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evansbby · 2 years

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preying on you tonight part 2

part ii - hunt you down

Pairing: dark alpha!Steve Rogers x naive omega!Reader

Warnings: smut, dark themes, a/b/o themes, daddy!kink, noncon, dubcon, extreme dumbification, physical violence, somno, noncon filming and sharing of pictures without consent, dark!Steve Rogers, bullying, Steve is really mean in this, jealousy, breeding kink, size difference, unbalanced power dynamic, humiliation, seriously Steve is super mean, and reader is really naive, minors do not interact!

Summary: After falling prey to the biggest, most menacing alpha on campus, you find that Steve Rogers is nowhere near done with you. (This is a direct sequel to Preying on You Tonight.)

It’s the most pleasant and sating sleep you’ve had in a long time. You wake up with sunlight pouring over your exposed body, your sheets and blankets pushed to the side and a light sheen of sweat on your skin. It’s a warm morning – you know that before you’ve even opened your eyes. And your body feels relaxed, well-rested, muscles sore but it’s a good kind of sore.

Your eyes flutter open as the memories of last night come flooding back to you. Steve, so domineering and direct, the way he’d had his way with you, how you’d liked it. And Peter. Fuck. Poor Peter. You push the thought of your boyfriend (ex-boyfriend?) out of your head – it pains you too much to think of how embarrassed and hurt he must have felt.

Instead, you remember Steve’s words, soft and cajoling as they had lulled you to sleep the night before, trapped cosily in his muscular embrace under the covers: “I wasn’t lying when I said you’re mine, omega. From now on, it’s all me. Got it?”

But Steve’s nowhere to be found now, his large body which had radiated heat like a furnace as it stuck to yours all night is now absent from your bed. He’s gone. But as you sit up, grimacing from the ache in your pelvic area, you’re horrified when you hear a lewd, squelching sound.

Steve’s cum. Ropes and ropes of it on your ass, some splatters on your back and some of it dripping down your thighs. This is a new load, mixing with his cum which is still leaking from your pussy from last night. You bite your lip – he’s painted you, marked you, with his seed. But you don’t remember there being so much of it. You notice a text on your phone which answers your question.

Daddy: I was in a hurry this morning, so I couldn’t wake you up for a quickie before practice. I had to solo it out instead, but don’t worry. I made sure to leave you with a little something ;) I’ll always prefer knotting inside you, but your bare ass is a close second. See you in class.

Rubbing your eyes, you wonder how Steve got into your phone to change his saved name in your contacts, but you’re too tired to even care. And it’s not like he hasn’t left you with bigger problems…

You drop your phone, hand slipping down off its own accord, swiping curiously at the fresh cum he’s left on your body. It’s easy enough to picture him, up early and standing there, jacking off over you before spilling his load all over your body. The imagery is lewd, voyeuristic, the fact that he did all that while you were sleeping – but it makes your pussy throb all the same.

It’s with frenzied hands and no logical thinking that you reach down blindly, trying to find one of your stuffed animals which Steve had discarded from your bed the night before. “I’ll buy you new ones.” He had promised, but right now, you’re desperate with the need to get off. But the stuffed animals are nowhere to be found and two minutes later you frustratedly figure out that your fingers are just not enough. Not when your pussy’s been subjected to and mauled by Steve’s huge dick.

Unsatisfied and more than a little riled up, you get up on shaky feet to get ready for the day. And it’s only when you’re showered, dressed and leaving out the front door that you spy your stuffed animals. The pink teddy bear and the big stuffed rabbit – torn, the cotton stuffing spilling out from the seam, lying in the garbage bin outside your dorm room.

Steve’s chilling words from the previous night echo in your head. “You don’t need anything he bought for you. Not anymore.”

***

You’re still nervous going into your World Politics lecture later that day. Would Steve acknowledge you, acknowledge what had happened the night before? A large part of you hopes he will, despite everything. He’s the cruellest person you know at university, but you can’t help but seek his approval, his liking. It’s confusing, being so torn – what he did to Peter was so horrifically wrong. And you weren’t innocent either – you know you need to speak to Peter, but how? When you can’t bear to face him after what Steve made him witness last night. You barely have time to mull over the whole situation, however, because Bucky and Sam choose that moment to walk in.

“There she is again, bright and early.” Bucky sing-songs mockingly, barging past your shoulder as they both – to your absolute chagrin – take the seats directly behind you. Sam makes a point to kick at your bookbag on the floor before he sits down.

“Hey,” Bucky wastes no time in starting his spiel, tapping you roughly on the shoulder, “Word is you got a B in the last assignment, the professor must’ve found out the faculty’s slut doesn’t fuck exclusively, huh?”

You look ahead, determined to ignore him.

“Maybe you can make up your grade,” Sam adds. “Just tell the professor you take house calls – because let’s be honest, you probably do. I’m sure he’ll bump your grade up in no time.” The two guffaw at their own jokes, and you make it a point to focus on keeping your breathing even and trying not to cry. Instead, you wonder where Steve is. You could ask them, but they’d probably just laugh in your face.

He saunters in moments before the lecture is about to start, and you find that your throat’s gone dry as you look at him. He’s in his blue football jersey, looking every bit the alpha he is – so tall, domineering, commanding in his presence. You can feel the blush on your cheeks, feeling like a schoolgirl with a crush. Which is insane considering everything he’s put you through in the past twenty-four hours – not to mention what he’s put Peter through.

“Must’ve had fun last night, Stevie.” Sam slaps Steve on the back, “Didn’t hear you come back until this morning.”

The blond smirks, not even sparing you a glance before taking a seat next to his friends in the row behind you. And, despite everything, you feel your heart sinking, and the mocking voice at the back of your head sings out cruelly: Did you really think he was going to sit next to you?

“Girlfriend must’ve had a good night.” Bucky remarks, and several pangs of guilt flutter through you. Steve’s girlfriend. You haven’t spared her a second thought since last night. And it leaves a sour taste in your mouth, knowing you’ve done what you’ve done with Steve whilst his poor girlfriend is completely unaware.

“If she did, I wouldn’t know it.” Steve yawns, “Haven’t seen her since yesterday morning.”

As Sam and Bucky hoot with laughter, you quietly wonder how he can be so nonchalant, talking so casually about cheating on his girlfriend.

“So who was the lucky girl?” Sam persists, all three of them casually having this conversation on full blast whilst the lecture is commencing. And it’s hard for you to take notes or follow any of what the professor is saying when suddenly your heart’s racing like crazy as you listen to the three alphas behind you instead. What if Steve told them? You didn’t want any attention on yourself, especially not from the second and third most cruel people in this class – after Steve himself, obviously.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Steve sounds smug as hell, and you relax slightly. Maybe he wouldn’t tell them… He has yet to acknowledge you since he’s come into the lecture hall – there’s no way he’s going to tell his friends that he was with you.

“It was Nat, wasn’t it? She was giving us all those ‘fuck me’ eyes at the last game.” Bucky hums, closing his eyes for a second as if reminiscing something special.

“Nope. Been there, done that.” Steve replies.

Sam snickers, “Haven’t we all?”

Again, the trio hoot with laughter as if they’re world class comedians and the entire lecture hall is their audience. You can’t help but wrinkle your nose at how crass they all sound, how casually they speak of their conquests, how degradingly they speak of women. As an omega, you’re used to it – but it still disgusts you.

“No, no, but seriously who was it?” Sam asks again, and you’re just about to tune out of their conversation when you feel a prod on your shoulder.

“Hey omega, why don’t you tell Sam and Bucky where I was last night?” Steve’s tone drips with smugness and insinuation.

Horror spreads through your body and you hunch up, leaning forward and determined to ignore him. But the damage is done. There’s a pause where Steve’s words sink in, and then…

“Her? No way. No fucking way.” Sam sounds incredulous.

Bucky clicks his teeth. “Wow, Rogers. Can’t believe you got in there before me.”

You feel your neck prickling with heat and try to bury your face into your notes. Maybe you can get away with pretending like you can’t hear them.

“Steve Rogers and the campus omega slut, who would’ve thought?” Sam whistles lowly, before continuing with mock concern, shoving Steve away from him, “Oh, you better get yourself tested before you come anywhere near me, Rogers.”

“No need,” Steve says easily, “turns out she’s clean. She told me last night when she was begging for my dick. I went there thinking I was gonna get tutored, so imagine my surprise when she’s there just pleading with me to fuck her. Like really fucking begging for it. What’s a man to do, huh? I had to make her dreams come true.”

Bucky lets out a low whistle, and you feel another prod on your shoulder. “Damn, omega. And here I thought you only fucked professors.” Another prod, “Look how fucking shy she’s being now! As if she hasn’t just been exposed for being the horniest bitch in heat on campus. You spread your legs for any other alphas, sweetie? Because I wasn’t aware of this for some reason.”

You’re floored by how easily Steve fabricates his lies, sitting there sounding all smug, not a single hesitation or note of regret in his whole speech. Lying through his teeth and laughing with his friends whilst they insult you. You feel your face go hot, then cold, then hot again. A tear drop falls down onto your notes. It’s becoming a regular occurrence now. It seems as if a hundred different emotions are running through your mind: humiliation, sorrow, anger.

You whip your head around before you can stop yourself, wet eyes narrowing and giving Steve the angriest look you can muster up. But he only stares straight back at you, a glint in his blue eyes as if daring you to challenge his story. And his gaze is so heated, and that paired with the laughter of his two friends, makes your face crumple even more.

“Look how angry she is! Don’t like being exposed, huh?” Sam gives you a nudge, “So is she feisty like this in the sack too?”

“I wanna know what that body looks like under all those hoodies she wears.” Bucky comments, and you can’t believe how they’re talking about you as if you’re not right there. The lump in your throat seems to enlarge tenfold, angry tears dripping down past your cheeks.

Steve smirks, sliding his unlocked phone across the desk towards his friends.

“See for yourself.”

It’s like an unknown force takes you over at that moment. Without factoring Bucky and Sam’s whistles and noises of approval, you hardly realise what you’re doing before you’ve snatched Steve’s phone up in your hand, staring in horror at the picture on his screen that he’s so gleefully showing off to his friends.

It’s you. And it’s from this morning. A crystal-clear snap of you sleeping naked on your bed in the morning sunlight. Your face isn’t visible (thankfully) but it doesn’t matter. Streaks of his cum cover your ass, your thighs, your back. You feel bile rising in your throat – you can’t believe Steve took a picture of you in such a private, vulnerable state. And despite how cruel he’s been in the past, you also cannot fathom how he’s just shown this picture to his friends.

“How dare you, Steve?” Your emotions are jumping out of your chest, making you say things that you never would say under normal circumstances. Your voice is shaky – with anger or tears, you’re not sure – but you do want to get this out. You raise your voice an octave, louder than you’ve ever been in this lecture hall, “How dare you show them that!”

Bucky and Sam are beside themselves with laughter, looking like they’re about to piss themselves; as if all this is just the morning’s entertainment to them. But Steve is sombre, blue eyes boring into you with a sudden unreadable expression. His scent is stronger than ever, invading your senses how it always does and you hate him for scenting you right now.

“You’re forgetting yourself, omega.” Steve says softly, like you’re a naughty child who’s being reprimanded for talking back to an elder. He easily picks his phone back from your hand. “Is that any way to speak to an alpha?”

Every time you inhale, you’re hit all over again with the overwhelming smell of summer nights, firewood, dewy grass… just him. It makes you feel lightheaded, disoriented – you lower your gaze.

“I’m sorry. But please. Delete it.” You lower your voice, unable to believe that you’re pleading with him over this.

“It’s too late for that,” Bucky interjects, and a quick glance at him and Sam show the two looking intently at their own phones, shit-eating grins still etched on their faces. “Stevie’s already sent it on the groupchat, sweetheart. And who knew you had such a peachy ass under all those hoodies you wear?”

That hot and cold feeling comes back. Your face feels like it’s on fire, and then it feels frigid cold like ice, and then fire again. Your breath catches in your throat, the worst feeling in the world thrumming through your body like liquid poison in your veins. You were already feeling anger and embarrassment, but now it’s like those feelings have quadrupled. You’re shaking under their snickering gazes.

You really can’t believe Steve has done this.

Your eyes lock with Steve’s… and his are icy and unreadable as ever. He’s not laughing like his friends are, just staring straight back at you. And for the life of yourself, you can’t seem to figure him out. Why? Why? Why would you do that? Why?! You want to ask him, and he blinks, as if he’s heard your inner voice practically screaming at him to explain himself.

And yet he still does nothing.

What happened to “you’re mine” and “it’s all me from now on”? What was the point of Steve claiming you in such spectacular fashion last night, ruining your relationship in the process, holding you while you slept, promising to knot you every single day – just to resume being horrible to you the very next day? And horrible was an understatement. It’s almost laughable to think that you walked into this class with a part of you wondering whether Steve would be nicer to you now.

Even a slap in the face would’ve been nicer than the humiliation he’s just put you through.

Legs feeling like jelly, you feel yourself standing up. Vision’s blurry too, you don’t even think to wipe away the tears. You don’t even care that it’s the middle of the lecture and everyone turns to look. You don’t care that your pens and notebook are still lying on your desk as you thud down the steps and out the exit, not sparing a glance back.

***

It’s in times like this – not that you’ve ever experienced anything like this before – but it’s in times like this that you wish you had friends at university. Or even one, singular friend. Even a silent acquaintance would do. Someone you could cry to, someone who’d come running with Chinese takeout and a tub of ice cream, someone who’d tell you it was gonna be okay, someone who’d stand up for you.

But no. Instead, it’s just you. Alone in your dorm room, buried in your nest with your blankets piled high all around you. It’s like you’ve built yourself a little fort, almost – but you’re the only prisoner inside, alone with just your tears and racing thoughts of self-pity. Even your stuffies aren’t there to keep you company – and you’re currently not in the mood to go fishing around in the garbage to retrieve the poor, mangled teddies.

Fuck Steve.

Usually, you’d have Peter to confide in. But Steve took him away from you too. He took your stuffies and Peter. He took your dignity too. And he’s probably spread it across every alpha jock groupchat across the university. Fuck him.

You hug your pillow tighter, about to break out into a fresh wave of tears when your phone vibrates. You ignore it – you’re not used to getting texts from anyone except your mom or Peter – or Steve as of recently. It’s probably from Team Snapchat, you think to yourself, curling up further into your nest, trying to block everything out – especially the incessant sinking feeling in your heart.

Another buzz. You sigh and look at your phone.

Peter: Hey.

Peter: Are you okay?

A squeaky gasp leaves your throat. You’re surprised Peter hasn’t blocked you after what he witnessed last night. You’re even more surprised that he’s speaking to you and it isn’t something hostile or accusatory – for which you can’t even blame him. Your fingers shake as you type back a response.

Hey! Peter listen I’m so sorry. Like you have no idea. I haven’t texted you because I didn’t know what to say. I wish I could explain properly what happened. But you didn’t deserve that and I’m so so so sorry.

It takes you a while to type it out, because you can’t think of the right words to say. At first you want to type out a whole, long-winded paragraph explaining how pure your intentions were, how you didn’t know a simple tutoring session would end up with Steve fucking you within an inch of your life.

Your pussy clenches involuntarily at the thought, but you ignore it.

Peter: I was so angry, I’m not gonna lie. I was raging all night and never wanted to speak to you again. But I’ve had time to think about it now. And I know you. I know you’d never do that to me.

You smile through your dried-up tears as you read his message. And then your phone pings again.

Peter: If he forced himself on you, you need to tell me.

You pause, smile still frozen in place. All your conflicting emotions bubble up to the surface as you read his message over and over again.

Peter: You still there?? Listen. I know how rapey all these alphas can be. Especially the assholes you go to university with. So please. Just tell me what happened.

Your fingers have frozen in place too and you’re not really sure why.

Peter: Hello??? Are you still there???

You’re scrambling to think of a response when there’s a loud thud on your door. That same incessant, impatient banging that you’ve heard once before. No. No way. It couldn’t be. Throwing your phone down, you jump off your bed and go to answer the door.

