a place to live thing. You’d think in a big city like London there’d be at least somewhere that was available. But no…anything that is available is just ridiculously expensive and out of my budget. Like what am I meant to do? Live on the streets? If my stu-”

“You could stay with me?” A voice from behind me interrupted my rambling, and a smile took over my face as I saw it was Leah.

Leah and I had been close friends since I joined Arsenal three years ago, I mean we were literally inseparable from the first day of training. She was there for me through everything that had happened this year and I was there for her while she was going through her break up with Jordan.

Up until a couple of months ago everything was normal between us but then I started to get butterflies whenever she gave me a hug which then turned into feeling awkward whenever she’d hold my hand - everything that felt normal before now turned me into a complete mess. I had come to the realisation last month that I was in love with her…with Leah.

“Uhh…em. Do you have the room?” I stuttered, mentally kicking myself for acting so awkward around her.

“Yeah, Jordan moved out a couple of months ago so I’ve got a spare room.” She shrugged although I could still see that the mention of her ex-girlfriend’s name hurt her.

I scratched the back of my neck out of awkwardness before replying. “Only if you’re sure.” I said while scrunching my face up.

“Y/N we’ve been best friends for years, of course I’m sure.” She smiled. My heart sunk at the words ‘best friends’. That was all we would ever be and it hurt to think of that.

“Okay well if you insist.” I giggled.

———

“Is that all you’ve got?” Leah asked after I brought all the boxes with my stuff from my car and into my new house. There was a significantly smaller amount of things with me now than what Leah was used to seeing at my old place.

“Uh yeah, I donated some stuff. Decided to start over.” I laughed. Leah took a box and carried it into my new room, which was across the hall from hers.

“Well this is you. Feel free to decorate obviously…just don’t go knocking down any walls.” She deadpanned making me uncomfortable before she started to laugh at me. Leah was always like this.

With a roll of my eyes, I started to unpack the first of my boxes. As I turned to place my fake bonsai tree on the bedside table I noticed Leah staring at me with a small smile on her face, snapping out of it when she noticed I was looking at her.

“Takeaway pizza for dinner?” She asked.

“Yup. Plain cheese?” I replied. She nodded with a chuckle before turning to leave the room.

I spent the next hour or so unpacking everything and decorating the once plain room. It felt weird knowing that this room once belonged to her ex, I wasn’t entirely sure if they did sleep in the same bed while they were together, but I did know that this room was Jordan’s from the previous times I had come over. It just never once occurred to me that I would be living here with the girl that I had a fat crush on. How was I going to survive this? How would I manage if Leah ever brought home another girl or guy? I didn’t know how to feel.

“Y/N! Pizza’s here!” Leah called up to me from downstairs. I sighed to shake the doubts from my head before walking down to where Leah was waiting in the living room with one big box of pizza.

With a confused look on my face I opened the box, my confusion only growing as I confirmed that there was indeed only one pizza. “Where’s the other one?” I asked.

“Oh, I only ordered one. I thought we could share.” She shrugged as she sat on the couch and patted the cushion next to her, telling me to sit down.

My heart fluttered at the idea of sharing a pizza with her. “Cool. Sounds good.” I smiled, internally groaning at how weird I sounded. Leah returned a small smile before reaching over to take a slice.

Pull yourself together, it’s a pizza for Gods sake.

“You okay?” She asked with her hand covering her mouth to prevent the food from showing. I nodded before taking the seat that she had previously pointed at.

“Sorry, just in my own head.” I giggled as I grabbed a smaller slice than the one Leah had, letting out a small moan at the taste of it. Leah whipped her head to look at me with wide eyes as I blushed at the thought that I had actually done that out loud. “I’m so sorry, but holy shit where do you get this? This tastes better than most pizzas I’ve ate.” I exclaimed.

Leah laughed before shaking her head and wiping her hands with a napkin. “This chippy down the road. Discovered it when I was drunk and I’ve been loyal ever since. I can’t say I’ve ever moaned at the taste though.” She spoke, still laughing her head off. I rolled my eyes before taking another slice.

“Shut uppp.” I groaned. “It just slipped out.” I sighed, still feeling rather embarrassed about the whole situation. “Wait…you kept this delicacy from me this whole time?” I questioned, my mood now going from extreme embarrassment to confusion and slight betrayal.

“Guilty.” She put her hands up like she had been caught red handed before the both of us folded into each other in laughter. During our antics, Leah’s hand made its way onto the top of my thigh, making my breath hitch and my laughter halt. As her laughter stopped too, I looked up to see that she was already staring at me with a nervous look on her face and her eyes half closed, focusing on my lips.

“Leah?” I whispered. The tension in the room grew as the distance between us shrunk until I could feel her warm breath on my lips. My heart rate rapidly increasing as her eyes fully closed and her lips moved closer so that they were millimetres away from my own, my chest finally felt like it exploded as I finally felt the weight of Leah’s lips on mine.

I wrapped my arms around her waist and she wrapped hers around the back of my neck as her tongue licked my bottom lip, sighing as I opened my mouth wider and felt her consume me. We broke apart as the need for oxygen overcame us.

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

I panted as Leah looked intensely into my eyes, making me feel more nervous than I had ever felt. “Are you alright?” I finally asked as she had been quiet for quite some time.

She leant forward so that her elbows were resting on her knees and her head was in her hands. Feeling immediately off, I reached forward with her and placed a comforting hand on the back of her shoulder.

In all honesty I thought it would’ve been me that was like this if we ever kissed.

“What was that?” She finally asked, leaning back into the couch and staring at me again. I felt my heart sink as she asked that. She sounded annoyed.

“A kiss.” I deadpanned.

“Obviously.” She rolled her eyes. I let out a breath as I mentally prepared myself for the possible rejection that could come from my next statement.

“I like you.” I replied, now looking anywhere but Leah as I didn’t want to see the current look on her face. “No…I love you. I have for awhile - well, a couple of months anyway.” I continued.

“Really?”

I frowned as I stared into the wall behind Leah. “Yeah. I’m sorry.” I said.

As I was getting up, a hand on my knee prevented me from moving anywhere. I took a deep breath as I looked at Leah, not seeing the disgusted face I though I would, in fact she had a huge grin on her face.

“I love you too.” She stated, making my world feel like it crumbled. She actually liked me back? I sat back down next to her and looked at her with wide eyes.

“Really?” I replied.

She laughed and leant in closer to me. “Of course I do, I thought I made it obvious but maybe not? Ever since that night when you held me while I was drunk crying, not complaining once about the snot that I had gotten on your favourite jumper. I love you, Y/N.”

“I think that’s the most romantic thing someone has ever said to me.” I smiled, noticing the crinkles on her nose as she smiled and the small freckles that dotted her nose.

“Shut up and kiss me.”

#fanfic #arsenal #imagine #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #lgbtqia #oneshot #request #wlw post #womens football #katie mccabe #romance #confession #leah williamson one shot #foorball #woso soccer #woso one shot #woso fanfics #woso x reader

509 notes · View notes

greenerteacups · 4 months

Note

Hi! Just wanted to say the latest chapter is lovely & amazing & sweet & had me smiling the whole time! I absolutely love your characterisation of everyone, especially Draco, so it was so so lovely to return to this world & to his thoughts!! with his best friend and crush at malfoy manor no less! All the yearning is already off to a great start hehe I am so excited for the rest of book 5!

Wanted to ask you how has it been for you to write this new book and volume? Has your writing process changed since when you’d first begun taking on a long form project like this?

& also are there any moments or surprises in this book that you’re especially excited about?

sending so much love & gratitude for you and your incredible works 💓

Thank you so much! This is really encouraging, I so appreciate it.

Inasmuch as I can use this metaphor without having kids myself, I sort of see each of the books as a different child. The first one flew out in basically a few weeks of very intensive writing, and it was a total dream — plot, pacing, symbolism, major beats, all fell into place basically without effort. The character stuff was the hardest, as I've written about before, but even then, the glorious part of writing beginnings is it's the most energy you'll ever have for a project, so the lows were pretty soft lows. Book 2, in contrast, I had to drag kicking and screaming by its ankle from under the bottommost mattress of my brain. It's one of my least favorite books (tone problem; COS has killer plot/setting/ingredients for a YA novel, but it's stuck in the doldrums of Harry Potter's well-documented Early-Installment Weirdness, before Cedric Diggory slams the gas and upshifts the whole series into its correct age bracket). More specifically, once I'd gone through and picked out everything in the book that happened because of Lucius, I didn't have a plot — hey alexa how do you rewrite Chamber of Secrets when We Got No Fucking Chamber Of Secrets — and oh by the way, even if you want to do a moody tone/political setup book, remember that your protagonists are still twelve, so if you go too dark or too intense, you'll risk torpedoing your readers' suspension of disbelief. Good luck, Charlie.

Book 3 felt the most like its own novel, if that makes sense? It's the last truly feel-good book of the series; it's a great stand-alone mystery novel with relatively low stakes. Plus you get a bunch of the big series icons: patronuses, dementors, werewolves, Hogsmeade, the Marauders' Map, and time turners arithmancy. It just felt like a good old-fashioned motherfucking romp of a mystery/adventure story, before any of the complex character work and major stakes of the late books come in.

Book 4 was the most fun I've had writing anything maybe ever. I don't even know what it was. Maybe the tournament arc, honestly? Love me a tournament arc. But in any case, I opened every new chapter feeling a tingle of excitement for what I was gonna get to do. Oh, and the romance started, finally, Jesus God (if it feels like a slow burn reading, just imagine what it felt like writing it, when everything takes ten times as long, and you have to figure out how to word the fucker.)

Book 5, in contrast, has felt much less like that tingle of "here we go!" and more like "oh, man, this is gonna be cool." Because this is the arc of the story that composed the original idea for Lionheart, literally years ago, and to be honest, I didn't think I'd get this far! If you'd asked me "do you know that it's going to take you 500,000 words of backstory before you can start writing that concept you're thinking about, and you're going to do it anyway?" I would have said: "absolutely not, strange mind-reader!" But like... I'm here! Finally! And it's... real now? Like, this isn't just a bunch of clips of scenes in my head anymore! That's rad!

That being said, it's definitely been slower than Book 4, because I kept switching back to my outline document to make sure that certain things were set up properly, and that I hadn't lost any of the plot threads or forgotten a minor beat that was vitally important for the story three chapters later. And I had a minor crisis about three months ago when I ripped out about 8 chapters in the first third of the book — basically everything from September to December — because I'd done a readthrough to check pacing (big mistake! never edit while drafting, that's satan talking) and realized I had a missing storyline. Like, there was a whole layer of the story that was just. Missing. Not there. And the existing text really couldn't fit another thread, so instead of taking weeks to pore through and try to sift out what I could save, I needed to factory reset and start over. And I didn't want to! I vividly remember sitting there with my head in my hands, trying not to weep, because I'd decimated 90,000 words of work in a single edit. But it had to be done. Because the story wasn't going to work. And now (hopefully) it will.

And of course, there's still that sense of excitement and exhilaration from before. Always. But whereas Book 4 felt like a delicious chocolate pudding, Book 5 is a medium-rare steak.

(Book 6, so far, is four shots of espresso and a whiskey chaser. FWIW.)

#greenteacup asks #lionheart #lionheart spoilers #dramione

69 notes · View notes

mcufan72 · 3 months

Text

Sugar and Cinnamon

Loki x female reader (AU) / 18+

Chapter 3

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2

Warnings: none so far, contains fluff, angst, morally grey stuff and smut (eventually), some teasing, sexual tension and some lustful feelings but I think it's still a slow-burn love story.

A/N: I had some struggles writing this down, it took me several days to get it right. Maybe this chapter still sounds better in my head than the written lines. But I hope you all like reading it.

A big thank you @poetic-fiasco 💚❤️ for a phrase you created in a completely different context (you know which phrase I mean) and for allowing me to use it. It's just two words but they fitted perfectly that evening 😅

Loki stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows in the large living room of his penthouse in Jersey City, New Jersey and enjoyed the first rays of sunshine in the morning. He loved the fantastic view from here over the Hudson River to the amazing skyline of Manhattan in the light of the rising sun. How far he had come. He still quarrelled with what he had done to this city and its inhabitants and the sick plans he had to rule this planet as their king. Fortunately, he got stopped right in time, further damage was prevented and after realizing his mistake, a mistake he made because he was being tortured and forced, he got the chance for redemption. He had made good use of it. The beast was annihilated in close combat and not at least because of his help and his extraordinary skills to talk, to lie, to trick, to use his magic and to fight.

