#mcu peter parker x reader

[amethystarachnid]

hey, could i request the secret admirer trope with mcu peter parker from love is in the air? it would be great if the reader was a female avenger (in a world where no one dies and everyone lives together). i just know that peter would be soo cute as a secret admirer; so could you write into the story him being super paranoid when leaving gifts and little notes at y/n’s door and always being the sweetest? oh and also thinking he’s super slick and all that but y/n actually knows it’s him leaving the gifts and stuff (she checked the security camera footage after the second one) but peter absolutely CANNOT take a hint so she decides to mess with him a little and convinces another avenger (maybe sam?) to act like her boyfriend to make peter jealous because she thinks it’s a little funny (:() but he only gets sad and barely leaves his room and no one knows why (except y/n) so she comes clean after the second day (i seem to have an obsession with the number 2) and kisses him after she comes to see him while he’s moping in his room. i should stop rambling i really hope this isn’t too long and im excited to read what you write! thanks!

(NOT SO) SECRET ADMIRER

⤷ PETER PARKER

ᯓ★ Pairing: Peter Parker x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, some angst and some fluff

ᯓ★ Requests status: open (only by asks)

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 6.1k

ᯓ★ Summary: what the ask said and !! important!! both Peter and reader here are twenty-something

ᯓ★ TW(s): nothing i think

ᯓ★ I'm backkk! and I hope to have more free time to write for you guys! <3 also I'm working on a Bucky Barnes x fem!demigod!OC (demigod because yes I said so) so let me know if you would be interested <3

ᯓ★ Love is in the air - Valentine's Day special game

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

Moving into the Avengers Compound is overwhelming in ways you don’t expect. The high-tech security, the endless hallways, the casual presence of literal superheroes—it’s a lot to take in. You’re used to SHIELD facilities, where everything is sleek and professional, where people nod in acknowledgment but don’t stop to chat. The compound is different. It’s still high-tech, still crawling with some of the most skilled fighters on the planet, but it feels… warmer. Like a home, rather than a base.

It helps that the team is welcoming. Sam and Bucky tease you like an annoying pair of older brothers. Wanda is quick to pull you into conversations, treating you like you’ve always been part of the team. Even Tony, in his own sarcastic way, seems to have accepted you.

Then there’s Peter Parker.

Peter is unlike anyone you’ve worked with before. He’s clumsy but quick, brilliant but self-deprecating, always talking like his thoughts are moving faster than his mouth. He’s a dork, really, but in an endearing way. He’s also ridiculously powerful—not that he acts like it. If you hadn’t seen him in action, you’d never guess the guy who constantly fumbles with his web-shooters is the same Spider-Man who’s taken down entire teams of bad guys on his own.

You notice, almost immediately, that he’s nervous around you. The stammering, the way his face flushes whenever you look at him too long, the way he trips over his own feet when you’re in the same room—it’s impossible to miss. It’s cute.

And then, the gifts start showing up.

The first one appears a week after you move in. You find it on your way back to your room late at night—a slightly crumpled bouquet of daisies, placed neatly in front of your door with a small note.

Welcome to the team! Hope you like these. :)

No name. Just a simple message and a cute little smiley face.

You smile, crouching down to pick up the flowers. They aren’t professionally arranged—some of the stems are uneven, and a few petals look a little worse for wear—but there’s something undeniably sweet about them. Someone went out of their way to welcome you, and you have a pretty good guess who.

Still, you don’t say anything. You don’t want to assume. Maybe it’s Wanda. Maybe it’s Sam messing with you.

Then, three days later, another gift appears. A small bag of your favorite candy, along with another note.

Saw you training today. You’re incredible. Hope this makes your night better!

Again, no name. But the handwriting is the same.

That’s when your curiosity gets the better of you.

You’re trained to notice patterns, to pick up on the details most people overlook. And you’re trained to investigate. So, you do what any ex-SHIELD agent would—you check the security footage.

It doesn’t take long to find what you’re looking for. You scroll back to the timestamp from the night before, eyes scanning the grainy hallway footage. Then, right on schedule, someone drops into view.

Peter Parker.

You watch as he crouches in front of your door, carefully placing the candy down like it might explode. His movements are quick but nervous—he keeps glancing up and down the hallway like he expects someone to catch him. Then he pulls out the note, smooths it down three times, mutters something under his breath, and web-slings to the ceiling.

You replay the footage, laughing to yourself.

Of course, it’s Peter.

The pieces click together so perfectly you can’t believe you didn’t realize it earlier. The awkwardness, the way he lights up when you talk to him, the way he looks at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention. He has a crush on you.

And now, you know.

But you don’t tell him. Because, honestly? It’s adorable. And if Peter wants to keep thinking he’s being sneaky, you’re more than happy to let him.

Since then, the gifts keep coming.

Every few days, something new appears at your door. Sometimes, it’s snacks after a long mission. Other times, little trinkets—stickers, keychains, a tiny plush cat because you mentioned once that you like them. And always, always a note.

You start having fun with it.

You drop hints, teasing him just enough to see if he reacts. You compliment his intelligence, lean in close when you’re standing next to him, smile a little longer than necessary. You even start leaving notes of your own—nothing direct, just little things you know will fluster him.

Nice work in training today, Peter. Maybe next time, you’ll actually land a hit on me. ;)

He reads it while you’re in the same room, and his face turns so red you think he might combust.

It’s perfect.

But somehow, despite all your efforts, he remains completely oblivious.

Tonight, you’re determined to push him just a little further.

It’s late, and most of the team has already gone to bed. You’re in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, sipping tea when Peter walks in. His hair is messy like he’s been running his hands through it, and he’s wearing a hoodie that’s at least two sizes too big.

“Oh,” he says, stopping in his tracks. “Hey!”

You smile. “Hey, Peter.”

He shifts awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Didn’t think anyone else was up.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” you say. “What about you?”

“Uh, same,” he says, though you suspect he was probably sneaking around to drop off another gift.

You decide to test him. “I found something outside my door again.”

Peter stiffens. “Oh?”

You tilt your head. “Yeah. It’s kind of weird, though. It’s like… I keep getting these little gifts. And notes. No idea who they’re from.”

He swallows hard. “That’s—uh—crazy.”

You nod. “Right? I mean, it’s sweet. Really sweet. But I wonder who’s doing it.”

He lets out a nervous laugh. “Yeah, um, no clue. Could be anyone.”

You step closer, just enough to make him notice. “You think so?”

His eyes dart to your face, then away again. “Y-yeah! I mean, maybe it’s, like, a team thing? Or—uh—someone trying to make you feel welcome?”

You hum, pretending to consider it. “Maybe. But it’s funny… they always seem to know exactly what I like.”

Peter practically short-circuits. “That’s—uh—wild.”

You bite back a grin. He’s so obvious it hurts.

“Well,” you say, leaning against the counter beside him, “whoever it is, I kind of wish they’d just talk to me.”

Peter blinks. “Oh?”

You nod, watching him carefully. “Yeah. I mean, sneaking around is cute and all, but I’d really like to get to know them.”

For a second, you think maybe—maybe—he’ll take the hint. But then, he just lets out a choked laugh and says, “Yeah! Totally! That would be—uh—cool!”

You sigh internally.

Peter Parker is the worst secret admirer in the world.

But he’s also the sweetest.

So, you’ll wait. You’ll keep playing along, keep flirting, keep dropping hints. And maybe—eventually—he’ll realize you like him too.

Peter Parker is a genius.

He built his web-shooters from scraps, made it through MIT’s entrance exams before graduating high school, and helps Tony Stark with tech that makes most people’s heads spin.

And yet, for all his intelligence, he’s completely, hopelessly, unbelievably clueless.

You keep flirting with him, testing the waters, pushing the line between teasing and something a little more. Sometimes, it’s subtle—a hand on his arm when you laugh, leaning a little too close when you talk. Other times, it’s… less subtle.

Like the time you stretch in the training room, arching your back just enough to make him flustered, only to watch in delight as Peter—mid push-up—faceplants directly onto the mat. Or the time you “accidentally” call him handsome in front of the team, and he spends the next five minutes sputtering like a broken car engine while everyone watches in confusion.

At this point, it’s a personal challenge.

You want to see how far you can push him before he finally realizes you’re into him. And if he doesn’t? Well. You’re having way too much fun watching him suffer.

The best part is that no one else seems to notice. Everyone assumes Peter is just awkward (which, to be fair, he is), and you’re just being friendly (which, to be fair, you are—just with extra flirting).

At least, that’s what you think.

Until Sam Wilson calls you out.

It happens in the common room. You’re lounging on the couch after a morning mission, scrolling through your phone, when Sam plops down beside you with a knowing smirk.

“So,” he says casually, “you gonna tell me why you’ve been messing with Parker?”

You blink. “Excuse me?”

“Come on,” Sam drawls. “You’ve been flirting with that boy so hard I’m surprised he hasn’t passed out yet.”

You fight back a laugh. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Sam raises an eyebrow. “Oh, really? Then explain why he turns redder than Wanda’s magic every time you walk into the room.”

You shrug. “Maybe he’s just allergic to me.”

Sam snorts. “Nah, he’s just allergic to rizz.”

You burst out laughing. “Oh my god, Sam.”

“Hey, I’m just saying.” He leans back, crossing his arms. “Kid’s got it bad for you, and you know it.”

You sigh dramatically. “Yeah. But he has no idea I know.”

Sam squints at you. “Wait. He doesn’t know you know?”

“Nope.”

“…And he doesn’t know that you know that he doesn’t know you know?”

You blink. “What?”

“Never mind.” Sam shakes his head. “So, what’s the deal? You just enjoying the slow burn? Or are you waiting for him to finally grow a pair and ask you out?”

You grin. “A little of both.”

Sam lets out a low whistle. “Damn. That’s evil.”

“Not evil,” you correct. “Just… patient.”

Sam gives you a look. “Right. And I’m Captain America.”

You smirk. “You wish.”

He grins, then tilts his head, clearly considering something. “You want me to help?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Help how?”

Sam stretches his arms behind his head. “I could drop some hints. Get in his head a little.”

You hum, pretending to think about it. “Tempting.”

“Oh, come on,” Sam nudges you. “You know you want to see him suffer.”

That makes you laugh. “Fine. But don’t be too mean.”

“No promises,” Sam says, already grinning like he’s planning something dangerous.

You don’t know exactly what he’s going to do, but you do know one thing—Peter Parker doesn’t stand a chance.

It starts at breakfast.

Peter is sitting at the table, eating a massive bowl of cereal, when Sam slides into the seat across from him.

“What’s up, Parker?”

Peter blinks, mouth full. “Mmf?”

Sam smirks. “You know, I’ve been noticing something lately.”

Peter swallows, already looking nervous. “Noticing what?”

Sam leans forward. “You and Y/N.”

Peter chokes on his cereal.

“I—what?” he sputters, coughing.

“You and Y/N,” Sam repeats, smirking. “Something going on there?”

Peter turns so red you’re afraid he might actually explode. “N-no! I mean—uh—why? Did she say something?”

Sam pretends to think. “Hmm. Can’t say. But, you know, she does talk about you a lot.”

Peter’s eyes widen. “She does?”

“Oh yeah,” Sam says. “Like, the other day, she was saying how much she loves a guy who’s smart. Thought that was interesting.”

Peter makes a strangled sound. “She—she did?”

Sam nods. “And then she said something about how she likes guys who are good with their hands.”

Peter immediately drops his spoon. “WHAT?”

Sam shrugs. “I dunno, man. Just something to think about.”

Peter looks like he’s about to faint.

You, watching from across the room, nearly lose it.

For the next week, Sam continues his psychological warfare.

One morning, while you’re stretching before training, Sam casually mentions, “Hey, Parker, did you know Y/N thinks your arms are nice?”

Peter nearly drops the dumbbell he’s holding.

Then, during a mission briefing, Sam leans over and says, “You know, Y/N was just telling me how much she loves guys who can fight.”

Peter immediately starts sweating.

But the final straw comes during movie night. The team is gathered in the common room, popcorn bowls scattered across the couches, when Sam—loudly, for the whole room to hear—says, “Hey, Parker, Y/N said she likes guys who can take charge. What do you think that means?”

Peter, in the middle of drinking his soda, chokes so violently that Tony has to pat him on the back.

You’re dying.

Sam is clearly having the time of his life. Every time Peter panics, he shoots you a smug look, and you have to fight to keep a straight face.

Peter, meanwhile, is suffering.

And the best part? He still doesn’t get it.

Still doesn’t realize you’re into him.

At this point, you’re genuinely starting to think he might never figure it out.

But you’re patient.

So, you wait. You flirt. You tease. And you watch as Peter Parker, one of the smartest people you know, continues to be the most oblivious person on the planet.

At first, Peter’s obliviousness is adorable. It’s fun watching him squirm, fun seeing him turn bright red whenever you so much as look at him a little too long. But now? Now it’s getting annoying.

You’ve been dropping hints for weeks. You’ve been touching his arm, leaning in close, giving him every possible signal short of straight-up kissing him. And what does he do? He stammers. He trips over his own feet. He gets so flustered that he either short-circuits completely or runs away like a scared puppy.

It’s maddening.

You’re starting to wonder if you’re doing something wrong. Maybe you’re not being obvious enough. Maybe Peter just doesn’t think you could actually like him. Which is ridiculous, because if anyone in this compound paid half as much attention to him as you did, they’d see exactly why you liked him. He’s smart, he’s kind, he’s funny, and he’s got this dorky charm that somehow makes your heart race in ways it absolutely shouldn’t.

But none of that matters if he doesn’t get the damn hint.

So, you decide to kick things up a notch.

You start small. The next time you see Peter in the gym, you make sure to stretch right in front of him. It’s a bold move, but you’re desperate. You slowly lift your arms above your head, arching your back just enough to be noticeable. Then, when you bend down to touch your toes, you peek up to see if he’s watching.

He is.

And then he immediately panics and turns away so fast he nearly walks into the weight rack.

You barely hold back an eye roll.

Fine. If that didn’t work, maybe something else will.

Later that day, you find him in the lab, tinkering with his web-shooters. You walk in, pretending like you don’t have an agenda, and lean against the table. He looks up, startled, then immediately averts his gaze.

“Oh, hey, Y/N,” he says, voice slightly higher than usual. “What’s up?”

You tilt your head, resting a hand under your chin. “Nothing much. Just needed a distraction.”

Peter nods, focusing way too hard on his web-fluid cartridge. “Yeah? Um. Cool. What—uh—what kind of distraction?”