“I need to get a spare key made for your room. I don’t like waiting and you always take the longest fucking time in opening the door.” Steve’s standing there, tall and Adonis-like as ever in his blue jersey with his hair all pushed back and windswept. Pale skin slightly flushed, lips full and pink as always.

Your mouth drops open, “what’re you…”

He barges into your room, the same way he’d done the night before. And you’re incredibly floored by his audacity to show up in your dorm room mere hours after he humiliated you during the lecture. You draw a deep breath, gathering your wits and trying to ignore how good he smells.

And he turns around, looking back at you with eyes that rapidly darken as they drink you in. You’re still in your hoodie from earlier, but the only other thing you’ve got on is your underwear because your plan of wallowing in your nest for the foreseeable future didn’t require leggings. Your hoodie’s oversized enough to reach down till mid-thigh, but Steve’s eyes zero in on your bare legs anyways.

“Y-You need to leave.” It’s a bit shaky, but you’re proud of yourself for getting the words out. Even if they lack any conviction.

Steve frowns. “Close the door and get in here.”

Crossing your arms over your chest and pressing your lips into a thin line, you try hard not to inhale his scent as you shake your head. “Please… Please go away, Steve.”

“Omega. Close the door and get inside. Now.” There’s a dangerous glint in his eye and you’re getting lightheaded from holding your breath. You give in and breathe, and of course, within a few seconds you’re hit with his musky scent and it doesn’t take long for you to close the door and step back inside.

“Good girl.” Steve gives you a smile and you almost raise an eyebrow. Why is he acting like everything is all fine and hunky-dory? Can’t he see the tear-stains on your cheeks, the redness and shine on your face, the puffiness of your eyes? Or does he just not care?

“What’re you doing here?” You ask him once more, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other. He’s making you uncomfortable, the way he’s staring at you, up and down like you’re some kind of meal he wants to devour.

Steve takes his time in answering, sitting down on the edge of your bed and patting the space next to him. Of course, you resist – rapidly shaking your head because the last thing you want to do is be on a bed with him. But all he has to do is give you a look and suddenly you’re whiffing July sunshine as you make your way over to him in record time, taking a seat on the bed next to him.

“Well, you should be thanking me instead of questioning me. Here.” And he reaches into his gym bag which you – up until this point – had no idea he even had with him. He drops your notebook and pencil case on your lap unceremoniously, a look of absolute smugness on his handsome face, as if he’s done you the world’s biggest favour. “You forgot all this shit in the lecture this morning.”

“Are you… Are you serious?” You can’t help the incredulity in your tone. Usually, with Steve, you kept your voice low, polite, subservient, never wanting to anger him – but you can’t help it right now. And this can’t possibly be real, he can’t really be pretending nothing happened this morning.

“That doesn’t sound like a thank you to me.” Steve narrows his eyes at you, again taking that reprimanding tone of voice which angers you yet you feel your cheeks heating at the same time.

You take a deep breath.

“You… You can’t be serious…” You repeat slowly, before all the words come gushing out. “You… You embarrassed me in front of all your friends! You took that picture of me when I wasn’t even aware of it, and then you… you sent it to them. And…. And laughed with them! Sat there while they made fun of me, which is nothing new since you a-always do that, but still! And now… Now you’re acting like it didn’t even happen!”

You’re positive this is the most you’ve ever said to Steve in one go. Scratch that. This is the most you’ve said to anyone in one go. And Steve regards you carefully, patiently waiting for you to finish, and you were so concentrated on your words that you haven’t even noticed his hand on your bare thigh, stroking softly while you try and speak your thoughts.

But then you do notice, his hand – all big, and rough and calloused from all the football he plays, softly stroking against the soft skin of your thigh. You gulp, hating how warm he is, how his simple touch spreads jolting, desperate heat up your legs.

“It’s not as big of a deal as you’re making it out to be.” Steve speaks almost cajolingly, “You looked so hot this morning, sleeping like that… All innocent with my cum all over you. I had to take a picture of it, baby. To remember it. And I had to show them. So they could see what I have, what they can only dream of having.”

You look up at him with wide eyes.

“That’s not… That’s not what it sounded like.” You clear your throat, willing yourself not to fall for whatever spell he was trying to cast over you. “It sounded like you were making fun of me with them. Or inviting them to make fun of me. And you lied! You said I begged you to… That I begged you to fuck me. But that’s not true!”

“Isn’t it? I seem to remember you begging for my dick.”

Steve cocks his head to the side, a crooked smile on his face as he looks down at you. His pointer finger is now tracing shapes on your upper thigh – and it’s not just any random shape. It’s the letters of his name, traced over and over your delicate skin, so dangerously close to the hem of your hoodie, and you try to ignore the thrilling sensation. You blush violently at his words.

“But you made it seem like… like you didn’t want it, like you did it as a favour to me. When it was you who started it! They called me a bitch in heat!” Your voice catches and face crumples, and then the tears start flowing once more. And you hate that you’re crying in front of him, that you’re being so weak in front of him, letting him witness your vulnerability when you know that he’s the most capable of twisting it and throwing it back in your face.

Instead, you feel him gathering you up in his strong arms, lifting you onto his lap and holding you close. And for the life of you, you don’t know why you just let him – he’s the reason you’re crying in the first place. But he’s so warm, and he smells so good.

He’s nothing but trouble but he smells like your safe place – like summer walks in the woods and smoky firewood – it’s irresistible. And you hate how conflicted you feel, hating him but craving his warmth at the same time – it makes you cry harder, and you bury your face in his chest.

“My little baby,” Steve coos, “Look how worked up you’ve got yourself. You can’t help but cry, can you? All over a stupid picture. Baby, of course I want you. I wouldn’t have fucked you if I didn’t want you. And Sam and Bucky called you that because they’re jealous. They wanna fuck you too, they all wanna fuck you, but they can’t. That’s why they said all those things.”

He’s stroking your hair as he weaves magic with his words, and he sounds so soothing, his voice lulling, almost hypnotic when paired with his scent that is overwhelmingly everywhere. You hate yourself for it, but you find yourself wanting to believe him, your brain screaming at you to believe him, to trust him. Alpha knows best, your mind sings to you, and you find yourself at war inside your own head.

What’s he doing to you?

“And besides. The picture I sent them doesn’t even show your face. It could be anyone. And trust me, baby, I have a lot of clearer pictures I could’ve sent them. Videos too.” He smirks, “But I didn’t. And you should be thankful for that.”

Believe him. Believe him. Believe him.

You sniffle, “R-Really, Steve?”

“Yes. Would I ever lie to you?”

You inhale another strong burst of his scent, and not only does it smell so intoxicatingly good – it also makes you feel all warm inside and outside. Like you’re basking in the heat of a blazing sun with a light breeze tingling against your skin. Suddenly, the reason for your sadness seems so far away… So far away and insignificant.

You feel a buzzing noise somewhere in the distance, but it’s so easy to ignore it when you’re cocooned in the warmth of Steve’s big arms. But it doesn’t stop. You realise it’s your phone, buzzing once, twice, three times. And then…

“Who the fuck is texting you?” Steve is clearly irritated, and you snap out of whatever reverie he’d pulled you into, shuffling off his lap and gulping air as if trying to purge his scent out of your nostrils. You don’t see him grab your phone, only realising when it’s too late, and he’s already typed your passcode in and gained access.

“H-How do you know my passcode?” You ask him, but he promptly ignores you, the beginnings of a frown etching across his handsome face. His jaw tightens, and he looks from your phone screen back to you with narrowed eyes, your most recent chat open and shining bright in front of your face.

“Why the fuck are you texting him?”

Shit. Peter. You had completely forgotten about him since Steve had showed up at your door. And speaking of Steve, the blond is deathly quiet as he asks you the question – and that somehow seems worse than any time he’s raised his voice. It makes your blood run cold and your heart sink, as if you’ve upset your alpha, disappointed him by talking to Peter.

“I…I…I…uh…I just…”

Your stutter is worse than ever, and you really don’t know what to say. The rational part of your brain is yelling that you have every right to talk to Peter, that Steve doesn’t own you, he can’t dictate who you can and can’t speak to. But this rational side seems to be at war with your submissive side, the side that’s crying over alpha’s – Steve’s – anger and disappointment in you.

“I thought I made myself clear last night when I said to forget about him.” Steve’s thumb and forefinger grip your chin, squeezing tightly till you cry out in pain. And it’s insane how fast he’s switched up – when just a second ago he was hugging you close and whispering sweet reassurances into your ear. “Did I not say that, omega? Did I not say it’s all me from here on out? Not him? Not anyone but me?”

He’s scaring you, your jaw already aching from how tightly he’s gripping it and you can feel your eyes begin to water. You shake your head rapidly, trying to tug away from him but his grip is like a vice.

“Steve, pl-please! You’re hurting me!”

“Answer my fucking question. Did I not tell you to forget about him, omega?” He’s not letting up – it’s like there’s blue fire in his eyes and it’s chilling every bone in your body.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, okay? He texted me! I just wanted to see if he was okay!”

Steve hums, letting go of your jaw as suddenly as he’d captured it, demeanour shifting from rage to calm in a matter of seconds. It still shocks you how swiftly he can switch his emotions, and it’s more than a little unnerving. He’s still got your phone in his hand, fingers tapping away but you’re too scared to move closer to peer at what he’s doing.

“Guess you were too dumb to follow my order. Doesn’t matter – you will now. I’m blocking him from your phone, omega. And don’t you fucking unblock him because I��ll know.” He takes a deep breath, throwing your phone aside before cupping your cheek gently – as if he didn’t just have your chin in a bruising grip not half a minute ago. “You ignored his last few messages, though – which shows you do have a little common sense. And for that, I’m proud of you.”

What?

You can’t help the tiny burst of elation that spreads in your chest when Steve says those words. I’m proud of you. He’s never said that to you before. He’s never even thanked you before, not for any of the reports or essays or anything you’ve done for him in the past. The feeling of warmth that spreads across your chest seems to be out of your control, as are the goosebumps which erupt as Steve softly strokes the side of your face.

“But I’m serious. You speak to him again, and I’ll make sure me, Bucky and Sam pay him a little visit. He couldn’t even take one of us, so imagine the damage the three of us could inflict on him – and it would be all because of you.”

You gulp. They’d kill him.

“Do you understand what I’m saying, omega?”

You bow your head, “Yes. I un-understand.”

“Good girl. See how easy things can be if you just submit and listen to me? God knows you’re the most naturally submissive omega I’ve ever met. And the sooner you accept that role, the better it’ll be for you.”

You nod, his scent once again overpowering every single one of your senses. It’s crazy how he’s flipped the tables on you – making you feel ashamed for going against his orders, and happy when he praises you. He’s so seamless with his words and renders you helpless with his scent, and it’s making you so confused, so confused and muddled up that you just want to stop thinking altogether.

“That’s my good little omega,” Steve murmurs, and then he’s got that lop-sided smirk back up on his face. “And that reminds me. I have something else for you.” And again, he’s reaching into his gym bag, and this time he pulls out something brown and furry, tossing it at you with as little grace as one would expect from someone like Steve.

A teddy bear. Big and soft with a blue bow-tie. Smelling like summer nights.

“Wh-What is this?” You ask dumbly, fingers gliding over the soft fur slowly.

“A new toy. Didn’t I tell you I’d buy you a new one?”

“Yeah, only because you beheaded and desecrated my old ones.” You don’t mean to say it, but it just comes out. Like a tiny burst of accusation amongst your usual subservience. But at the same time, you can’t help but be flattered that Steve bought this for you. Was this his way of apologising for what happened during the lecture? The hopeful part of your brain perks up at the thought.

“And I’d do it again. You don’t need anything he got for you.” Steve says seriously, grabbing your chin and making you look up at him. “So, what do you think?”

You examine the new teddy carefully. It’s certainly bigger than your old pink teddy, and even bigger than your stuffed rabbit. Sturdy and soft, it smiles up at you with shiny black eyes. You give it a squeeze and then instinctively bring it up to your nose. And it’s Steve’s scent, so strong and familiar, hitting you like a train, making you feel all disoriented and dumb. You blink and shake your head. No. This is the same guy who made you cry and run out of a lecture just a few hours ago. He’s cruel, immoral, a bully.

Your rapidly changing emotions regarding him are giving you whiplash; thoughts swimming around like frenzied fish in a tank – bouncing from hating him, to wanting to please him, back to hating him, to making excuses for him, to being scared of him, to wanting to smell him, and everything in between.

“D-Did you gift your girlfriend one just like this?”

It comes out before you’ve even thought it through, before you’ve weighed the consequences such challenging words can bring. And Steve’s smile freezes on his face, an icy look covering his exteriors, making his eyes smoke and jaw clench. You shrink back instinctively, biting your lip and already regretting your words.

“That doesn’t sound like a thank you to me.” He says, promptly disregarding what you’ve said. You’re about to open your mouth again, fuelled by the fact that he didn’t get outright mad at you for bringing up his girlfriend. But the sudden whiff of hot summer and mowed grass, his familiar musky goodness, overtakes each and every one of your senses. It makes your limbs and even your brain feel like jelly, and suddenly, challenging him is the last thing on your mind.

“It… It’s really nice, Steve. Thank you very much, you really shouldn’t have.” You answer almost diplomatically, every hopeful cell in your body willing you to believe that maybe, just maybe, he got you this toy because he’s sorry for what happened earlier. And you’re the only girl he’s ever got a toy like this for. That he never got one like this for his girlfriend. Right?

And Steve’s got that devilish glint in his eye – it’s hard to believe not five minutes ago he was threatening to end Peter’s life, and now he’s here smiling from ear to ear. “What’re you gonna name him?”

He’s very condescending, speaking to you like you’re some kind of a baby – as if he gets a sick kick out of treating you like a helpless little girl. And yet you can’t help the heat that radiates off your cheeks at his tone, nor the shivers it sends down there.

“Uh, I don’t know. Y-You could name him?” You say, suddenly feeling extremely shy. You’re not used to receiving gifts – even growing up, it was just you and your mother. And many birthdays and holidays went by without you receiving anything. This is the first time anyone has ever gifted you anything – apart from Peter obviously, but you can’t bring yourself to think about Peter right now.

Steve’s stroking your cheek softly the same way you’re absentmindedly stroking the new stuffie. And you like it when he touches you gently like this – it sure beats all the times he’s hurting you.

“Hmm. How about Steve Junior?” Steve says devilishly, “And he can help you out whenever the real Steve Junior isn’t here.” He points lewdly at his own crotch, and you can’t help but let out a tiny giggle at his joke.

Steve kisses you then. And you don’t even see it coming. One second, you’re giggling softly, feeling all shy and light, and the next second he’s gripped you from the back of your neck and pulled you forward. His lips feel like fire on yours, it’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced before – not even with Peter. He feels so pillowy soft, sucking on your lower lip almost sweetly till you gasp into his mouth.

And then his tongue is rolling leisurely against yours, holding you close and pushing you further into him, growing more frenzied by the second as you try to keep up with him. And you can’t believe this is happening, but Steve doesn’t give you time to think with the way he’s kissing you. It’s almost like he wants to eat you alive, the way his mouth completely devours yours.

You feel hot all over when he pulls away, giving you that lop-sided grin that has you feeling all tingly down there.

“Th-That’s the first time you’ve kissed me.”

You don’t realise you’ve said it out loud, and you say it almost dumbly, as if you can’t believe it yourself. There’s a minuscule part of your brain – the part that isn’t completely dying from the euphoria of it all – that reminds you that you’ve seen him kissing his girlfriend exactly like this just yesterday. But you can still feel the touch of his lips on yours, and that paired with his scent is making it very hard to think.

Steve smirks, “You want me to do it again?”

“I…uh... if you want to.” The answer in your head is a definitive “yes, please!” but it’s insane how bashful he’s making you feel.

“I’ll do it again, baby. But first, I need you to do something for me.” He keeps his gaze locked on you, gauging for your reaction.

“D-Do something for you?” You repeat, pressing your lips together and subconsciously tasting the remnants of him on you.

“Yeah, baby, do this one thing for me and I’ll make you my best girl, and give you so many more kisses.”

His best girl. He doesn’t even have to use any alpha commands, because those three simple words seem to tap into every part of your submissive omega side. All of a sudden, it’s like you want nothing more than to make him proud, do whatever he wants and be his best girl.