In the beginning, many of the Avengers were wary and didn't trust him. But his brother never gave up on him, he never lost his trust in him or the love he had for him. Loki would always be grateful for it and yes, he loved his brother, too. Indeed. After many times in over ten years of proving his loyalty, his sense of justice, his negotiation skills and his will to fight for the right things, literally and figuratively, they all became friends, more or less, and since two years, mostly working as an ambassador and negotiator, he was allowed to live alone without any kind of “babysitting”. Of course, his brother still kept an eye on him and so did Tony Stark. But it became more and more a kind of visiting each other than controlling him. Loki was fine with that. He knew some things needed time to be forgiven and living under the radar when he came back to New York twelve years ago, under a fake name and in solitude, made things easier for him. People came to New York and also left this city again. It happens frequently in a metropolis with millions of population and also people forget easily in the fast pace and hectic of today's time. It also wouldn't be long anymore before he would have served his sentence and he would be free to go wherever he wanted.

While watching the first Staten Island Ferries launching for the Statue of Liberty and just clothed in black sweatpants, one hand in his pocket and a mug of coffee in his other hand, he was thinking of you. He still felt your body and your warmth in his arms. He shouldn't. He decided to live alone, unattached to a woman. He had his brother and his friends and that was already more than he deserved. Also, love and relationships never ended well for him and he was tired of getting his heart broken over and over again. Maybe a sinner like him with blood-drenched hands didn't deserve the love and affection of a woman at all. He was fine with only having sexual affairs from time to time with faceless, nameless women to satisfy his carnal needs.

But it has been a while now since he had a woman tangled in his bedsheets and getting a lusty distraction from his loneliness. He'd love to have physical contact again but not with another faceless woman. If he would share a bed with someone again it had to be you. You had entered his life and he couldn't get you out of his head. He loved your appearance, which was surely a fassade or sort of a costume, he was well aware of that. If there was someone who could relate to it, it was him. There was much more he liked about you, the lovely and decent woman behind that masquerade. He had already seen some tiny little glimpses of the real you, who were shoved into a situation you seemingly never wanted. He liked your attitude, sassy and cute, you were eloquent and smart. You knew what you wanted and what you did not want.

The little mistake you had made at the dining table didn't bother him at all. Nobody is perfect and he knew exactly what he was talking about. It just made you more adorable. But how realistic was his wish to sleep with you? You had made it very clear that you weren't interested in getting sexually involved with him. And he had told you the same. And wouldn't it be inconsequential to change his mind now? He also struggled with the ‘sex-only’-thing when it came to you. Didn't you deserve more and better? You shouldn't sleep with someone like him. Knee-deep in blood, sin and guilt. Guilty of murder. Guilty of having tried to conquer a planet and subjugate the people of Earth against their will. Your people. If you knew his real identity you would hate him. Abysmal hate from the bottom of your heart perhaps. You were an angel and he was the sinner. Heaven and hell. You two had nothing in common, nothing was binding you. You were his escort, his distraction. His distraction from pain and loneliness. And he was just your client, one of many who paid you for your service, who paid the money you urgently needed for who knows what. But he hated that other men touched you, and spent time with you. He knew his blood-drenched hands weren't worthy to touch you at all but other men weren't worthy to touch you either.

Damn, he shouldn't have danced with you. Because now he wanted the feeling of you in his arms over and over again. Yes, it did things to him and that evening, when he physically was so close to you it wasn't easy for him to suppress an erection. But this urge to hold you in his arms again wasn't just sexual. He wanted to feel your warmth, your closeness again and not least he wanted to enjoy your company again. And he wanted to take care of you. A care you surely wouldn't want or need. He didn't deserve you but he wanted you, wanted to be with you, no matter what and he must find a way to avoid that other men would ever lay an eye or a hand on you or take advantage of you.

All of this was the reason why he wanted to book you for next Saturday. He had already sent an email to your agency promptly after your first date and expected the confirmation for the appointment during the day. He would go to the opening of a small art gallery with you, an event he actually didn't want to go to. He didn't really like to go to exclusively social events without a business background. He had decided otherwise now because it was a perfect reason for booking you to escort him to this event …and to see you again. You came into his life and only then he realized how utterly lonely he was. Maybe at least it hadn't been a good decision to live a life in solitude. Should he ask you for a shared night? Would you agree? Would it be too soon and too offensive to ask you? If you'd agree to share the bed with him, you’d have to follow some of his rules because there was still this one thing he could never let you know.

Besides all of this, he would give you all the money you needed without getting anything from you but it seemed you would never take his money without giving something in return. He was sure you wouldn't even ask him for money and you probably had good reasons for it. Loki took a sip of his coffee, reached for a random book on his impressive bookshelf and tried to distract himself by reading a few lines. He made himself comfortable on his sofa and began to read. It didn't work. His thoughts always drifted back to you.

**********************

What should you do now? You sat at the table in your apartment, your lunch untouched on a plate next to you. You weren't hungry. There was a lump in your stomach and it took away your appetite. How should you manage all of this? Your studies, the bills, the increased rent for your apartment and your mum's nursing home, visiting her on Sundays, daily dates with men you had to escort to functions, and from now on appointments for the weekends, too. You should focus on your studies and finish your degree to get back to a serious, well-paid job again. You didn't want to work as an escort lady for the rest of your life. But your study was so expensive that you ran out of money sooner than expected. You still had some saved money but you needed it for something else so you wouldn't touch it.

There have been times when you had all the money and possibilities to afford an apartment like this, your mum's nursing home and the care for her, and a nice life with all its amenities. And because of one silly mistake your whole life crashed down. But maybe you didn't deserve it any better. You sat in front of your laptop and stared at the files of your bank statement and your busy schedule. Now there were some options. There were just two if you were being honest. You could twist and squirm all you want, you wouldn't earn enough money, not even as an escort. You could move into a much cheaper and even smaller apartment which wouldn't be easy in Manhattan, unless you liked to live in a rathole. But you had to try it and in the worst case, you would live in a rathole, for heaven's sake. Also, you could earn some more money a bit faster if you…the thought made you cringe but you had to do it, you had no other choice. But there was only this one man imaginable for you, the one who had told you, he only wanted to be escorted by you and nothing more. And after that dumb mistake at your first real appointment with him, you had been sure you would never see him again. Luke Larsson was a man who didn't accept unprofessionalism. And yet he had been very nice to you and you appreciated it.

You took a sip of your coffee and calculated your financial issues for the umpteenth time. It was to despair. Would you ever find a way out of this fucked up situation? Sometimes you wished you could go back to your little village in the south of Great Britain, back into your little happy bubble, far away from trouble, bad news and harsh reality. Back to the times when you baked cinnamon rolls with your mum every Sunday afternoon. Life was peaceful there but those times were over. Welcome to reality!

Taking another sip of your coffee, you were closing the laptop lid, when a pling was signalling an incoming email. You opened the laptop lid completely again and opened the mail. It was from Rhea. She had promised to send you the further details of Luke's next appointment with you.

Hey dear,

I hope you're doing well. As promised earlier, here's the update for your appointment with Mr. Larsson.

It's on Saturday afternoon and I hope this fits your schedule. It's a gallery opening so I hope this information helps to choose the right clothing appropriate to the occasion.

Mr. Larsson will wait for you at the gallery, Walker will drive you there. He'll pick you up at your home at 3 pm. If you have any further questions, feel free to call me and please mail me your confirmation for this appointment so I can inform Mr Larsson.

PS: please remember the date with Mr Rogers tonight. I'm sorry that he had booked you at short notice. Have fun!

Take care, dear

Rhea

Luke had booked you again. He really wanted you to escort him again and you still couldn't believe it. Thank goodness he was not resentful and hadn't told Rhea about your stupid mistake. He gave you a second chance and you looked forward to seeing him again but you felt nervous at the same time. Things were getting real now. Should you offer him your advanced service? He didn't flirt, that's what he made very clear to you but the way he danced with you and looked at you has been very close to it. And it felt good. You barely remembered when it was the last time someone had looked at you like he did that evening.

Anyway, will he say yes? Why should he say yes and also pay for it? He could have any woman he wanted, they surely lined up at his door to spend a night of debauched passion with him. This man was pure sex. Women probably fling themselves at him daily. Your heart clenched painfully when you pictured him with other women, more lovable and more desirable than you. But you had no right to judge him or the other women for it. You had no right to think and feel like that. At least he was a man with carnal needs. You didn't have an exclusive right to meet him. It was the other way around, he decided if he wanted you to escort him or not. You should better be grateful that Luke wanted to meet you again.

You should give it a try and offer him to sleep with you. Couldn't be that difficult. It was just sex, right? You never cared much about sex, you never understood what the fuss was all about. Your exes never had much patience with you when you needed a bit longer to feel satisfied and maybe you had always been the problem. So what. A quick fuck, in and out and in between moaning a little horny and he would be done in three minutes. You were good at faking orgasms. Pretending you enjoy it as much as he does shouldn't be that difficult for you. He wouldn't even notice it, men never noticed. You always thought you would be too decent for that, having sex with a client but you had already fallen so deep…and fuck decency. Life gave a shit about it…so why should you!

For now, you should focus on your next date tonight, Mr.Rogers. You would meet him at a dancing hall. You like dancing and for now, it would be a good distraction from your current problems. It seemed a bit old-fashioned to go to a dancing bar where they played old classics from the 40's and 50’s but you were sure you would've fun and a decent gentleman at your side tonight. And after tonight you had just one more date and then it would already be Saturday, when you would see Luke again. A little smile curved your lips and you headed to the bathroom to get ready for tonight. It was time for Sugar's performance.

Your date for Friday night got cancelled. You were already waiting at Vivian's Velvet and having your obligatory glass of champagne at the bar when Rhea sent you a message. Your client got ill but maybe he just changed his mind. It didn't happen very often but it happened. Well, you had a free evening now, and you still got paid because it wasn't your fault the date was cancelled so you had some time to think about some rules and boundaries for sexual intercourse with clients. Or should you better say, rules for having sex with Luke? There were definitely some things you wouldn't do and you should be well prepared for a clarifying conversation. No perverse shit, no hard-core sex and the most important thing: no kisses! And falling in love is strictly forbidden, for both sides. Sex only!

You would never fall for a client and you would never fall for Luke Larsson. Not for his stupid, soft obsidian curls, not for his broad shoulders, his strong arms or his long legs, not for his incredible charm, or his beautiful eyes, not for his devastating smile, no matter how handsome he was or how fast he made your heart beating. He was your client and that's all he'll ever be.

On Saturday morning you've gotten up early to have enough time for grocery shopping, doing the dishes and cleaning up your messy apartment. Books and papers for your studies and clothes, your normal ones and those you had worn for your dates, were spread all over the floor, chairs, the table and the sofa. The daily appointments on weekdays had a deep impact on your daily routine. You were so tired sometimes that you didn't have the energy to clean everything up daily. And from now on you won't have the weekends either to relax a little bit. So you were in a hurry now because your appointment was already in the afternoon today and you still had to shower and prepare yourself for the gallery opening. You weren't sure if you were ready to ask Luke if he wanted to sleep with you but you'd definitely ask him. The pressure to earn more money quickly was getting higher and you've come to terms with it that you had to expand your service.

After showering you looked through your closet to find an adequate outfit for a gallery opening. You decided to go for an elegant, refined trouser suit in pastel pink, combined with a white blouse with a deep neckline, and white high heels. Underneath you wore white lace underwear. You loved this sexy set of bra and thong but it let you look more innocent than you were. You hoped Luke would like it, in case he would accept your offer tonight. With your hair in a tight bun with the knot deep in your neck and dark pink lipstick on your lips, Sugar was ready to meet Mr Larsson.

Walker drove you to the gallery where Luke was already waiting for you. Walker got out of the limousine but Loki gestured to him that he wanted to open the door for you. The moment you got out of the backseat and took the hand he was offering you, you were directly under his spell again. He looked so dapper and seductive in his suit which was midnight blue, combined with a tight-fitting white shirt, its collar open, his beautiful neck on perfect display. His look was completed by black Oxfords and a silk scarf around his neck. The scarf shimmered in the darkest shades of blue and green you had ever seen. The scent of his cologne was alluring and you wanted to bury your nose into his soft hair that framed his incredibly beautiful face perfectly. Indeed, he was a god in a suit or maybe he was the devil himself. A handsome devil, seductively hot, ready to take you with him into his den of desire, ready to burn with you in hell. Damn it, your imagination was running too wild.

“Good afternoon, Sugar. Thank you for coming. I'm glad to see you and you look beautiful again”, he greeted you gentlemanly and you came back to reality.

“Good afternoon, Luke. Thank you for your compliment…I think I look a bit like candy floss…,” you answered jokingly and turned in a circle once, a big grin on your face.

“Sorry, I don't quite understand…” Loki said and looked quizzically at you. For him you looked lovely, like a beautiful, sexy angel.

“Candy floss, it's mostly pastel pink and… made of sugar… nah, forget it, it was a bad joke,” you smiled at him and shook your head lightly and Loki smiled back at you. He looked so pretty when he smiled. “Thank you for booking me again. It's a pleasure to accompany you to the opening.” you continued kindly.

“Don't worry, it wasn't a bad joke. I just don't know what candyfloss is and to me, you look beautiful,” he told you. It was what he honestly thought and he could imagine that you probably taste sweet like sugar. “I hope you like art?”