You smirk. “Oh, you know. Something fun.”

Peter’s hand slips, and a small burst of web-fluid sprays onto the table. He stares at it like it personally betrayed him.

You grin, stepping closer, casually placing a hand on his shoulder. “You’re so tense, Peter. You ever think about taking a break?”

He lets out the fakest laugh you’ve ever heard. “Me? Oh, no, I’m—I’m good! Totally fine! Not tense at all!”

You squeeze his shoulder lightly. “Really? Because you feel tense.”

Peter swallows so hard you can see his Adam’s apple bob. “I—uh—”

You drag your fingers down his arm slowly. “Maybe you just need someone to help you relax.”

Peter makes a noise that is definitely not human and abruptly stands up so fast his chair nearly topples over. “I-I should really finish this!” he blurts out. “So much work to do! Web-fluid doesn’t improve itself! Haha!”

You blink as he practically throws himself back into his project, acting like you didn’t just borderline seduce him in the middle of the lab.

It’s unbelievable.

How is it possible for someone to be this dense?

You sigh, finally stepping back. “Alright, Parker. Have fun with your webs.”

“Y-you too!” he stammers. Then, realizing that makes no sense, he adds, “I mean—uh—have fun with whatever you’re doing! Yep!”

You walk out, shaking your head.

This is getting ridiculous.

That night, you call for reinforcements.

Sam lounges on your bed, arms crossed behind his head, looking entirely too smug. “So. Parker still being an idiot?”

You flop onto the bed beside him. “He’s impossible.”

Sam chuckles. “Told you.”

“I don’t get it,” you groan. “I’ve been all over him. I’ve flirted, I’ve touched him, I’ve literally told him I think he’s cute, and he still doesn’t get it.”

Sam snorts. “Man, that boy is a lost cause.”

“There has to be a way to make him realize,” you say, frustrated.

Sam hums, thinking. Then he smirks. “Have you tried making him jealous?”

You pause. “Jealous?”

“Yeah,” Sam says. “You know. Flirt with someone else. See if that gets his brain to finally start working.”

It’s not a bad idea.

You sit up, considering it. “You think that’ll work?”

“Oh, definitely.” Sam grins. “Peter’s the kind of guy who doesn’t realize what he wants until he thinks he’s about to lose it.”

You tap your fingers against your thigh, mulling it over. It’s risky. But at this point, you’re willing to try anything.

“Alright,” you say. “Let’s do it.”

The plan is simple. The next day, you start subtly flirting with other people. Nothing crazy, just enough to test Peter’s reaction. You laugh a little too hard at Bucky’s jokes, compliment Steve’s biceps during training, even lean in close when talking to Sam just to see if Peter notices.

He does.

And he looks like he’s about to self-destruct.

The first time you flirt with Bucky, Peter nearly drops the coffee he’s holding. The second time you casually touch Steve’s arm, he stares like he’s witnessing a national tragedy. And when you get extra close to Sam at dinner, Peter’s entire body goes rigid like he’s about to short-circuit.

It’s hilarious.

But it’s also not working fast enough.

So, you take it a step further.

That night, when you run into Peter in the hallway, you lean against the wall, looking at him through your lashes. “You okay, Peter? You’ve been acting weird.”

Peter stiffens. “Me? No! I mean—yes! I mean—I’m totally fine! Why do you ask?”

You tilt your head. “I don’t know. You just seem… distracted.”

Peter laughs nervously. “Nope! Totally focused!”

You step closer. “Are you sure?”

Peter swallows. “Y-yeah! Why wouldn’t I be?”

You smile, slow and deliberate. “Well, I’ve just been spending a lot of time with other people lately. Thought maybe that was bothering you.”

Peter’s eyes widen. “Wh—why would that bother me?”

You shrug, trailing a finger along his arm. “I don’t know. Just wondering if maybe you wanted me to spend more time with you instead.”

Peter makes a strangled noise.

Then, just when you think he might finally get it, he blurts out, “I—uh—oh wow, look at the time! I gotta go!”

And then he runs.

Again.

You stand there, stunned, watching as he practically sprints down the hallway like his life depends on it.

You groan, dragging a hand down your face.

Unbelievable.

At this point, you have no idea what else you can do. You’ve flirted, teased, touched, complimented—hell, you’ve practically thrown yourself at him, and he’s still too dense to see it.

Maybe it’s time to just give up.

But then again…

You smirk.

Maybe it’s time to try something even bolder.

This is war.

You have tried everything. Flirting, teasing, touching, straight-up telling Peter you think he’s cute—it’s all been useless. The boy is either the densest human being on the planet, or he truly believes you could never be into him. Either way, you’re at your breaking point.

So, you decide to take Sam’s advice.

You’re going to make Peter jealous.

And not just by flirting with other people. That clearly hasn’t worked. No, you’re going for the nuclear option. If he won’t get a clue after everything you’ve done, then maybe—just maybe—he’ll realize he likes you if he thinks he’s already lost you.

Which is why you’re sitting on Sam’s bed, grinning while he stares at you like you’ve lost your mind.

“You want me to what?”

“Pretend to be my boyfriend,” you say, voice casual.

Sam blinks. “Oh, hell no.”

“Oh, come on,” you groan, nudging him. “It’s not like I’m asking you to marry me. Just a little act to make Peter jealous. You’re the one who suggested it in the first place.”

“I said flirt with other people,” Sam says, raising an eyebrow. “Not start a fake relationship.”

“Please, Sam,” you whine, clasping your hands together. “You’re the only one I trust to do this. And admit it, you think it’ll be hilarious.”

Sam considers this for a moment, then sighs. “Okay, yeah, it will be funny.”

You grin. “So, you’re in?”

He gives you a look. “This is gonna end in disaster, isn’t it?”

“Probably,” you say. “But it’ll be fun.”

Sam groans, rubbing his temples. “Fine. But if this backfires, you owe me big time.”

“Deal.”

And just like that, the plan is in motion.

The next morning, it begins.

You start by holding Sam’s hand at breakfast. It’s subtle, casual, like it’s something you’ve done a thousand times before. Sam plays along perfectly, smirking as he squeezes your hand.

Peter, sitting across the table, nearly chokes on his toast.

“Oh, you okay there, Parker?” Sam asks, smirking.

Peter forces a laugh. “Yeah! Totally fine!”

You smile sweetly. “Good. You looked a little… surprised.”

Peter shakes his head rapidly. “Nope! Not surprised! Just, um—just didn’t know you guys were—uh—” He gestures between you and Sam, clearly struggling to find the right words.

Sam shrugs. “Oh yeah, it’s a new thing. We figured, why not?”

Peter goes rigid. “Oh. Cool. That’s—uh—that’s really cool.”

You squeeze Sam’s hand again, leaning your head against his shoulder for dramatic effect. “Yeah. It is.”

Peter looks like someone just told him Spider-Man isn’t a real superhero.

It’s both hilarious and a little sad.

You expect him to ask questions, to push for details, but instead, he just goes quiet. He finishes his breakfast quickly, mutters some excuse about needing to work on something in the lab, and leaves before you can say another word.

You frown as you watch him go.

“Well,” Sam says, “that was… unexpected.”

You turn to him. “What do you mean?”

Sam gestures toward the door Peter just left through. “I figured he’d get all flustered, maybe try to ‘compete’ for your attention. But he just shut down.”

You chew your lip, suddenly feeling uneasy. “Yeah. That was weird.”

And it only gets weirder.

For the next few days, Peter avoids you. Completely.

He stops sitting next to you at meals. He doesn’t spar with you in training. He doesn’t even make eye contact when you pass him in the hallways. Every time you try to talk to him, he either mumbles some excuse or straight-up disappears.

It’s like he’s a ghost.

And no one—not even Sam—can figure out why.

At first, you think maybe he’s just adjusting. Maybe he’s trying to process his feelings, or maybe he’s sulking. But then you start hearing things.

“He’s been in the lab all day,” Bucky says at dinner one night.

“Yeah, he skipped training again,” Steve adds. “Is he okay?”

“I don’t know,” Wanda says, frowning. “He barely talks to anyone anymore.”

You try to play it cool, but inside, you’re panicking.

Because you know exactly why Peter is acting like this.

And suddenly, it’s not funny anymore.

That night, you find yourself standing outside Peter’s room. You hesitate, hand hovering over the door. You don’t know if he’ll even answer, but you have to try.

You knock.

Silence.

You knock again. “Peter? It’s me.”

More silence.

You sigh. “I know you’re in there.”

Still nothing.

You lean against the door, voice softer now. “Peter… can we talk?”

A long pause. Then, finally, a quiet voice from the other side.

“…I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Your heart clenches. “Why not?”

Another pause. Then—so soft you almost don’t hear it—Peter says, “Because I don’t want to make things weird.”

You blink, confused. “Weird? Peter, what are you talking about?”

He sighs. “You and Sam. You guys are happy. And I don’t wanna… I don’t wanna get in the way.”

Your stomach drops.

Oh no.

You screwed up.

You thought Peter would get jealous. You thought he’d realize his feelings and maybe—just maybe—make a move. But instead, he assumed the worst. He thought he lost his chance.

And now he’s shutting himself off because he thinks it’s the right thing to do.

You feel like the worst person in the world.

“Peter,” you say carefully, “you’re not in the way.”

He lets out a bitter laugh. “I dunno. Feels like I am.”

You close your eyes, exhaling slowly. “You’re not.”

Silence.

Then, quietly, Peter says, “Are you happy?”

You open your mouth, then close it.

Because the answer is complicated.

You’re happy when you’re around Peter. You’re happy when he smiles at you, when he laughs, when he rambles about some weird science thing that you barely understand.

You’re happy with him.

Not Sam.

Never Sam.

And you should’ve realized that before pulling this stupid stunt.

You take a deep breath. “Peter… can I come in?”

Another long pause. Then, finally, the door unlocks.

You step inside. Peter is sitting on his bed, looking exhausted. His hair is messier than usual, dark circles under his eyes like he hasn’t been sleeping. It makes your chest ache.

You sit beside him, close but not too close. “I need to tell you something.”

Peter nods, but doesn’t look at you.

You hesitate, then say, “Sam and I aren’t together.”

That gets his attention. His head snaps up, eyes wide. “Wait. What?”

“It was fake,” you admit, voice soft. “I just… I thought maybe if you saw me with someone else, you’d realize…”

You trail off, heart pounding.

Peter stares at you, completely still. “Realize what?”

You swallow. This is it. No more games.

You meet his gaze, voice barely above a whisper.

“That I like you, Peter.”

Peter doesn’t say anything at first. He just stares at you like you’ve grown a second head, eyes wide, lips parted slightly. His whole body has gone still, like he’s afraid to move, afraid to breathe, afraid to believe what you just said.

You watch the way his brain tries to process it, his thoughts practically running across his face in real-time. His eyebrows furrow like he thinks you might be messing with him, then lift slightly, like maybe—just maybe—he dares to hope you’re telling the truth.

You inhale, steeling yourself. “I like you, Peter. I have for a while.”

He still doesn’t say anything.

Your heart pounds as you force yourself to keep going. “And I know about the gifts. The notes. Everything.”

Peter jerks back like you just electrocuted him. “You—what?”

You exhale, giving him a small smile. “I know it was you. I checked the security footage after the second one.”

Peter makes a strangled sound and immediately buries his face in his hands. “Oh my god.”

You bite back a laugh. “Peter—”

“Oh my god,” he groans again, voice muffled. “This is so embarrassing. You weren’t supposed to know.”

You grin. “Yeah, I figured that out.”

Peter drags his hands down his face, looking like he wants to disappear into the floor. “This is… this is bad.”

You tilt your head. “Why is it bad?”

“Because!” He gestures wildly. “You weren’t supposed to know it was me! I thought I was being sneaky! I had a whole system!”

Your smile softens. “Peter. It was adorable.”

He makes another pained noise, slumping forward, hands in his hair. “This is the worst day of my life.”

You shake your head, fondness swelling in your chest. You reach out, resting a hand on his arm. “Peter.”

He stops rambling immediately, looking up at you with wide eyes.

You squeeze his arm lightly. “I loved the gifts. And the notes. And everything about it. You have no idea how much they meant to me.”

Peter swallows. “Really?”

You nod. “Really. And you wanna know the best part?”

“…What?”

You smile, shifting closer. “I like you too, you idiot.”

Peter’s breath catches.

He looks at you, and for the first time since you walked into his room, there’s something new in his eyes. Something hopeful.

He licks his lips, voice barely above a whisper. “You do?”

Instead of answering, you decide to show him.

You lean in slowly, giving him a chance to pull away. He doesn’t. He just watches you, eyes locked on your lips, chest rising and falling like he can’t believe this is happening.

Then, finally, you close the distance.

The second your lips touch his, Peter freezes. For a split second, he doesn’t move—like his brain short-circuited entirely.

Then, suddenly, he melts.

He kisses you back with so much enthusiasm it nearly knocks you over. His hands fly to your waist, gripping you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go. His lips are soft and warm, moving against yours like he’s trying to make up for all the time you’ve both wasted dancing around this.

It’s messy, desperate, but it’s perfect.

Peter makes a small, needy sound in the back of his throat and pulls you closer, fingers pressing into your sides like he’s making sure you’re real. His heart is racing—you can feel it against your own chest, pounding like it’s trying to break free.

You smile against his lips. “You’re kissing me like a happy puppy.”

Peter pulls back just enough to breathe, his face flushed, eyes dazed. “I am a happy puppy.”

You laugh, cupping his face. “Good.”

Peter blinks at you, then suddenly grins—wide and bright and so full of joy it makes your chest ache. “Wait. I’m kissing you. We’re kissing.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Yeah, genius, we are.”

He looks almost dizzy with excitement. “This is—this is real, right? I’m not dreaming?”

You smirk. “If you were dreaming, would I do this?”

You tug him back in and kiss him again, slow and deep.

Peter practically melts, hands tightening on your waist as he kisses you back like his life depends on it. His lips are warm, a little clumsy but sweet, and the way he holds you—like you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him—makes your stomach flip.

When you finally pull away, Peter is breathless.

“I’m so happy right now,” he says, looking at you like you hung the stars.

You smile, brushing a hand through his messy curls. “Good. Because I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon.”

Peter’s face lights up, and before you can say another word, he pulls you back in, kissing you again, and again, and again—like he’s trying to make up for lost time.

And honestly?

You’re more than okay with that.