You nod.

Steve’s got a grin on his face as if Christmas has come early for him. Slowly, sensually, his hand slips up, smoothing down your hair gently before pressing against the back of your neck, pushing your head downwards.

“I’ve had a rough day today, omega. Between classes, practice and going out to buy you this thing,” He nods at Steve Junior, “I think I deserve a bit of R and R, don’t you?”

You blink up at him, unaware of why he’s pressing so hard against the back of your neck, practically pushing you downwards.

“O-Okay?”

A pause. And then:

“Well don’t look as if your head’s completely empty. Get on with it.”

“With what?” Confusion spreads across your face as you look up at him. His pale skin’s flushed slightly red, blue eyes looking down at you with what can only be described as impatience and excitement mixed together. But upon seeing your confused face, his eyebrows knot together in slow disbelief.

“Don’t act dumb.” He breathes, almost with baited breath, as if he can’t quite believe it.

You shake your head, “I’m…I’m sorry, I don’t know what you mean, Steve. I really don’t. Honest.”

It’s like there’s a muted growl stuck in the base of his throat – he makes this strangled noise and his chest vibrates, and he’s looking down at you with hooded eyes, so blown out and dark that you can’t believe it. Slowly, he takes your hand, and your eyes widen when he places it squarely on top of his crotch – where a sizeable tent is straining against his sweats.

“You can’t be serious… Baby, you never sucked a dick before?”

Oh. Heat spreads across your face like wildfire, and you swallow hard, shaking your head slowly. And Steve looks like a kid in a candy shop, with how widely he’s grinning.

“That punk you used to date – you never did that with him?”

Your eyes widen and you shake your head again. Peter never wanted you to go down on him – and he never went down on you either. The two of you had lost your virginities to each other around the time you first started going out – when university started late last year. Both of you were stumbling novices when it came to sex, shy and in the process of discovering each other.

Well. Steve had quickly put an end to that.

“So you’ve got a virgin mouth, huh? God, baby, that’s so hot – you have no idea.” Steve’s absentmindedly moving your hand on his crotch, riling himself up further and making your heart beat faster than ever. Even through the thick material of his sweats, you can practically feel his cock pulsating with desire. “What about your ass? You a virgin up there too?”

The incensed look you give him seems to confirm it – and Steve looks so thrilled, it’s almost maniacal. “An inexperienced omega, huh? Those are as rare as they come.”

“I guess you and your friends could stop calling me a slut now.” You mumble softly, and he gives you a peculiar look, his hand still moving yours over his bulge which seems to somehow have increased in size within the span of the short conversation.

“If they knew, they’d want you even more.” Steve breathes so softly; you barely hear what he’s said. “No, baby. Let’s keep this between us.”

Before you can think of an answer, he takes your hand and pushes it past the waistband of his sweats.

“Take it out, baby. Take daddy’s dick out.” His voice is soft, and always so cajoling. Suddenly, your hazy mind can’t think of anything better to do. With trembling fingers wrapping around his hot, pulsing dick, you slowly pull it out of his sweats, eyes widening at how big, angry and red it is. You never got a close look at it yesterday, and now you wonder how exactly he’d managed to fit that inside of you.

“Good girl.” Steve praises you, and your whole world lights up at his encouraging words. With Peter, sex was usually quick, quiet except for soft grunts and moans. But Steve is so different – it’s like he can’t keep silent for too long, the dirtiest things on the tip of his tongue at all moments. But he knows exactly what to say, exactly how to weave his words to make your pussy throb.

“See how hard daddy’s dick is?” He’s getting all condescending again, cooing at you like you’re his baby but all it does it turn you on more as you grip his dick in your hand. “You get daddy so hard, baby. Just how innocent you are, how quiet and submissive you are. God, it was so hot how you were crying this morning. Little baby was getting picked on by the big bullies, huh? Don’t worry, daddy’s here now.”

He’s speaking absolute filth but his words seem to be pressing all the right buttons. Staring down at you with blazing eyes, “Bet your little baby pussy’s crying for her daddy right now, huh? Tell me, baby. Are you wet?”

You nod stupidly, still hyper-aware of his dick practically pulsing in your hand.

“Tell me, who’s got your pussy so wet, huh?”

“Y-You.” There’s a hesitance in your voice, but you say it anyways because you both know it’s true and he’d have forced you to say it nonetheless. And he gives you an expectant look – as if prompting you to say more. “I…I like how b-big and strong you are.” You say softly, and he lets out a guttural groan, and you swear his dick grows bigger and harder in your hand.

“You’re the fucking cutest little thing, aren’t you?” He murmurs, and you glow at the praise.

“Now spit on daddy’s dick, get it nice and wet, omega.” Steve’s instructions are clear and concise as he switches into authoritative alpha mode, and you don’t waste any time, spitting down on his huge dick which you currently have your fingers limply wrapped around. And he’s so thick, completely dwarfing your hand as you hold him.

Steve lets out a little grunt, watching you like a hawk, like you sucking his dick for the first time is must-see TV for him. “You’re such a fucking baby. If only you could see yourself right now, looking up at me with those fucking eyes. You really have no clue what do next, huh? You’re awaiting more instructions, aren’t you? That’s good, so good. Just like a dutiful little omega should.”

He takes your hand in his, guiding it up to the bulbous tip of his cock, making you swirl the pearl of precum with your finger, spread it on his length, mix it with your spit till it’s glistening. And you look on in wonder, peaking up at him to see him looking back at you with such intensity, it’s like he wants to consume you completely.

And you’ve never seen his eyes so black.

“Get down on your knees.” He says it softly, but the words drip with authority and you scramble to obey. Any thoughts of how it got to this point, how it went from him embarrassing you this morning in front of his friends to you now on your knees in front of him, about to take his cock in your mouth – all of that’s gone completely out the window.

You want to please him.

And the urge to please him is so strong, you waste no time in getting on your knees between his parted legs, his cock still daintily in your hand as you lean forward, taking all of him in. Or at least, that’s what you attempt to do. But he’s so big, so girthy, stretches your mouth open so wide. The discomfort is immediate, as is the feel of your throat constricting.

You choke, pushing his dick back out as you splutter and cough, the heat on your face almost painful.

Steve snorts, having been watching you this entire time, “I love your enthusiasm, baby. But that’s the fastest anyone has ever choked on my cock.” And he laughs cruelly, but your heart is sinking. You’ve failed. You wanted to please him and you’ve failed. How can you please him when you can’t even take his dick in your mouth for longer than two seconds? Your whole world’s suddenly come crashing down.

“I’m sorry.” You say tearfully.

He cups your cheek with one hand, the other stroking your hair, smoothing it down like you’re his pet. His touch is so gentle yet so authoritative at the same time, causing goosebumps in its wake.

“I liked it.” He says honestly, before his usual devilish smirk takes over his features, “You’re overzealous, aren’t you, omega? You want nothing more than to please your alpha, even when your dumb little brain doesn’t even know how. But don’t worry, baby. Daddy’s gonna tell you how to do it properly, okay?”

“Okay.” You mumble softly, hoping you can redeem yourself.

You let him grip you by the back of your head, slowly guiding you downwards once more. His other hand’s holding his dick, rubbing the tip against your lips and getting them all wet with his precum. He’s being so uncharacteristically gentle – and then he suddenly jerks, slapping you across the face with his dick, the lewd sound from the contact echoing across the room and leaving a stinging sensation on your cheek.

“Ow!” You whine, reaching up to rub the side of your face, and Steve looks absolutely enamoured.

“You look so innocent, baby. Your face was begging for a slap.” It’s his idea of an explanation, and you wonder why it makes you press your legs together subconsciously.

“Now, I want you to lick it all over. Get daddy’s dick nice and wet.” Steve instructs you, “Like a popsicle. You like popsicles, don’t you, baby?”

Nodding slowly, you peak your tongue out and give his length a tentative lick – as if you’re scared you might choke on it again despite the fact that it’s not even in your mouth right now. When nothing crazy happens, you give him another lick, and then another.

“That’s such a good little girl,” Steve coos, stroking your hair, grazing your scalp, shoving his hard dick further against your face. “God, you’re such a good baby, aren’t you? Doing exactly what you’re told to. On your knees in front of your alpha. Tell me, baby, how does it feel?”

You bite your lip, answering honestly, “G-Good, daddy. It feels good. But I’m kind of scared… I don’t think I can take it all in.”

He sucks in a breath, as if he can’t believe how innocent you’re being right now. And then his large hands have fisted their way through your hair again, this time guiding you back up to his tip. “Poor baby. Don’t worry, daddy will make it fit. Now suck on there for a bit, baby. Just the tip.”

“J-Just the tip?” You ask. Something about this whole situation feels familiar, but you look up at him with trusting eyes anyways.

“Yeah. Just the tip. Wouldn’t want you to choke again, would we?” He’s got a gleam in his eye.

You smile softly, trustingly, “Yeah, okay. Just the tip. I can do that.”

You suckle on his tip, which is an angry shade of red and practically throbbing inside your mouth. And Steve hisses, the grip he has on your hair tightening as he suddenly stands up, demeanour changing completely, hips snapping out of nowhere and thrusting his dick into your mouth before you’ve even have time to digest what’s happening.

“Wh-Wh?” You garble, your hands pressing against his toned stomach to push yourself off him. But he’s got an iron grip on your hair, pushing you down on his cock at the same time he’s thrusting into you, effectively stuffing his length into your mouth while you struggle against him.

“Look at you, on your knees for your alpha. Like the perfect little omega slut, doing exactly what you’re told. Fuck, you’re so hot. I tried to be gentle, baby, but your mouth feels too good.” Steve’s teeth are gritted and that maniacal look is taking over his face as he effectively fucks into your mouth, more than half his length sliding in and out past your lips. A particularly hard thrust makes his tip touch the end of your throat and you gag, your saliva dripping down as you struggle against him.

And then you can’t stop gagging, he’s just so big and so throbbing and there’s so much of him inside your mouth right now. It’s overwhelming in the most painful way, and you try to push off of him again, but to no avail.

“Look at me,” Steve snarls, any gentleness he may have had evaporating into thin air, the cruelty in his tone almost tangible as he tugs you to look up at him, “Fucking look at me, you little cockslut. Looking like a fucking whore omega with your alpha’s dick in your mouth. Can’t even take my whole cock in but you’re already crying, huh? It’s already too much for you, isn’t it?”

You nod desperately around his dick, having not even realised the tears were streaming down your cheeks until you can taste the saltiness as they run past your stretched out lips. It’s getting harder and harder to breathe as Steve manhandles your face as if you’re some kind of personal fuck-doll.

He suddenly rips you off him, and you have about two seconds to catch your breath as you crumple to the floor before he’s grabbed you again, hauling you onto your feet and ripping your hoodie off your head in a single tug. The roughness in his touch reflects the sudden switch within him.

“Get this fucking thing off,” Steve sneers. “Next time you wear a fucking hoodie in front of me, I’ll rip it to shreds in front of everyone. It’s all dresses from now on, you got it?” He licks his lips, groping your newly exposed breasts as he throws your hoodie somewhere behind him, “Got that, omega?”

“Mm, yes daddy, only dresses!” You hear yourself moan out of absolutely nowhere. But it’s his touch, so expert as he squeezes your breasts so lewdly, rolls your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, pinches them so hard it sends thrills right down to your pussy. And it’s his tone, so alpha, so demanding, that makes you get all needy for him. As easily as that, you’re putty in his hands.

“Alpha, please!” You moan, making grabby motions towards him, trying to direct his hands down to your hot core which is only covered by flimsy panties. But it’s the one part of you Steve seems content on ignoring, easily slapping your hands away. Firmly, and without a single semblance of tender touch, he pushes you down on the bed and climbs on top of you.

You barely know what’s going on until he’s straddled your chest, your face once more level with his dick, which looks angrier than ever, wet and glistening with your saliva.

“Open up, baby. Daddy’s gonna fuck your face now.” Steve doesn’t wait for you to comply, instead pushing past your lips in one almighty thrust that has you screaming around his dick. The tip hits the back of your throat, making you gag all over again. But he doesn’t let up, thrusting in and out of at an almost maniacal pace.

“God, I tried to be gentle. You’re a fucking baby after all,” Steve says through gritted teeth, “But your mouth feels too fucking good, baby. You understand, don’t you? You understand why I have to fuck your pretty little mouth like this. And you’re gonna take your daddy’s dick, all of it, because that’s what a good little omega does, right?”

You can’t think. You can’t breathe. All you can do is gag and feel. Feel how hard and hot he is inside your mouth, how unrelenting his thrusts are, how your jaw hurts and your scalp stings from how hard he’s holding on to your hair.

He pulls out suddenly, and you barely have time to utter, “daddy, please! It hurts!” before he once more slaps you across the face with his hard dick. Once, twice, three times on the same cheek before moving to the other and doing the same, this look of absolute carnal hunger on his face. You cry at the stinging pain, but he doesn’t seem to care.

“Take it,” He says through gritted teeth, “This is where you’re meant to be. My little omega, my personal cockslut. You’ll take whatever daddy gives you, you got that?” Now he’s rubbing his hard dick all over your face, scenting you in the most degrading way he ever could, and your face is a mess of tears, drool and precum, red from being slapped and rubbed by his dick.

“We should do this every morning before classes,” Steve has the audacity to joke while you cry and catch your breath, letting out a hoarse laugh as he continues to rub and smear his dick all over your face, your cheeks, your forehead, your nose. “So you’ve got my scent all over you and everyone knows who you fucking belong to. Can’t have the others leering at you like you’re a free piece of ass, can we? I said, can we?”

“N-No!” You’ll agree with anything Steve says right now. He’s in full alpha mode, and you’d be lying if you said your pussy wasn’t practically seeping right now, neglected and throbbing, squelching emptily because his dick is nowhere near it and the omega inside you just wants him to fill you up. “Daddy, please, please! Need you!”

Steve snickers, and now he’s jacking off, aiming his dick straight at your face, “Need me? Where do you need me, baby?”

“D-Down there, daddy! Need you to fuck me, please! Need it so bad!” You’re practically crying, begging for it just like you were begging for him last night. It’s insane how something inside you seems to switch whenever Steve’s got you like this, and suddenly you don’t want to run – you want to dive headfirst into him and let him do whatever he wants to you, just so you get that sweet release that only he can give you.

“Aww, is your little pussy jealous? Huh, baby? Is she jealous that your mouth is getting all the attention from daddy’s dick? Your pussy’s crying ‘cause she feels left out, huh, baby? Your little pussy wants daddy’s knot?” He’s mocking you, babying you in the most condescending way and yet it makes your pussy clench all the same.

“Yes, alpha! Daddy! Please, please just do something! Make it better, please! Make my pussy feel better, daddy! Please, fuck me! Please! I’ll do anything!”

Steve smirks, still making no move to fuck you, his dick inches away from your face as he jerks off with quick, heated pumps. “I know you’d do anything for my knot, omega. But seems like you’re forgetting this was meant to be a favour for me.”

You don’t care, not in the slightest. “Daddy please!” You’re garbling whatever comes into your head at this point, every omega hormone in your body screaming, crying, begging for your alpha’s dick, your alpha’s knot inside you. You want his cum inside you, and that seems unlikely at the moment since he’s jerking off inches away from your face. “Please, alpha! I’ll– I’ll die if you don’t knot inside me!”

“Oh, I’ll cum inside you alright.” Steve licks his lips, “God, you’re fucking hot when you beg for me, baby. When you’re so needy, you don’t even know what you’re saying – that’s how bad you want me. Like you worship your alpha – as you fucking should. You’re lucky I’m taking it easy on you, that I’m not fucking your throat like you deserve. I could fucking break your jaw with my dick, but you’re too pretty for that, aren’t you baby?”

“Yes, daddy!” You cry out, and this sudden primal urge for him overtakes you in one sweeping sensation. You need him, you want him, you have to have him. sweaty palms suddenly reaching out to grab at his hand, his dick, just him. “Alpha, please! You, need you! Please fuck me! Please, please put your dick inside me! Please, daddy, I need it! Need it so bad!” You garble deliriously.