“Oh yes, I do. I'm already excited to have a look at all of the artwork.” You replied genuinely and Loki smiled contentedly at you.

“Then let's go inside,” and he offered you his arm which you took gratefully. It felt so good to touch him.

Inside, you two were greeted by a middle-aged beautiful woman who was the gallery owner and an old friend of Tony Stark. She gave you a short introduction to the artworks in her gallery and that you should feel free to get drinks, canapés and sweets from the buffet. Just from the way she looked at Luke, you could tell she was enchanted by him and you couldn't blame her for it. But you felt something inside of you you should better not feel at all. It felt as if she would take him away from you and he wasn't even a friend of yours. You should better not forget what you were for him. You were his escort, something like a fake date and he was your client. While he was still in conversation with different people who seemed to know him, you strolled through the exhibition until you stood in front of a painting you couldn't keep your eyes off.

*************

Loki tried to end the several conversations he was drawn into, quickly because you were already on your way through the gallery and he wanted to spend the time with you and not with random guests who came to the opening. First, he couldn't find you, there were so many people in there but around the next corner, he finally found you.

You stood in front of a painting you couldn't stop staring at. A painting with a golden elegant vase filled to the brim with all sorts of wildflowers, tulips, roses, daffodils, lilies, and peonies, loosely arranged in it. As elegant as the vase was, as wild and untamed were the flowers. Loki couldn't stop staring at you and enjoying the view of the woman he began to care about. It touched him how fascinated you stared at the painting and how you were able to zone out the world around you. You literally bathed in the effect of the picture which it obviously had on you. He gave you further moments of enjoyment before he walked towards you, his hands in the pockets of his trousers.

“Do you like it?” He asked you politely

“Yes,... it's beautiful. I don't know why, it's just…the flowers, the colours…it just put a spell on me. The flowers are pure life, colourful, beautiful, wild but destined to wither and die because they got cut but still…they are pure beauty and I can literally smell their various wonderful scents.” You were still captivated when you whispered under your breath so Loki couldn't hear it “... and they remind me of home…like your British accent…”

“Yeah, it attracts us, it's winning us all over whether we want it or not. Some things have this effect on us,” he replied and walked closer to you.

Loki had an idea why you liked the painting that much. The motif reminded him of you: elegant and pretty as the vase, and wonderful, wild, free, untamed and colourful as the flowers. But if he would paint this picture of you right now, the vase would lay shattered on the floor and the flowers were crushed and stepped on, everything broken and sad. That's what he saw whenever he looked into your eyes and he wished he could help you with more than just his money.

“Is that so, Luke?” and you turned towards him.

“What do you mean? “ He looked at you from above. He was so tall and so close to you. It was now or never. You knew if you wouldn't do it now, your courage would leave you faster than you could imagine.

“What is it that attracts you?” and your one hand softly caressed his outer thigh, travelled upwards over his really adorable butt, kneading it gently, and then farther upwards to the waistband of his trousers. Your actions went straight to his cock which twitched against the confinement of his slacks. Your gaze was pure seduction and your hand on his body was hot like fire. He grabbed your wrist at lightning speed.

“What are you doing there, Sugar?” he murmured darkly, frowning.

“Testing the waters. Testing if you're really not interested in flirting. I can feel some…tension between us, if you know what I mean,” you whispered and your gaze wandered down from his eyes over his lips and his body to his visible bulge. Were you really capable of doing this to him? Or did he just get hard because you might promise him a quicky? Your gazing down at his manhood didn't go unnoticed by Loki. What were you up to?

“Stop being naughty, Sugar,” he growled darkly.

“Why? Don't you like it when I touch you?”

“We have a deal. Don't forget about that. And besides, you have no idea what you're asking for.”

“Really? Maybe I know exactly what I'm asking for. And deals are negotiable,” your words were dripping like honey from your mouth.

“No! And you have no idea what it means to tease me!” Loki responded firmly.

“Uhhh…now I'm curious. Don't play hard to get, handsome,” you cooed.

You knew you were playing with fire. But didn't all men say things like this? And then they promise you endless pleasure just to be done in three minutes or so, leaving you unpleasured and you were sure he wasn't any different. You were used to it and it didn't matter. But maybe you were completely wrong. Seeing him how aroused he got, aroused you too and you wanted to feel him close. Much closer than you had already felt him when he danced with you. You wouldn't evolve feelings for him, never, absolutely not but all of a sudden your body craved attention, touches and some adoration. Against your expectation, you almost felt bad to let him pay for having sex with you. But you were an escort, not his girlfriend and the escort lady got paid, period!

“Wanna sleep with me tonight?” Your shameless offer caught Loki off guard and he immediately let go of your wrist. He played it cool and his facial expression turned to stone. He couldn't believe that you offered him your body so willingly. He should refuse it. But then you would ask another guy and he couldn't allow that. Who knew how another guy would treat you? He also couldn't deny that he wanted you, that he craved your touch and your attention. But what the hell made you do this?

You grabbed the loose ends of his scarf and pulled his head gently down and him closer towards you so you could speak right into his ear.

“There's nothing to it, Luke. Just two needy bodies, giving each other some pleasure to get some steam off. What do you think? ”

What were you thinking? What if he declined your offer? He could have any woman in this city and he wouldn't even have to pay for it. You weren't any special, just expensive to book, and if he says no you would've made a terrible fool out of yourself.

“I think you still haven't an idea what you're asking for…I'm not a tender lover,” he grumbled.

“It doesn't matter, tenderness is for beginners. I'm not scared of you.”

It was just the half of the truth. It didn't matter because the few men you had been with hadn't been overly tender but you were afraid of him, not in a bad way though. You had a lot of respect for him, he radiated dominance and masculinity and it aroused you, he aroused you and that was what made you fear him. He made you feel good and safe and that scared you.

“Do you offer this…special service of yours to other men, too? Despite that, you told me you're done with men.” He had no right to ask you this. He had no right to be jealous or possessive. He shouldn't go too far, you weren't his and you could do whatever you wanted. But it made his heart clench when he thought about other men touching you.

“If I do, it's none of your business! And I'm free to change my mind about men. I do what I want.” You whispered firmly into his ear.

How dare he ask you that? It was a normal thing many escort ladies did and there was nothing wrong about it. It happened frequently and consensually. But you didn't judge him for that question and it didn't surprise you that he thought you offered sex to your other clients too. He couldn't know you weren't doing it.

“I won't discuss it with you. So, your decision …do you want me or not?” you purred into his ear.

“Are you really sure you want it? If so, to be very clear, don't expect anything more than just the physical act. I just copulate, don't expect any feelings of love from me. Nothing will change that." His voice was pure velvet in your ear and his warm breath fanned over your neck to your cleavage. It made you shiver pleasantly.

“Well, that's fair enough. I'm not looking for love, as you should know.”

“We still see it the same way then.”

“We do, Luke”, and you loosened your grip on his scarf, put your hands on his chest and let them tenderly travel down over his pecs to his midriff before you took them off of his gorgeous body. Even clothed you could feel every perfectly defined muscle.

Loki had goosebumps all over his skin. You made him feel too comfortable around you and to his astonishment, this feeling wasn't just sexual.

“So we have a deal?” you wanted to know.

“We have a deal”, Loki confirmed. Your hands travelling down his torso hadn't helped get rid of his erection, not in the slightest.

“Then let's go to my hotel later. It's one of the best in Manhattan. I'm sure we'll have a lot of fun. Scottish whisky for you, champagne for me and…nearly whatever you want, including me.” You were so nervous. Would he like you? Could you satisfy his needs? How rough would he get? You'd definitely need a glass of champagne before you could let him touch you and a cigarette afterwards.

Nonetheless, you'd try to enjoy it. He was such a gentleman and you were absolutely sure he would treat you well and respectfully. And he smelled so good. It was like a drug. Also, you had some rules and if he wouldn't respect and accept them, you would definitely not sleep with him. And you had Walker, he would always protect you.

“Nearly whatever I want? What does that mean, Sugar?” he questioned softly.

“What I said. But I have rules. Strict rules.”

“Of course, you have. And I have mine. We should talk about them later. I don't think it's the right place here for that”, he whispered.

“Yeah, I suggest we settle the matter later in the hotel. Walker will drive us there”, you offered him.

“That's a good call”, he answered, nodding in agreement.

“Fine.” You licked your lips and bit lightly into your lower lip. Loki gasped inwardly. Why were you doing this? Suddenly he turned his head to the side.

“Is everything okay, Luke?”

“I don't like how that guy looks at you”, Loki growled quietly.

“Which guy?” you wanted to know.

“The guy across from us” and you followed Loki's gaze.

“Let him stare.”

“Absolutely not. You're here with me. No one stares at you like this”, Loki murmured and he put his arm possessively around your middle and pulled you close to his side. Absolutely no one was allowed to look at you like this when you were with him.

“He's just jealous of you, Luke. Maybe he likes my trouser suit...or he's a peeper. Don't worry, I'm still your arm candy”, you tried to calm him down but you couldn't suppress a grin.

If looks could kill, the poor guy would die in an instant. You put an arm around Loki's waist and placed your other hand on his chest. His heart was beating so fast, like yours and you both looked at the guy. Loki with a death stare and you with a bright smile. You loved this game you played together. And it made your heart swell that he got angry just because of a random guy who looked at you. None of your exes had been like this. Under different circumstances, you two would be a wonderful couple. The guy immediately looked away, obviously feeling embarrassed and frightened, and turned around.

“Would you please take your hand from my chest?”

“Just in case you let go of my waist.” you offered him sweetly.

“Sorry, I didn't want to…” and he cleared his throat.

“It's okay, Luke, don't worry. We're going to get much closer tonight…Shall we look for some canapés and drinks? It seems, you could need a cooling down”, you said with a quick look at his crotch. Was there a rosy shade on his perfect cheeks? “…oh and I want a dessert…”, and you took him by his hand and pulled him with you to the buffet.

“You and your desserts”, he laughed, amused.

“You should try them some day”, you smiled brightly at him.

“No, thanks, I'm good”, Loki answered, trying to sound serious.

After having some drinks and snacks, you ate the final bite of your dessert and licked the last bits off of the spoon and your lips. Loki was wondering if you did it on purpose. It seemed you liked to tease him and to add to the sexual tension that was obviously still buzzing between you two. It was still palpable. You knew how to seduce and it made you even more desirable.

“Shall we have a look at the other works in the gallery before we leave? I'd like to see them.”

“Anything you want, Sugar. We have time, don't we?”

“I hope so…or are you eager to get to the hotel soon” you teased him.

“I might be horny but I can control myself.”

“Really? That's rare. Most men can't wait to blow their load,” you answered lasciviously and smiled knowingly. You wondered where your self-confidence came from. The thing that was to come was new terrain for you. Shouldn't you feel more nervous? But maybe this was just how you tried to downplay your nervousness.

Loki smirked and rolled his eyes.

“You really amaze me. You're such a beautiful and decent woman but you've such a filthy mouth.”

If only he knew. If you ever have been decent, your decency would soon be gone. At the latest when he fucked you. He would see you differently then and maybe he would also lose his respect for you. And that was one of your biggest fears.

🌹🥂🥃🌃🌹🥂🥃🌃🌹🥂🥃🌃🌹🥂🥃🌃🌹

Tag list:

@lokisprettygirl @faesimps @anukulee @fictive-sl0th @fandxmslxt69 @chantsdemarins @justjoanne242 @gruftiela @stupidthoughtsinwriting @wheredafandomat @lovingchoices14 @lokixryss @huntress-artemiss @smolvenger @km-ffluv

#loki x female reader #loki x reader #loki x you #loki x reader fluff #loki laufeyson #loki x reader fic #loki x reader angst #loki x reader smut #loki x female reader fluff #loki #loki x female reader angst #loki x female reader smut #loki x fem!reader #Spotify

61 notes · View notes

entertext · 5 months

Text

HGSN 23-2

Chapter (Japanese)

(Please hit the green thumbs up at the end of the chapter to show support)

Rough translation by me

Hikaru: (A change...)

Yoshiki: ...It's my fault

Hikaru: No, it's not...Stop saying things like that

Hikaru: (So that's why I started to feel pain)

Hikaru: (and lost to the impurity at the family restaurant and got my head chopped off, huh?)

Hikaru: (And on top of all that, somehow there's this strange feeling...)

Hikaru: Oh! That guy! The sword that sunglasses guy cut me with...

Hikaru: That sword wasn't normal...

Hikaru: That guy must have attacked me knowing that

Hikaru: There's something suspicious about it.

Rie: ...It's clear that he must be someone well-informed about that sort of thing

Yoshiki: (I'm so stupid! I didn't notice anything...)

Yoshiki: If you get attacked by him again...

Hikaru: Then I'll just run away!! Even if he cuts my head off again, it'll stick back on!

Hikaru: But maybe my head'll come off easier now, haha!

Hikaru: Wahahahahaha

Rie: As I thought, this child is dangerous

Rie: But...it's no good. I've also gotten attached...