It’s almost ridiculous how unsurprised everyone is when you and Peter officially become a couple. The second you announce it—or rather, the second Peter stammers through telling everyone while blushing like crazy—the reactions are so underwhelming that Peter nearly short-circuits.

“Yeah, no kidding,” Natasha says dryly, not even looking up from cleaning her knives.

“Finally,” Bucky mutters, shaking his head.

“Wait, you guys weren’t already together?” Clint asks, genuinely confused.

Bruce just gives a small, approving nod. Steve claps Peter on the shoulder like he’s just congratulated him on getting a promotion. Even Thor, who’s barely around, chuckles and calls you both “young warriors of love,” which makes Peter go completely red.

But the best reaction comes from Tony.

Because Tony Stark, billionaire genius, mentor, and serial eye-roller, just grins. Not a smirk, not a sarcastic look, but a real, proud, genuine grin.

“About damn time, kid.”

Peter practically chokes.

Tony pats him on the back, almost knocking the air out of him. “Seriously. I was starting to think you were gonna need some kind of intervention.”

Peter blinks. “You—you knew?”

Tony snorts. “Knew? Parker, you’re about as subtle as a wrecking ball. The only one who didn’t know was you.”

Peter sputters, but you’re just smiling. Tony’s approval means a lot to Peter, and you can tell by the way his eyes light up that hearing Tony say he was rooting for him is the best thing that’s happened to him all day.

But of course, because it’s Peter, he has to ruin his own happiness by still being annoyed at Sam.

Ever since the whole fake-boyfriend prank, Peter hasn’t exactly gotten over it. He knows it was just a joke. He knows you only did it to mess with him. He knows Sam doesn’t actually have feelings for you.

But does that stop him from glaring every time Sam so much as breathes near you? Absolutely not.

And Sam? Oh, Sam knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Hey, lovebirds,” Sam calls out one day, waltzing into the common room where you and Peter are curled up on the couch. He doesn’t even sit down before looking straight at Peter and smirking. “Relax, Spidey, I’m not gonna steal your girl.”

Peter bristles immediately. “I wasn’t—”

Sam laughs, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’m just messing with you, kid. Relax.”

Peter does not relax.

And you? You’re getting a little tired of your boyfriend pouting every time Sam so much as looks in your direction.

Which is why, after dinner that night, when Peter is still sulking over Sam calling you “sweetheart” in passing (just to mess with him, of course), you decide to do something about it.

You grab his wrist and pull him toward his room.

Peter stumbles after you, confused. “Uh, Y/N? What’s—”

You push the door open and drag him inside, shutting it behind you. Then, without a word, you shove him onto the bed.

Peter yelps, arms flailing as he lands on his back. “What—?”

You climb onto the bed beside him and immediately wrap yourself around him, curling into his side.

Peter freezes.

You sigh contently, nuzzling into his chest. “There. Now you can stop sulking.”

Peter doesn’t move for a solid five seconds. Then, very slowly, he wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer.

“…I wasn’t sulking,” he mumbles, but it’s half-hearted at best.

You smile against his shirt. “Yes, you were.”

Peter huffs. “Sam’s just—he’s just annoying.”

You tilt your head up to look at him. “You know he’s only doing it because he knows it gets under your skin, right?”

Peter groans, dragging a hand down his face. “I know. But that doesn’t make it less annoying.”

You chuckle, reaching up to brush some of his curls away from his forehead. “You’re cute when you’re jealous.”

Peter immediately flushes. “I—I’m not jealous.”

You raise an eyebrow.

He sighs. “…Okay, maybe a little.”

You grin and press a kiss to his jaw. “You don’t have to be. You already won, Peter. I’m yours.”

Peter makes a tiny, happy noise in the back of his throat and buries his face in your hair. “Say it again.”

You laugh. “What? That I’m yours?”

He nods, arms tightening around you.

You shift so that you’re straddling him now, hands resting on his chest as you lean down. “I��m yours, Peter Parker.”

Peter looks up at you, eyes wide and filled with so much awe it makes your heart ache. Then, before you can say anything else, he surges up and kisses you, gripping your waist like he never wants to let go.

The kiss is slow, sweet, and full of emotion. When you finally pull away, Peter just sighs happily and flops back onto the bed, keeping you in his arms.

“You’re ridiculous,” you murmur against his chest.

Peter hums, already halfway to falling asleep. “Maybe. But I love you.”

Your heart skips a beat. He’s never said that before.

You lift your head to look at him, but his eyes are already closed, his breathing soft and even. You smile and press a kiss to his cheek.

“I love you too, Peter.”

And as you settle against him, warm and safe in his arms, you know for a fact—jealousy or not, Peter Parker is yours. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[deathbyathousandspiders]

death of a hero. ₂

mcu!peter parker x fem!stark!reader | boy in the bubble part two.

IN WHICH after getting attacked, you find out that your dad & peter have kept spider–man’s identity a secret.

author's note — highly recommend reading part one first!! this cured my writer's block !! part three coming soon!!! :)

WARNINGS (18+ MDNI) — hurt reader [physically/emotionally], swearing, mentions of blood, a flashback to homecoming, lots & lots & lots of angst.

read part one | part three here.

gif found here.

✨masterlist.✨

3.4k.

Never in your life did you think you’d be targeted and attacked, then be smiling by the end of the night. You couldn’t fight the small grin touching your lips, couldn’t stop the butterflies that numbed each wound still scarring your body. 

Somehow, despite it all, Peter’s words gave you something to hold onto, something to keep you going—something hopeful. It gave you something to rewrite the painful narrative that your attacker had spat at you just an hour earlier. 

“What a weak, pathetic excuse for a Stark.”

“You’ve seen the unthinkable, are still going, and you think you’re weak? Impossible.”

Once you finally got to the stairs to shower, you tried to swing your leg up, immediately met with a harsh reminder of how bad your bruises would be tomorrow. 

A wince parted your lips, sparking from the ache in your right hip and the direct strike it sent to the wound on your torso. 

Perhaps you needed Peter’s help after all. 

Taking a breath, you felt less hesitant than before to ask for help. It wasn’t like you had anything else to hide—you were tattered and torn up, topless and sticky with blood. 

Besides, you were used to walking with the weight of the wounds, at this point. You cut the distance to the kitchen in a matter of slow seconds. 

“Whoever attacked her tonight planned this.” Peter’s words made you pause just outside the entryway, hidden behind the wall just beyond. You blinked a bit, immediately feeling the weight of their conversation. “It wasn’t by chance, she was targeted–” 

“You don’t know that—” Even as he cut Peter off, your dad’s response was cut short. 

“And you don’t either!” Both of the boys in the kitchen held something urgent to their words; the same sense of urgency that laced the undertones between them all evening. 

Whatever conversation you were overhearing, you knew in your bones that they didn’t want you to hear it. 

Sucks for them. 

Peter continued: “The way she’s acting.. Something’s off about what happened.” Your blood froze to ice at the sentence. “And I think she deserves to know why I wasn’t there to defend her tonight.”

Thick silence swelled in the room, and you suddenly feared that your racing heartbeat would interrupt it. You had to remind yourself to breathe, and remind yourself to be quiet. 

As tempted as you were to step in and ask questions, you knew that whatever they were keeping from you was more likely to be discovered from where you were. 

Somehow, this was something they wanted to hide from you. The secret, whatever it was, made the air around you feel slimmer and heavy all at once. It sent your thoughts into a spiral, and an urge to question the two people closest to you. 

“Look, kid. I don’t blame you for what happened tonight.” Tony took words from you that you hadn’t even known how to phrase to Peter yet. It sent a twinge to your heart, draped your panic in sympathy for him. 

“I know.” You could tell Peter needed to hear the words, even if he didn’t know how to admit it. 

“As much as I agree with your conspiracy theories on Y/N’s attacker, I don’t know if coming clean about everything will solve this.” 

Something sunk in you, deflated your spirits. It hurt that they’d hid this from you—whatever it was—and had been lying for God knows how long. 

You could hear the jab in Peter’s own optimism when he spoke up again. “Then when do you plan to tell her?” At least, he was trying to come clean. 

“I don’t know..” Your dad was honest, and sullen about it. It only added to your confusion. 

Perhaps, they weren’t going to tell you ever. Maybe if you just revealed yourself and asked your own questions, you’d actually get somewhere. 

Peeling yourself off the wall and taking a few steps into frame, both Peter and your dad were completely oblivious to you. 

Despite how you stepped into view, they remained focused on the conversation, and your dad continued. “I’ll tell you what: you tell me how you’d suggest telling Y/N you’re Spider–Man, and I’ll consider it–”

The whole world stopped moving. 

“Peter’s what?”

You could’ve thrown up at the realization, at how cold and hollow the room suddenly became. The secret was out, and the quick and wide eyes that fell to you told you just how vital this secret was. 

Peter was Spider–Man. 

Even as you stared at him, eyes as wide as his, you couldn’t shake it. Your best friend was Spider–Man, working alongside your father and found family. 

The two of you held eye contact, trying to read the other. You could read the remorse and apology and panic swelling in his wide–eyed stare, but you hoped that some of the anger building in your own was silently translated regardless. 

Your dad tried to clear his throat, tried to slice through the rousing tension between the two of you, but you didn’t break from it in the slightest. 

“Dinner’s ready.” Tony tried to make a joke. To joke at a time like this, as if he wasn’t an accomplice. As if he wasn’t keeping this from you, arguably more than Peter had been. 

It was the last straw you’d been offering, swiped from your hands and dissipating with your patience. 

You scoffed, tears finally finding your eyes. The heat of them was boiled by rage, and you didn’t have the decency to hide it. “Fuck off.” 

The room was too hard to stand in. You walked away, reminded of why you were even standing in the kitchen in the first place. 

Pain itched its way up your priority list, but you didn’t care; finding a way up the stairs was the least of your worries. You were more concerned with how quickly you could get away. 

Especially as you could hear Peter calling after you, following the path you were carving between you. 

“Y/N!” He spoke your name like a plea, like it would somehow apologize for all the dirt you’d uncovered. The sound of his voice, however, only seemed to drive you further from him. 

It split your heart into more pieces than you knew how to count. 

You already battled the insecurity of being weak. A weak, pathetic excuse for a Stark. With all the time you spent in the compound, with your friends and family, you were one of the only powerless people among them. This whole time, you thought Peter understood. 

You thought the insecurity was shared, reciprocated. 

Clearly, you were wrong and an idiot. You were the only one powerless among them. 

It made you feel so stupid; to see all the inside jokes tossed over your head, to see every stupid excuse he made thrown back in your face, and he had the audacity to be sorry?

Damn right, he should be. 

Peter’s touch felt like sandpaper to your skin as he reached for your hand. You yanked it out, not bothering to turn around. 

You tried to be strong and suck up the pain, wanted more than anything to run up the stairs and lock yourself in your room—two quick steps up the stairwell and the adrenaline wore off. You slowed your pace, fighting off the wincing, and wanting anything but to ask for help from Spider–Man. 

“Y/N, please.” His voice broke, and you felt sinister to think him deserving of it. “Please, I– I wanted to tell you, I promise–“

He must’ve been surprised when you turned around, at the speed you pivoted, at how intense your expression came across, because he startled. 

Your eyes held no response to the hot tears flooding from them, only holding space for the anger and hurt you didn’t have the energy to hide from him. 

“Promise?” The word came out whispered, threatening to break just as his words did. “You promise, just like how we promised to tell each other everything?” You saw each stab of each word and exactly where it hit on him, especially as your voice grew in volume. “Just like how you promised I wasn’t weak, when clearly, you know damn well how ironic that is!”

Twin tears slid down the length of his face, and you caught the subtle tremble in his bottom lip that he tried so hard to hide. “Please..” Now he was the one whispering, and you wish it sounded as satisfying as you wanted it to. 

“Don’t fucking sit there and act like you’re the hero here, Peter..” You couldn’t help the growl, couldn’t help the distaste inking down your body. Sure, you’d been hit with a knife just an hour prior in the evening, but you didn’t feel stabbed in the gut until now. “Don’t act like you understand shit about how I’m feeling right now!”

From just beyond, Tony started walking over, stepping quickly. “Hang on, Kid.” He cut in, stopping just a few paces behind Peter. “Don’t blame Peter for this.” His words practically turned up the heat on your burning rage. It was an effort to keep from boiling over. “I was the one who told him to keep quiet.”

The shakiest breath you’d taken all night forced its way down your throat. You finally pulled your eyes from Peter, watching your own father flinch at just how hurt you were. “No, you were the one who decided to be selfish!”

The room had never been so quiet, even the walls and the city beyond hushed to listen. 

“I don’t care who you thought you were saving here, but it wasn’t me.” Perhaps rage wasn’t the word you should use to describe the venom dripping off your words. You were seething, a mixture of betrayal and downright distraught. 

“I am not useless.” You felt the need to emphasize; to you, or the two faulty in front of you, no one could tell. “I may be the only powerless person in the fuck ass Avengers, but at least I’m fucking honest.”

When you met Peter’s eyes again, you almost couldn’t keep your composure. Maybe he was breaking apart just as quickly as you were, but you didn’t put in effort to hold room for an apology for him. You didn’t see the need to give one at all. 

“I’m sorry..” He couldn’t bring his voice above a whisper, above the tremble shaking each breath he took. And watching the way your father’s posture craned in sympathy to it finally gave you a cue to leave. You couldn’t take it anymore. 

You glanced between both of them, still ignoring the consistent stream of tears dripping off your nose and chin. “You both fucking should be.”

Holding your head high, you made your way up the stairs, pausing three steps up your trek when you heard a singular step in your direction. 

“Don’t fucking follow me.”

And you didn’t look back. 

The second you shut and locked your bedroom door, unshakable sobs spilled from your throat and choked you dry. You had never felt so isolated, so alone, and so pained. 

Truly, you did not know how it would get better from here, and all you wanted was to be held. 

You didn’t even know who you'd talk to about this. This betrayal stretched across every person you trusted, further than your eyesight. 

It was stupid, and you blamed yourself, but all you wanted to do was talk to Peter. 

Maybe not about it or to confront it right then, but you suddenly missed him and his support. You felt like that had been stripped away from you. 

You weren't sure how to trust him anymore, let alone anyone else who hid this from you.

It didn’t help that you replayed countless upon countless interactions—with your father, with Ned, and with Peter Parker Spider–Man himself. 

It reminded you of the last time you were mad at Peter, three years prior. 

At the Washington Monument. 

You remember him flaking on the academic decathlon, and flaking the night before. You were upset because he was obviously hiding something and he wouldn’t tell you what. 