And maybe it’s the pure desperation in your voice, or maybe it’s the innocence with which you say it. But Steve lets out growl that seems to reverberate across the entire room and you open your mouth too late, with spurts of his hot cum painting across your face, your cheeks, your nose, your chin, and of course, inside your mouth.

Steve collapses on top of you, breathing hard while you writhe underneath him, half in shock at the mess he’s made on your face and half still craving any kind of contact to relieve the pressure between your legs. You’re still unsatisfied, the omega inside you wailing because her alpha’s knot has been wasted on your face while your pussy cries for attention.

“So messy,” Steve says softly, pressing his forehead against yours, his finger gathering his cum that’s on your face and feeding it to you. It’s instinctive for you to open your mouth and take whatever he gives you, sucking on his finger like a good little omega, trying your hardest to please him.

And you’re so lost in the taste of his cum, eyes scrunched closed until you hear a shuffling. Opening your eyes, you’re greeted with the camera lense of Steve’s phone, pointed straight at your cum-covered face, a leery and satisfied smirk on his face.

“No!” You cry, squirming underneath him, trying to shield your face and your chest with your hands. How dare he? How dare he try to film you in such a vulnerable state? Again?

“C’mon, baby, it’s for my eyes only.” Steve’s voice is cajoling, eyes dark and dick hardening once more – as if the sight of you embarrassed and cowering from his phone camera is the most arousing thing in the world. “Show me your body, baby. Lemme film you, so I can remember how beautiful you look. Don’t you want daddy to remember this? C’mon, baby, don’t be selfish like that. Let your alpha see you.”

It's unfair how easily he can make you comply, and your arms drop to your sides. And Steve licks his lips with carnal glee, closing up on your chest, your face, your whole body which is practically naked except for your soaking wet panties. Feeding you more of his cum while you try and ignore the intrusive lense that’s capturing all of this. He’s doing both; snapping pictures and making videos, all while you lie there, feeling violated, unsated and used. But so horny for him.

Finally, he sets his phone down, leaning over you and raining your face with a dozen kisses.

“You were so good, baby. Such a good little omega.”

You pout, “But Steve, what about me?” You’re so worked up; you feel like all he has to do is touch your clit once and you’ll cum.

“What about me?” He mimics you cruelly, making his voice all high-pitched and girly. But he’s hard again – probably because of the tears and remnants of cum drying on your face and the bucketloads of videos he’s just filmed of you. You hope to God he keeps his word and doesn’t share them with his friends. You can’t imagine sitting in front of Sam and Bucky in tomorrow’s lecture if they knew what you’d done with Steve tonight.

“Don’t worry, baby. Daddy didn’t forget about you. We’ve got all night, and I plan to fuck you more than once.” He playfully chucks you under your chin, “I still gotta make you take my knot and knock you up, don’t I?”

It’s chilling how he says things like that with such nonchalance, but it’s also extremely thrilling.

He starts kissing you again, kissing your face, your lips, your jaw, down your neck, brushing his lips against your mating gland and making you shiver in his arms. God, you’re like a puppet and he’s the master, the way he commands everything out of your body. And you don’t care, don’t care, don’t care! You don’t want to care – you don’t want to think, you just want to give in to him.

Giving in feels nicer than thinking.

The fat head of his cock is finally teasing your wet entrance when there’s a loud knock on your door. You try to ignore it, trembling because he’s teasing you, rubbing the tip of his dick up to your clit, then back down again, causing shivers to run up and down your legs. The knocking continues, growing louder and louder and Steve lets out an irritated growl.

“Ignore it, alpha, please!” You whine weakly, again trying to grab his dick and push it inside of you, but he swats your hand away, hellbent on continuing his torture. And then there’s another series of knocks, growing louder than ever. Steve swears.

“Who the fuck is at your door at this time?” Steve practically snarls, and to your utmost chagrin, he gets up off of you, tugging his sweats back up as he makes his way over to the door. And you can’t even begin to think about who exactly is at your door at this hour, not when you’re in such a worked-up state, practically naked on your bed and missing Steve’s touch already.

“Come back, alpha!” You call out softly, needily, before you hear the click of Steve unlocking and opening the door.

And it makes your blood run the iciest cold when you look past Steve’s shoulder to see Peter standing there, a look of complete horror on his face.

You swallow hard, sitting up straight and wrapping the nearest blanket you see around you. Legs like jelly but you still jump up onto your feet, padding towards the door slowly, “P-Peter! What’re you…?”

“I should’ve come sooner!” Peter blurts out, “You… I saw you blocked me and I knew you’d never do that. I knew he was here again, so I took the fastest bus to get here. Look,” Peter says your name pleadingly, glancing at Steve who stands about a foot above him, an unreadable expression on the blonde’s face, “I know he’s made you do things you don’t want to do. I should’ve been here sooner; I should’ve protected you from him. I’m sorry.”

You bite your lip, “Oh, Peter.”

You try to step forward, only for Steve to push you back behind him, shielding your body with his own, creating a barrier of muscle between you and Peter.

And Peter glares up at Steve, “You don’t intimidate me, so don’t even try. I know the likes of you, taking advantage of a different omega practically every night, using them and then throwing them away like they’re nothing. And I won’t let you do the same to her.”

“You sure do have a lot of confidence in a girl who’s cheated on you more than once now.” Steve says quietly and you flinch. Your mouth feels drier than a desert, and you open it to defend yourself, to defend Peter – but nothing comes out. All you can do is stand behind Steve and pathetically look over his shoulder while Peter stands his ground.

“Let’s not pretend you didn’t force her. She was crying on the call yesterday.”

“And she was begging for my dick today,” Steve says nonchalantly, “Not two minutes ago, in fact. And I’d like to get back to that, so…” He doesn’t even bother completing his sentence, and it scares you how chillingly calm he’s being. He goes to shut the door, but Peter stands his ground.

“Hey,” Peter says your name, looking straight at you instead of Steve, disregarding the alpha completely as he speaks, “Look, I know you’re scared. I can’t even imagine what you’ve been through, what he’s done to you. But I’m here now. And I know – I know I should’ve been here sooner and I’m sorry about that, but –”

“Don’t talk to her.” Steve snarls, pushing you further back behind him, “In fact, don’t even fucking look at her.” He’s still calmer than you expected him to be in this situation, but you can hear his rapid breathing, see his shoulders tensing, tell-tale signs that there’s a time bomb ticking away inside of him, and Peter’s not making it any better.

Steve steps forward, looking down at Peter with a sneer, “You’re pathetic. How you come here, acting like you’re some hero, some white fucking knight, here to save your fucking princess, huh? Well, she doesn’t fucking care about you. You’re not even an after-thought in her fucking head, you got that? She forgot about you the moment she spread her legs for me. Before that, even. Now get the fuck out of here before I make you get out.”

The threat is clear in the air, as is the animosity. And you hate yourself for cowering behind Steve, for not uttering a single word during the heated exchange. Not even when Peter looks at you with pleading eyes before they switch back to Steve.

“Look. She’s not special to you and you know that. I don’t even go to this university but I know about you, I know your reputation around here. I know you treat omegas like her like trash. A new one every other day.” Peter accuses – and you feel your heart pang when he says that – “So just leave her alone, okay? Leave her alone and I won’t tell anyone what you’ve been doing to her.”

There’s a flurry of movement and suddenly Steve’s holding Peter by the collar, muscles rippling as he almost lifts the smaller man up with his shirt. You let out a small squeak, rushing forward too.

“I don’t think you’re in any position to be threatening me,” Steve speaks through gritted teeth, “I could end your life, you pathetic sonovabitch. And I wouldn’t break a fucking sweat doing it.”

“Steve, stop! You’re hurting him!” You tug at the blonde’s massive bicep, but he’s too strong to even budge. He does turn to look at you, though, blue eyes blazing while Peter struggles to breathe. You let out a ragged cry, “Steve! Steve, please! Stop it!”

As abruptly as he’d grabbed Peter’s collar, Steve’s lets it go – shoving the smaller man against the door as Peter tries to catch his breath.

“Get the fuck out of here.” Steve spits out, his tone practically dripping with poison and hatred as he says it.

“Fuck you.” Peter seethes in return.

The crack is more sickening than anything you can imagine. Loud. Piercing. Abrupt. Worse than any sound effect in the movies. Maybe because you’re so close to it, so close when Steve’s closed fist collides with Peter’s face. The face of your best friend. Maybe that’s what makes the sound so sickening. Or maybe it’s the blood – so immediate, spurting everywhere.

He’ll kill him, you realise slowly.

“Stop!” You cry out again, holding fast onto the blanket that you’ve wrapped around your naked body, wondering to God how it got to this point as you grab Steve’s hand in case he goes to hit Peter again. You know your grip’s got nothing on his strength however, but you try anyways.

“Peter, just go!” You look helplessly at the smaller man. He’s still on his feet, bravely staring Steve down as he grimaces, but when you speak his eyes flash towards you in betrayal. You clear your throat. “Just go, Peter! We-We can’t do this here, okay? He’ll… He’ll hurt you. I’ll… I’ll speak to you later, okay? Just go, please!”

“Not without you.” Peter grabs your hand.

And Steve loses it.

“DON’T FUCKING TOUCH HER.” The roar you hear sounds like Steve, but it’s more animalistic than you’ve ever heard him sound. It’s like every single one of his alpha instincts have joined together, and he pushes you aside. And you hear another crack. And another.

The tears are flowing down your face for the hundredth time today, and you scream for him to stop, just stop! Steve’s got Peter against the wall of the hallways outside your dorm, the ugliest, soul-crushing cusses leaving his mouth in snarls and sneers, complementing blow after blow that lands on the smaller man’s face, his chest, stomach, everywhere.

And it’s so unfair, because it’s almost too easy for Steve. With one hand he keeps you at bay, like you’re no more than a pesky fly stopping him from doing what’s necessary. With the other hand, he batters Peter. Peter, who tries to block the hits, who tries to defend himself, who tries to punch back but it was futile from the start and all three of you know that.

It’s only when people begin to peak out of the other dorm rooms, doors opening and footsteps on the stairs, eyes on the corner of the corridor… It’s only then that Steve stops. And you know he’s gone easy, because the blond has barely broken a sweat. Peter’s still on his feet, blood dripping down his temple, one eye bruised shut, breathing hard.

“Just go, Peter!” You say softly, as if it’s just you and him and a hulking angry alpha isn’t about two steps away from you. “Please. Please, listen to me. Just go.”

Peter opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something, but thinks better of it. Slowly, he limps away. And you watch him for all of five seconds before you’re being pulled back into your dorm by Steve, the door closing and locking with a sobering finality.

You’re breathing hard, unable to wrap your head around what just happened. And your heart aches for Peter – but at least he was still able to walk. Steve had been merciful; he’d let him go. Why? You turn around, holding your blanket flush against your naked body as you approach Steve hesitantly.

The alpha is standing in front of the door, as if cautious that you’ll run out and follow after Peter or something. He’s got an unreadable look on his face, but his pale skin is flushed red, eyes dark, breathing hard, nostrils flaring. You can see he’s got his hands in fists too.

“S-Steve?”

In two powerful strides, Steve approaches you. His hand goes around your neck before you can utter another word or even a confused protest. He drags you to the nearest wall, pinning you against it while you struggle against his iron grip. You can barely breathe with his huge fingers wrapped around your throat, and his face inches from yours – a white hot glare unlike any other painting his perfect features.

“You’re mine.” He informs you, tone so raw, so rough, so authoritative.

You nod. He lets go of your throat and you sputter, gasping for breath. He’s so close to you, you can feel his entire body pinning yours against the wall. And his chest, his arms, everything seems to be shaking. Vibrating with anger.

“I – I’m yours!” You say once you’ve caught your breath. And maybe it’s because you believe it or maybe it’s because you’re trying to appease him. He looks like nothing you’ve ever seen him look like before – so angry yet in such a stoic, quiet way. “I’m yours, Steve. I didn’t – I didn’t leave with him. I stayed! I stayed with you!”

Be proud of me! Your omega brain is screaming, all filled with hope. Despite the fact that Peter’s face is a bloodied pulp now thanks to Steve. But you stayed. You told Peter to go and you stayed. It must mean something, right?

“You said you’d speak to him later.” Steve says quietly.

“Wh-What? I… I –”

“You can’t speak to him at all.” It’s a low growl, and now he’s grabbed you by both shoulders, fingers digging painfully against your soft skin. “I thought I told you that. I thought I made it clear that you were mine. But you said you would speak to him later.”

“I – I told him to leave, Steve! And I stayed –”

“Shut up. Just shut the fuck up.” Steve thunders, and in a flash, he rips the blanket from your body. And now you’re naked, vulnerable and completely bare in front of his heated gaze. But somehow, it’s not the same as before. Not like last night and not even like how it was before Peter showed up today.

No. At this moment in time, Steve’s looking at you differently. Or rather, it’s a different Steve who’s looking at you. Raging, maniacal, yet quiet, not quite there.

The strength he uses to push you onto the bed is inhumane. He’s never used that strength with you. Your head thumps so hard on the mattress, you cry out in shooting pain. And his eyes are so black, so fiery yet at the same time so dull. As if there’s no emotion behind them, but there’s the anger of a thousand fiery suns in the way he curls his lip and looks down at you.

And he’s never looked bigger, looming over you like a giant, a lion about to eat his prey. You cower like you never have before. He’s scared you in the past, but it’s always with his crass cruelty, his overwhelming desire. He’s never scared you like this.

“I own you.” He says it softly but each word has power behind it. You yelp when he easily flips you over, his bruising hands grabbing roughly onto your hips and hiking them up, till your ass is pointed in the air and legs are spread. Presenting for him.

“I own your body. I own every single fucking part of you, omega. And I’ll show everyone.”

“Steve, I – you’re scaring me.” You say, and it’s the last thing you say before he impales you with his cock. And then you’re just screaming, because he’s so big and violating, consuming you with an angry thrust that has you crying out in pain. You’re wet from his teasing from earlier, but it does nothing to soothe how rough he’s being from the get-go. It makes you realise that he was probably holding back the first time he’d fucked you. And that was a chilling thought.

“My fucking omega. Mine.”

Steve ruts against you like his life depends on it, hands groping you everywhere, violating your body with his cruel touch. Pinching your nipples till they sting with pain, pulling your hair so hard you feel he’ll rip it from the root. And you’re crying, tears dripping down on the mattress underneath you.

“Steve, slow down! Please! Please slow down, it hurts so bad!” You beg, but it falls on deaf ears. He pushes your face into the bed, effectively muting your cries.

“I can do whatever the fuck I want with this body, you hear me? You hear me, you fucking whore?”

Your heart lurches when he calls you that.

You feel smacks being rained down on your ass, harder than he’s ever done before. And your poor pussy – only earlier you were so eager to have him in there but now it feels like it’s about to break in two. His balls are lewdly slapping against your ass at record speed, pleasure and pain fighting each other in the depths of your core.

“St-Steve, please!” You garble against the salty, soaked tears on your mattress. And then he’s pulling you up till you’re on your knees and flush against him, his lips ghosting against your ear.

“You deserve this. You deserve to be fucked like a whore. Say it. Say you deserve it!”

But I don’t! You want to scream at him. I stayed with you! I didn’t do anything wrong! I stayed!

“Omega, say it right fucking now.”

“I-I don’t know what I’ve done wrong!” You sob instead, and he smacks you so hard you feel like you’re seeing stars. It practically winds you, making your whole body jerk and fall forward before he pulls you back by the hair.

“Say you deserve it or I’ll make sure you can’t walk for a month.”

“I deserve it!” You cry out in defeat, “I deserve it, okay? I deserve it! Please, please slow down, you’re hurting me, Steve!”

You don’t understand this animalistic switch in him. He’s borderline insane with the way he’s acting, and it’s scaring you so much because you don’t know what he’s going to do next.

“You’re my omega. Not anyone else’s. Just mine.” Steve is rampant with his thrusts, fucking you like he hates you, like he truly wants to kill you. “And I can do whatever the fuck I want with you, you hear that? Whatever the fuck I want! I’ll fuck you whenever I want, however I want. I’ll hit you, discipline you, use you as my fucking cumrag, breed you whenever I fucking want and you’re just gonna fucking take it, omega.”