(sfx: crowd chatter)

Asako: I'M SO GLAD YOU'RE OKAY!!!

Yuuki: Maki was surprisingly the one that worried the most, cute huh?

Maki: Hey!

Yuuki: You said "It's so boring when Hikaru's not around" like ten times

Maki: I did not!

Maki: By the way, what've you been writing all this time?

(text:

Nounuki-sama

→Grants wishes in exchange for human heads?)

(sfx: snap shut)

Yoshiki: No...it's nothing

Maki: Are you looking up "Unuki-san"?

Yoshiki: Huh? What...did you just...?

Maki: Hehe, I'll tell you all about it

Maki: A looooong time ago, around these parts

Maki: It was used as a secret codeword

Maki: Since ancient times, this area for some reason has suffered from lots of illnesses, crop failures, and accidents

Maki: Despite being a place like that, the reason there was still a fair amount of settlement was 'cause mercury could be mined here.

Maki: Even so, year after year, the amount that was extracted dwindled...

Maki:...and in the struggle to put food on the table, there was often the need to abort a pregnancy

Maki: In order to do that, they made a medicine using the mercury here

Maki: An abortion pill local to this land

Maki: If I remember correctly, the medicine was called "Uronuki" medicine

Maki: Apparently it refers to "infant-culling" medicine

Maki: Since it was a medicine made with mercury taken from the mountain, they started to call using it to end a pregnancy as "returning it to 'Unuki-san' of the mountain"

Maki: That's what it's code for... Ummmm

Maki: Eventually, it started to be worshipped as the god of the mountain...

Maki: And after that, strangely the illnesses and stuff died down...

Yoshiki: Mercury... that's the origin of the name of the forbidden mountain, Nisayama*?

Hikaru: ...

* 丹砂山 - red sand (cinnabar) mountain

Next chapter: 2023/01/02

Twitter Extra (link):

Yoshiki: Is the line on your neck okay?

Hikaru: Yeah, there shouldn't be anything physically wrong

Hikaru: 'cause it's a ghost scar!

Yoshiki: Oh...that's a relief

Hikaru: Oh, it came off

Yoshiki: Uwaaaaaaah!!

(sfx: wakes up)

EDIT 2024/01/18:

Fixed Translation Error: It's what you'd call "haunted" → There's something suspicious about it.

#hikaru ga shinda natsu #the summer hikaru died #hgsn spoilers #!!!#tw historical discussion of infanticide/abortion

70 notes · View notes

kiwiana-writes · 24 days

Note

I dont think anyone subscribes to you for t rated 5 +1s in your own au lol. Chop chop with those wip’s porn girl!

Well. Quite a bit to unpack here on an otherwise unassuming Friday!

#1:

#2: I actually track this stuff. Admittedly the E-rated percentage is a bit higher if you look at RWRB only, but overall...

#3: I think anyone who subscribes to me on AO3, or indeed anyone who follows the kiwiana-writes tag here on tumblr and sees all those fucking WIPs, knows that I like to write a bit of variety. That's not to say there aren't definite underpinnings of, like, themes and vibes that I return to over and over (which I can only assume are why people subscribe to me), but if someone only likes my college AUs, or only likes my post-canon stuff, or only likes my E-rated stuff, or only wants to listen to my podfics, they're probably going to have a much more successful time saving the tag search than subscribing to me at the author level. Or they've mastered the art of archiving and moving on without complaining about it, like I do when the authors I'm subscribed to write something that doesn't interest me. It's a useful skill! I highly recommend cultivating it.

#4: AO3 not giving series stats is and continues to be the bane of my life, but based on the number of people who subscribed to the OG actor AU, there's probably a significant chunk of people who aren't subscribed to me as an author and only want the actor AU verse stuff. And good for them! I LOVE that AO3 offers multiple ways to subscribe so you can get notified for the stuff you want (my kingdom for the ability to subscribe to individual pseuds, though.)

#5: This fandom is OVERFLOWING right now. Like, I can't keep up. You only want to read E-rated stuff? Awesome! Well over 100 E-rated fics have been posted in the RWRB bookverse tag just this week (it looks like most of the movieverse smut has also been tagged bookverse, but either way it's also very easy to find). Or go back to older fics and find some hidden gems—there's nothing an author loves more than for someone to come in and gush about a fic they wrote a year or two ago.

#6: You don't pay me, and I'm not subject to annual review. One of my favourite authors was talking this morning about how sometimes she thinks about taking a break from writing for RWRB because it's starting to feel a little rat racey, and that would suck for me personally because I love her stuff but god knows I couldn't blame her, because the (extreme minority but still exhausting) entitled comments and rudeness really do not help. Stop treating your favourite authors like content creators who owe you something new on a regular schedule, because that's a damn good way to ensure they don't want to create anything new ever again. Like... anon, you haven't even bothered to couch this in a compliment. The bar is ten feet underground and somehow you still managed to trip over it.

#7: Not to be all 'back in my day' but... well, back in my day, snippets and peeks into the universe of a remotely popular longfic were pretty much the standard lol. Nobody is forcing you to read them, I promise.

#8: I've posted two E-rated fics in the last two weeks.

#9: Honestly I just really want to reiterate #1 because what the hell lol. While pronouns don't equal gender, it's pretty reasonable to extrapolate from pronouns if you don't have any other info to go on—and of the three "main/standard" pronouns, the one most closely associated with 'girl' is the only one that ISN'T in my bio 🤦

#anonymous

48 notes · View notes

jacaerysgf · 10 months

Text

request: jacerys x maid!reader | reader has been working for them for a long while and jace has had a little crush on her since then. (also rhaenyra shipping them on the low would be so sweet)

tags: nontarg!reader, implied slightly older reader, mostly jacaerys pov, no use of y/n, not proofread, i think that's it?

w.c | 2.2k

a/n: i am back! so sorry for being inactive i am so happy to be able to write again i have missed you guys, getting through requests now, but it will probably take me awhile to get to the scream requests since im really unmotived to write for it but i missed writing for hotd so here you go, i hope you guys enjoy!

the first time he had ever spotted you was when he was eight. you had been assigned to be helaena personal maid. he had been standing in the courtyard preparing for another sword fighting lesson. he notices out of the corner of his eye aegon lifting his head before aegon mumbled under his breath and curse as he shakes his head bring his head back down. jacaerys looks up to see heleana, knowing of the recent betrothal and aegons distaste at the idea of course he would have a reaction like that. his eyes drifted over to the girl standing besides helaena and he felt a sudden sensation of butterflies flow into his stomach.

Curiously he picks it up and opens, It feels wrong of me to do this. Princess Heleena just recently taught me how to write and the first thing I felt I needed to do was write something to you. I hope you do not laugh. I hope that while I express myself you find it in yourself to listen. My eyes always find their way towards you. I always find myself thinking about you. I feel too embarrassed to write more though my heart yearns too. Forgive me my prince. I shall hope we talk more. With all i have,

He finds himself tracing the sloppy signing of your name at the end of your letter. His head can't make sense of the words you say despite the fact he wants to so badly. He falls back onto his bed and reads over your words over and over again with a fond look on his face, already planning on what he was going to write back. The two of you begin to write more and more letters to each other. It was easier than speaking in person. Things that could not be uttered in person were said over word, the letters grew more and more personal. He felt like he was looking into your soul with every word as you must have felt as well. But then lady Leana had passed and he had to go to driftmark to the funeral though he was more upset about the passing of ser harwin. Before he had left for driftmark you had slipped a letter for him before he had left. He didn't have the energy to open it then, feeling too much grief to read your sweet words. A part of him is glad he didn't because he didn't realize that would be the last he would see of you for many years. They did not return to king's landing which means he did not get to see you. No more letters, no more passing glances, no more you. He stayed in his bed and cried for awhile, he remembers his mother coming in and trying to comfort him but nothing had worked. Even ten years later he still mourned you like you had died, he had managed to get over his sad slump but you still lingered in his mind like a disease he could not cure, an itch he couldn't scratch. He wondered if you thought of him like he had thought of you. Word had come that they had to go back to king's landing. With lucerys position as heir to driftmark being challenged they were expected to return for a trial. While he feels as though he should be sad, he should be angry. His heart leaps with hope that he gets to see the dear maiden that had stolen his heart. He had never opened up your letter from all those years ago, wanting to savor and save what could be your last words to him for a special occasion. He decided that now would be the time, as he sits on his bed with his stuff packed, only minutes until they were set to leave with shaking hands he rips open the letter.

Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath he opens the letter and gasps. My prince, It broke my heart to find out you were leaving. I hope that you have not let your grief consume you, that you shall continue to be happy no matter what. He notices some large splotches of ink as if you had been pressing too hard against the paper in thought. I must tell you this though it is improper. When you return you will never speak to me again. You may never write to me again yet I must say this now. From the day we had locked eyes and my eyes saw you smile you hard earned the key to my heart. You are the chosen one. Hand selected as the owner to the place which you and only you will ever belong. I hope that you do not laugh. I hope that you are not repulsed or you are not hateful. From the day we met I have loved you and I shall think of you always for you are all I yearn for. I shall await your return. I know not how long you will be gone but I will be here, my sweet true love. I am but a low maiden yet you are everything to me as you must be to all. When you return you may choose to ignore this letter. I am more than willing to act as if this letter never existed, I will be the one to turn this letter myself if you wish. Just please, do not punish me by never speaking to me again for I fear my heart will never recover. With all my love, Yours.

The letter shakes vigorously in his hands as teardrops fall onto the page. He must see you. He gets up and rushes towards the yard where the rest of his family awaits where they are boarding to leave. With the letter clutched to his chest he runs through the halls, the only thought going through his mind being you. He carefully, or as carefully as he can with the adrenaline pumping through his veins and the nervous shaking of his hands, folds up the letter and stuffs it into his pocket before continuing to rush towards his dragon. An arm grabs him and he whips his head around ready to curse and scream at whoever it had been before his angry face softens. “My queen.” she cups his cheeks as she frantically looks him over. “Has something happened? Why are you crying, my son?”

He feels himself grow overrun with emotions as he stumbles, unable to answer. Instead he grabs the letter and presents it to her. “My.. she wrote to me.. Her letter I must.. I must..” he cannot find himself. He looks down at the ground as rhaenyra glances over the letter and looks at her son with a heartfelt look. “Do you love her, my boy?” his heart begins to hurt as he begins to think more and more about you as he nods. He lets out a strangled noise as he clutches his chest. “I must see her mother, I must.” He never calls her mother. rhaenyra feels herself overcome with an indescribable feeling as she lets him go. “We shall head out right this moment.” They do. He feels himself riding faster than he ever had. A part of him worries you will not be there. Maids are easily dismissed and rid of in kings landing so his heart hurts as he thinks he has missed you

. They arrive and he finds lucerys is stuck to his side. Despite the fact that all he wished to was run off to find you he knows he must take care of lucerys as well. Walking into the courtyard he's taken back to his childhood, with lucerys eyes locked onto the fight happening jacaerys finds his eyes looking around at the viewers watching from above the courtyard. Suddenly his eyes lock onto a very familiar set of eyes. Yours. You look as gorgeous as you did the day he had last shall you if not more. You were standing in the exact same place you were when he first saw you with a look of shock. He finds himself stumbling away from the crowd to get a better look at you as his heart pounds so loud his ears may begin to ring. You were here. Standing in front of him. He gulps and watches as you quickly rush towards the staircase down to the courtyard. His skin begins to burn as his legs begin to shake. Everything in his body telling him he should run to you. Bring you into his arms. Allow your skin to touch him. Suddenly you are standing in front of him, panting slightly while your eyes dart all over him with surprise. “My prince… you have returned.” He grabs one of your hands in a soft grip, he sees you inhale sharply as he brings your hand to his lips and places a kiss to the back of your hand. his lips burning as he aches to kiss your skin once more. “I am sorry to have kept you waiting, my love.” You gasp before a smile graces your lips and tears fill up in your eyes. “Truly?” He places yet another kiss onto your skin, “More than anything.”

229 notes · View notes

jin0 · 2 years

Text

LOVESICK TEACHER [TASM!Peter Parker]

Summary : Peter lost you over ten years ago. Well, let's thank your niece, his favorite student, because here you are today, presenting your job to his class.

Pairing : Elementary teacher!Peter Parker X Reader

Warnings : 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI, smut, fluff, angst, peter being stupid (when do i ever write him smart...), soulmate trope kinda, both are a little toxic lets be real, gwen in the middle but she's best girl so get off her dick and be nice, i kinda followed andrew and emma's story with that one too, creampie, pet names (pumpkin, sweetheart, baby), slight mentions of manhandling, use of webs, kinda exhibition because they do intimate stuff in the street, overstimulation, kinda subby peter, kinda dom reader, lots of cum too, slight titty worship, slight pussy job, lots of kisses and soft touches.

A/N : another one for you birdie ✨ i kinda LOVED writing that one, missed writing for this idiot 🙈

Peter Parker could never really qualify as an idiot, but in that moment, he had never felt more stupid in his life.