“You promised we’d hang out tonight.” You remember calling after him, walking half the length of the hotel hallway after him, too. “I feel like I haven’t seen you all week!”

Peter was a pro at walking backwards, then and now, and as you always knew him to be. Even as you knew him as a klutz, even as it led him to keep walking away from you. “I’ll be back soon. I promise!”

It felt unfair to him to get frustrated with him, but you were. You were upset. “What? So your promises mean nothing?” 

That got him to stop. 

“What? No!” Defense, immediately. His eyes displayed more apology than his lips did, taking steps towards you. “I just.. I have to go, and I can explain it later–”

Your head shook at him. Whatever sparked you to feel upset had been growing for a while. It had been growing since he started ditching you a few months prior. “That’s what you said last time.” There was hurt in your voice, and you know he heard it. 

“But I–”

“We promised to tell each other everything.” You recalled your childhood together, your friendship before you started growing up. The two of you had known each other since elementary school, so changes like this was inevitable. It wasn't fair to hold him to the same standards you used to. “But if you want to go, don’t expect me to be buddy-buddy when you get back.”

You remember how it felt to walk away, but you remembered how it felt to hear him leave even more. That was harmful. 

He was entitled to grow up, just as you were, but the shifty way he started growing distant from you got you overthinking. 

It got you nervous that maybe he was seeing someone, and that hurt more than anything else. Especially that he was hiding it from you. 

What sucked the most was that Peter wasn’t back soon, or even that night. 

In fact, he wasn’t even at the academic decathlon. 

Part of you was relieved to get space from him, seeing how difficult all these feelings were to process; another part worried about him, but every time your anxiety would fester, something would serve a reminder of why you were upset in the first place. 

You won the decathlon without him. As you should.

After that, your team went to the Washington Monument, and Ned swore that Peter would meet you all there. 

“Look!” Ned tried to convince you, tried to break your unamused expression. “His location says he’s almost here.” And the phone screen he flashed at you proved honesty. Peter was minutes away. 

Before you could muster a response, Ned’s screen changed, and Peter was calling him. 

There was an awkward exchange of glances between the two of you before Ned answered the call and you walked through the metal detectors. 

“Peter, are you okay?” You couldn’t help but eavesdrop. You missed a phrase or two while security patted down your blazer. All you caught was Ned muttering a subtle “I covered for you,” and then Liz Allen taking the phone from his hands. 

Something hollow carved into your stomach at the sight, and you began to speculate whether Liz was the girl he was sneaking off with or not. 

You didn’t wait to find out. You walked right into the elevator, joining the rest of your decathlon group. 

You didn’t remember much about the trip up the elevator, all you remember was light emitting out of Ned’s backpack and something radioactive blasting right into the roof of the cart. 

Suddenly, with trembling limbs and a newfound panic, your squabble with Peter Parker seemed more than minuscule. Regret was quick to fill that hollowing pit in your gut. 

You’d blacked out a lot of those scarce moments in the elevator. But you remembered when it was safe enough to move, the security guard began to open the hatch at the top of the elevator cart, and one by one help your classmates out. 

It wasn’t until there were four of you left in the elevator that it finally fell down the shaft towards your demise. There, in that Monument, you would die with Ned, Liz, and your teacher, Mister Harrington, you were sure of it. 

You’d never forget the relief you’d felt at the sight of red and blue rushing toward you, plummeting quicker than you were, and webbing your way to safety. 

It felt odd to look back on, knowing now that it was Peter who pulled that elevator up to your safety. How you were only concerned then with apologizing to Peter Parker, who glanced at you there from beneath that mask, completely unbeknownst to you. 

Once he’d gotten you up to the top of the Monument, Ned was the first to leap out to safety, then Mister Harrington. The two of them helped Liz get out, and to your luck, just as you took a step forward, the webs above you snapped. 

You and Spider–Man fell with a blood curdling scream breaking through you. 

“NO!!” He called after you, and quickly shot a web up to the roof again. His other arm reached out toward you, webbing your wrist rather quickly, keeping you from falling any further. 

“It’s okay. You’re okay– I got you. You're okay..” He told you, his tone as gentle and soft as you knew it to be; yet, not a single thought crossed your mind that it was Peter Parker. 

You shakily dangled beneath him as he tugged you up from that web. You fought to look up at him, to keep yourself from looking down; you fought to keep the tears at bay as the shock flooded from your system. 

The second your hands touched, he pulled you up and into him. You wasted no time before wrapping your arms around him, hugging him for dear life. And it made sense, now, why he felt so familiar—why his warmth was so comforting, and why his arm around your waist felt like it belonged there. 

He held you securely, lulling those reassurances to you, pulling the two of you up to safety at the top of that Monument. 

Just before he set you down, you held him tighter. “Pe–Peter!” You gasped, and felt every muscle beneath your hold tense. 

Now, you knew why. 

You pulled back from his arms, “Peter Parker, my– my best friend! He was on his way over here.” Your voice shook as you explained, but watching him carefully set you on the ground helped to steady yourself a little. “Can you make sure– Could you make sure that he’s okay?”

Looking back, the reason why Spider–Man gaped at you so long must’ve been Peter contemplating whether or not to tell you who he was right then and there. He stared at you, beneath that mask, for what felt like minutes. 

He gave a singular, upside down, nod. “I can do that, ma’am.” And his thick, Bronx, accent threw you off more than you wanted to admit. 

Then he fell down the empty shaft of the elevator. 

You’d never forget the moment he found you after that. 

You had just gotten out of the Monument. With a shaky hand, you went through your phone to track Peter’s location. It said he was a matter of meters from you, but you couldn’t spot him in the crowd. 

Just as you went to ask Ned, Peter’s voice hollered out, calling your name. 

Both of you turned in his direction, the crowd of people parting for him as he ran over to you, catching you in a bone–crushing hug. One of his hands cradled your head into his chest, and the other kept itself snug around your waist, just like Spider–Man had earlier. "I'm so glad you're okay.." He whispered it into your hairline, just for you to keep.

The world washed away in the arms of Peter Parker. You couldn’t help but wrap your arms around him, too, hugging him effortlessly closer. Apologies from your argument the night before fell from your lips, and he also followed suit. 

You recalled that memory as something that defined how you and Peter operated—no matter what, you couldn’t stay mad at him. 

You would always find a way to forgive him. 

Now, remembering the incident was a bit more haunting. There was no telling how you and Peter would come back from this, nor just how long you’d go without each other.

And you didn't think Spider–Man would get you out of it, this time.

tag–list: @yourfavoritefangirl @inkedeye2345 @wxnterwidow333 @generalmoonpolice @elianamarie-blog

comment for the part three tag list;)

read part three here.

[whoiswatersip]

𝙀𝙋𝙄𝙎𝙊𝘿𝙀 : 𝘒𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘊𝘢𝘮

"Lovefool" ♬⋆.˚

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: fluff ᴡᴄ: 1k character: Tom Holland! Peter Parker x GN! reader

summary: Peter goes to a baseball game with Ned, he's never been to one before. He thought that kiss cams were made up, so imagine his surprise when he gets chosen for the kiss cam... with a stranger??

sɪᴘs ɴᴏᴛᴇs: First fic... kinda nervous. I thought this was cute, so hopefully y'all like this too! he's so adorable... I wanna squish him!! Also credit to @seulzitos for the headers!! This was hell to release... oh well!

[ masterlist (coming soon ) ] ✿　.　˚　. 　 ˚　✿.

Peter has been a Mets fan as long as he can remember, but he's never actually been to a game. So imagine how ecstatic he was when Ned rushed up to him in school and exclaimed about how he got 2 tickets with their name on it. Seriously, Ned was a great friend. When the day came, Peter couldn't even focus on anything else. Not his classes, not science team practice, hell, not even Spider-Man stuff! When the final school bell rang, Peter practically sprinted out of the building, his backpack slapping against his back as he ran down the busy streets to his subway train. He slid into his apartment, where May was watching some dumb reality TV show. He basically threw his backpack on the ground, only to go back to get his phone. He put on the only pieces of Mets merch he had (a baseball cap and a crappy shirt he got from a Goodwill), stuffed $20 bucks in his pocket for snacks, and waited impatiently for Ned to text him that he was outside. As soon as his phone rang with the notification, he ran out of his room. "Bye, May!" Peter said with a grin, giving her a quick kiss on the head before speeding out the door. Ned's mom drove them to the stadium, and dropped them off. It was so much bigger than he thought it would be, it made him grin stupidly big. They handed over their tickets, and went to the stand to get snacks. Peter got a hotdog and a small Coke, and Ned got a pretzel and a small Sprite. The game was fun as hell, sure his team was losing and sure the guy behind him kept hitting the back of his head- but at least the hotdog was really good. During the small break in between the games, the giant screen above the field flashed pictures of either the people in the stadium or baseball related things. But Peter ignored it as he talked to Ned. "Like, I'm trying to focus on the game and this guy just kept hitting and hitting my head," Peter complained to Ned, sipping on his drink. Ned just nodded, "Dude, tell him." Peter shook his head, "No, it's whatever." Peter felt his phone buzz, and he leaned over as he pulled it out of his pocket. It was May asking him about dinner, Peter made a clicking noise with his tongue as he typed away to answer her text. But before he finished his text, he got roughly nudged by Ned, almost dropping his phone. "Dude, what the-" "You're on the screen!" Ned exclaimed, a grin on his face. Peter shot his head to look up at the screen, his eyes widening as he saw himself on the screen, along with a teenager his age who was sitting next to him. The screen was plastered with a border of bright red and pink hearts. And in big, bold text was 'Kiss Cam'. Honestly, Peter thought that Kiss Cam's weren't real. Peter almost dropped his phone as he looked over at the kid his age, his face getting hotter and redder as he noticed how pretty they were. He then turned back to the screen, where people were doing that thing they do where they cheer for the people to kiss. "No we're not-" Peter tried to mouth to the screen, waving his hands around to try and get the camera to move to the next couple. "I don't know them!" Peter mouthed, a sheepish look on his face. But the chanting didn't stop. Before Peter could mouth anything else, he felt a soft pressure on his cheek. And the chanting turned into cheering, and Peter's embarrassment turned into a mix of shock and even more embarrassment. As the person slowly pulled off his cheek, the camera moved to someone else. He just stared at them for longer than needed, mouth agape, widened eyes, and cheeks redder than his Spidey-Suit. "Sorry, it's just-" the person tried to explain to the flustered Peter, "It was a Kiss Cam." They said with a small, sheepish smile. Peter could physically feel himself falling in love with the pretty stranger. "Yeah, it's okay." Peter breathed out, wishing he could feel their lips again. Sure it was a bit pathetic and desperate, but he'd never felt this way before. Sure he had crushes before, Liz Allen, Emma Watson, Paul Walker, you know, the basics. But... something about them just felt- different?

The game was over faster then he wished it was, and people were filling out of the stadium. "Come on, man! My mom is waiting for us!" Ned complained as he tried to drag Peter out of the stadium. While Peter was scanning over the crowd, trying to find them. "H-Hold on! I just need to-" Peter paused as he saw them, walking with their friends. He pulled away from Ned, ignoring his exclamations, and ran up to them. He tapped on their shoulder, watching them turn to him. He couldn't help but both grin, and blush. "Hey, about earlier-" "I'm Y/N L/N." They cut him off, smiling at him. "I'm Peter, Peter Parker." He responded, grinning at them. He then pulled his phone out of his pocket. "Can I get your number?" Peter quickly asked, his nerves pushed to the side for a second. All around them, people pushed past and their voices boomed over the two teenagers. Y/N nodded as they typed their number into his cracked, broken phone. They handed it back as their friends called out for them. "I gotta-" They gestured to their friends, Peter just nodded breathlessly. "Yeah, go ahead." They jogged to their friends, Peter called out, "See ya!" Peter mumbled under his breath, "Y/N..." The name was like honey, and he couldn't wait to say it more and more. Even as he met back up with Ned, walked back into his house, and laid on his bed, he knew his favorite part of that game wasn't the baseball. Even as he stared at the cracked screen with their number on it, he knew he just met somebody incredible. And it was all because of the stupid tradition of a Kiss Cam. -----------

[wordsarelife]

—hey stephen

pairing: peter parker x fem!stark!reader

summary: you and peter have to fix a little mistake one of the avengers made. luckily you're a great team

warnings: flirting, theft lol

note: i realized too late i hadn't put it in the queqe lol!

the night sky loomed above you, a soft haze of stars disappearing into the city’s light pollution. a high-rise office building stretched into the clouds, and at its base, peter was already halfway up, scaling the glass like it was nothing. your fingers tapped the device your dad had insisted you bring, ensuring your escape route was intact—just in case.

"the probability of falling to your death is one in three," you called out, voice laced with dry amusement as you watched peter's slow climb from the ground.

from above, peter’s voice crackled through your earpiece, laced with sarcasm. "what do the statistics say about people with spider-powers?" he paused to look down at you, clearly rolling his eyes beneath the mask.

with a smirk, you tapped the small stark tech device on your wrist, instantly teleporting yourself from the ground to the roof he was climbing toward. when you appeared, you peeked over the ledge to see him still climbing, almost there. "they say, that they're kind of slow."

peter stopped climbing and turned his head in your direction, scowling up at you. "ha ha" he muttered, clearly unimpressed. still, you could see a grin forming under the mask as he climbed up the last few feet. "and what do they say about people with teleporting powers and stark-level egos?"

you quirked a brow, amusement dancing on your lips. "that we don’t have time to climb up buildings for fun," you shot back.

"whatever" he replied playfully, as he walked around you, to look through the glass of the roof and into the room beneath it. "do we have any information about the security system?"

"vision’s already taken care of the alarms and cameras," you answered, eyes still locked on the space beneath. "but we’ve got a problem."

you and peter stood shoulder to shoulder, staring down through the reinforced glass at the one obstacle neither of you had expected: larry, the security guard. he was patrolling the museum’s halls with an intensity that would put some SHIELD agents to shame.

larry was infamous for taking his job way too seriously, a fact that had somehow kept this museum entirely free of robbery attempts.

peter let out a low whistle, shaking his head. "that’s larry, isn’t it? guy’s basically the captain america of museum security.”

"yup," you sighed, arms crossed as you watched larry methodically sweep each room like he was guarding the crown jewels. "this mission is supposed to be high-stakes, not high-annoyance."

your father had pulled you into this last-minute mission, and you couldn’t help but smirk at the memory of his over-the-top explanation for why this was necessary.

thor had accidentally packed one of tony's and bruce’s experimental devices in a gift box meant for this museum, and now that same device was on display, tucked away in some artifact. to tony, this was practically a world-ending catastrophe.