“Y-Yes!” You cry, at this point willing to agree with whatever he says if it means he’ll stop – or at least slow down. Your pelvis feels like it’s going to shatter, you’re sure your poor folds are bruised beyond belief and your hips will be purple tomorrow from how hard he’s holding you, “Yes, alpha!”

“You better do whatever the fuck I say from now on, you dumb fucking whore. You better fucking stay in my sight at all times. Not even look at another man, let alone talk to them. No, you won’t even breathe without my fucking permission from now on, will you, omega?”

It’s like pure, red-hot rage has taken over every part of Steve’s body and soul. And all you can do is agree with him, agree with whatever he says as you cry and wait for it to be over. It was less than an hour ago that he gifted you Steve Junior and kissed you for the first time, made you giggle and your heart flutter. Now, he seems hell-bent on breaking you.

“I’ll fucking knock you up, get you pregnant. You’ll carry my fucking babies and you’ll love it,” He pants in your ear, “I’ll fucking breed you, make you take my knot every single fucking day till you’re pregnant. Everyone will know you’re mine, they’ll know not to fucking speak to you or even look at you. No pathetic loser’s gonna show up at your fucking doorstep trying to take you away from me, you got that!? Fuck!”

He gives a particularly hard thrust, making you cry out louder than before. You want it to end, you just want it to end. There’s pleasure licking like a fire in the depths of your belly, but it’s overpowered by the pain of being split in half, the pain of being used this spectacularly, the pain of each degrading word he spits out at you, somehow different from when he’s done it before.

“And I’ll show you, baby. I’ll show you that from here on out, your fucking soul belongs to me.”

You feel his teeth graze against your mating gland, and it takes you a second too long to realise –

“NO, STEVE, DON’T! DON’T –”

You let out a blood-curdling scream, one that’s louder than any sound that’s ever come out of you before. Steve’s teeth are sharp and unforgiving as they clamp down hard on your mating gland. His bite is the most pain you’ve ever felt in your life, the sensitive skin of your neck breaking and tearing away with the last remnants of your independence.

You howl as you feel everything still around you. Everything but Steve. He’s all you can feel now. His heartbeat against your back. Or is it your heartbeat? It sounds like just one. The world seems to be changing around you as you desperately try to hold on to anything that may keep you behind. Everything feels different, nothing is the same. It’s all Steve. All of your senses are Steve. All of your feelings are Steve.

It's like your world now begins and ends with Steve.

He releases inside you, an unrelentingly heavy load of his searing cum filling you up just like he promised. And his teeth remain embedded in your poor, broken skin, sucking on the wound, lapping at the blood that streams out, mouthing mine again and again over your mating gland. He holds you flush against him as you both collapse on the bed, holds you like he’s never going to let you go.

“I’m never gonna let you go.” Steve whispers against the fresh wound on your neck, licking at his handiwork which will soon turn into a mark that brands you as his forever.

And the thought chills you down to the bone.

*Part 3*

(a/n: okay well... i guess they're mated now. asdfghjkl i hope you guys liked this part! it honestly took me ages to write and there were many rewrites. feedback is so, so SO appreciated, you have no idea! please reblog and comment to let me know what you think! also let me know if you would like a part 3! love you guys so much and i hope you enjoyed! tags will be in the reblogs in a bit!)

#chris evans #steve rogers #dark steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #chris evans fanfiction #dark chris evans #steve rogers x reader #marvel #mcu #captain america #bucky barnes #sebastian stan

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starlordsandrockets · 2 years

Text

Ask Nicely

pairing: dom!college!Peter Parker x Reader: 18+

Word Count: 3.6k

summary: After drunkenly telling everyone in the compound that you ‘wear the pants’ in the relationship, Peter proves to you just how dominant he can be.

a/n: hope you enjoy the request! i’ve been extremely busy these past few months with work and traveling and prepping for nyc comic con.. but here’s a little dom!Peter to apologize! also here’s a compound fic to the few of you who seem to like my ‘compound Peter’ fics lol.

feedback is always appreciated! requests are CLOSED!

[ask is posted below]

The compound filled with drunken laughter as a smug smile sat on your lips. You studied Peter as he was the only sober being in the room. You sat by Peter’s side, arm stretched behind him on the couch and that began the night’s debate.

“Look, out of everyone here I think I’m the most grateful you two finally did it,” Tony finished off the whiskey that sat in his glass, “But come on Pete,” He motioned to your outstretched arm.

“What?” Peter questioned, turning his head. He had no idea what Tony was going on about.

“Her,” Tony exclaimed, “Her arm- Kid, she has you whipped,”

“And what’s so wrong about that?” Wanda questioned bringing her glass of wine to her lips, “I for one find it refreshing,”

“Refreshing?” Tony almost laughed, watching you smile behind your mixed drink, “She’s a menace,”

“There’s enough toxic masculinity on this team,” Natasha added, “Be glad he didn’t adopt your mannerisms,”

“I’m-I’m masculine,” Peter spoke, watching the team smile, “What?”

“Cute,” Natasha replied.

“What she means to say,” Wanda spoke, “You’re a nice change of pace. Not so controlling-“

You leaned forward, feeling the alcohol run through your system, “Yeahh, I think I wear the pants in this relationship,” A wider smile curled your lips as you watched the team laugh. Well, the entire team besides Peter.

Peter was silent next to you. He felt himself sink back into the plush couch, wishing it would engulf him. He wondered if you thought little of him. Maybe you always had.

“Y/N, I’m cutting you off,” Tony spoke, reaching out. He took the cup out of your hand, watching your brow furrow, “You’ll thank me later,”

“Yeah, okay,” Your tone was sarcastic and annoyed. You returned your arm to your side and scooted closer to Peter. He stared at you out of the corner of his eyes, “What’s up with you?”

“Nothing,” Peter quickly replied, “Just tired,”

“We can go to bed,” You spoke, watching Peter shake his head in disagreement, “Tony won’t even let me drink,” You studied the group as they conversed amongst themselves, “He’s barely tolerable when I’m sober,” You joked. Turning your head, you studied Peter’s blank expression, “Okay?”

Peter felt his blood boil at the team’s loud laughter. It was as if his senses were in full effect, or maybe it was because the rest of the room’s senses were dulled, “It’s fine,” He finally responded, beginning to leave the couch you two shared, “Just keep having a great time with everyone else,”

Even with your buzzed system you could tell something was wrong with Peter. You watched him walk halfway through the large lounge before you began to follow him. The long hallway seemed to spin as you attempted to keep up with Peter’s pace, “Hey,” You called out, watching Peter’s head turn slightly. His pace did not slow as he made it to the door of his room, “Hey?” Your tone rang with annoyance as Peter slipped past his door, closing it behind him. You made it through just in time, only your leg getting caught in the doorframe, “Hello? I don’t know if you didn’t notice me following you or something,” Peter only stared at you from the middle of his small room, “What is your problem?”

“Me?” Peter questioned. He really did not want to start an argument, especially while you still had alcohol in your system, “I just,” He searched his head for a lie, “Being the only sober one gets tiring,”

“You’re lying,” You laughed. Walking towards him, you studied his handsome face. He would not look at you, “I know you don’t care about that. You love having drunk blackmail on everyone,”

“Why’d you say that in front of everyone?” Peter finally questioned.

“Say? Say what?” You questioned with a small tilt of your head. The room spun around you as you stared up at Peter, “I don’t-“

“That you ‘wear the pants’” He spoke with finger air quotes.

“That bothered you?” A smile sat on your lips as you made your way to his bed.

Peter watched you sit on his mattress. He figured you were having a hard time standing as you sobered up, “Yeah. Okay? It did,” He spoke, “I try to look past shit like that. Because you do that a lot,”

“Do what?” You questioned, watching Peter pace in his room.

“You say things and don’t think of my feelings sometimes,” He laughed, “and I know you don’t mean it and that it’s just… you. Just how you work,”

“It’s not a big deal,” You spoke, motioning for him to sit next to you.

“You heard what they said,” Peter replied, sitting next to you. The mattress bowed, bringing him closer to your side, “I- I can be controlling-” His words were cut off by a small laugh bubbling past your lips.

“Sorry,” You spoke, noticing Peter’s stare, “I’m not laughing, it’s just- you always give in,” You explained, “especially to me,”

“I want to make sure you’re happy,” Peter spoke, “Like- like when we have sex,”

“When we have sex?” You smiled, brows furrowing, “That’s what this is about?”

“No… but, but yes,” His tone weaved his words into a question, “I, I can be dominating,” This time you did not even try to hide your laugh, “I could- I am,”

“You’re sweet,” You smiled, bringing your hands to his cheeks. Peter backed away from your hold, eyebrows so low his lashes tickled his own skin.

“It’s because I hold back,” Peter spoke.

“Hold back?” You laughed.

“Yeah! My senses, when I’m around you- in you,” Peter rambled, “I have to hold back, I don’t want to hurt you,”

“You wouldn’t hurt me,” You assured him.

“My strength might,” Peter explained, “That’s why- But I can be dominating,”

“Okay,” You spoke, hoping to end the conversation. But Peter saw right through you.

“You don’t believe me,” He spoke, leaning closer to you.

“Whaaat? No, no I believe you,” You watched his brow furrow, “Pete, I do,” You could not help the smile that curled your lips, “Reeallly- I, I do,” You could not help but find the conversation a little amusing. Peter was the sweetest guy you knew, not to mention date. He did not have an ounce of toxic masculinity in his gorgeous body.

Sure, Peter lead during sex, but it was not really like he was ‘in control.’ He did everything to please you, doing whatever you asked. The two of you have not been dating long but you could not pinpoint a time where he made you go down on him, it was only whenever you decided to fall to our knees. But Peter, he would eat you out for hours.

“Y/N,” Peter’s voice pulled you out of your dirty thoughts. He studied you, inches closer than he was before, “Fine,” He spoke.

“What?” You questioned, watching Peter’s expression change. You did not get the chance to study him for long before he brought his lips to your skin, “Hey-” His lips explored your neck. Once every inch was covered in a wet kiss, he moved up to your cheek, “What are you-“

Peter cut off your question with a kiss. Moving over you, he pushed you back onto his bed. He hovered above you now, knee falling between your legs. He kissed you, knee rubbing against the fabric of your jeans. The friction began to build as his hands wandered over the fabric of your shirt.

His right hand traveled down further and further. The fabric of your shirt tickled his skin as he made his way towards the button of your jeans. Moving his leg to make way for his digits, he broke the heated and hungry kiss, “Is this okay?” He questioned.

Peter was planning on showing you just how dominant he could be, but he was not an asshole. He wanted to make sure you did not regret this at all. Peter watched you nod underneath him.

“Use your words, sweetheart,” He watched you almost freeze at his words. Peter had to hold back a chuckle and part of him was turned on by seeing you in this state, “Come on,”

“Yes,” Your voice was small, cracking slightly as the single syllable crawled its way out of your throat. Clearing your throat, you did not look at him. You couldn’t.

A smile stretched on Peter’s lips, but he was pretty sure you did not see it. Moving back towards you, he buried his face into your neck, while his hand made its way under the fabric of your jeans. Your sharp inhale rang through Peter’s ears as he began to kiss the skin of your neck, “What was that baby?” He asked, fingers dipping under your underwear.

You whined, shifting in his hold.

“Hm?” Peter hummed, lips vibrating against your sensitive skin, “Is this what you want?” He asked, a single digit running through your wet folds. Feeling you nod, he brought his coated finger to your clit, lubricating the sensitive nerve.

You jolted at the sudden stimulation, “S-Shit,” You gasped. Peter revealed his smiling lips that were hidden in the crook of your neck, “wh-what?”

“That feel good?” He questioned, his touch slow and gentle. Watching you nod, a chuckle escaped past his grin, “Goood,” He drew out as he increased the speed. Your body tensed as you felt the familiar knot begin to form deep within you.

A string of moans began to make their way up your throat, passing through your parted lips. Peter stared at you, head hanging. His eyes travelled from your pleased expression to his hand that was hidden from sight, “Why don’t we get these pants off,” Peter spoke, watching you nod aggressively, “That sound good baby?” He watched you nod once more, “What did I say,” He watched your eyes meet his, a look of confusion reflecting in your y/e/c pools, “Need you to use your words for me,”

You whined. Peter was never like this, and it embarrassed you. You felt helpless and it turned you on. He stared at you, waiting for anything to pass through your lips, “Peter… please,”

“Please, what?” He questioned, his touch slowing. The building orgasm slipped from you with each passing second.

“No fair,” You whined. Your hips rocked, attempting to chase your high. However, Peter’s hand disappeared from underneath the fabric, “Mm,” You whined.

“You’re not acting like you deserve to cum,” Peter spoke, “You’re telling everyone that you wear the pants,” He spoke, beginning to pull your jeans down your legs, “but you’re begging me to take yours off,” Peter’s actions were painfully slow.

“Please,” You groaned, shifting below your boyfriend, “noo fair,”

“Play nice and behave,” He spoke, attracting your gaze. Even Peter was unsure where his words were coming from. He always lead during sex, but now he was in control, “Okay?”

“Yes,” You breathed out.

“I don’t want to have to punish you,” Peter spoke under his breath. He really did not want to, because he was already losing himself to you. He was afraid what would happen if he used his strength against you.

However, you wanted to see where that would lead, and Peter knew you all too well, “Yeah?” You questioned, a small smile beginning to curl your lips. You were back to reality, Peter grounding you as the alcohol left your system.

“Y/N,” He spoke, your name almost sounding like a warning from his lips. You hummed in response, the vibration played innocent, “Fine,” Peter leaned back, moving to the end of the bed.

You whined, thinking that he was just going to leave you like this. You did not want to fend for yourself, you wanted Peter to release you from your horny state, “Can’t do it?” You questioned as Peter sat on the edge of his mattress.

Suddenly, you felt Peter’s hands toss you over his legs, “I was just moving,” He spoke, adjusting your body that squirmed nervously, “to do this,” Peter claimed as he brought a flat hand against the skin of your ass. A whine left your lips, filling the air, “Are you going to behave?” He questioned. You were silent, shocked at Peter’s sudden dominance, “Y/N?” Peter attempted to get your attention with another hard spank.

“Peterrr,” You whined, turning your head. You met his eyes as he stared back at you, waiting for your answer.

“Are you?” Peter repeated, “Are you going to behave?” He raised his palm, watching you brace for another spank.

“Yes,” You shook your head, “Yes,”

“Good,” Peter spoke, putting down his raised hand as he watched you close your eyes. Instead, he reached out, taking hold of your y/h/c locks. Twisting them around his hand, he pulled you to your knees.

You were a whining and whimpering mess. Pain and pleasure were equally balanced within you. Staring into Peter’s dark gaze, you watched him place a rough kiss to your lips. You groaned against his skin as his strength began to overpower you. Your hands fell behind you, attempting to hold yourself up as Peter’s kiss and hold on your hair began pulling you down.

Taking his free hand, Peter brought the pads of his finger to your clothed clit. He felt you struggle against him, body trembling from bliss, “Is this too much?” He questioned, bringing his lips to your neck. He pulled on your hair, exposing even more of your skin to him. He felt you shake your head, “Use your-“

“No,” You interrupted. However, in some ways, it was too much. You had not felt this frustrated since before the two of you finally confessed, “Please,”

“What?” Peter questioned.

“More,” You whined as he stared back at you. He was waiting for you to explain yourself and it made you groan, “I need more, need you,”

“Why don’t I make you cum first,” Peter spoke, fingers now pushing the fabric of your underwear aside, “okay sweetheart?”

You nodded, eyes screwing shut at the sudden skin on skin stimulation. You heard Peter chuckle, making your brows furrow.

“Need you to tell me when you’re going to cum,” Peter instructed, “okay?” He watched you nod again before placing a wet kiss to the corner of your lips. Before picking up speed, he dipped his long digit into you, coating his skin in you, “You’re so wet,” He smiled cockily, “You like this? Think I can be dominant now?”

“Mhm,” You quietly verbalized.

“Yeah?” Peter questioned, he felt you twitch in his hold, “Remember what I said?” Peter watched you nod, eyes screwed shut, “Are you close?”