It all matched perfectly and maybe it was the delusion that pushed him to ignore the signs but fuck, they were screaming at him now and he couldn’t just act like they weren’t there, like you weren’t there. It had been an entire decade of longing and confusion, and now, you were here, in front of him. Him and his entire class of little kids.

“Hi, I’m here with Mimi and I’m going to present my job as a lawyer.” You said, a tender smile on your face.

All the students cheered for you, some throwing looks at ‘Mimi', the little girl you were here for. Peter couldn’t hear any of the sounds around him, completely deaf to anything that wasn’t your voice. It echoed around him, sounding so distant yet close, as if coming out of his own head. It was a familiar feeling, but it never was this vivid before, not even in his wildest dreams or memory. He had dreamt of hearing your voice again, not in his head or memories this time. It had become so recurrent that the default voice for his memories or conscience was yours, even after all these years of not seeing each other.

You started presenting yourself and what you did on the daily to the weirdly attentive children. The teacher knew Mimi probably had something to do with it, the little girl so eerily similar to you. Now that he thought about it, he had been ignoring all the tells that slammed in his face. From her family name to her personality, she was like you, in so many ways it made him dizzy. She was like a tiny copy of you, a copy that seemed to look like you and you only, no one else.

He had been staring at your face with this stunned and pained look, as if seeing you was physically painful to the man, as if the vision of you was stabbing him repeatedly. A part of him knew you weren’t the one holding the knife in this situation, he was. He’d been holding it for a decade, waiting for the moment to hurt himself further, hurting himself until he truly felt the pain. He just didn’t expect to feel the pain in question in the middle of his class, with literal children watching.

The positive element here was that the kids seemed to be very interested in your job, this was definitely due to your way of explaining it. You knew how to make a topic fun for kids, you always did. From your facial expressions to your words, all of it was fun, you were the fun one. Even back in , you had been the one to always know where and when fun things would happen.

Peter never understood how you two ended up mixing together, when your crowds seemed to be so different.

Ah… Right… He knew how. It was stupid too.

You had figured out his secret identity when he jumped into your apartment thinking to was his. You helped him fix his wounds and from then on, helped in managing life and his nightly activities.

Until the hurricane came. Hurricane Gwen Stacy.

“Mr. Parker ?”

The man’s entire body jolted at the sudden voice and slight tug of his pants. Looking down, he found little Mimi smiling up at him with a proud smile on her face. That fucking smile, even that was the same. A slight hint of mischief mixed with all the love and innocence in the world. No, not innocence, hope. The smile he recognized it from you, a smile that you always had whenever he felt like giving up on the spider part of him. You had been his little ray of hope and one of his student was carrying the mantle.

He crouched to reach her level, smiling tenderly at her despite the little knot forming in the pit of his stomach at the idea of confronting the little girl, a child you had with someone else.

Like she always did, her little hands reached for his face to hold it still, she didn’t like it much whenever she was talking and the person wasn’t looking at her. Just like you. Her pupils were dilated in excitement and he could hear her heartbeat thumping inside her little chest.

“Mr. Parker, she’s finished, you gotta meet her now ! She’s real fun, just like me !” Declared the little girl, practically dragging her teach face first towards the source of her pride.

The man chuckled, standing up and handing the little girl his hand to let himself be guided towards you. Each step he took made him feel both heavier and lighter. The feeling of seeing you again brought him to cloud nine but the anxiety of your reaction buried him under the weight of the years that separated you both.

“Titi look ! It’s him ! Mr. Parker !” Presented Mimi, jumping into your arms to be carried, which you did.

“I know love, he’s right there, I can see him.” You smiled, kissing her forehead and making funny faces at her.

“I know ! But your eyes are bad, so I was making sure !” She responded honestly, looking at you as if it was the most obvious thing ever.

You laughed to yourself and Peter tried not to laugh and collapse to the floor at the same time. More than her name, face and mannerism, she also had your sarcasm. The resemblance was undeniable now, it was too late to run away or act blind. Two versions of you were cornering him, one, adorable as a button and the other, as beautiful as and mesmerizing as an angel fallen from the sky.

Her hands extended towards him, she was taking a step to make this a little less awkward, he knew it, that was what you always did.

“Hi, I’m Mimi’s aunt, nice to meet you.” You said, in your steadiest voice.

A sudden weight lifted off of Peter’s shoulders at your words. Her aunt. Not her mother, but the her aunt. He felt such relief in that moment, he could’ve jumped in joy, but refrained from rejoicing too fast, because you were acting like you didn’t know him, and that one hurt like hell. Even more than the possibility of you having a child with someone else.

Extending his hand to hold yours, he got lost in the feeling of your warm skin, it felt good, familiar, like home. His thumb caressed your skin as subtlety as he could but the tingling sensation spreading through him at the contact made it impossible to detach himself from you. He wanted more, he wanted to hug you tight, so tight that your only solution would be to live in his skin. He was going mental, that was evident, but fuck, he had missed you, all of you.

“Mr. Parker ?”

This time, it was your voice that pulled him out of his thoughts. Your head was tilted to the side with a slight grin, the kind that said ‘I don’t mind, take your time’. She was inviting him to take his time and reminisce. Why ? Why was she allowing him this much ? She just made it more painful to let go.

“Sorry…” He muttered, pulling his arm back slowly. Your touch burnt his skin softly, leaving behind nothing but longing and nostalgia. “So, Mimi’s Aunt right ?”

“Yes.” You smiled tenderly, looking down on the little girl fussing to get down. You put her down, letting her run off to her friends. “Her parents had to go abroad for work so I’m subbing for them. The lil’ pumpkin doesn’t seem too bothered by it so we’re having a good time together. But don’t worry, they’ll be back in a few hours, you won’t have to deal with me anymore.”

The pang in his chest was back. You’d be gone soon, disappearing out into the world again and reminding him how much he missed you. The idea of loosing you again was unbearable, his entire body screaming for him to move and do something. He needed to take a step towards you, one that would either give him closure or bring you back in his life.

"You're gone so soon ? Poor Mimi, I bet she's wasn't the happiest about the news."

"She doesn't know and please don't tell her, she'll chase me with a broom. She might be small but she manages to hold it perfectly."

"Don't worry about it. I see she enjoys your company, she talks about you every day. You're like her own Spiderman."

"How ironic..." He heard you mutter under your breath.

The deep parts of him he had tried to hide for years after you were gone just couldn’t be kept hidden anymore, not when you were right there and soon you wouldn’t be. So Peter did what his mind told him, he took a step towards you.

“Can we talk ?”

The question sounded so desperate, it was as if his life depended on whatever discussion he had in mind. That desperation to discuss things, to put words over whatever you were feeling before it was too late, you knew it better than anyone. You’d gone through it first, and now it was his turn.

You could be petty, god you wanted to. You wanted to make him feel the same kind of anger and sadness knowing him had you go through. You wanted him to be as desperate as you were to talk and grab your chance before it slipped out. You wanted him to have that chance and you wanted to be the one to rip it out of his hands, leaving him with nothing. But you couldn’t .

You could’ve stood your ground and said no, getting your own personal revenge on him. But what was the point ? It wouldn’t make you feel good and it was useless. You’d been through it and managed to sort your shit out. You walked out of that cave and saw the ‘light’. Now you were fine, you didn’t need anymore revenge or closure. And if he needed it, then you didn’t mind giving it to him. Because no matter how much he hurt you, no matter how much pain he had you go through, he was still your Peter. The clumsy idiot who could save an entire building but would lose his mind if his favorite scientist looked at him.

“Yes Pete. We can talk.” Your smile was so tender, so sweet, he wanted to drop to his knees and let himself be buried by the shame he felt. You took a step towards him, entering his personal space and letting your scent drown him in. “I’ll be waiting for you after class, just let me drop Mimi off first.”

He couldn’t speak, could barely move, but found the strength to nod, his eyes tightly shut. He had never considered the impact of your absence on his mind and body. There was something about your presence that was addictive, soothing and just made everything feel like home. From your touch to your scent, you brought out the best of him, pulled him out of his shell gently and guided him through the fucked up world he had to deal with.

Without you or anything to distract him from thinking about your absence, he was back to square one. Angry, cold, distant, absent. Once the spring had passed, he was back to his winter, back to reality, the reality that he had list you without even noticing and for a while. You had disappeared out of his life and he couldn’t avoid the withdrawal by distracting himself anymore, not when his place of refuge had left with you.

What a shitty idea to share your interest with your best friend. Now he was stuck desperately trying to find comfort in the things that he had enjoyed before you but couldn’t anymore. How could he when all of these things, he had shared with you and could only link to you now ? You left and took everything that he owned and was with you.

The rest if the day felt like the longest of his life, lasting hours and hours before he could finally say goodbye to his students.

He was anxious, trembling uncontrollably and biting his lip in anticipation. The knot in his stomach just kept growing, taking up more space and making his entire body dependent on tiny bits of positive affirmations to reassure himself.

“Mr. Parker ?”

He jumped for the hundredth time today, looking down towards the little girl who had started this trainwreck of a day.

“Yes Mimi ? Do you need something ?” He asked tenderly, or at least, as much as he could.

The little girl shook her head, signaling for him to get to her level. He smiled honestly, this little truly was like you. He loved her attitude, confidence and certainty in her words all cramped up in a pocket size human.

“Are you in love for my Titi ?”

If he had anything in his mouth, he would’ve chocked on the spot, but instead he choked on air. Coughing loudly and fanning his cherry colored face, he looked at the child in false confusion.

“W-Why would you ask that pumpkin ?”

“Well, you look at her like daddy looks at mommy. And also, you look like Dorothy’s shoes, all red and shiny. Are you okay ?”

Dorothy, from the Wizard of Oz. That reference he hadn’t expected to hear it again. Not since highschool, when you used to make fun of him by calling him a Dorothy ‘s shoes colored weirdo. He had a tendency to blush at everything and she would make fun of him for it. At the time, he swore up and down that he hated it, but fuck. He needed her to call him that again, like she used to. He wanted her to make fun of him again.

He chuckled, caressing the child’s cheeks and pinching them, make her giggle and squirm in fake disapproval. She wrapped her little arms around his neck and he lifted her up, enjoying her loud squeals of happiness. He wasn't going to lie, she was his favorite student and she knew it.

"Mimi, i can't carry you everywhere you know ?" He chuckled, arranging her hair.

"Yeah you can ! My Titi does it, even at her work when she's very busy !"

"I'm not her thought and i'll make other students sad if i only carry you."

"It's okay, I'm fine with that." She smiled, making him laugh out loud. Yeah, she was exactly like you.

Catching his breath, he ran a hand through his hand before looking down at the curious little girl.

"I’m okay pumpkin, just a little warm. Now, about your aunt-“

“What about me ?”

Peter was very close to jumping out of his own skin when your voice appeared behind him. But the true surprise was your appearance. When he saw you, he suddenly felt like a highschooler again. After ten years of not knowing where you were, you still looked and dressed the same. It could be felt that morning but could be seen in that moment.

You always looked so different when you dressed fancy or professional, he was always left speechless, but nothing could beat your usual look, the one that maintained the memory of you as a teenager, kept you as you. The you that he knew the best and that knew him when he was still worth it, or so he said.

You and your little dress felt like a breeze of fresh air, blowing through his classroom with your natural glow. You were like the wind during one of these very hot summer nights, he had prayed for you to come and while in the back of his head he lost the hope of seeing you, when you eventually showed, he just couldn’t help the smile on his face.

“Titi in a dress ! Titi’s wearing a dress ! I can even see your knees Titi!” Squealed the little girl, pointing at her aunt’s exposed knees.

She twirled around her as soon as Peter let her down and jumped in joy when you did the same, showing how flowy your dress was.

Peter was lucky that you were too busy with your niece to look at him because he couldn’t handle what was going on in front of him. Maybe he was stupid or maybe he was easy, he didn’t know and quite frankly didn’t care. There was something about seeing you in a dress that just made his inside melt. But the main issue wasn’t there, he knew this dress because he had bought it for you. It was a birthday present, the last birthday you both celebrated together, like your tradition stated, before you both lost each other.

“You’re zoning out again Mr. Parker. And you’re staring too.”

He tried to pull himself together and get back to the real world, but when his eyes crossed yours, he just couldn’t focus on anything but you. He’d equate it to nostalgia and the fact that he was seeing you again for the first time in ten years, but there was more, he knew it and clearly couldn’t hide it anymore, he had for ten years plus.

“Titi, he was all red, maybe he’s sick !” Exclaimed the child holding onto the hem of your dress

“You think ? That’s not good. We can’t let your favorite teacher be sick, can we Mimi ?” You crouched down to look at her in the eyes, trying not to laugh.

“No no no ! Sick people have to get better! With sleep and tea, and lots of honey too! To make it taste all sweet !” She responded, smiling wide while trying to remember all the technics her mother had taught her to get better.