"couldn't you just, you know... build another one?" you had asked at the time, exasperation dripping from your voice.

tony had responded by rolling his eyes dramatically, as if you’d just suggested throwing away the mona lisa. "do you want the wrong hands getting this tech? because that’s how we all end up in serious, world-ending trouble."

that, of course, had been enough to get you and peter on board. especially after the last world-ending trouble, your father had been involved in, had led to robots invading sokovia and ripping it out of the ground.

but now, staring at larry pacing the hallway like he was auditioning for an action movie, you were starting to regret that decision.

"we’ve got to get him out of there" peter whispered. "or this is going to get messy fast"

you nodded. "and vision can’t mess with his comms or knock him out—he’s just a regular guy, after all. we can’t exactly web him up and call it a day"

"yeah" peter agreed. "but we can’t just waltz in either. larry’s about three steps away from spotting us and sounding the alarm. and there goes our quiet heist"

peter shifted beside you, fidgeting like he always did when he was thinking up a plan. you could practically see the gears turning in his head. he turned to you, his face half-hidden under the mask, but you could feel the grin even if you couldn’t see it. "how good are you at distractions?"

you raised an eyebrow. "depends on the distraction. what are you thinking?"

peter leaned down, pointing at the far end of the hallway where a ventilation shaft led into the room larry was patrolling. "you teleport down there, maybe drop something—make some noise. when larry goes to investigate, i’ll slip in and get the device"

you glanced at the vent, calculating the distance between it and larry’s patrol route. it could work. you could make just enough noise to pull him out of the main exhibit area without alerting him too much.

“fine” you muttered, already prepping yourself. “but you owe me.”

peter chuckled, tapping the side of his mask. "i’ll pay you back in kisses. how’s that?"

"disgusting, actually" rolling your eyes, you disappeared in a flash, teleporting down into the vent, making sure to land as quietly as possible. the cold metal of the air duct pressed against your knees as you crawled toward the room below, spotting larry a few feet away, completely oblivious.

reaching for your utility belt, you pulled out a small stark gadget—a harmless little device designed to make a loud noise when activated. with a quick flick of your wrist, you dropped it through the slats in the vent, watching as it clattered to the floor.

larry’s head snapped toward the sound immediately. his footsteps echoed through the room as he headed toward the noise, flashlight in hand. you teleported yourself back to the roof in time to see peter lower himself through the glass on a webline, slipping into the room like a shadow.

“good?” you whispered into your comms.

peter’s voice came back soft but smug. "good. i'm heading to the artifact now."

you watched from above as peter made his way through the room, quiet as ever. he moved between the display cases with ease, his eyes trained on the object in question—a small, unassuming vase, inside of which was the deadly device your dad had carelessly gifted to the museum.

"you think they’d put the dangerous stuff in a more secure spot," peter whispered, now crouched by the display.

"it’s a vase," you whispered back. "nobody thinks vases are dangerous."

peter snorted. "clearly, they’ve never been on a mission with you.”

“clearly, my dad is just as smart, considering he gave a kid a multi-million dollar suit” you teased.

"oh, shut up!" peter shook his head, but you could hear in his voice that he wasn't actually angry or offended at the joke. he carefully removed the vase from its display, switching it out with an identical replica tony had provided. “got it,” he said, holding the real one up to the light.

but just as he turned to leave, larry came back into view. peter froze mid-step, his eyes darting to the closest hiding spot—a decorative column far too narrow to be much help.

“uh, y/n?” peter’s voice was tense. “i think larry’s about to spot me”

“how close are you to the exit?” you asked, already preparing to teleport in if things got messy.

“close enough... but not without being seen” peter muttered. he shifted, trying to move around the column without larry noticing.

you sighed, rolling your eyes. "fine. hold tight."

in an instant, you teleported into the hallway just a few feet behind larry, making just enough noise to catch his attention. he spun around, his flashlight sweeping the area where you had appeared.

peter took the opportunity to slip past, barely making a sound as he darted for the exit.

larry's flashlight landed on you for just a second before you teleported again, this time to the roof, heart racing as you reappeared beside peter.

"that was close," you breathed, watching as larry scratched his head below, completely unaware of what had just happened and probably blaming the hint of your figure on his sleep deprivation.

he let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “you realize this was extremely stupid, right?”

you raised an eyebrow, not missing a beat. “what, you worried about me?”

peter shrugged, not quite meeting your eyes. “i mean, if you got caught, who else would pull me out of this mess?”

you gave him a playful shove. "please. i’d just teleport out, and you’d be stuck explaining to larry why you’re playing spider-man in a museum."

he grinned behind his mask, shaking his head. “you’re impossible, you know that?”

“yeah, well, you’re the one who drags me into these missions,” you shot back, crossing your arms. “besides, i saved your butt down there.”

peter held up the vase, the light glinting off it's surface. "i think we're even now. how about we call it a tie?"

you smirked. "tie? not a chance, parker. you owe me big time for this"

peter's eyes crinkled at the edges, the grin behind his mask unmistakable. “all right, all right. i’ll buy you dinner.”

“dinner?” you arched an eyebrow. “is that how you plan to repay me?”

he shrugged, but the mischievous spark in his eyes was impossible to miss. “seems fair, right?”

before you could reply, vision's voice chimed in over your comms. "y/n, peter, congratulations on a successful retrieval. the quinjet is ready for extraction."

peter gave a mock salute. "see? mission accomplished. we’re golden."

you couldn’t help but smile as you rolled your eyes. "fine, but next time, you get to deal with larry."

peter paused for a moment, tilting his head slightly. “you sure? i think larry kind of likes you. he was definitely staring a bit when you teleported in behind him.”

you scoffed, shaking your head as you turned to head for the extraction point. "do you ever stop staring at me?"

peter’s voice was soft but completely sincere as he jogged to catch up beside you. “no, not really.”

you shot him a sideways glance, trying not to let the warmth in his voice get to you. "smooth, parker."

he grinned again, slipping the vase into the protective case tony had provided. “hey, can’t help it. you’re kind of hard to ignore.”

"right," you muttered, suppressing a smile. "let’s just focus on not getting caught next time, yeah?”

“deal,” peter agreed, but his voice held that familiar teasing edge. "but maybe we should stick to flirting only after we’re out of danger.”

you rolled your eyes. “maybe you should stop flirting in near-death situations.”

peter shrugged, a playful glint still in his eye. “what can i say? i work best under pressure.”

[barnesafterglow]

first burn

summary: your crush on peter may burn you alive

pairing: mcu!peter parker x avenger!reader

word count: 2.6k

warnings: not canon compliant (no snap, everyone is happy and healthy and no one did anything stupid), peter is of age and well within his rights to fuck!!, a little tropey for a second (brief "fake dating" and "only one bed" to move the story along), smut [unprotected sex, pull out method oral (f receiving), just some sweet love making dude], listen i'm here for a good time not a long time

a/n: two fics in a year?? who is she

main masterlist - i no longer have a taglist but you can follow @theafterglowlibrary for updates!

Peter Parker was going to be the death of you.

With each grunt that echoed through the gym in Avengers Tower, your eyes flicked to his sweaty form. The goddamned death of you.

You tried to backtrack, to see when these feelings first started as a small burning in the back of your mind that had turned into a raging wildfire every time you were in his presence. It had to have been the mission in London.

It was normal - or as normal as any Avengers mission could be. 

You had just stumbled through the throes of midtown London, hand in hand with your boyfriend, looking with every bit of wonder like neither of you had ever seen the delights it had to offer.

Then, as soon as you stepped through the hotel door, Peter dropped your hand as if it had burned him the whole time. 

Maybe it started then, with that glimmer of disappointment. Peter wasn’t your boyfriend and he would never take the time to take you around tourist London like he had just done. 

And then that pit in your stomach grew as the door to your room opened: only one bed. Jesus Christ, Tony. 

“I know,” came the response from beside you; you must have spoken out loud. “It’ll be fine.”

Those were the last words he spoke for a long while, as you both got ready for bed, then slid in beside each other. The tension was palpable, and you didn’t know if it was your slowly mounting feelings or the clench of his discomfort, but regardless you slept fitfully for hours until you finally stumbled into a deep sleep.

You woke up to a strong pair of arms wrapped around your middle - somehow pressed there in the dark of the night - and the world spun around you as you shot up.

Peter was alert in seconds, standing by the bed assessing for a threat, when his eyes met yours - utterly confused and you had no real answer for him.

“Bad dream,” you mumbled as you headed to the bathroom, the door clicking with a sort of finality behind you.

And it was fine, really it was. You definitely didn’t think about the way press of his body against yours and how sexy his bed head had looked. Nope. Not at all. 

And you definitely didn’t imagine what he would have looked like if you were the one who made him sweaty and flushed like he was right now.

Snapping out of your borderline impure thoughts, you stood from your spot on the ground where you had been warming up and - before your mouth said something you could regret - you walked out of the gym.

With your back turned, you missed the way Peter’s eyes followed you the whole way.

-

Saturday nights were girl’s nights, as Wanda so boldly claimed. And girl’s night came with a lot of complaining.

Throwing the shot back, you groaned, not even wanting to voice your thoughts aloud.

“I shouldn’t even think about it,” you said. “He’s practically a kid.”

“Not to impede on your self-loathing, but he’s not a kid anymore babe,” was Natasha’s response. She nodded across the bar where Peter was sipping his beer, laughing at something Sam had said. Right, he was 22 and totally within your age range, but that didn’t mean you didn’t still see him as the 16 year old kid who had fought by Tony’s side. “Plus you’re not that much older than him. We used to call you a kid too, you know.”

Dragging your hand down your face, you stood from the table to order another drink, ignoring Nat and Wanda’s laughter at your misery.

As you leaned against the bar waiting, Peter dropped down into the stool beside you.

“Alright, what did I do to you?” His words were casual, joking, but you could hear the hurt laced within. That was never your intention, and your heart sank.

You and Peter had been friends for a long time, since Tony had first brought him in after the air had cleared with him and Cap. You bonded over being the youngest Avengers and what that meant for your lives. The two of you understood each other on another level that no one else truly did. And here you were, ruining everything over a little crush.

“Nothing, Pete.” You ruffled your hand through his hair and his face lit up in a blush that he tried to hide behind his beer bottle. “How have you been?”

“Not too bad, I guess,” he replied, then looked down at you - when had he gotten so tall - with an unreadable emotion on his face. “I miss you.”

Right. And you were back where you started. Admittedly, you had avoided him for the most part since that London mission, only saying hi in passing and at the occasional movie night or debrief. You weren’t exactly proud of it, but you didn’t know what else to do.

“I miss you too,” you whispered, shame coating your words. You never meant to hurt him - honestly, you didn’t. “Listen, kid, I just-“

“Don’t call me kid.” And the anger in his words surprised you. “I’m not that kid you met six years ago - when you were barely any older, might I remind you - and you know that. I know you know that. So don’t use that as an excuse to stop whatever is going on here.” His hands gestured between the two of you. 

Strong, capable hands that you had seen hurt and save, had seen run through his hair, had seen play video games. Hands that you had imagined for weeks now. Hands that you couldn’t help but grab out of mid air, clasping one in your own. 

“And what’s going on here, Peter?”

He leaned in close, breath hot on your ear. 

“I see the way you look at me.” Your breath hitched, then stopped altogether. “But I don’t think you see me looking right back.”

Body all of a sudden hot and raging with emotion, you squeezed his hand and took a deep breath. 

“Take me home.”

-

Your apartment was closer, so you walked the handful of blocks from the bar in tangible silence. Every brush of fingers was an electric jolt through your body and every bump of shoulders sent heat through your core. By the time you reached your front door, the tension was pulled so tight it was bound to snap at any moment.

And snap it did.

As soon as you had the apartment door closed behind you, Peter was on you, his hands everywhere all at once. He crowded you, pulling you close to him when you winced at the door knob digging into your side. One hand came to rest on your hip, rubbing soothing circles there, while the other cradled your face, eyes searching for permission.

You didn’t know what you were giving him permission for, but you nodded anyway.

The world around you stopped as Peter placed a searing kiss to your lips, stealing the breath from your lungs. The hand on your face moved to gently tug your hair and he took your gasp as an invitation to explore your mouth. God the boy knew how to kiss.

His tongue pressed into you, tasting every inch while your hands roamed his body. When he pulled away - not for air, not to leave you, but to place hot kisses down your neck, leaving a trail of burning fire in their wake - you tugged on his t-shirt in a silent plea for him to take it off.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t seen him without a shirt before. Between missions and training and plain old gym sessions, you were thankfully no stranger to a shirtless Peter Parker. But in the dim light of your living room, with those brown eyes boring into your own, everything was suddenly different.

You just stared - for far longer than necessary, you were sure - until he took a step back towards you, his fingers intertwining with your own. Nodding at him, you started to lead him towards your bedroom, not making it more than two steps until his hands were once again exploring your body.

When you finally made it - a trail of both of your clothes left in your wake - your breaths were heavy and panting, aching for more of him.

He stood there for a moment just looking at you, taking in the red lace of your bra and underwear. Unable to contain himself, he ripped it off of you in two quick pulls, leaving you bare before him.

You expected him to jump on you the second you were naked. Instead he pressed his front against your own - you gasped at the contact of your nipples against his bare chest - and lightly traced shapes over your exposed back, moving down to trail along your legs, then back up your arms. Everywhere he touched burned the memory into your skin.

Finally, finally, he gently pushed you against your bed, your back hitting the mattress with a soft bounce, and he peeled off his jeans and underwear before manhandling you towards the center, moving your body as if you weighed nothing.

You truly didn’t need any foreplay, the tension on your own end built up these last few weeks on top of Peter’s heated discovery of your body made for an easy transition, but he wasn’t about to let that happen.

No, Peter Parker was a fucking tease.

He started by kneading the soft skin of your breasts, touch light and gentle as if you were something precious. Even when he leaned down to take one of your nipples in his mouth, he still only gave you quick nips, nothing as satisfying as you needed. He made his way down your body, placing lover’s kisses everywhere he could reach, before finally settling down on his stomach between your legs.

You thought that this was surely the moment you would get some reprieve, some kind of real touch that may or may not send you over the edge, but no. He wasn’t done with you yet.

He kissed the inside of each thigh, alternating until he was breathing right where you needed him most. When you thought you were about to explode, he finally lowered his mouth to your core.