“Yeah,” You moan, “gonna cum,” As soon as your climax built, it fell apart as Peter removed his fingers from between your legs, “Mmm,” You whined.

Peter gave you a sympathetic pout as you met his gaze. He watched irritation cross your once blissful expression, “Lay down,” He spoke, yet he did not give you the choice. He brought his handful of hair towards the bed, throwing you against the mattress. He laid by your side, fingers returning to your clit almost instantly, “Tell me when you’re close,”

Your nose wrinkled at Peter’s command, knowing he was going to deny your orgasm once more, “Pete-“ You whined.

“Tell me when,” He repeated, a short yet stern pause in between his words. His fingers switched, stimulating you differently than before.

Peter’s fingers were stimulating you even better than before, making a moan bubble past your lips, “fuckkk,” You groaned, feeling yourself almost reach your orgasm.

“Y/N,” Peter called you back to reality.

“Gonna cum,” You spoke weakly, words manifesting in between blissful moans. Peter’s fingers left you, making you bite your tongue. If you did not, you would have cursed him out, making your punishment last even longer, “MMM,” A whine was all you could mutter.

“What?” Peter played innocent, meeting your pleading gaze, “Do you think you deserve to cum?” He questioned. Peter watched you nod in reply, “I don’t think you do,”

“I dooo,” You whined.

“Why?” Peter questioned, “I don’t think you’ve been good. Drunk Y/N wasn’t playing nice,”

“I’m being good,” You told him, watching him bring his fingers back to your wetness. A whine vibrated your lips as he trailed his fingers between your folds, “I’m playinggg niccee,”

“You think so?” Peter asked, watching you nod, “I think you’ll need to convince me,”

“MmM,” You whined again. You did not know what Peter wanted.

“What?” He questioned back.

“How?” You wondered. Peter trailed his wet digits up your stomach as you laid next to him. You took in a sharp breath.

“Think you’ll need to beg,” Peter affirmed, “convince me you deserve it,” He watched your eyes shoot towards his lust filled gaze. You were silent and it only turned Peter on even more. He cocked his head, almost waiting for you to speak, “Hm?”

“Peter,” You breathed out, far too embarrassed to complete the task he had given you.

“Y/N,” He replied, “If you don’t want to keep going-”

“I do,” You spoke, “Please,”

“Please what?” Peter urged, “Beg for it,”

You hesitated, grabbing at the words that were muddled in your lust clouded head, “Please- Please let me,” You tested. Peter only stared at you, your words not good enough, “please let me cum. I’ll be good,”

“Will you?” Peter questioned, “You seem to love embarrassing me in front of the team,” He watched a slight smile curl your lips, “What’s so funny?”

“It’s fun,” You admitted, your claim almost a whisper, “you get so worked up-” Your words ended in a yelp as Peter’s flat fingers hit against your clit.

“You’re not helping your case baby,” Peter reminded you, “I thought you were being good,”

“Just being honest,” You whined, flinching at the wave of Peter’s hand, “mm,”

“Be good,” Peter’s hand that was once a threat, now rubbed small and slow circles against your clit. He waited for the stream of moans to crawl up your throat, “See what happens if you’re good?”

“C-Can I cum?” You stuttered, shifting on his mattress. His pace picked up as a you felt your climax begin to grow once more, “s-shit,”

“I dunno,” Peter spoke, “I’m not hearing a lot of begging,”

“P-Ple-Please,” You moaned, “I’m so- so close and I wanna cum so bad,” You were a whining mess as you focused on delaying your orgasm, “I’m gonna cum-“

Removing his hand, Peter rose to his knees. Swinging his leg over you, he now straddled your legs as his hand returned to you, “You’re asking so nicely. You really wanna cum that bad?” He watched you nod almost violently, making a small laugh pass through his curling lips, “MMMaybe,” He heard you whine, “Are you being good?”

You groaned, submitting to him in hopes that he would grant you relief, “I’m,” Your voice trailed off, irritated at Peter’s teasing, “trying,”

He stared down at you, seeing that you were sick of waiting, “Yeah?” Peter returned his hand, allowing you just a little bit of relief, “Good job,” He began to work you closer and closer to your orgasm. However, your blissed expression still housed furrowed brows, “What’s wrong baby?” He watched as you shot him a glance, “You wanna cum?” You nodded, moans too constant to allow any words through your parted lips, “I need to hear you,”

“Please,” The first plea echoed off the walls of Peter’s room. A hush passed through his lips as he realized just how worked up you truly were, “Pl-Please Pete let me cum- shit,” You focused on your climax, not letting yourself get swept away by the waves of pleasure, “I’m- Please let me cum I’m so close- too close- You feel so good,”

Peter chuckled at how lost you were in him, “Beg,”

“Pleaseeee,” You almost cried.

“Fine,” Peter spoke, focusing on the movement of his fingers against your clit. He dipped a digit between your folds before working you back to your orgasm, “Cum for me,”

Your eyes screwed shut as you focused on the feeling. Reaching out, you began to wrap the fabric of Peter’s shirt around your fingers, pulling him closer to you.

“You gonna cum for me?” Peter questioned, your moans no longer a steady stream, “You wanted to cum so bad,”

“Closeee,” You whined, unable to fall over the edge that you could not go over moments before. Pushing up the fabric of your shirt, Peter’s fingers hooked under the bottom hem of your bra. Pushing the fabric over your breasts, he took your nipple between his lips, coaxing a loud moan out of you, “I- I’m- gonna cum,” You stuttered as Peter’s tongue danced across your nipple, “fuck-” You swore, vision blurring as your entire body came crashing down.

“Gooood jobbb,” Peter smiled, hovering above you now. His fingers continued to stimulate you through your orgasm. However, after all the teasing, you found yourself extremely sensitive. Each movement Peter made sent a jolt through your body and a whine to pass through your lips, “Too much for you?” He watched you nod in response, but kept going.

“Peter, please-” Your body jolted as you begged for him to stop, “Stopp- stop,” Peter did as you asked now, moving back to your side.

He watched as your bare chest rose and fell heavily, attempting to catch your breath, “How was that?” He finally questioned after a moment of silence. You turned your head towards him, too tired to verbally question, but he could tell by the look you shot him, “I can be dominant,”

You laughed before catching your breath once more, “You… you got me,” You admitted, “I’ll never doubt you again,”

“And if you do, you know what’ll happen next,” Peter almost warned, however his tone was playful.

“Shut up,” You laughed. Collecting your energy you turned to face him, catching his lips in a sweet kiss.

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farfromharry · 2 years

Text

In my dreams | Peter Parker fic

Summary: Death happens at the most unexpected times, and we’re never ready for it. But Peter wasn’t ready to leave you in heart until he knew you’d moved on and you were ready to give your heart to someone that wasn’t him.

Word count - 14,169

Warnings - massive angst, basically all angst, very light fluff, language, mentions of blood and injury, major character death, mentions of panic attacks, overall this is incredibly angsty so

A/n - this is the tiktok that inspired this whole thing, and the original comment was: ‘as i began to disappear for good so he could love her in peace, i watched him as he stared at our picture and whispered thank you’

━━━━━━━━━♡♥♡━━━━━━━━━

Death was a strange thing, but one that you had thankfully not had to experience too much of in your life. You considered yourself incredibly grateful for that, because you’d seen the way it hurt Peter; to keep losing the people close to him, you couldn’t imagine the pain his poor heart was always in. He was strong, he still smiled and made his friends laugh like none of it ever bothered him, but some nights when he was alone with you it was clear to see how exhausted he was, he was just so sad and tired of losing people.

Maybe that was why he slipped up, maybe his own exhaustion of being that boy everyone always felt bad for was the reason he fell right into Mysterio’s stupid trap, or maybe it was the fact he wasn’t prepared to lose another person he loved.

The holograms were incredibly realistic he had to admit, but usually with his spidey sense he was able to detect something was wrong. Not that time though, and even if he had he wasn’t sure it would’ve been reliable enough, all he saw was the bearded man with his hand wrapped tightly around your neck, dangling you over the edge of the multi-storey building you lived in, and Peter just saw red. All logic went out the window and he was blinded by the thought of losing you.

He was so dumb for really believing he had you there, and if you ever found out the reason he slipped right off the ledge of your apartment building was because he’d been led up there to think he was saving you from the menacing villain’s grasp, without his suit, then you surely would never forgive yourself.

You remember the day it happened like it was yesterday, it was one of your most vivid memories of him, seeing him laid there on the ground almost entirely motionless, spoiling so many amazing memories of you and Peter that you’d previously had stored in your head. When you thought of him now it would always turn sour and you’d picture him with that draining look in his eyes that haunted you. You’d never forget it.

»»——⍟——««

The day had started off good, the two of you having headed out on a little date to spend some time together. He’d picked you up from your apartment with the intention of taking you to lunch at some fancy place he’d found when on patrol a couple days prior. But upon discovering his plan, you insisted that you weren’t allowing him to spend so much money when you could have equally as much fun grabbing something from Delmars.

He did feel a sense of relief when you said those simple words, because it meant he could help May with the rent again this month, not that he wouldn’t have tried still even if he did take you on the fancy date. But this only served to remind him why you really were the girl of his dreams. You understood his money problems and you never made him feel bad about it, you actually tried to encourage him to be more responsible with it.

Both on the way to the sandwich shop and waiting in line, your boyfriend made sure to shower you with as much love as possible, a way of thanking you for just being you, but in his own special way. That included arms around you securely, kisses on your lips and head every few seconds and small promises of murmured “I love you’s” that had you hiding your face in his chest. You learned early on in your relationship that his love language was physical touch and words of affirmation and they never failed to make you feel all floaty inside. You were so in love, sometimes it hurt.

After getting your lunch the two of you took a small stroll to the nearby park, finding a bench you could sit down on that overlooked the large patch of vibrant flowers that decorated the middle of the field, as well as allowing you and Peter to gush over the many adorable dogs that were being walked around it by their owners. Which of course sparked a discussion about which dogs you thought each other would be.

The brunette's laughter reminded you that you needed to capture the moment, so just like you did every time the two of you came out somewhere together, you pulled out your phone in preparation of snapping a quick picture together. It was routine at this point, and each and every time without fail Peter would whine and try to tell you to just enjoy the moment.

You would always say the same thing though; “Pete, one day this’ll be all we have.”

The words would always make him feel guilty enough to agree without any more resistance, and in the end he’d have a new photo to dote over on the long missions and nights away from you, when he was really missing just seeing your pretty face.

“C’mon Pete, smile,” you coaxed, holding your phone up with the camera angled to get you both in. Peter wasn’t interested in looking at the camera though, he was too fixated on you. He called your name before you pressed the small button, watching as your head turned to look at him with a wide, lovesick, grin that matched his. Your faces were so close together that the tips of your noses brushed sweetly and only then did you decide to capture the picture.

The two of you reviewed your photography with giddy smiles. “I think this may be my favourite one ever,” he stated honestly, staring down at the phone screen with a heart full of love. “Mine too.”

The rest of the day was spent goofing around in the park together until it started getting dark, Peter demanding he walk you home because ‘that’s what a gentleman does.’

The entire walk from the park to your apartment, which was a rather long distance, the boy had been telling you all about the new star wars film set to release soon (plus all the theories he and Ned had) while swinging your hands together in the middle of you both subconsciously.

You weren’t a die hard fan of the movie series but you’d watched them on numerous occasions with your lovable nerdy boyfriend. You’d usually only end up watching his cute face as he recited parts of the script he’d memorised, but you enjoyed the experience nonetheless. Besides, you adored hearing Peter talk about his interests like that. He was always self conscious that he was being too nerdy, due to the constant teasing from Flash Thompson, but you reassured him every time that seeing that excited glint in his eyes was completely worth dedicating hours of your time to listening to him.

He still wasn’t done by the time you arrived at your destination, and you didn’t have the heart to tell him to shut up when he was so visibly excited. Your hands rested on his chest, playing with the unzipped portion of his hoodie as he continued talking. Eyes softly fixated on his face and that silly smile that made you swoon for the teenage boy.

You did eventually zone out from what he was saying, but only because you were so focused on how soft his lips looked at that specific moment in time. You may not have had the heart to stop him before, but you were aching for his lips on yours right then.

“Just kiss me,” you mumbled, hiding your grin as the man bashfully stopped his rambling, a faded blush forming on his cheeks. His lips melted onto yours, a low hum rising from the back of his throat as his hands tightened on your hips. Neither of you wanted to let go, just wanting to stay in one another’s arms forever if you could. “Stay with me tonight?” you asked, pulling your lips away from his for the moment. He frowned, leaning forward to rest his forehead against yours sweetly.

“I would, but I promised May we’d go for dinner.” You sighed softly, flashing him a smile as you stole a couple more kisses to try and satisfy you.

“That’s okay, I’ll just see you tomorrow.” He nodded his head, pressing one last longing kiss to your soft lips that left you feeling a sense of completion. “Text me later,” you called, blowing him a sweet kiss from where you stood at the entrance of your building. “I love you,” you sang sweetly, a dumb smile on your lips as you watched him go. The last thing you heard was his voice yelling back and I love you as he jogged across the street, leaving you swooning like a fool. You should’ve pushed more for him to stay.

You were still on cloud nine from your day spent with your boyfriend when the chaos started later that night. You didn’t know what was going on at first, all you were aware of was the herd of people crowding around the entrance of the building outside. Your curiosity got the better of you of course and you quickly threw on a hoodie and trudged your way downstairs.

You searched until you found someone you recognised, a neighbour of yours, asking what had happened. ��A man fell off the roof.” You were told, your eyes going wide.

You didn’t know it was your man until May called you to fill you in. Obviously she was Peter’s emergency contact, so when one of the bystanders from outside found him they’d had called to tell her while someone else phoned the ambulance. She was panicking as she tried to make her way to your apartment building as quickly as possible, but you assured her you’d stay with him until she got there.

“Peter!” you called, shoving your way through the crown urgently until you saw your love lying there. It was clear from the look on his face that he was in pain and no wonder. It was a miracle to you that he’d even survived a fall of that height.

He did however faintly hear your voice call his name, his eyes fluttering open as he waited to see your face. It wasn’t too long until you were kneeling down beside him, eyes brimming with unshed tears as you looked down into those soft, honey coloured eyes. They looked so lifeless.

“Hey, what happened?” you asked, hands unsteady as you surveyed the scene in front of you, they eventually came to lightly grip his hand, hearing a small hiss slip past the boy’s lips. He was still in his regular clothes, which told you he hadn’t been many places since your date.

“M-Mysterio,” he whispered, hand loosely clutching his abdomen as he spoke. You frowned, his words leading you to believe that this definitely wasn’t an accident. And you knew supervillains didn’t necessarily have morals, but you expected a grown man like Quentin to at least try and fight Peter when he was on guard, with his suit; he was still just a kid at the end of the day.

It was getting harder and harder for Peter to find something to hold onto to keep him grounded. The pain was excruciating, as one can imagine falling numerous stories only to hit the concrete ground, he couldn’t breathe, he just wanted to let go. You saw the way his eyes threatened to close, and as a person close by instructed, you tried your hardest to make sure he kept them open.

“Peter, baby, please. I need you to open your eyes and look at me,” you begged, cradling his face as he strained to look at you. Everywhere hurt as he even so much as took little shaky breaths and you wanted to curse the ambulance for taking so long. It wasn’t going to do much considering, but you noted the trail of blood from his nose that was slowly running down his face, and as a gesture of good will you ever so gently wiped it away with your thumb, flashing the boy a nervous smile.

Your desperate voice was painful to both his heart and ears, he didn’t want it to be like this. You both had always known this was a risk of his job and as much as you hated to talk about the idea of Peter dying, he’d always insisted. He’d told you countless times that he’d never want you to see him like this, if he was going to die he wanted it to be away from his loved ones so they didn’t have to go through what he did with Ben, or what he and Pepper had to with Tony.

Your crying was what snapped him out of his daze and he wasn’t convinced he could be in more pain until he saw the expression on your face.

“You can’t leave me, not now. Just like you shouldn’t have left me on that bus, or that Washington trip or-“ You could see out of the corner of your eye as his lips slowly, painfully, curved into a smile. Your eyebrows drew together in confusion, but you were patient with him as he searched for the strength to speak.