You knew Peter, and the Spider hero was still active. He wasn’t back into his normal human body meaning he still healed very fast and simply couldn’t get sick. You knew all of this because he told you himself and even allowed you to read his father’s journal explaining the changes in his body. And if everything had stayed the same in ten years, which seemed to be the case from what you saw in the news, he still couldn’t. He probably used his sick days to rest or go out.

Nonetheless, Peter couldn’t get sick, you both knew this fact. A part of you, the part you tried to bury after high school, was hopeful, dreaming that the red covering his cheeks was due to you and not some super disease who had eventually managed to get him. You wished he’d blush because he saw you in the dress he bought you and you promised to only wear when time would be right. It wasn’t a particularly fancy dress, more of a simple milkmaid dress, but it was yours because he had gifted it to you and you wanted to honor it.

The dress was important and so was his opinion of you. Maybe that was the reason why it was so easy for your heart to break because of him. His opinion was too important and you understood exactly how much when his eyes started looking at Gwen Stacy as if she was the only one in the world to ever breath.

You weren’t replaced, your existence was simply erased when she appeared in his life.

Shaking your head suddenly, you ignored all the unwanted thoughts dancing around in your head and you turned towards your niece, who luckily, was still busy counting the healing methods on her hands. Grabbing her hand, you smiled wide.

“Hey, pumpkin, I’ve got to take you home, your parents are going to be home soon and we gotta surprise them okay ?”

“Okay ! Are we making them a surprise cake ? I wanna make a surprise cake Titi !”

“I already made it baby, but we can make something else later, okay ? But we should leave, Mister Parker has to go home to get better.” You said, reminding the little girl of her teacher’s fever.

She looked to him before looking up at you and nodding in agreement. Peter stayed quiet through the whole discussion, happy to be able to witness you both together, enjoying the dynamic between you both. He tried to keep in his smile but it was difficult to do so, past high school and college fantasies surfacing all over again and flooding his mind quickly. He pushed them to the side just enough to be able to wave at the both of you as you walked away from him.

When you came back to the school later, after dropping Mimi off and dodging your sister’s questions about you wearing your ‘special dress’, you found Peter sitting by the entryway to the school, hos skateboard in hand. Some things never changed.

When he noticed you, you saw this glint in his eyes, the one he had whenever he would discover something new for his suit or whenever he’d see her. It was easy to recognize because he used to have it whenever you would appear somewhere. You wanted to slap your own thoughts, you hated every single one of them for making you feel this way. You had spent so long learning how to be happy for Peter and you were, but your heart had other plans. The moment you saw him, you started doubted yourself and whether or not you hat truly moved on. Words were easy to say when the main focus of said words was nowhere to be found.

"So... elementary teacher huh ?"

He stayed silent for a few seconds before looking down.

"You told me i was good with kids." He took a pause a'd looked up. "Lawyer ?"

"You told me I was great at arguing." You chuckled. "Mimi likes you."

He wanted to smile at the mention of the little girl but couldn't.

"Yeah, i like the little pumpkin too."

"You call her like you used to call me."

"Yup. She reminded me of you, i just never made the connection. Did you know i was her teacher ?"

You shook your head as a response.

"No... I wanted to think it was you but i thought that would be too far fetched."

Silence took over again a'd you were back to square one, him staring and you deep in your thoughts. It felt good to be seen again by him. You wished you could say you didn’t need it but a part of you was still heavily dependent on him, and that made you hate him a little bit every passing second. You were better than that, stronger too, so much stronger. But you felt this unhealthy need to be desired by him, to be craved, and you wouldn’t be okay with this kinds of emotions if he wasn’t the one responsible for them.

You were so deep in your thoughts that you hadn’t noticed him walking up to you. He was hesitant, waiting for you to push him away, which he feels would’ve been deserved. Instead, you stayed still, not welcoming him, staring into him and digging holes into his soul. It was painful, humiliating too, you weren’t hiding like he was, but you weren’t open to him either. It was a dangerous combination, the kind that made him want to drop to his knees and apologizing straight away.

When his fingers brushed your forearms, caressing your skin slowly and as tenderly as he could, his own fingertips started to feel tingly, electric. A sensation of fulfillment, like his body was being charged with something unknown. His touch, initially as delicate as a feather, pushed into your skin, desperately trying to pull out more of that electricity. His hands ran up your exposed arms and held onto you tighter. He couldn’t let you go, not when this was what you made him feel, even after ten years apart.

“Pumpkin… Look at me, please…” His voice sounded higher and more desperate than you had ever heard coming from him.

You were still half out of it but you could feel it too, the electricity. Now, while his seemed to burn through you, the one coming from you was freezing. Your entire body burning cold under his touch. Was it your body’s way of rejecting him ? Telling him that you didn’t forgive him ? That you were pissed ? That had to be the biggest joke of the day considering the fact that in order to forgive, you had to consider that you had been wronged and at no moment had you ever felt like Peter had wronged. Or did you ? You couldn’t ignore the tiny parts of your brain and heart which seemed to get along when it came to this, agreeing that you got to be as petty as you want towards him.

You wanted to pull away and he felt it, tightening his arms around your biceps and pulling you to his chest. Had he been breathing this loud this whole time ? You could hear him from so close, inhaling and exhaling louder and louder.

“Peter…”

“No. Please… No…” He knew from you slightly pleading and saddened tone, that you were going to ask him to let you go. He couldn’t.

“I came here to talk with you Peter.” You sighed, letting him pull you even closer.

“I know. Fuck…” His finger detached themselves from you, one by one. It felt slow but was quicker than what you thought.

He looked at you, pleading with his eyes, begging for an opening, explanations, anything. He wasn’t just desperate, he needed this. He was being selfish, and childish, but he couldn’t just ignore it. After a decade of refraining it all, he couldn’t wait a second longer.

You watched him drop his bag and run his hands over his face. You stayed quite while he attempted to conceal the scream he let out. He backed up, pacing in front of the door, with a distressed look on his face.

“Peter…” You tried, stopped by him suddenly turning to face you.

“Ten years. Ten fucking years without you.” He declared, looking at you with what resembled anger. “Do you know how fucking dead inside your absence made me feel ? How each day was killing me a little more ?”

You wished you could’ve said something inspiration or dramatic, like in the movies. Instead, you chuckled, turning away from him. You could feel the anger rising and this time, it wasn’t just little parts of you.

“My absence was killing you huh Peter ? But when I was there it literally felt like I wasn’t ?”

“So you just fucking leave ? You leave me behind like I don’t matter ?” He responded, his voice raising in the heat of the moment.

“So just like you did !” You screamed, your voice cutting through the air and resonating in his head.

It was the first time he’d ever truly seen you scream in anger because of him. There was something murderous in the way you were looking at him right now, like he had never made you feel anything positive, anything good. You were looking at him like an enemy and it was killing him. Because he knew, he had messed up your friendship and anything more that could’ve happened but he couldn’t help being made at you for not giving him a proper chance. If not for him or you, for the two kids who used to joke about how they’d get married after college.

You wanted things to be civil, you wanted this to be a discussion, but it was so hard to tame the younger you who had spent years screaming inside, begging for him to feel just as bad as you did. You covered your face, breathing in and out, trying to regain your composure. You could feel him get closer to you and while you wanted to push him away this time, you couldn’t . You were too tired for this. One singular scream had exhausted you, but it wasn’t enough.

“I wish I could hate you Peter for making me feel like shit for an entire decade, even when you weren’t even there.” You began, smiling sadly while he tried not to cry. “Do you know how it feels to see your best friend fall in love for someone else ? For a girl as awesome as Gwen Stacy ? I didn’t , but I learned. Because that’s how it went. And I wished that it wouldn’t change anything between us, but when you love Peter, you love with everything you have. I had to learn that I got lucky when you showed me how much I mattered to you because you loved me with every good feeling you had in you. And I couldn’t be happier knowing that Gwen got to feel this. I just wish I would’ve known that it meant you wouldn’t have anymore space for me. That’s the story Peter. That’s us.”

If the world was caving under his feet, he probably wouldn’t feel it. While you felt a weight being lifted off of your shoulders, he just felt crushed under the guilt. That was the power you had on him, the kind he tried to forget or ignore. He was a fucking moron, and had been for years. Ignoring the spider, his senses and basic logic, he could feel how much pain you felt, had to go through because of him. Whatever you felt, he could feel it, good or bad. And he had been able to for years. It was a you and him thing, freaky in the eyes of others but normal for you both.

Walking towards you, his hands slowly moved towards your face, delicately holding onto it, caressing your flexed jaw muscles and trying to unclench it for you. He couldn’t stand seeing you, his bubble of light and happiness so angry and hurt, he just couldn’t. His hands were cold suddenly and your face warm, like the sun. He could feel the humidity under his skin, he made you cry. He lifted your face to look at him and saw it. Your beautiful eyes, reddened by tears.

“No, no, no, pumpkin please… Don’t cry… Please, I’m begging you…” He pleaded, trying to keep his voice calm despite wanting to scream at the top of his lungs. “I’m sorry… Please, love… I’m sorry sweetheart… Please don’t cry, you… You can’t… You have to smile and be happy, the happiest in the world…”

You scoffed, pushing him away with a faint smile. You wiped your face and sniffed loudly before turning towards him with the same forced smile he hated.

“I don’t want your apology Peter… God, I’m happy for you. You deserve to be with someone like Gwen, she’s incredible.”

“Stop. Don’t say that. I don’t want you to be happy for me. I want you to hate me.” He sighed, looking away.

“Would that be easier for you ?” You asked, genuinely trying to make it easier for him.

“Fuck, can you stop thinking about me !? It has to be easier for you ! You matter, I don’t !” He exclaimed, trying to pull you out of this state you were in. “I want you to hate me because that’s what would be right ! I broke your heart and you wish me the best with a girl I can’t look at without remember just how impossible it is for me to love her as much as I love you !”

In that moment, you felt the air in your lungs, disappear, sucked out by his words. You wanted to believe, you and all the versions you went through before now. The past yous who tried so hard to believe that they’d be okay not hearing about him or seeing him happy with another. They were all jumping in joy, all but one, the you from now. That you had seen all the delusion and false hope and she couldn’t let herself be fooled.

“Peter…” You started, but were stopped by his eyes, warning you silently, that if you spoke a single word, he’d loose it.

He marched towards you, pulled you by the arm to have his chest against yours. He could feel your heartbeat and just how much you were shaking, not in fear but anxiety. You were waiting for the other shoe to drop.

His palm was rough on your skin, but so warm, it felt like the rays of sun that would hit as soon as you’d wake up. They burnt your eyes a little but they felt good after a little. That was Peter, burning like the Sun. You could feel how hard he was trying to give you time, to wait for you to recognize his touch and all the love that was flowing through it, but you couldn’t, not when so much time had passed.

“Don’t even fucking try and stop me from saying whatever it is that I want to say. It’s been ten years without you, and definitely more years of refrained feelings. You always told me to live a life with no regrets and I tried but that’s fucking hard when the biggest regret in my life is letting you go and every passing day is a reminder of that. Even my favorite student turned out to be a punishment for letting you go. All of you lost over temporary happiness.”

“You don’t mean that Peter.” You scoffed, taking his hands off of your face and walking away. His eyes followed your every step, desperately trying to keep up. He recused to lose sight of you again.

"Why is it so hard to believe that i needed you ?! That i couldn't go one without you ?!"

“Because when I was there, Peter, you made it clear that you couldn’t love the both of us. It was either your best friend or your girlfriend and I know you. You couldn’t make that decision and act on it without feeling like shit, so I did it for you, because that’s what a best friend does. I did what would be right for the three of us. Every second we’d spend together after you met her was about Gwen. How pretty she was, how smart she was, how brave she was. Even helping you with your Spiderman activities had become a thing for the both of us. It doesn’t take a genius to get the memo Peter.”

“And from that… From that you thought you had to leave ?”

“I didn’t just leave Peter. You made me feel like an intruder, and I love you Buddy, but I’m not going to stick myself into an uncomfortable situation just because you don’t want to lose me or whatever. Even for you, I refuse to force myself into a painful situation to make you happy, you might be worth it, but whichever part of myself I would’ve lost wouldn’t be.”

Every word you said felt a little more painful but necessary to Peter. He needed to hear this, all of it. He wished things would be different, these words would be said in any other context, but it had to happen that way. He hadn’t been the only one hurting for all this time, you’d been hurting too and for far longer. He hated the idea of bringing you pain and now that things started to clear, he knew that if he had been given the opportunity to choose, he would’ve chosen to protect you too.

“I’m sorry pumpkin… So, so, so sorry… I wish I could do or say something to make myself look better but fuck… I failed on all accounts. As your best friend and everything else. You did what I never would’ve had the balls to do and it hurts… Because I let you believe that I would’ve chosen her over you when it would always be you… Even in my wildest dreams or without me getting to choose, it’s you. And I’m sorry it took me you being gone for noticing. I’m sorry…” He declared, letting out all the shit he wished he would’ve said when he started to realize.