The feeling after so long of teasing was euphoric, and you swear if you were a weaker woman you could have come from the first swipe of his tongue against your clit. You held out as his tongue made its way in circles and figure eights, then he pressed a finger against your entrance, eyes looking up through dark lashes to silently ask permission.

Once you had given it, he sank a finger into you, pumping it a few times before adding another. With that, both his hand and mouth picked up speed until you were grinding on his face, chasing your orgasm.

You were on the edge, ready to jump off, when he pulled back. You whined at the loss of contact and tried to sit up, but one large hand pushed you back against the bed, the other starting its assault all over again.

This time, he didn’t stop until you were coming all over his face, and you think you blacked out for a second because the next thing you knew he was over top of you, not even bothering to wipe his mouth before kissing you, driving his tongue in and swallowing down your moans.

He ground his hips against you, his cock sliding easily through your folds, and you both whined as his tip caught at your entrance. He continued his movements, getting closer and closer to fucking you with every pass, but never quite committing.

Sick of his teasing, you pushed hard on his shoulders and, in his surprise, were able to flip him so he was on his back.

“Stop teasing, Peter,” you whispered in his ear as you straddled his waist. “I need you.”

You pulled back, eyes searching his, before he nodded and wrapped his hands around your hips. Taking that as permission, you grabbed his cock, lining it up and slowly sliding down.

He was big, much bigger than you had anticipated, and you had to take your time before he was fully seated inside you. Once your hips were flush together, you took a breath, practically feeling him in your throat. 

He looked up at you - almost adoringly - as you adjusted to him. You leaned down, pressing your chest against his, and kissed him gently, pouring every ounce of emotion you possibly could into it before starting to move your hips. Now more adjusted, the burn of the stretch turned into a pleasure that had you melting against him and hands guided your hips to move you along his length.

For long minutes you let him move you as he wanted, content to hang on for the ride. You didn’t expect for Peter to flip you over and start pounding into you.

“Fuck,” you gasped out as he settled your legs over your shoulders. “So fucking deep.”

All you could do is hold onto him as he fucked you, alternating between hard thrusts and slow grinds until you were dizzy with pleasure, chasing an orgasm that wasn’t going to come unless Peter damn well wanted it to.

And when he did, when he reached down and rubbed harsh circles into your clit, you exploded around him. The clench of your heat around his cock spurred his own orgasm, and he pulled out at the last second, his come coating your stomach and tits.

That on is own was hot enough, but Peter fucking Parker did not come to play. He swiped two fingers through his own release before pressing them to your mouth. You opened up for him, cleaning off his fingers as he groaned, and you could see his cock give an interested twitch, like it was already trying to go for round two.

The weight of his body disappeared from yours and you whined, reaching out for him even with your eyes closed. He quickly returned with a warm rag and cleaned you up before maneuvering you both under the covers. 

Regaining a semblance of strength, you turned so that you were facing him, suddenly very aware of each of your nakedness.

“What now?” Your voice was hoarse-sounding, it’s only use in the last bit from moans and gasps.

“Well,” he started, once again tracing shapes along your bare skin, “I think we maybe skipped a step in the middle of all this.”

“What do you mean?” If he was going to say what you thought he might, your heart would implode.

“I mean, I’ve liked you for a really long time, longer than I’m going to admit, and I took this chance because I didn’t know if I would ever get it again. But if I’m right - and I think I am - then you feel the same way I do. So, I want to take you on a proper date. I want to make this work.”

His confession made your heart stutter-step and you couldn’t even find the words to tell him yes, yes, a thousand times yes. Instead, you pulled him in for a soft kiss, hoping every emotion he had just poured out to you was matched in the press of your lips against his.

“I’m taking that as a yes, then.”

“Yeah, Pete, it is.”

[ditzydoe444]

MDNI 18+

spiderman smut

spiderman x silk! reader

you and spiderman simply couldn’t get enough of each other due to the stupid hormones, the two of you could barely go on a mission without fucking each other a second later. hence why the two of you were in an abandoned alleyway, whilst he was balls deep in you. you were shoved against the cold brick wall of the alleyway, with your ass our whilst he took your tight cunt from behind. the two of you were so impatient you guys didn’t even bother taking off your suit properly, where he had ripped the part near your pussy, where his fat cock was now buried in.

“you feel so fucking good,” he groaned, his grip against your hips tight enough to leave marks though you didn’t care, your judgement was too clouded. it always was when you were near him. you whined, god you couldn’t even think properly with his cock shoved in your desperate hole. his grip tightened, “your pussy is always so accomodating,” he whispered as he kissed your neck, “always so welcoming,” he mumbled as his hand lowered down to rub your clit roughly. the area where your suit had been ripped was damp, soaked in your arousal.

“so pretty,” he grunted, as his other hand that was on your waist went to your neck, squeezing the side slightly. you whined, your nails scratching against the brick wall. “can’t focus on the mission when i can be buried in your pretty little pussy,” he panted, his thrusts getting harder and deeper, you didn’t know how much longer you could hold our, your knees already buckling.

you felt another rip on your suit, the rip that was near your pussy was, now extended to around the curve of your ass, him forcing you to bend even more. “bet i need to tend to all of your pretty little holes, huh?” he grinned, his thumb tracing upwards towards your ass before entering his thumb in the tight hole. “this one is welcoming too,” he groaned, “your the perfect little toy for me.”

god you were being fucked dumb, your mind was going blank and all you could do was form pathetic babbles and whines, that were totally not appropriate during a mission. “fuck baby, your making a mess,” you looked down to see the inner thigh part of your suit damp, you were leaking down your legs. “i can’t get enough,” he groaned, his breaths becoming more ragged.

“funny how you were making smart remarks during the meeting, but you can’t seem to get any word out now.” it was true, you were making sarcastic comments an hour ago at headquarters and now you were a babbling mess. “that’s what good dick gets you huh?” he teased, his hand squeezing your neck even tighter. despite your lack of words, your wetness and slick noises that came from your tight cunt accomodating his length spoke enough. “so nice to have a pretty pussy welcoming me whenever i want,” he cooed, “so i gotta reward you, hm?” he kissed your neck, “gonna give you the best fucking orgasm.”

[letssee2468]

Yall let me be real with you…

YALL THESE PORN BOTS ARE GETTING OUT OF HAND!!!😡😡😡😡😡😡😡

I’ve had enough! I already scrolled 5 consecutive post of these porn bots

Some one pls help me filter them out cuz im annoyed

[hardbeingcasual]

LIKE A GHOST! / PETER PARKER

♪ 10:36, BEABADOOBEE/ MARVEL MASTERLIST / MASTERLIST

pairings. mcu! peter parker x reader

warnings. peter being down bad idk

summary. peter isn’t so good at tending wounds as he thought.

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Peter knew he should’ve pretended to be sick so Aunt May never told him to go in today,

He got hurt real bad yesterday when fighting a crime, he thought if he just slept it off it wouldn’t be so bad in the morning.

He thought wrong.

He still had to go to school the next day, he was trying to make it not noticeable but he hurt his leg and the cuts on his chest and just under his neck weren’t going to go away overnight.

He barely slept last night due to the pain, so his tiredness just made it worse.

He was scared to see you. He didn’t want to worry you… or any of his friends!

He knew you cared about him, a lot. Your kindness was one of the reasons why he was so helplessly in love with you.

Peter was nervous for PE. He shared that class with you, he knew you’d ask questions and he’d end up spilling his whole friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man secret.

He swallowed his pride and walked through the gym doors, seeing you, he swore all his pain and worries went away. The way your eyes met his he genuinely thought he was going to collapse.

He saw that you were making your way over to him and he had to stay steady on his feet so he didn’t collapse and make a fool of himself in-front of you. Yeah, you guys were best friends but god every time he was around you he can’t help himself from feeling anxious. Recently he found out he had feelings for you, and it was killing him inside out.

You greet him, but he wasn’t listening, he was in his own world.

“Holy shit, Pete, you’re bleeding.” Your hand going to his t-shirt, trying to help is what breaks him from his daze.

Peter always wore his suit under his clothes, no matter what. You never knew when Spider-Man was needed.

So he panicked, what if you found out he was Spider-Man and also the rest of the class because they were all close by. He would be fucked. He quickly pulls his t-shirt back to sitting normal.

“It’s nothing, I promise.” He assures you, but he knew you had your suspicions. One of these days he’s going to have to tell you, the secret is killing him. He wasn’t sure if he was on about being Spider-Man or his feelings.

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#NOTES requests are open !!

[astxroiid]

could I possibly get Sagittarius with peter Parker (mcu if possible!) thank youuu :)))

thank you thank you thank you for asking this 💋

'kinks/fetishes'

while mainly inexperienced, Peter Parker knows somewhat about the things he's into. (most of the time you end up showing him the things he likes). he's known for the longest time that someone telling him what to do and having power over him is the biggest turn on. His earliest memory of porn-watching was a video about a man being tied down on a bed while a woman denied him his orgasm like ten times.

peter remembers cuming the hardest when you've edged him for hours, whispering how pathetic he looks like that.

while he loves to be degraded and told how pathetic he looks and how needy he is, he can't help the way his body reacts when you praise him as well. Truly, he just wants to be your good boy. The times where he'll cum inside you, whimpering, panting, and shaking and you call him your good boy usually have him straining in his pants when he's daydreaming.

orgasm denial is definitely a big one for him. But so is overstimulation. When you have him finishing multiple times a day, cock sensitive and body convulsing.

in conclusion; peter parker is submissive through and through.

kinks/fetishes: complete submission, orgasm denial, praise, degradation, overstimulation, edging, good boy, mommy kink, rope bunny, masochisim, wax play, bondage, slight voyerism.

again, thanks so much! requests from my 600 q&a are open until feb. 1 !

q&a page ✷ m.list ✷ navigation

[anyalikeslasagna]

bring back men who yearn

[ericshoney]

Marvel Masterlist

Peter Parker

~ Bruises (Oneshot)

~ Study Buddies (Oneshot)

Steve Rogers

~ Language (Oneshot)

Bucky Barnes

~ The Winter Soldier's cold shower (Oneshot)

~ In the past (Oneshot)

Tony Stark

~ Stark's Wit (Oneshot)