“I love you,” he wheezed, a short wince following his words. “You are, everything, to me.”

The words falling from his lips sounded so sombre and it pained you to hear the way he talked as though he was already dead. He was already assuming the worst and you didn’t want to lose Peter, you didn’t know how you would live if you lost him.

“No, Peter,” you demanded, shaking your head. “Why aren’t you healing? I-I don’t understand, you should’ve healed by now.”

You were incredibly frantic as you tried to do anything you could. So much so that you didn’t hear the sirens of the vehicle finally arriving. All you felt was gentle hands on your back trying to guide you away from his body. You tried to protest at first, only crying harder as you fought the grip of the helping hands on you. But one look from Peter told you it was okay, the man flashing you a weak smile. “Go,” he whispered. “It’s okay.”

You made a pathetic attempt at wiping away your tears and trying to compose yourself as if you hadn’t just broken down in front of a crowd of people. You spared a quick glance at the paramedic that was going to help your boyfriend before turning back to Peter. You leaned in one more time, lightly pressing your lips to his.

“I love you so much. I’ll see you at the hospital, okay?”

He hummed painfully, watching as you rose to your feet and were guided away by the woman that wanted to console you. “Y/N,” he called weakly, catching your attention. “Everything’s going to be fine, I promise.”

And with those words you trusted him completely, a slight sense of hope finding its way back into your heart for the moment. But he broke that promise, he lied.

»»——⍟——««

It felt like time was slowing down as you waited. Waiting, you fucking hated it. Your body felt like if you didn’t hear anything soon then you were going to crumble under the pressure of not knowing. Those hours spent in the hospital waiting room were the worst ones of your life.

For a little while you were the only one there for him, and it scared you to think he could possibly die right now with no one but you here by his side. It wasn’t right.

But thankfully, May arrived quickly after you did, providing you at least a little bit of comfort that you could really use at that moment just to keep you away from your own vicious thoughts. She tried to help you as much as she could, but after a certain point it was like any reasonable part of you had shut down, and you weren’t making it easier for her.

Stubbornly, you refused to do anything but sit there quietly, bouncing your knee as you anticipated any news. May had tried everything, she offered you a snack or drink every so often, of which you denied politely every time. She suggested going home so you could change out of the clothes that had some small patches of Peter’s blood on, but you didn’t want that either. Eventually she gave up, sitting beside you and just taking your shaky hand in hers.

When they finally had news, considering you weren’t family, only May was allowed to speak to the doctor. It frustrated you, why did it matter if you were related to him or not? Either way you loved him so much and you deserved to hear the news from the source. “Peter Parker?” he called. You both shot up from your seats, looking to him expectantly, though his next words caused you to deflate a little. “Family only.”

You looked at her with a frown, but she was quick to reassure you she’d tell you everything as soon as she could. May didn’t know if hearing it from her instead of the doctor was better or worse for you.

You sat back down in the uncomfortable seat with a dejected sigh, stretching your neck to lean your head back on the wall with a scared whimper. You weren’t sure you’d ever felt so tense, your mind was screaming at you to relax but it was impossible while waiting for such news.

It felt like an eternity that May was gone, but as soon as you saw her figure approaching you wanted to wish it away again. You wanted to know– needed to know what happened to him, but you were petrified of the outcome. Just from the pure lack of emotion on her face you assumed the news wasn’t good, and you really didn’t want to know anymore, not if it meant your boy wasn’t okay.

You stood up from your seat again, hands shaking as you plastered a false smile on your face. She approached you slowly, her hands raising to hold your arms so you were looking at nothing and no one but her, she needed your full attention for this. It was very motherly and you were grateful for the comfort. You weren’t a hundred percent sure you could take whatever she was about to say without it.

“He’s okay, right?” you asked, trying to keep a positive mind. You noted the small change in her expression as your words reached her ears, and you were still forcing a smile even as she sat you down in the waiting room of the hospital. You knew what it meant. “May, please tell me he’s okay. T-They helped him, right?” your voice cracked as emotion overtook you before she even said the two words that you were certain changed the course of your life.

She shakily inhaled. “Y/N. He’s gone.”

You took a few seconds to properly process what that meant, as in no more dates, no more sneaky late night kisses, no more Peter. No more Peter. May didn’t know how to approach saying anything else. She feared that anything she could say would send you spiralling and she wanted to keep you as calm as possible. She didn’t open her mouth until you started denying it all, finding the grief settling in your chest too much to bear already.

“B-But he promised,” you tried, your bottom lip wobbling. “He never breaks a promise.”

May was well aware of that. He’d done so in fact earlier that night by still going to dinner with her even when you asked him to stay with you. He was so dedicated to making everyone happy that he would never even think about breaking a commitment he’d already made to someone. You both admired him for that.

“I know,” she cooed, shushing you quietly as your breath quickened to an alarming rate to the point you were desperately trying to get air. May had sat through enough of Peter’s own panic attacks to know exactly what to do to calm a distressed teenager. You were pulled into her chest, her hand gently stroking your hair.

After your initial gasping had subsided you were taken over by anger. Anger at the world, at Mysterio, at the doctors who couldn’t save him, even pathetically at May. She didn’t do anything wrong, no one but Mysterio did, but he wasn’t here for you to take it out on, so that unfortunately fell to your boyfriend’s aunt.

“You’re lying,” you concluded, pushing her motherly touch away from any part of you. She didn’t seem personally offended by your rage, it was understandable, she’d had to deal with a lot of Peter’s. It was very common for kids not to know how to deal with their emotions, especially the stronger one’s; such as grief. And when it came to Peter Parker, he’d been through his fair share, safe to say she had practice.

She shushed you quietly, trying to coax you back into her arms but you were fighting it. It took a long time but you eventually complied, letting out all your tears into her sweater, mumbling a few quiet apologies about getting the material damp with your tears and of course snapping at her. She assured you it was okay, holding back tears of her own that she wouldn’t let fall until you were out of her sight, by now she was much better at this whole grieving process than you.

“He’s with Ben now,” she said. You could hear the love in her voice as she uttered the name of her late husband. As much as it pained her to think about the fact that they were both gone, she was thankful that they at least had each other. “And his mom and dad, and Tony,” she added, a small smile creeping on her face at the thought of how excited the boy would be to see his mentor again. It hurt, but the pain was eased knowing he wouldn’t be alone.

“B-But I still need him. I don't want him to leave me yet,” you cried. May ran a hand over your hair as she cooed quietly, but she didn’t truly know how to stop your tears. She wasn’t sure what she could think of that would do the job. “I know sweetheart, but we’ll get through this.”

You were in such a state of distress at that moment that you didn’t even recognise Happy entering the waiting room. He greeted May with a simple hello, inferring from your current state that things had gone more than sideways.

She didn’t want to talk about you like you weren’t there as she tried to explain things to Happy, but you didn’t seem to be phased in the slightest when she called your name, so she assumed it was okay to continue. You couldn’t actually hear anything going on around you, it was all like white noise to you.

It took you a few minutes to come back enough to realise that May was talking to someone, and only when you took a moment to breathe did you see it was Happy Hogan. You patiently waited for them to stop talking before telling the man the vital piece of information Peter had told you. You could still very clearly hear his broken voice telling you this was the doings of Mysterio.

“It was him,” you cried, furiously wiping your tears away as you looked up at the man. You watched his eyebrows draw together in confusion. This was the first time you’d spoken since he got here, so he just assumed that you weren’t in your right state of mind right now; although to be fair to him you weren’t. “Mysterio k-killed him, Happy.”

You saw the slight shift of anger on his face, and that alone assured you Happy would deal with it. May rubbed your arm comfortingly, her eyes silently communicating with the man that they should probably get you out of here. They should’ve been more wary of the man, they thought after the events that transpired in London everything was over, but they were wrong.

Knowing that there was someone behind this made him think there was a chance you could get clarity, the man could be punished for what he put you all through, and hopefully it'll make you feel somewhat better.

Happy was the one to help you up from the floor, steadying you on your feet just in case your knees didn’t hold out. You were very clearly weak at the moment. “Let’s get you home,” he said. “Then we can talk more about this whole Mysterio thing.”

Of course arriving home after being given such news was strange, and it was even more strange for your parents who’d been panicking regarding your whereabouts for the last few hours. The last they’d seen you’d just come back from a date with Peter, then they heard about some kid falling from the roof and their minds immediately jumped to the possibility it was you, which would explain why you were nowhere to be found.

They were ready to lecture you as soon as you got home, if you got home that was.

But when they saw you standing in the doorway, tears streaming down your face, May Parker by your side practically holding you up so you didn’t fall, they felt a small sense of relief, but it didn’t last for long as the older woman pulled them to the side to explain everything.

They were shocked to hear the news, their eyes falling to you who’d been led inside by Happy. He helped you onto the couch and sat beside you, hoping you’d be able to tell him more about why you thought Quentin Beck was the man that had killed your boyfriend. You were just trying to adjust to being in your home, where an overwhelming amount of memories were hitting you.

Everywhere you looked reminded you of him. The kitchen where you’d spent countless hours baking or cooking together, the couch where you’d had many movie nights cuddled together. Even just your front door where he always gave you a goodnight kiss when he left your apartment. It was all hitting you like a ton of bricks and it was making everything all the more painful, you couldn’t imagine what it would be like once you got back in your room.

“Can you tell me what happened, Y/N?” His voice was incredibly gentle, and he didn’t push you into saying anything straight away. He could tell you were still trying to process everything that had happened and you needed to take a few breaths before you could even begin to think about your conversation with the boy earlier.

“H-He told me. He was lying there, a-and he told me it was him.”

The man didn’t want to make you talk about this any longer. Your parents were itching to get you to your room so you could get some sleep after this whole mess, but of course they knew how important getting justice was. They were obviously nowhere near as broken about this as you, but they also adored Peter and they often spoke about how the love between you two was clear, this was going to be difficult to move on from.

“Well, this has been a hard day for us all, we’ll let you get some rest,” May announced, shuffling over to you to place a motherly kiss on your head. She whispered some reassuring and comforting words to you, reminding you you could come and see her anytime, even if you just wanted to stay in Peter’s room for a night. Happy did more or less the same, seeing you conjure up a weak smile as a thank you to them both.

“But Y/N,” he said, pausing in the doorway, gathering your attention once again. “We’ll get that son of a bitch.”

»»——⍟——««

The night before the funeral, you couldn’t sleep. You were up and out of bed within the early hours of the morning after countless attempts at failed sleep. You were dressed and ready to go by five am, somehow having not awoken your parents, even though the funeral wasn’t until eleven. You had tried to busy yourself with just about anything, but no matter what it was you did your mind always went back to him. You ended up throwing yourself on your bed, a stuffed toy Peter bought you one year for valentines in your arms, just to stare at the ceiling as the hours passed by.

That’s how your mother found you, her heart aching for you in your helpless state. She had to coax you out of bed, her hands glued to your shoulders to try and stabilise you so you didn’t stumble on your feet. The complexity of your emotions was starting to show through in the simplest of things you did, hence your struggle to even stand still at times.

She tried to take the stuffed rabbit from your arms but you wouldn’t let it go, you couldn’t let it go. If you were going to stay as strong as possible for the day then it would probably be best if you took it with you. So eventually your mother gave up trying.

It was a whole other thing to get you into the car. Although you’d been prepared this morning, now that it was becoming a reality you didn’t want to face it. There were lots of tears and much refusal on your part, but lots of cooing and kind words from your mother really helped encourage you.

You didn’t register much on the journey over there, your mind was too preoccupied playing with the watch you’d been given by May and running your fingers over the soft fabric of the bunny. It was Ben’s watch that he’d given Peter, the one you knew he loved and cherished. She’d told you that she was more than certain he’d want you to have it, in fact that was because she knew Peter was considering getting you a matching one for your birthday in a few months time.

Before you knew it your mother was letting you know that you were here, placing her hand on your knee gently before she got out of the car. You were supposed to follow, you knew that much, but you waited a few minutes to gather yourself first, exiting the car to find your parents standing there with the same sympathetic smiles that you’d grown sick of seeing. Your mom placed a hand on your shoulder, guiding you inside the misery filled building where you were met with May.

You were surprised she looked like she was doing so well because you looked the complete opposite and you wished you knew her secret. She was greeting family and friends as they entered, a smile plastered to her face that you couldn’t work out if it was real or not. She locked eyes with you and offered you a sad smile, greeting your parents before moving to you.

“You look lovely, Y/N,” May said, squeezing your shoulders sweetly before she pulled you into a hug. You sighed quietly, resting your chin on her shoulder as you desperately clung to her. She flashed your parents a strained smile over your shoulder, and they could barely muster up one of sympathy for the grieving aunt. You pulled away with a frown, letting your eyes wander the room to see the countless hero’s standing around, all here to pay their respects to their youngest avenger.

It shocked you slightly that Sam and Bucky were here considering what you’d heard from Peter about his encounter with them in Germany. But your thoughts were quickly interrupted at the sight of Morgan clinging to her mother’s hand. It was the older woman’s voice beside you that brought your attention back over to her. “You brought Bunny?” she asked sweetly.

You chuckled, nodding your head as you ran your thumb over its ear. May had been there when Peter gave the stuffed toy to you, so it made sense she recognised it. “Thought it’d give me some comfort.”

She hummed. You left her to greet the remaining guests, letting your eyes fall on Morgan again as you moved to take a seat in the room. You felt for the girl, and you could see the clear confusion on her face. Just like Pepper, you wished you could protect her from everything that happened, keep her the happy little girl you really had begun to love. But that was impossible in the kind of world you lived in, even if it was incredibly unfair.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a hand being gently placed on your shoulder.

“H-Hey Y/N,” Mj was apprehensive when she approached you, something she’d never been before. She was used to you greeting her with wide smiles and warm hugs that she always pretended she didn’t want. You turned your head to look at her but didn’t even bother trying to fake a smile, she was one of your best friends so she’d only know it wasn’t real anyway. “How are you?” she asked politely.

You wanted to scoff, yell at her for asking such a dumb question, anything to try and unleash some of this rage you had against the world at the moment, but you knew none of this was her fault. She was shy and awkward, so you knew she was only trying to make conversation, and without your usual chatty self it was much harder for her to do so. “Awful.”

You didn’t say anything else, but you were aware of the girl bouncing on her feet nervously. You heard her sigh quietly before feeling her slender arms wrapping around your frame in a way that usually you would initiate. “I love you, and I’m here for you if you ever need me,” she told you, placing a friendly kiss on your cheek as she pulled away and left you to mope.

You got a lot more of that, the dreaded sympathy that only made you feel worse. You wanted to escape them all, you were sure one more over exaggerated look of pity from Thor was going to make you explode.

After the main part of the funeral was over, you essentially disappeared. None of the adults responsible for you had any idea where you were, all but one that was. Happy had seen you trying to sneak away with tears dripping from your cheeks and insisted you sit with him and Morgan just for a little while. The girl was notorious for being able to bring up the mood of anyone, hell her dad was Tony Stark, she’d had practice.

There was just something about her innocence and overwhelming positivity that rubbed off on everyone she spoke to, including you, even on a day like today. As soon as she saw the tears on your face she was wrapping her tiny arms around your torso and demanding you let her tell you some jokes. Most of them were terrible, yes, and she didn’t quite understand all of them, obviously having picked them up from someone like Sam who had no filter even around children, but they did make you giggle even just a little bit.

You told her all about your rabbit and where you got it when she asked, the girl happy to listen to the story about the boy she’d considered like her brother. It had been a touchy topic the entire day and pretty much no one had actually spoken about him, it was nice to hear about and talk about in your case.

Happy was glad to see you smiling, and the sight even had a smile of his own tugging at the corners of his mouth. Over the last month your parents, May, Happy and even your school friends (which only consisted of Ned and Mj mainly) had made it their mission to try and get you out of the house, or at least to smile.

They hadn’t all been successful. Mj had simply read to you in the park one early morning when you found you couldn’t sleep, it started out well, you were outside, but the book had been a bad choice; some story about two lovers that couldn’t be together that only in turn made you more sad. She’d apologised profusely, assuring you she didn’t know but you brushed it off with that same numb feeling in your stomach.