You walked back in front of the entry doors, sitting down and crossing your legs. The elementary teacher let out a heavy sigh before meeting you on the floor. It felt just like old times, having you both seating on the floor next to each other, doing nothing much but being there for the other. It was as silent as it used to be, adding the faint wall you had built between you both. He tried to let it be, but Peter Parker just couldn’t do that, not even ten years after.

He laid his head on your lap, nuzzling against your skin and hiding his face into the fabric of your dress. You stayed still, watching him fully lay on the pavement and turn to face your stomach. Your eyes crossed his, the man casting you a quick glance and a grin before pushing his nose into your belly. You didn’t budge, welcomed him despite the deep desire to reject him. Desire was the funniest word of that whole sentence, funny considering the fact that it was a lie.

“I didn’t want you to leave. I’d never want you gone, pumpkin. And I’ll spend the rest of this lifetime working for your forgiveness. Even if it means that you forgive a grave.”

Your hand ran through his hair and you smiled honestly, for the first time since you had joined him for this little discussion you were having. You could feel his smile again your stomach but you could also feel the guilt grow and spread.

“You’re not being fair Peter.” You exhaled, taking your hand off his face and forcing him to look at you. “Not to me, yourself or Gwen, the awesome woman who loves you with every piece of her.”

Groaning against your body, he sat up, looking into your eyes with a playful grin.

“Gwen hasn’t been in love with me for nine years pumpkin. And I haven’t for a good decade.” He declared, the small smile on his face growing when he saw your confused expression. He was a simple man, and there was something absolutely adorable about your face when you were confused. The scrunch of your nose and the frown that made it look like he had said the stupidest thing ever was a hilarious combo he missed over the years.

“What the actual fuck are you talking about Peter ?” You asked, sounding a little angrier than you wanted. You weren’t going to get your hopes up but said hopes seemed to fly without the help of a pilot.

He chuckled, smile growing even wider. His hands took hold of your wrists, pulling you to his chest, between his parted legs. It was unnecessary to the story but he wanted to hold you, and by the time you weren’t going to push him away, he wasn’t going to stop himself. He wrapped his arms around your waist after placing yours on his shoulders before explaining himself.

“Gwen left for London after we graduated high school. We tried long distance but it just reminded me that you weren’t there either. We broke up, stayed good friends. I’m her son’s god father, she’s married now. Even has her own lab and stuff.”

Your expression got even worse and when you heard him try and keep in a laugh you couldn’t stop the punch to his biceps. It hurt a little but fuck that.

“Don’t laugh, you little shit ! What are you talking about ?!” You exclaimed, glaring at him.

“It’s as simple as it sounds pumpkin.” He said cradling your cheek tenderly. If you weren’t busy connecting the dots, you’d be swooning right now. “We broke up when she forced me to confront the fact that while she wasn’t there I wasn’t missing her as much as we both hoped I would. Even before that I was missing something else though, you. Hell, I was craving you, pumpkin. I needed you so much. And I still do.”

His words sounded so distant, echoing in your head. In a few seconds, your entire personality, the one you’d built to be Peter Parker proof was shot down and destroyed completely. You tried to keep your composure and stand your ground but it was useless. Maybe it was the fact that he was touching you, or the way he was looking at you, like you were the very reason why he kept breathing. You wanted to fold, all of you wanted that. But what you wanted didn’t matter, and after a decade of building yourself into a concrete wall, you weren’t going to fold so easily.

“Fuck you Peter.” You spat, looking at him with doubt before you stood up.

You couldn’t take a single step before being pulled backwards. Checking your dress and him, you noticed the long white web coming out of his webshooters and attaching itself to you. You squealed loudly as you dropped back onto his lap and this time, were kept between his arms. He wasn’t going to let you run off again, not when you could disappear for another decade. You tried to escape him by trashing around but he was quick to grab your wrists and force you to stay still by giving you this classic look that he would rarely use but would when it was necessary. You called it “The Brooding Spider Eyes”.

“Stop fighting me and try to listen for a second.” He ordered in a low voice that sent shivers all through your body. The more you’d look into his eyes, the fuzzier you’d get inside, that was the effect Peter Parker had on you, the deadly kind. You wanted to run, it was so much easier to run from him and to hide. After all this time, you couldn’t avoid it anymore, all that growth and improvement you tried to protect it wasn’t actual improvement, just you being able to forget him because he wasn’t there to remind you.

You were still the young girl who had begged her parents not to go to her own graduation, crying, because she was terrified of seeing him. They couldn’t understand and neither could you, all you knew was that seeing him with her was killing you. They had forced you to go but drove you home straight after, before he could even reach you. Then started the Great Cleaning of your entire existence on social medias and through your friends. You blocked a big majority of your high school except a very small group, changed your passwords because he had them all, deleted your pictures together, your socials and so on.

You had erased yourself to not be forced to confront the fact that you’d been in love with your best friend.

“Why didn’t you tell me, pumpkin ?” He muttered, his eyes fixated on your lips.

You knew exactly what he was referring to and that made you want to run even more, because that meant he knew and that also meant you were risking rejection. You tried to look away but he quickly took hold of your jaw and made you face him.

“Stop trying to look away, look at me and answer. Why didn’t you confess ?”

“Why would I ?” You responded softly, defeated. “You had a girlfriend, Peter. And you talked about her as if she was the brightest star in the universe. You told me about how great she was before you even told her you liked her, that was enough for me to understand that I wouldn’t stand a chance against that kind of love. And I know you would’ve tried to figure out the best solution to accommodate everyone, which would end up with you unhappy so I took the decision on my own.”

When your explanation finished, you tried to hide within yourself, lowering your head and turning it away from his. He kept your wrists tightly held while he searched your eyes softly, he needed to look into your beautiful eyes and see for himself, see the pain you’d been hiding from him for years. He wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, he knew that, but he was your best friend, you were his too. Hell, you were his everything, he should’ve known, and either you were the greatest pretender known to man or he just didn’t pay attention to you well enough, and he refused to believe that, because all Peter ever did was pay attention to you.

Blinded by your existence and borderline desperate to feel you at all times, he needed to observe you to be happy during the day, to see you well and smiling, otherwise he’d ruin whatever stood in your way, and that’s was what he thought was normal. Yeah, he clearly wasn’t the smartest and it took him years, but he knew as soon as you were gone that you weren’t just his best friend.

He closed his eyes and slid a hand behind your neck, delicately holding you still. The other reached up to your cheek, cradling it tenderly while his nose rubbed against yours. Never in his life had he wanted to see into your eyes more. The air in his lungs was gone, replaced by this unhealthy need to have you look at him. The years of ignorance started to pile up and he just couldn’t help the feeling in his chest. The kind of feeling that screamed to be explored, let out and exposed to the world.

“Pumpkin, please…” He pleaded, kissing your cheek softly.

You were moving out of his way but your body needed him to kiss you more, you wanted him to love you like this, just a little more.

“Stop…” You muttered, feeling his breath on your neck.

“I can’t… Don’t ask me to stop, please…” He said, rubbing his nose against your jaw.

There was something so intimate about the way his was searching for you, desperately waiting to be allowed in your space again, not just o’ the outside but on the inside. After ten years, you still brought him down on his knees, acting like a touch starved infant.

When you lifted your head, trying to save your own pride and avoid his lips, he did the same, forcing you both to face the other. He let out an exasperated breath, his eyes closed and his expression showing the inside pain he tried to hide. Both your forehead held against the other, you closed your eyes softly, turning away from him but keeping your faces close. When he thought you’d run again, he felt your hand on his cheek and suddenly could breath again. When you kissed his cheek, like you used too when you both very clearly needed this kids of intimacy, he smiled. The honest, goofy smile he was rarely showing these days.

“I’m sorry…” You whispered, finally giving in to whatever was pulling you to him so hard.

You kissed his cheek again, slowly going down to his jaw and his neck. Maybe you shouldn’t go so far after pushing him away so much, but Peter wasn’t the only one craving the other. You needed him just as badly. And he most likely wasn’t going to push you away, not when the feeling of your plump lips on his skin just made his heart stop a little more each time you’d kiss him.

When your hand ended up in his hair, playing with the brown locks, he knew he would do anything you told him. He was yours to play with right now, just like he was back then. He couldn’t stop himself from needing more but he’d start by taking everything you gave him like the greedy bastard he was.

“I’m sorry Spidey…” You repeated, kissing his chin.

There was absolutely nothing platonic about that, and maybe if you weren’t so fucking stupid you would’ve noticed earlier since you’d been doing this kinds of stuff for years. Everything was familiar and it still took you a decade to notice the very obvious situation you were both in. You truly were a match made in heaven.

His hands dropped down, freeing your wrists and instead, taking hold of your waist. Even that, he couldn’t do for long, too weak in the knees to hold you as strongly as he wished. There had to be some kind of magic in the way you touched him because his entire body suddenly felt like cotton candy.

You held his face and pulled away, ignoring the displeased growl coming out of him. You looked at his face, admiring it and swallowing back tears. You needed that man more than you needed air and you couldn’t ignore that fact any longer. You hated it, hated love and being so desperate and dependent on him but you couldn’t help it, clearly you had no control over anything anymore. You were working on autopilot.

“Kiss me again, please…” He asked, his voice so soft and polite, you swooned internally.

“I think we should talk instead…” You smiled, tenderly.

His eyes opened wide, a frown draw on his face. He looked funny and you knew that’s exactly what he was aiming at with the fake offended look. When he smacked his hand on his chest dramatically, you couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

“Oh ! So, now you want to talk ? After I practically had to bed you to just look at me ? Okay, princess. Let’s do it your way then, fuck me and what I want right ?” He sassed, looking around dramatically.

When your laugh resonated louder, he felt peace all over again. Nothing could calm him better than your smile so the power of your laugh was godly. He grinned when you tried to catch your breath, but instead practically fell to the floor. Thanks to the quick reflexes, he caught you by the front of your dress and pulled you to his chest.

“I’m sorry ! I just… I just couldn’t… Handle talking to you ? I don’t know… We haven’t in so long and suddenly everything was going to go back to normal… I couldn’t handle that… What if we talked and you realized how awful I was and am still now ?”

“Awful ? Pumpkin, don’t worry about being awful. I just pulled every toxic trick in the book to get you to look at me. And I couldn’t most likely do ten times worse if it means having you talk to me. You made me a desperate man, sweetheart.” He nodded with a playful smile.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and grinned. This felt right, peaceful, like it used to. But there was still a little bit of things that needed to be discussed first.

“Peter, You’re aware that I’m in love with you right ? Like, romantically ?” You asked, hesitant and slightly anxious about the question all together.

“Yeah I’m aware.” He responded tilting his head to the side. “Thank God, you are. Otherwise our relationship would be very awkward, pumpkin.” He smirked.

You smiled but froze when you heard his words.

“Relationship ? Like you and me ? Dating ? Like a couple ? Like people in love who hold hands and kiss and go on dates ? Like, actually dating ?”

The whole babbling was adorable and he wanted to stay looking at you in silence while you just kept talking but he needed to clear things up first. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you closer to him with a smile that said just enough. The kind you’d give to someone you loved more than a friend and definitely more than a person you liked.

“Pumpkin, listen to me and listen to me well.” Taking your face in his large hands, he kissed your forehead tenderly. “You’re my girlfriend and you’ll become more soon enough too. I’m not letting you run away from me again. Yes, this is a romantic kidnapping. Yes I intend on marrying you one day, if you’re not tired of me by that time. But yeah, we’re together in all senses of the term. In an actual romantic relationship.” Each word was separated by soft kisses all over your face, from your forehead to your cheek. He made sure to make you plead for more by kissing the corner of your mouth and your neck. Peter knew how to make you weak too.

“You’re okay with being my boyfriend, Pete ? I have a tendency to run, and I’m pretty fast.”

“I’m faster than you.” He responded quickly.

“I have issues with choosing myself too, I tend to put others first.”

“Great, I get to put you first instead. But we’re going to work on that whole people pleasing thing you’ve got going on.”

“I’ve got a niece who bites and protects me like I’m made of gold too.” You added, remembering events between your exes and your little niece.

“Oh really ? You’re pulling the niece card ?” He asked playfully. When you nodded with a large smile, he kissed your neck. “Good luck with that sweetheart because your niece loves me. She gives me a piece of the deserts you bake her every time she has some. Practically sure she chose me to be yours. Can that be considered a form of conditioning ? I don’t know, but I don’t mind.” It was his turn to babble, but it was more than fine, you loved it and so did he, seeing the laugh coming out of you was worth all of it.

You both stayed there for a little more, him watching you while he told the dumbest jokes ever and you laughing until your stomach started to hurt. You were back to who you had left behind years ago, who you could only be with the other. You were finally feeling the weight of lying to yourself for years. It felt right. You wanted to slap yourself for taking so many years to understand that lying wouldn’t make you feel any better, but it was a necessary period in a way. No mistakes, only fun experiences or lessons to learn from.

You were catching your breath when his thumb pulled on your lower lip, staring at your mouth with the kind of hunger he never felt for anyone else. You held his wrist in both hands while he kept playing with your lip. You knew what he was looking for and what you were waiting for too, the real question was, who was going to take the first step.