~ Breaking Point (Oneshot)

~~~~~~~

Taglist:

@riowritesitall @mandmilovehim @parkjihoonsnudes @lgbtq-girl @onelesslonelygirlbieber6

[deathbyathousandspiders]

let me down slowly. ₃

mcu!peter parker x fem!stark!reader | boy in the bubble part three.

IN WHICH a few days have passed since the attack & finding out peter's super secret, but will peter find a way to earn your forgiveness?

author's note — highly recommend reading the first two parts! i love writing song prompts, they are too yummy !!!!!

WARNINGS (18+ MDNI) — reader gets hurt, reader has lowkey PTSD, mentions of knife, angst to fluff<3

read part one | part two here.

gif found here.

✨masterlist.✨

3.4k.

Walking through the bustling city of New York never ceased to amaze you, especially at sunset. The pink tickling between buildings, the rush of people flooding the sidewalks, and the steps you and Peter took in time back to your apartment. 

It was just barely past six on that Friday evening, and you could feel the gentle rumble of your stomach at the thought of being welcomed by your Father’s cooking. 

A smile touched your lips as Peter echoed your unspoken words. 

“I wonder what he’s making tonight.” He voiced, glancing your way as you walked together. “I’m hungry just thinking about it.”

You couldn’t help but nod in agreement, hands placed over your stomach at the thought. “Stop, I’m too excited.” Tony was an excellent cook, and exceptional at surprises. You knew whatever he had in store tonight would be divine. “I saw salmon in the fridge so I wonder if—”

Peter stopping dead in his tracks startled you. He practically froze, like he was witnessing something of insanity in front of him. Glancing at where his eyes were focused, you found nothing of the sort. 

“Peter?” Concern bled from your voice. You couldn’t help it. He looked like he could feel every hair on his body stand upright. It was unsettling. 

Meeting your eyes, his brows knit together to create a look of sympathy. Apology. “I–uh, I forgot something at the school!” The words were practically blurted. 

Your own brows knit together, not in remorse, but in confusion. “Can’t you just get it on Monday?”

He shook his head. “I can’t–” The dread in his voice—the sudden breathless panic lacing each syllable he spoke—confused you, more than you knew how to say. “It’s important. I–I have to go.”

“You’re leaving?” It wasn’t an accusation more than a statement, but he could hear the undertones of what you implied. 

The look on your face read that the two of you had been here too many times before. 

He took paces towards you. “I’ll meet you there. I’ll be there for dinner.” And Peter gave you a hug. The grip to his embrace was puzzling. He didn’t seem to want to let you go. 

“You promise?”

Peter pulled back to meet your eyes, and every unspoken word shared between the shared glances told you that he meant every ounce of endearment to his reply: “I promise.”

And with that, he slipped away from you and back the way you’d walked from. 

As you kept walking to your apartment, part of you realized how difficult it was to believe him. He always ran off with some crazy excuse, and it never felt honest. Another part of you realized that you should probably ask him about it before you worried yourself sick. 

A bystander approaching you caught you off balance. 

“Y/N Stark?” They asked, something like excitement caught their tongue. “I’m a big fan of your father’s work. Would it be alright to get your autograph?”

A bizarre ask, but it wasn’t the first time. You smiled politely, nodding your head as you grabbed the pen they’d offered. “Sure! I appreciate it.”

Your hand flew elegantly across the photo of you and your father held towards you, signing your name on the bottom right corner. 

When you went to hand the pen back, they grabbed your wrist with a force that told you how stupid you’d been. 

“Don’t struggle or I’ll make this hell for you.” A threat, and it seemed nothing empty. As they forced you down the sidewalk beside them, you tried to assess what they were wearing; what was on their person and what kind of threat they’d be. 

A matted handle of a knife beside their pocket made your blood race a little faster. 

They tugged you into an alley off the sidewalk, secluded from sight, and threw you into the brick wall to the left of it. The texture scraped down your body as you tried to catch your balance, but you fell onto your back and into the pavement as the man laughed. 

“What a weak, pathetic excuse for a Stark.”

It was tantalizing, and surely something that would haunt you, but you couldn’t help but fight. You glared up at the man, hoping the look in your eye held something sharper than the blade he drew from his pocket. 

As he paced closer, you were suddenly grateful for all the close quarter combat that Sam and Natasha had taught you. 

Once he was close enough, just as he went to slash his weapon at you, you kicked between his legs with as much force as you had before locking your foot behind his right knee and pulling it towards you. He fell to the ground with a groan, swinging his knife aimlessly in your direction. You couldn’t tell if he’d missed or not—adrenaline wouldn’t let you feel it just yet. 

Your knee met his jaw before you rolled away from him. You attempted to run from the alley, but his slime grip caught your ankle and yanked you back towards him. It was a pathetic yelp that left your lips, but you couldn’t help it. 

Everything in you tried not to believe the words he’d spat at you. You couldn’t give up, you couldn’t end like this. 

Your feet kicked at him, even though you couldn’t see. You tried to flip over, catching the direct moment that your left foot met his face and challenged him back. 

You managed to stand and run before you could look back, but you couldn’t get far. Somehow, you realized the alleyway was longer than you’d remember. Suddenly, his hands were over your mouth and muffling screams; his knife was at your stomach, and all he said was the same phrase. 

“What a weak, pathetic excuse for a Stark—”

You’d never felt the stronger need for oxygen than what ripped you from slumber. 

Heave after heave, you had to remind yourself that you weren’t dreaming anymore. The nightmare was over. You made it out. You were safe. 

You were only left splintered with the feeling. Paranoia. 

Ever since the attack, and finding out that Peter Parker was Spider–Man, you’d been getting frequent nightmares. Whether the wicked dreams were flashbacks to getting jumped, or some memory with Peter that haunted your sleep, they varied each time your eyes shut. 

Immediately, you sat up, turned your bedside lamp on, grabbed your cell phone, and dialed the first number you could think of. You left no room for panic. 

It didn’t even take five seconds before he answered. 

“Hello?” 

“I had another one.” The first four words you could mutter, the only information you’d spare. It was just another nightmare, another reason to call him. It was not forgiveness. 

Not yet, at least. 

You brought your knees to your chest beneath your blankets, running your fingers across your cloth–covered calves. It grounded you from lingering scarcities, and kept you from oversharing. 

You were still upset with him and your father for what happened four days ago. Not even a nightmare would shake the betrayal from your bones. 

The sound of Peter Parker’s empathy was unspoken across the call, yet pretty loud as the silence settled between the two of you. 

He thought carefully through his next words, knowing damn well how thin the ice he stood on already was. 

“Do you want me to come over–?”

“No.” Your response was sharp, quick, locked, and loaded. 

“Is there anything I can—“

“No.” Another double edged, double lettered response. 

Peter blew a subtle breath out from what you assumed were puffed cheeks. He knew better than to say too much, than to break your trust even further. 

As silence nestled into the space between you, whatever paranoia had been shaking your system seemed to wither a little. 

Even just the muffled sound of his breath and hesitation across the call brought you more comfort than you knew how to ask for. 

You didn’t plan to cave and tell him that you missed him, though. He didn’t deserve that. 

“Does this mean you’re talking to me again?” 

Somehow, Peter’s voice hummed like the perfect mix of backstabbed and security. It made everything feel so complicated. 

You had to think about it, how to answer him.  

Still, your reply remained the same. 

“No.” It wasn’t as harsh as the variant prior. 

You heard Peter turn his own bedside lamp on, and the short sigh he let out in response to you. 

“Are you only allowing yourself to say ‘no’ to me, then?”

It was a challenge to stay mad at him, especially considering how long you’d known him for and how well he knew you. Betrayed or not, you knew deep down that you didn’t plan to stay upset with him forever. 

As much as you tried to hide it, the word came out more gently than intended. “Yes.” The humorous opportunity was difficult to resist.

You could hear the small smile Peter acquired on the other end of the line. “So she speaks.”

“No, she doesn’t.” You quipped back, though the ice you’d initiated the call with began to thaw bit by bit. 

“Would she..? If I apologized again?” The question was scarce, but you couldn’t say you hadn’t been expecting it. 

This was a dance you and Peter had been tip–toeing for the past three nights. You didn’t dare break the silence that first night, nor did you sleep, but you couldn’t help it the second night. And yesterday night, too. He had apologized both. 

He’d left an apology note in your locker earlier that day, too. 

Your dad hadn’t said anything remotely related to an apology, even though he tried other ways to bridge the growing gap between you. You couldn’t tell if it was his stubborn spirits or fear of vulnerability, but Tony Stark didn’t seem to know where to start. 

And you weren’t going to make it your job to show him. 

At least Peter was trying.

You shook your head, despite the fact that he couldn’t see it. “You can’t ask me that so late.” At this point, you couldn’t stop the playful tone of your voice. “I won’t sound convincing, and you haven’t earned forgiveness yet.”

Peter took a second, whether to take in a moment where you weren’t seething at him, or to think through a response that wouldn’t scare you off, he’d never admit. Part of you appreciated him for that, appreciated him for allowing you to have more time in his company when you weren’t so begrudging. 

Part of you forgot that he was your best friend, in the midst of how clouded you’d been with despair. 

“Tell me, then.” His voice was barely above a whisper, gentle enough to lay his weapons down. “How can I earn your forgiveness?”

Somehow, the question made your heart race. It made your skin heat and your head spin. You hadn’t thought this far into it, or given it this much reflection. 

Just how could he earn your forgiveness? How could Peter Parker win your trust back?

You gave it a second, catching a bit of your breath that had gotten away. “Maybe you can–”

The sudden sound of thudding from downstairs came out of nowhere. Your head immediately snapped towards the door, that breath instantly catching back in your throat. 

“Y/N?” 

Breathe. You had to remember to breathe. You were just jumpy after the attack. Right. Yes, clearly you were just easily startled after Friday night. This had to have been your father being clumsy. 

Pulling your phone from your ear, you put Peter on speaker while you went to text your father. If you just asked him if he was alright, that wouldn’t be caving into forgiving him. It was just two in the morning and you were a worried daughter. 

However, the screen you were met with sent your heart straight to the floor. 

Peter repeated himself, “Y/N?” There was an edge to his voice this time, skeptical of your silence. “Are you okay?”

Tony had texted you two hours prior that he left the apartment. He was upstate at the compound, needing to assist Bruce with a technology repair. 

Which only meant—

Taking Peter off speakerphone, you pressed the device back to your ear. “Peter–” You could only force out whispers, fingers suddenly trembling as they went to tug your covers off. “Peter, someone’s here!” Panic bled through as your blood washed white. 

You didn’t waste a second to scurry across the room and lock the door, didn’t wait for Peter to respond before you grabbed a baseball bat you kept in the corner to defend yourself. 

His end of the call was quieter than you wanted it to be, for much longer than you knew how to deal with. 

It was quiet enough to hear two more thuds, getting a bit closer. 

Fear kept you in such a chokehold, you had to fight to mutter his name again—to whisper his name just to make sure he hadn’t left you. 

“I’m on my way.” His voice held something grave, determined; you made out the breeze whispering behind his response through the phone call. “Don’t leave your room.” The instructions were stern, protective. 

Your grip was firm and strong against the bat, pointing it at your door like some sort of sword. The length of your arm trembled, but you tried to remain calm, especially as the thudding repeated twice more, closer even. 

Every ounce of air in your lungs froze. “Hurry, Peter..” You whispered. Immediately, you heard another thud, louder than the others. You could barely discern it over the blaring noise of your heart pounding beneath your chest. 

Each hair on your body rose at the sound of footsteps taking the stairs. 

“Peter!” Calling your voice a whisper would’ve been false; you wheezed his name out. “Peter, he’s back! He’s here!” And even though your voice was quiet, you had to force it out. You couldn’t function with the rate your body shook at. 

You couldn’t breathe anymore once the shadows of feet reached your door. 

You barely had the air to gasp at the sight, to fumble for the baseball bat you tried to grip between your fingers. 

Peter finally spoke up, “Hey, breathe.” And you felt a wave of relief when his voice was heard beyond your door as well. “It’s just me.. You’re okay.” And he went to unlock the door. 

He was the only one who knew where you hid the spare key. 

When the door opened, and Peter stood behind it, you couldn’t find the words or place the thoughts you had at the sight of him. 

He hung the phone up, waiting in the doorframe to keep from intruding. “There was a pigeon loose in your living room.” He spoke it gently, “Someone left the terrace door open.”

It took his words then to recall that you’d left that door open. No one had broken in. You were going to be okay. 

The bat fell from your hands and rattled to the floor as you released it, your phone followed suit on your bed as your hands covered your face. You couldn’t keep your composure over the panic, over each sleep deprived night and every aching bruise still painting your body. 

Hidden behind your hands, you began to sob. 

Peter didn’t hesitate to pace the distance between you. He sat beside you on your bed and pulled you into his arms. You couldn’t find the words to thank him or the strength to move for a moment, but once you did, you wrapped your arms tightly around him, and he pulled you as close as he could. 

“I’m so sorry..” He whispered into your hairline, a few of his tears catching with his words. His hand held the base of your head, thumb combing through the hair of yours that it could as he held you. 

You were still catching your bearings. Still gripping white knuckles on his band tee and shaking in his arms. “I– I didn’t think I would—” You were gasping the words between sobs. “I thought I was going to—” You couldn’t finish the sentence. 

Both of his hands found your jaw, pulling you back so he could see you. He wouldn’t let you finish that sentence, nor would he ever let it come true. “Y/N, I would never let that happen..” He spoke so earnestly. “You’re safe. I promise.”

He saw how the word promise seemed to affect you. He realized then that if he had any shot of earning your forgiveness, it was now. 

“We promised to tell each other everything.” He started, and you soaked in every word. You soaked in everything about him, allowing yourself to release your anger for a moment. “I also promised your dad that I’d do everything I could to protect you.. I intend to keep both.”

Your sobs had settled, and he’d begun to use his thumbs to wipe the tears still streaking your face. 

“I didn’t keep my promise to you too well.” He sounded so disappointed with himself. “Tony thought it would be better to keep all of this from you, but I just…” He lost the words, wincing at his realization of how awful he’d been. 

His forehead fell against yours in defeat, despairingly. “There were dozens of times I wanted to tell you. Every time I didn’t, I broke our promise, and I’m so sorry.. You deserved better than that.”

As you looked up to meet his eyes, you could see tears glistening in his own. 

“I forgive you.” It felt rewarding to say, especially as hope returned to Peter’s expression right where it belonged. You couldn’t help but laugh a little at how excited he seemed. “Fuck, and this whole time, I thought you were hiding a secret girlfriend or something.”

The laugh that spilled from his lips was much more timid than you would’ve expected, and felt incredibly intimate at the close proximity you shared. “No. There’s only one girl I’ve got my eyes set on.” And he didn’t break his stare from you. 

You couldn’t help but giggle, shoving him playfully. “That was the corniest thing I have ever heard you say.”

He laughed with you, wiping his remaining tears. “Shut up!”

The two of you fell into something so familiar, a small fit of laughter and stares of admiration. Oh, how badly you’d missed him. 

You took in the sight of him beside you, him in a natural state. His cheeks were still flushed from the brisk wind of his journey over, his curls stuck out like coils of fire atop his head. He was in pajamas, a white band tee, blue boxers, and white Nike socks. 

He looked like your best friend, and it took you til that moment to realize just how safe you felt with him—the safest you’d felt all week. 

A timid smile curved along your lips. “Would you be okay staying with me tonight?” You scanned his face for his reaction. “Tony’s out for the night and I don’t want to be alone.”

His expression matched yours, eyes pooling with a bit more sympathy, and something that looked like he’d been hoping you would ask. “You don’t have to be. I’ll stay with you.” And that was all he took before he lifted your covers for you to cozy back inside. 

Peter waited for you to give more invitation of whether or not he could get close to you. He did not want to overstep, especially after you’d just made up. When you pulled back your covers for him, he slid in beside you; once you’d pulled his arm over your waist, he didn’t hesitate before spooning you snug in his arms. 

As you fell asleep, majority of your resentment for the situation seemed to wither away. You knew you’d have a talk with your father, but seeing as you woke up to a text from him with an actual apology and the news that they’d found your attacker, you knew the conversation wouldn’t be so bad. 

Walking up in Peter’s arms was more than you could’ve ever asked for. You hoped that you’d be able to get used to it. 