The answer was easy, you were. Leaning forward, you pecked his lips and retreated back to see him lose it right in front of your eyes. You expected a reaction but not to be pinned to the floor and be kissed with the kind of might that Thor himself would be surprised by.

Was he touch starved ? Not really, or maybe yes. But your touch was what he wanted. Gone was the soft moments from earlier, he was trying to show you exactly what your absence had done to him. One his hands grabbed your neck and pulled you to him with force, the other placed on the small of your back and pushing you forward, making your arch your back. He was holding your nape tightly and pushed his face towards yours, lips puckering before covering yours passionately. His fingers lowered, rubbing your thick thighs while his arm wrapped around your body.

He was working his lips with ease on yours, making your insides melt into a puddle at each move of his. His tongue was pushed deep in your mouth, making you moan, and you knew you weren’t going to last longur kissing like this. Not with the obscene tingle buzzing between your legs. He smiled into the kiss, knowing exactly what you were feeling. You couldn’t hide from him and his heightened senses. He licked the inside of your cheek, feeling his ego grow when you whimpered, pleading as if you were pushing yourself against him.

When he pulled away, the messy kiss left you numb and still on the floor. You were trying your best to catch your breath and settle your mind all at once. He stayed silent, watching you while rubbing his thumb over your flesh. When you felt calm enough, your eyes noticed the sign o’ top of your head that held the name of your niece’s school. Right. You were literally on the floor.

“Your brain’s still working pumpkin ?” He asked playfully.

You looked towards him in confusion.

“Why are we on the floor Parker ? And were you going to fuck me in front of my niece’s school ? In the street ?”

“Well, not at first. But now that you mention it, that could be a great idea, don’t you think ?”

The punch that followed was deserved, and he had supersenses to dodge so no excuse. You sat up while he was laughing and fixed your dress before getting up. He soon followed and looked at you up and down.

“That dress is made for you. You look beautiful.” He said, his eyes showing the kind of love and sweetness that could make you drop to your knees. You were weak to compliments but his were just different, they came from the man you loved and unfortunately you couldn’t resist those.

You looked away, hiding your smile when the man you now called your boyfriend lifted you up in his arms. You held onto him, tightly holding his neck while he laughed like he had just done the funniest thing ever.

“We’re taking a shortcut back to my place. I have a lot of things to talk about with you.”

No talking was done. Absolutely none. Maybe you should’ve seen it coming but you liked being delusional, it made life a constant surprise. Now, to say you were surprised by how the events had turned, would be lying again. You expected some kind of intimacy with Peter, but never that strong. You both ended up being swept away by the wave of desire you felt and were letting yourself drown, it was fine, you were drowning together.

There was something divine about the vision in front of him and the sensations born from said vision. If he could paint, or turn his memories into pictures, he would’ve made you the biggest one, kept hidden from the public for his eyes only. He was simple, to the point of being slightly stupid maybe, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted to worship the very ground you walked on after tonight and even more now that you were gracing him with more pleasure, the kind that even his wildest dreams couldn’t provide.

“P-Pumpkin… Please b-baby… Please…”

He was sobbing softly, crying tears of pleasure under your mischievous smile. He was close and he needed his release but he didn’t want it to come just yet, he didn’t want it to stop, not so soon. He couldn’t hold on longer but he needed more, always needed more of you. Again, greedy, he wouldn’t deny it, but could you blame him ? You had rocked his world and left him to fend for himself for over a decade.

Maybe it was his senses, maybe it was the years of intrusive sexual thoughts or wet dreams that were just all working against him in that moment. All of these were good hypotheses for his current state but he was too fucked out and dumb to think about them clearly. His brain wasn’t processing much right now but one thing that was for sure is that he had his cock nestled deep inside you, so deep that he could see how pretty his thick shaft looked through your belly,

Inhuman quantities of cum were dripping out of your pussy in the most obscene ways, pouring down your inner thighs and other places on your body , and he was certain that he was going to shoot out more in the next seconds if you kept on torturing him like that with your pretty lips, all swollen from him fucking your thoughts and tasting his own cum in your mouth. Another thing he knew was that all that cum, he’d pound it back into you as soon as his brain would gain back a little bit of that power he had earlier, before you turned him into a literal puppet, ready to obey your every command.

He was squirming and crying more by the second, needy for just a little bit of peace but also begging for you to use him more. He was absolutely fucked, that was another certainty with you around. Less than a day back into his life and he was already going crazy, the rest of eternity would be fun for you both.

You could’ve been a little nicer and actually moved on top of him but it was your turn to have him dumb and begging for you.

“Come on, Pete… I-Ah… I know… Y-You can give me a little m-more of you… Please b-baby, I just need it… G-Give me all of it… Please…” The sound of your moans so close to his ear made him lose himself a little more.

You started off slowly, using your knees to raise yourself on his cock until it slipped out. You saw how hard it was, covered in both your cum and leaking thick droplets of more. He was full, so full, he could explode. Never had he been this aroused but that was until you. His entire body was releasing years of attempts to calm himself down with his hands in one night and he wasn’t strong enough to take it. Lucky him you didn’t seem to give a fuck about that, enjoying the whimpering mess you’d turned him into.

The restraint he wanted to say he had was slowly disappearing, with his capacity to think straight. You kissed his earlobe and bit his jaw, making him shiver and cry a little more. His own body was betraying him, searching for that friction, the utmost level of contact with you. He tried to stay still and silent but couldn’t and started moving

Rubbing your folds on his tip, you saw his eyes roll to the back of his head, oh how the table have turned. His hands were tightly wrapped around your waist but started sliding down to your ass, ready to grip on you and slam you down on his cock. He wanted that, god he wanted so many things right now. But all of it was about you.

Poor man felt like a teenager going through puberty all over again. His face was as red and a cheery and the more you teased, the worst it got. His skin was burning so much, you couldn't last long while touching it. That was what an overstimulated Peter felt like. His hips kept bucking up, trying to push at least a few inches of him inside you. Fuck, he needed to feel your warm walls or else he'd go crazy.

“B-Baby… Baby Fuck… Please, I’m sorry… Please… P-Please, please, please… Lemme fuck you Pumpkin… Please ? Lemme feel that dripping pussy all around me… Fuck, please baby, let me inside…” He sobbed, unable to stop squirming while he could feel your entrance clench on his tip.

You looked down at yourself then at him. He was still whimpering and squirming, his entire body shaking as he pleaded with his eyes for you.

You smirked before fully sitting down on his cock, letting it take all the space inside you, filling you up exactly like it should. Looking down, you could see his tip poking through again and so could he, he was definitely looking.

“P-Peter ! Fuck, P-Peter ! Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck ! F-Feels… Feels so good !”

When you started bouncing on him again, fully jumping on his fat cock and letting the large throbbing girth invade you like nothing ever had before, he lost himself under you. He watched with admiration how your tits, still covered in cum from earlier, were bouncing up and down too. Fuck, his balls felt more full just from that image alone.

Tight and aching to be emptied, he could stop himself from getting more aroused. You leaned back, giving him full view of your pussy wrapped around him, sinking down on his entire length and taking every inch. Your dripping cunt was truly made for him, swallowing his dick down to the very last millimeter and moaning out for more like a bitch in heat.

His hands grabbed onto your waist, holding it tightly before he started to slam you down on his dick himself. As established before, he was a mess, but one thing he was good at was pleasuring you. No matter what, he’d always find a way to make you feel good. That night alone had been a sufficient proof of that.

At first he had been worried that using too much strength on you would hurt you, but when he noticed how much you loved being tossed around, he could hold back any longer, and he didn’t try to. He used the abilities given by the spider bite with care and if you wanted, he’d use them on you too. Today was the strength and tomorrow it could be the webs, who knew ?

“Y-You cockdrunk minx… Y-You like that huh ? Like it as much as I do…… That pussy’s killing me Pumpkin… Fuck, fuck, fuck… Please baby, tell me you like that… Like it when I fuck you stupid…” He begged, his lower parts guiding his thoughts and controlling his words.

“Y-Yes ! God yes ! Peter please ! M-More cock ! Please, gimme more ! Please !” You cried loudly, so loudly that your voice could probably be heard by the entire building. They probably weren’t used to the nice teacher neighbor bringing in this kind of company.

Slamming your poor weakened body on his cock with the strength of a bull in heat, he fed on the sounds resonating around the room. Your moans and cries of pleasure topped with loud sounds of your thighs slapping against his were the biggest ego boost ever. What truly did the work though was the sound of his sack slapping hard against your folds. Soft and swollen in contrast with the hard flesh of his balls. He was close, way too close.

Your entire body went numb, the thick load of cum you’d been begging for, invading every crevice of your pussy and oozing out of your already filled inside. Your little whimpers were the only thing that could be heard, with his own sounds. He’d never felt this defenseless before, weak to his instinct and clearly enjoying it.

Soon, he started moving his hips up and down, reaching for his end. His actions were so aggressive you couldn't even meet his thrusts or move freely, he was in control all while looking like he wanted to drown in your pussy. He was so red, just looking at his flushed cheeks and crossed eyes while he plowed into you made you even wetter. That reaction, you knew he loved it even more when his thick mushroom shaped tip pushed into your weak spot even harder.

He couldn’t avoid it anymore and you wanted it so badly, he could only oblige. He kept pounding into your spot, the throbbing head of his girth vibrating impatiently, he bit on his lip, his eyes crossed and his hands holding onto you for dear life. It wasn’t long before he came but he wouldn’t be the only one, never.

“F-Fuck… Ah, P-Pumpkin My sweet… Fuck, sweet princess… Taking… T-Taking everything from me… All that cum, all of it… All f-for you baby… All of me… Take it, take all of it…” He muttered, incapable to think of coherent sentences.

You were both trembling on the other, Peter still cumming inside you and you close to your end. He was dramatic and had he been able too, he would’ve most likely scolded himself for cumming first. But now wasn’t the time, instead, he pulled your warm body down, your breasts in his face just like he loved, and got to work.

He sucked one of your tits in his mouth while rubbing his thumb over the nipple of the other. His free hand was playing with your lower parts, rubbing on your clit while two of his fingers slid inside you. You arched your back, pushing your breasts in his face while he toyed with you. He loved that, finding put new ways of ruining you, even when you were already a mess. He’d play until you stopped him or until you passed out on top of him. A little sick, but that was Peter and you loved him exactly like that.

His fingers pushed around inside your filled cunt, pulling out to be covered in his cum. There was something about the image that filled him with pride. Maybe the way you accepted to be filled that way by him.

Letting go of your tits with both his mouth and hand, he laid it on your back, caressing you tenderly. His face went up to your neck, inhaling your scent and his mixed together perfectly. He kissed your jaw, cheek, neck and basically everything he could reach. His tongue licked small parcels of skin after each kiss, taking your taste with him. He was being tender and soft while his fingers kept rubbing on your clit. You didn’t last long before letting your sweet juices coat his large member and drip all over him. The sounds of your cries of pleasure in his ears were like music, the music he had dreamt of for years and finally he could hear it live.

You both stayed connected together, the poor man couldn’t handle the idea of pulling out and neither could you. Each breath you took ended up with him jumping out of nowhere. He would apologize but you could hear the laugh in his voice. He enjoyed this.

You stayed on top of him, your face, buried in his messy hair and his scent filling your senses. His face was in the crook of your neck, dropping butterfly kisses on your skin and biting when he felt especially playful. His hands stayed on your back, caressing you tenderly while his hips rolled under you. Yeah, he never said he’d stop moving, and in his defense, you were moving too.

“Hey, Pete. Do you think we would’ve ended up meeting each other again ? Even if you weren’t my niece’s teacher ?” You asked softly, kissing the crown of his head and siting up straight.

He smiled under you, his warm palm cradling your cheek and wiping remnants of your tears from earlier. He looked at you and you felt like you were the center of the universe. Because you were, the center of the universe and mostly of his universe. He was in love with you, and so were you. But no words could ever truly express how much he loved you, none.

“Listen to me.” He started, sitting straight to face you and stare into your eyes. “In every lifetime, planet, dimension, universe, whatever you want. In every single one of these, you and I, we find each other again. No matter what we do or who we are. Because you’re my soulmate, pumpkin. You’re everything to me, my everything. And I’ll let myself get swallowed by a black hole before I let anything change that. So yes, I don’t just think, I know we would’ve found each other again. We always do and we always will.”

There was some parts of truth in Peter's words and you both felt it, from the moment you met to the present. There was no way of explaining it or why but you knew you were soulmates. From the bottom pf your hearts you both knew it, because beyond words and actions, you were tied to the other. It was impossible to separate you both and doing so would never last, because you always found your way back to the other. Maybe it was fate or some kind of guardian angel, but you both knew it to be true.

You were soulmates and you had found you way back to the other again. With the help of your niece that you would both shower in bakeries. Maybe she was the guardian angel, who knew.

2K notes · View notes