You knew as long as you had each other, Peter would never let any harm happen to you. 

And maybe that meant you weren’t powerless after all. 

tag–list: @yourfavoritefangirl @inkedeye2345 @wxnterwidow333 @generalmoonpolice @elianamarie-blog @cantbecreative @justpeachyparker @spideryenby @notsolong-pause @wellshit6 @mwahreads @lovelyidyllic @mimisamisasa @love-hs28

thank you for all the love on the last part!! not sure whether to write a part four, but please please please leave me more song prompts/requests !!!!! these are by far my favorite <3

[bitchyycapricorn]

Sticky

MCU!Peter Parker x Reader

Masterlist

Wordcount: 2.4K

Synopsis: Peter Parker loves to play with fun gadgets he finds around the Stark tower. Especially when it comes from an alien space ship. Which is exactly how you end up completely pressed to the ceiling of Peters room without knowing when you’ll come down.

Warnings: Smut!! Oral (f receiving), P in V, language, probably disappointing Mr. Stark

AN: lightly edited

Peter bursts through his bedroom door at the speed of light. “Y/N! Y/N!” Peter shouts, his eyes scanning his room for any signs of life. You peak your head out from under the covers, a small smile forming on your tired face.

“Hey Peter,” you mumble sleepily, snuggling your head into Peter’s pillow. “You’re home from Stark Towers already?” You hum groggily.

Peter shuffles over to his bed, plopping down next to your curled-up figure. “Mr. Stark helped me design new web shooters and-and I wanted to show you them,” Peter beams. A soft smile spreads across your face as you watch Peter shuffle around inside the black bag he brought home.

“Ah, damnit.” Peter mumbles pulling out some sort of gun filled with lava pink liquid. “I brought home the wrong bag. This is the anti gravity stick gun.” Peter frowns.

Your eyes shoot open wide, the aspect of an anti gravity sticky gun intriguing you. “Did you say anti gravity? Your smile widens as you sit up fully to take a look at the gun in Peter’s hand.

“Yeah, but we can’t you know…use it.” Peter laughs as he goes to put the gun back in the bag. Your hand is quick to stop his, wrestling the gun out of his grip. “Y/N/N, no, we can’t,” Peter pleas with you. “If Mr. Stark find out he’ll have my suit!” His words mean nothing to you in this moment, you’re too busy examining the cool piece of alien tech that Peter “accidentally” brought home.

“There’s no way you ‘accidentally’ brought this home, you were totally messing around with Tony’s gadgets again weren’t you!” A smirk tugs at your lips as you continue to examine the bright pink liquid.

Peter groans, throwing himself back on the bed. “Okay! So I got sticky fingers and was messing with some of Mr. Stark’s stuff. But I really did accidentally bring it home! I had two identical bags, one with the anti-gravity gun and the other with my webshooter upgrades. Bruce just walked into the lab and I got scared and threw the gun back into the bag and without thinking took off with the wrong bag…” Peter babbles.

“Wicked,” you grin, pointing the gun at Peter. “So if I shoot you with this…”

“No no, I shot a flowerpot to the ceiling and it was still stuck up there when I left, I was playing with the gun for over an hour.” He replies sternly.

You let out a small laugh “Oh, so I’m definitely sticking your sticky ass to the ceiling.” You’re still pointing the gun at Peter when he goes to take it back from you. As you wrestle for the gun, a beam of light shoots out of it and the next thing you know you’re on Peter’s ceiling.

“Y/N!” Peter squeaks. Your whole body is pressed up into the ceiling, limbs completely frozen. Arms and legs both slightly spread out. “Um, shit what do we do?” Peter looks at the gun again as if there will be directions written on the outside explaining how to reverse the effects.

“I feel like I’m not even allowed to be mad,’ You let out a laugh, looking down at a panicking Peter. “This is actually really cool, I feel so firm.”

“Y/N, this is not the time to be messing around, we need to get you down.” Peter’s face is pale and sweaty as he examines your body being pressed against his ceiling by some weird alien magic. His eyes wander from how silly your hair looks fluffing out, down to how nice your figure looks, completely trapped and unable to move. Peter tries pushing the thought away, hating his sudden urge to crawl up on the ceiling with you and experience what its like to make you scream while you’re stuck. That’s when it hits him, “I’m coming up with you, I’ll see if I can pry you off the ceiling okay?”

You scrunch your face up at his words, not liking that he’s making you come down already. “Come on Peter, this is so cool. See if you can move my limbs into different positions first.” Peter disappears from your view for a moment before he’s hovering… below you?

“Why do you insist on making things difficult by messing around?”

“Because.” You state simply. Peter rolls his eyes, gently tugging at your arm. Your arm easily swings forward before quickly being pulled back to the ceiling. “Whoa, do that again it felt weird. I feel like my whole body is ten times more sensitive right now.”

Peter pulls your arm again, it comes forward before reattaching to the ceiling, his mind racing from your words. He can’t help but wonder if your whole body is more sensitive. “We need to get you down now.” He urges, knowing that if you’re up here any longer he won’t be able to help himself. It was always a fantasy of his to fuck you on the ceiling, or high up on a wall. He just never trusted himself enough to go through with it. But now that you were already up here, he couldn’t help but feel the urge to start fucking you senseless.

“Peter, earth to Peter Parker,” you coo, trying to get your boyfriends attention.

Peter blinks, refocusing his gaze onto yours, “sorry, sorry I was just thinking.” His face flushes red as he begins to crawl down to your legs.

“You couldn’t have been normal and gone around my body? You had to crawl over me didn’t you?” You ask, watching has Peter’s body hovers over yours on his way down to try and unstick your feet permanently. “Your dick is in my face, and it’s hard.” You mumble, a blush spreading across your face now.

“S-shit sorry!” Peter tries to move out of your face by backing up, only to find he’s made it worse by dropping his hips too low and smacking you in the face with his boner.

Your body begins to shake with laughter, “Ow, I just got a face full of sweatpants dick.”

Peter freezes, hoping down from the ceiling completely. “I don’t think I’m getting you down.” He admits, his face was a brighter red than before as he looks up at you.

You let out a small hum, looking down at your embarrassed boyfriend. “Well, you got any ideas how we can pass the time?”

“I won’t admit anything.” Peter replies, quickly adverting his gaze.

“That made absolutely no sense dork, do you have any ideas or not?”

“None that I’m willing to admit.” He continues to avoid your gaze, focusing only on the closet door.

“You should come up here and fuck me then,” you tease, eyeing his still obvious boner.

Peter’s face goes pale, looking up at you again. “Does the gun give you the ability to read minds too?”

A laugh erupts from your chest a you goto shake your head ‘no,’ only to realize you can’t. “No Peter, I can’t read minds but I can read the message your massive boner sent me while it was in my face.”

“That’s not funny, you scared me. I thought you could tell what I was thinking and that you’d start yelling at me for thinking about how good your boobs look in such a dire situation.” Peter pauses, realizing he just admitted exactly what he didn’t want you to know. “Never mind, don’t listen to me ever again.”

“You think my boobs look good?” You beam.

“Stop.” Peter warns, feeling his blush return.

“Oh my god Parker, just get up here and fuck me.” You groan. Peter hesitates for a moment before giving you a small nod and jumping up onto the ceiling. He starts at your legs, repositioning them so your feet are pressing against the ceiling while your knees are bent. Once he’s got you properly repositioned, you feel him crawling between your legs. “Peter…what are you doing?” You can feel his hands grabbing onto your pajama shorts.

“Fucking you, like you asked so kindly.” A smirk settles on Peters face as he rips your pajama shorts down the middle seam, watching as they fall off your body and to the ground.

“Peter!” You cry, looking down at your now torn shorts.

“Well I had to get them off you!” Peter defends, slowly ripping your underwear off you as well. You let out a gasp as the cool air hits your heat, feeling your whole body flush under Peters warm touch, “Tank-top is next.” He smirks, tearing open the fabric to reveal your bare chest. The cold air washes over your, making you shiver as much as the magic would let you. Peter grabs your wrists, guiding your arms so they’re pinned above your head. “Is this what you want pretty girl?” He hums against your neck. His lips slowly leaving a trail of kisses down your body.

You let out a sharp moan “Y-yes,” his lips causing you to completely forget about your torn cloths on the ground. He continues to kiss down your neck until he reaches your tits. His right hand gently creasing the swell of your breast making you let out another moan. Leaning down, Peter brought your hard nipple into his mouth. Another moan escapes your lips as you fight to press your chest into Peters face, but with no success. You’re completely stuck, unable to move. Peter smirks against your boob at the attempt, continuing to swirl his tongue around your extremely sensitive nipple. “Fuck Peter,” you groan, wanting more than anything to run your fingers through his soft brown curls. Peter switches over to your other tit, giving the other nipple some attention as well.

The room fills with your soft moans as Peter kisses his way down your body and to your hot cunt. He pulls away for a moment, pressing a soft kiss to your inner thigh before dragging his bottom lip down your thigh and back to your aching cunt. His head dips between your legs as you feel his tongue slowly slipping between your folds. The tip of his tongue makes contact with your clit, gently swirling around the sensitive bundle of nerves causing you to let out a throaty moan. Peter’s arms slide around your thighs, pulling your body closer ever so slightly as he continues to eat you out. His face buried in your soft cunt, lick and sucking on your swollen clit.

A knot begins to form in your stomach within a few seconds and your realize just how sensitive your body really feels. The feeling of Peters mouth pleasuring you makes your body a shaking mess against the ceiling. Your limbs feel like they’re on fire as pleasure courses through your whole body. Pressing your head against the ceiling as hard as you could, you feel your orgasm wash over you. A sharp cry escapes your lips, your whole body convulsing from your release.

Peter slowly comes up from your cunt, a smile plastered on his face. “I see someone enjoyed that a little too much.” He teases, placing a soft kiss to your lips. You let out a small groan in response, your whole body still pulsating. You keep your eyes on Peter as he begins to strip from his sweatpants and white T-shirt. His abs flexing as he miraculously manages to strip while still on the ceiling.

“Look at my sticky boy,” you giggle as you admire the way the light makes his abs appear to glow.

Peter grins, crawling over, well under, your body and positioning his hips between your thighs. “I’m about to make you real sticky.” You raise your eyebrow at his comment, noticing the cheeky grin on his face. “You ready?” He asks, his hand slipping between your bodies to position himself.

“Mhm,” you hum, feeling Peter slides into you slowly. The sensation of Peter thrusting up into you is completely foreign and completely surreal. Your body bounces ever so slightly up against the ceiling and you feel as though you could fall at any moment.

Yet, your body stays put, allowing for Peter’s hips to snap up into yours. His thrusts are sloppy and deep, feeling out your new position. A sigh escapes your lips as Peter leans up to kiss along your neck.

“How does this feel baby?” He whispers softly in your ear.

A shiver runs down your spine, all of your muscles contracting at the hot breath on your ear and neck. “It feels so good Peter,” you moan softly, desperately wishing you could wrap your arms around his neck. Peter gives you a warm smile, kissing your cheek as his pace speeds up. His thrusts becoming more even and deep, fucking you straight up and into the cold ceiling.

“Wanna see a trick?”

“Trick?” You laugh, watching as Peter detaches his hands from the ceiling, leaving him on just his knees. He looks up at you with a smirk, gripping onto your thighs as he continues to fuck you at an inhuman speed. His nails digging into your soft skin as he hangs upside down thrusting into you.

You close your eyes, letting out a string of moans, loving the way he feels deep inside of you. “Fuck Peter, I’m close again.” You felt like you were on fire, your whole body overly sensitive to Peter’s touch and rough thrusts.

“Do it then” Peter grunts, his cock sliding in and out of you even harder. You push your head up into the ceiling, mouth falling open as another wave of intense pleasure hits you, throwing you completely over the edge. A scream escapes your lips followed by Peters name as you come down from your high.

Peter lets out a deep moan, throwing his body back up so his hands were once again sticking to the wall. You could feel his cock twitching inside of you, thrusting deeper and deeper before pulling out quickly. Hot spurts of cum shooting out and falling back down onto Peter’s stomach and chest.

“Fucking gravity,” Peter groans.

You burst out laughing at Peter’s scrunched up face. “I told you that you were my sticky boy.” You tease. Peter grumbles something under his breath and you let out another laugh.

Your eyes widen only seconds later when you notice you suddenly feel heavier than normal. Your body detaches from the ceiling sending both you and Peter tumbling down onto his bed. “Great now I’m sticky too,” you groan.

Peter smirks, “Told you I’d get you sticky.”

+++

TAGLIST

[wordsarelife]

LIZZY'S SUMMER BLOWOUT !!

-> as a thank you for an amazing summer, with great interactions, beautiful and nice people on here and all your support, i decided to post all the fics set around summer or at end of it in the weeks to come!!

-> all works featured can be found here or under this hashtag: #lizzyssummerblowout

AUGUST, mattheo riddle

is he really yours, when there is someone who could love him better? -> SEPTEMBER 12

WOULD'VE, COULD'VE, SHOULD'VE, luke castellan

luke was everything to you once, now it feels like he took all that you had -> SEPTEMBER 14

STYLE, draco malfoy

draco and you never go out of style..-> SEPTEMBER 16

THE ALCHEMY, jj maybank

all this time you thought he was in love with kie, when it's really you he wants -> SEPTEMBER 18

HEY STEPHEN, peter parker

you and peter go on a mission.. and are also dating -> SEPTEMBER 20

MINE, theodore nott

theo and your life together throughout the years -> SEPTEMBER 26

IVY, knox overstreet

knox and you are not allowed to be together, but the heart wants what it wants, right? -> SEPTEMBER 22

I CAN FIX HIM (NO REALLY I CAN), jess mariano

jess got in a fight... again -> SEPTEMBER 24

NO BODY, NO CRIME (1), theodore nott

murder mystery au in hogwarts -> OCTOBER 1

ps: thank you so much for almost 1.5k followers!! i couldn’t be more grateful for all of you and i will be doing a special as soon as we reach it!!

[whosmarii]

Said you needed love.

ᯤ Started: 25/01/24.

ᯤ Finished:

Summary:

Tony loves his wife, Pepper. He loves his last daughter, Morgan. And he loves Peter like the son he never had. But you? his first born daughter, he doesn't even know your name.

tw: daddy issues (everything that this entail), no corrections yet.

*reader is fem. slow burn. Peter x reader. Kinda rivals to lovers.

Prologue.

You are a genius, you got that from him. You study from home, a teacher for each subject meticulousy selected by Tony to give you the best clases of the country. Not because he cares for you, but because you have to reach the expectations of the people. Imagine, the daughter of Tony Stark, aka Iron man, being an ordinary person.

You didn't need all the teachers, you were a genius because it was in your genes. That wasn't enought to meet your father expectations tho.

You did everything in your power to get a proud look (or at least a look) from your dad. You have the best grades, you learned two different languages in a time lapse of two months, you read five books of classic literature in three days, you knew how to play seven different instrument plus you knew how to sing, you were a professional ballet dancer, you knew aeronautical and chemical engineering, and the list could go on and on.

Nothing seems to satisfy him.

Sometimes, because Pepper have told him to or because he couldn't escape the situation, he would mumble a "congrats" or "yeah, good" while he kept working on whatever he was working. Not even looking at your direction.

You loved Morgan, she was probably the only person in your house that actually cared for you. And you were happy she didn't have to live the same horrible situation you did. But you couln't help the self-sabotaging feeling of jealousy that warmed you heart every time they were together. You didn't understand. What does she have that i dont? why can't i be enough like she is?

Pepper loves you, she tells you that recurrently. But she never did anything to get Tony to be a proper dad. It isn't her responsability but, she is your mother. She sees you suffer because of him and does nothing.

You live in a house with two adults and a five year old little girl, and the only person that treats you pretty...is the five year old. Therefore you love to spend time with the Avengers, they fill a space in your hearts that should be fill by your father. Especially Bruce, he is so fatherly loving, it warms your heart and put tears of joy in your eyes.

Having Bruce to care for you is so important that if he asks you to have sexual relationships with him you would say yes just to keep having his love. You would have sex with all the avengers man if that meant them loving you.

When you heard Tony tell Pepper about the arrival of a new Avenger of 15 years, your heart stoped. What if she is better than me? What if they love her more than they love me? what if-

Peter. That's the name your father said. It was a male. That was soothing. You usually didn't like boys of your age, but maybe this one was different.

You already know that Tony loves him. The way he talks about Peter is almost shivery. "Peter is a genius, that boy has a future." "He is a good boy. Sweet and all" And that aunt of his... such a display" "The Avengers are going to love him".

Now the soothing feeling is gone and the fear is back.

He sounded good. That was bad.

You can't hate someone good. But you can't like him neither.

He wasn't presented to the Avengers yet. You didn't know how he looked yet. But the boy was already tearing apart the only part of your life that wasn't crumbling.

@whosmarii | Please do not copy, rewrite or translate my work without asking me and reciving my approval first. Thank you!