May had managed to bring you a sense of comfort, but not one that had you smiling, more so one that was just helping you to grow more attached to Peter. She’d brought over a hoodie of his, with the promise of bringing more when that one lost his scent, and you truly were grateful, but you weren’t sure how much help it really was.

Your parents didn’t know what to do, they just tried to help out when they could, they listened to you cry and curse at the world for taking such a perfect boy, but no smile.

Happy had managed to pull the smallest of smiles out of you though. He’d found Peter’s camera and laptop while he was sorting through Spiderman’s room at the compound, and after going through a bit of the content on there, most of which was videos of you and Peter being dumb or the man taking off guard photos of you for the sake of just documenting how much he loved you, he decided you would be happy to have it. And he was right, he’d stayed with you while you went through the first few things on the harddrive, seeing the watery smile on your face as you got to hear his voice again. You’d actually thanked him, with a quiet almost undetected crack in your voice. It was something you were going to cherish forever.

The most successful of the bunch though had actually been Ned, mainly because he was also trying to adapt to losing the boy he did everything with, he lost his best friend too. Everyone had told him it wasn’t a good idea, but the boy had insisted. He thought doing all the things you used to do with Peter might bring back old memories, good memories.

He was completely right, from watching star wars to even going as far as playing with legos with him, he had you laughing all night. It was like the you from before the incident was back and he was happy to be the one to have made it that way. It didn’t last though, so clearly it was too good to be true, by the next day you were right back to the way you were, like Ned’s attempt at making you happy hadn’t even happened, but it was a start.

Now Happy wasn’t sure if what he was about to do would cheer you up or make you even more upset, but he wanted to respect Peter’s wishes that he’d explained to Happy when you started dating. He didn’t know what Peter had said on the device, he didn’t want to intrude on that, but he hoped it was good.

“H-He wanted me to give this to you, in case anything like this ever happened,” Happy explained. You took the small disc from the man’s hands with your brows drawn together in confusion. He flashed you a tight lipped smile and coaxed Morgan away from you for a little while.

You hadn’t minded her company, she was the only one at the funeral who wasn’t pitying you and treating you like a newborn baby. She had suffered more than you in this past year, and you had no idea how she kept her spirit up, she’d lost her dad and the boy she’d grown to consider a brother in such a short time, she truly amazed you.

You sat in the room alone just staring at the techy disc in your hands. It had a small label on the side and scribbled in Peter’s adorably messy handwriting were the words ‘For my love.’

It made you smile slightly, having to wipe away a few tears that escaped so they didn’t fall onto the item in your hands.

You tucked it into your pocket with a promise to watch it as soon as you got home, and with a few deep breaths and a quick squeeze of the toy, you were psyching yourself up to head back and find your parents, see how everyone else was doing.

You wanted today to be over already.

»»——⍟——««

The first thing you did when you got home was head straight to your room. Your curiosity as to what was on that device was growing as the seconds ticked by, yet you wanted to be the only one to see it. It felt like you were being a little selfish, but it was addressed to you and you didn’t think anyone else deserved to hear what he had to say as much as you did.

You turned the lock on your door and placed the small piece of tech on the end of your bed, trying to decipher how to turn it on.

It startled you when the hologram projected the image a few feet away, a clear picture of your boyfriend that had you gasping. Part of you wanted to reach out for him, hoping he’d reach back but you knew it’d crush your soul when he didn’t. At the end of the day it was no more than a recording that was a little more high tech thanks to his mentor.

“Wow okay, I-I don’t really know where to start here,” he chuckled. You could see how on the hologram he nervously played with his fingers, something that would usually have you reaching over to hold his hand. “Mr Stark said I should make one of these just in case anything ever happened. May got one too, so don’t worry about that,” he explained. You didn’t know why, considering he couldn’t see you, but you were nodding along.

“If you’re watching this then I’m, well dead. I-I don’t know how it happened- O-Obviously you do, but I can guarantee no matter how, you were the last thing on my mind. You’re always on my mind, baby.”

You smiled softly. You had to take a second and pause the video. It was overwhelming to see him so real for the first time since the incident, and this time you couldn’t stop yourself reaching out to just hope something happened; Anything really. Of course your hand just fell straight through the paused projection as expected, forcing a sob out of your throat. But with a few deep breaths, and a very heavy heart, you were calm enough again to finish hearing what he had to say.

You pressed play and pulled your knees up to your chest, curling in on yourself like a human ball of sadness, eyes trailing over to the spiderman plushie in the centre of your bed. It’d been a gag gift from MJ at first, one that Peter found rather funny too, and eventually the teddy became a permanent feature of your bed. These past weeks it’d been your lifeline. So it was understandable that you reached out for it to cling to while you watched the remainder of the tape. It had a different meaning to Bunny, Bunny was something that came directly from your love and connected you to Peter. But this one connected you directly to Spiderman and that’s what you felt like you needed though.

His death hadn’t been about Peter, it had been about Spiderman.

“I will never stop loving you Y/N. But if you are seeing this someday, then I want you to know that I want you to move on.” There was a few seconds of silence where he wanted to let his words sink in. “I know what it’s like to lose people you love, and I know it hurts, it hurts so bad. But please move on some day, don’t waste your life waiting for me to come back, because I can’t.” The crack in his voice was evident as he basically forced his last words out.

You sighed shakily, gnawing on your bottom lip as you tried to hold back the tears. You didn’t know hearing your lover say that could hurt you so much. He just wanted you to be happy, it shouldn’t make you so upset that he wanted you to be happy without him.

“Go have fun, go get a tattoo or just do something reckless. Do all the things we wanted to do together instead of crying in your room like I know you already are. But do these things with someone, someone you love. Don’t spend time regretting whatever happened because you can’t change it, it’s always gonna suck bubba, it just starts to suck less.”

He was right. God he was so right, just like he always was. That’s another one of the countless things you adored about him, he was just so smart that he was always right all the time. It was something that used to make him flustered because he didn’t want people to see him as a know it all. You smiled at the thought, nuzzling your nose into the head of the bear that had a barely lingering scent of your boyfriend on it; maybe you could ask May for some of his shirts to put on it.

“Peter?” Your head shot up as you heard your own voice on the recording, all things starting to lock into place as you realised when he filmed this. You remembered hanging out with him that day, and you remember asking what the disc thing was that he was holding. He’d brushed it off and told you it was something for Tony before showering you in greeting kisses.

“Uh, you’re here so I should go. I love you Y/N, forever.” The hologram shut off at that point and you knew what he probably expected you to do. So you mumbled the next two words quietly under your breath. “And always.”

You laid back on your bed, taking a few deep breaths before you descended into heartbreaking sobs at the thought of your lover again. This was going to be one hell of a process.

That night, after everything, you needed Peter more than ever. You were craving the feeling of his arms wrapping around you so desperately. Like every other night in the past month you’d planned on crying yourself to sleep, finding it was the only way to get your mind to shut down and allow you to enjoy the pleasantry of sleeping.

Unexpectedly, or maybe you should’ve seen it coming, your mother intervened, insisting just for the night she wanted you to try and take care of yourself, with her help if you needed it.

She couldn’t stand to see you so broken. With much convincing you eventually did agree, simply doing the small things probably would make you feel even the tiniest bit better, and that was good enough for you. She’d dubbed it a much needed self care night.

You were starting with a warm bath, hoping to try and relax and take your mind off of everything. What you didn’t intend was for the swarm of memories of the times you and Peter had shared the intimacy of baths with each other. It was further along in your relationship when you grew more comfortable with each other, so the action in itself was very short lived, but you loved it just as much. You were convinced you could still feel his strong arms around your body, lips on your neck and head and the thought alone only made you sob so much harder.

Of course what you didn’t know was Peter actually was there, in spirit— or maybe ghost form he didn’t really know, shedding tears of his own as he nuzzled his face into your shoulder. He didn’t know how this whole death thing worked, didn’t know why you could feel him but not see him or hear him and your current state broke his heart.

He tried to tell you that he was there but he never seemed to grab your attention. He needed you just as much as you needed him. Granted he’d been reunited with the many people he’d lost through his short life, but he was a kid, he was scared, and he needed his partner in crime by his side like always to help him through it. But sadly, that’s not how it worked.

“I’m here Y/N,” he frowned, heart breaking further than he thought possible. “I’m here.”

»»——⍟——««

After the funeral it didn’t take long until you’d convinced your parents you were okay to go to school. It’d only been just over a month since the incident, so of course you were still grieving, but you were just desperate to throw yourself and your focus into anything at this point, just to get your mind off of him. You couldn’t keep spending your days locked in your room crying into your valentine’s bear he’d got you one year. They were hesitant at first, but after you explained they understood where you were coming from.

But stepping through those familiar doors on that first day back, you weren’t sure it was exactly the right decision anymore. You were met with an overwhelming wave of pitying faces, even more so when walking past the decorated locker that belonged to him.

Others noticed how you slowed your steps when you approached it, seeing the pictures and worn down candles decorating the outside. Each picture was recognisable to you, but you didn’t understand how anyone other than yourself or your friends could have gotten a hold of them, but MJ and Ned never notified you they’d created a shrine.

You hated it. If you knew anything about your boy you knew that he wouldn’t have wanted this. Peter was far from popular in this school, considered a nerd that people tended to just make fun of, especially Flash Thompson. But now even he was pretending to be sympathetic towards the brunette and it made you ridiculously irritated. You didn’t know what to do in your sudden rage, you couldn’t just tear down the shrine, then you’d be seen as such a horrible person, but the thought of these people pretending they knew Peter, your Peter, disgusted you.

You were snapped out of your seething daze by a sudden hand being placed on your shoulder, your body tensing up and relaxing when Ned stepped into your line of vision. He seemed perkier than he was the last time you saw him, granted that was at the funeral so you wouldn’t expect him to be very happy.

“Y/N, long time no see,” Ned teased. You smiled softly, startling him when you pulled him into a tight hug, right in the middle of the busy school hallway. You melted into your friend, knowing the both of you really needed that hug right now. “Let’s go somewhere quieter. I don’t like how everyone’s looking at us.”

You agreed silently, following him all the way to the library where the two of you found Michelle working on some project. She smiled at Ned when she saw him, but she smiled even wider when her gaze landed on you, happy to see her friend trying to get herself back into her normal everyday routine.

She waited for you to approach the table before she said or did anything. You were the one to pull her into a hug, a tight one, but she hugged back just as easily. It wasn’t like when you’d usually have to coax her into hugging you back, but she didn’t want to keep taking your affection for granted, not when one of her best friends was ripped away from her so easily and suddenly. “I missed you,” she whispered.

“I missed you too.”

After your quick reunion, the pair of you sat down at the table beside Ned, delving into a quiet conversation. It felt so natural, like nothing had ever changed, even if there was a very large gap missing from your lives and your friendship group.

“Hey, Y/L/N.” Your head turned to where the voice had come from, watching Flash get shushed by the librarian for yelling so loudly while people were trying to enjoy the quiet. Like most other teachers at Midtown she knew how much of a bully he was, especially towards Peter– she on many occasions had had to give you and your boyfriend a place to hide out from him when he just got too much to keep brushing off, hence why she sent a wink your way after she scolded him. You didn’t want pity from your fellow students or even the teachers, but at that moment you were really glad the lovely woman was looking out for you.

The brunette that had yelled for you simply rolled his eyes, taking the scolding as his queue to step closer to your table. You gulped, eyes flickering between him and your friends and then that sick smirk playing on his face.

“I’m sorry to hear about Parker, such a sad loss-” MJ intervened before he could say something that would really hurt you. Even the mention of his name and the implication of his tragic death was painful enough to think about. “Cut it out Eugene. This isn’t a joke.”

“I didn’t say it was, Michelle.” She glared at him angrily and you placed your hand on her arm for a tiny bit of comfort. You didn’t have to sit here and amuse him, he wasn’t worth the time or effort. “I was just offering my condolences to the guy’s loved one. I heard you were there that night, Y/N–”

That was enough for your friends. “Let’s just go, you don’t need to listen to him.” You agreed with Ned, packing up your stuff quickly so you didn’t have to keep listening to Flash’s insensitive comments. He always took stuff too far.

The three of you headed to your first class early rather than suffering through the richkid’s presence. It wasn’t great, especially not with all the looks of sympathy you were getting, but it was the best alternative. You kept your head down most of the time, as you did for all of your classes that morning, your teachers didn’t mind, they put it down to the events everyone was aware had transpired. Usually you’d hate it, but it meant you could simply just relax with numerous distractions until lunch.

The majority of lunch was spent with your head on MJ’s shoulder while she ate and occasionally read a line of her book to you, not participating in conversation, but being constantly brought back to reality by the feel of her hand playing with your hair. You thanked her quietly for the affection, even if it was just a small gesture, but it was something she knew Peter used to do and it just made you feel so loved.

By the end of the day you were exhausted, and your mind had been made up that you maybe needed some more time off before you could really settle back into school.

You let your friends know as such, receiving nothing but love, understanding and unconditional support and you were overwhelmingly grateful for that.

When the three of you were leaving for the day, they offered to walk you home, maybe spend some time with you at your apartment so you didn’t have to be alone in your thoughts. You accepted, offering them both your thanks that they insisted wasn’t necessary.

Before you made it out of the building, you vocalised your thoughts about the shrine you’d seen, the one that made you uncomfortable.

“What’s up with that?” you asked MJ as you walked past Peter’s locker, noticing more stuff had been added since you saw it for the first time that morning. She frowned but then rolled her eyes. “Something some random girl started when the news got out, claimed they were such good friends that she just had to remember him somehow.”

You cocked your head. To your knowledge the only female friends Peter has ever had were you, MJ, Betty and Liz, and he hasn’t talked to Liz since she moved away. “Who was it?”

The girl just simply shrugged, tugging you in the direction of the school doors so you didn’t keep fixating on the sad attempt at making up for the way Peter had been treated by his peers throughout his school life. “Let’s get you home and in a better mood.”

“Will ice cream be involved?” you asked, flashing your friend puppy dog eyes. She giggled, picking up your guys’ pace. “Of course it will be.”

»»——⍟——««

After some time in your apartment watching movies in your room, just like old times, Ned had to leave. That left you and MJ, lounging in your bed with tubs of ice cream and some random movie playing. You were paying more attention to it than she was, you didn’t know the name of it but it was interesting enough, but she was actually studying your room.

She hadn’t been in there in a few weeks and it hadn’t changed significantly. But it was like you were at a toss up of whether you wanted to hide every trace of Peter, or put everything he’d ever touched on show.

She was concerned about you, everyone was, and she didn’t know any other way to approach it other than to be straight up. Her ice cream tub was placed down on one of the side tables beside your bed, the girl then cuddling into your side. Her arms were wrapped around one of yours, her head settling on your shoulder.

She hoped the soft touch would make this go down smoother. “Y/N?” she asked.

You hummed, tearing your eyes away from the screen to look at those wide brown ones that were looking right at you. You offered her a warm smile, letting her know she could tell you whatever was on her mind.

“Do you miss him?” she asked. Her voice was so quiet you almost didn’t hear it. It was like she was scared to ask, unsure it was the right thing to say. You both knew the answer realistically, but she was just curious how you were holding up.

You nodded. “More than anything. B-But, thinking about him hurts, which is why I covered all the pictures,” you explained, motioning to the turned down picture frames on your desk. “But I don’t want to stop thinking about him either, then I miss him too much—“

“Which is why you’ve got the stuffed toys and his hoodie,” she deducted. You didn’t even realise you had his hoodie on, not until she pointed it out. It was just a natural thing for you to do at this point. You recognised the familiar blue material when you looked down at it, a ghost of a smile on your lips.

You didn’t even realise you had started crying until MJ wiped a tear away from your cheek. You sniffled, chuckling awkwardly as you apologised. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.” You smiled gratefully, nuzzling your cheek against the top of her head sweetly. So much physical contact with MJ over these past few weeks was strange, you weren’t used to it, but it was incredibly comforting and you really appreciated it.

She noticed you suddenly seemed quieter, leading her to believe you had something on your mind. “Everything okay?”

You hesitated before responding. “This is going to sound crazy, but I've been seeing him, in my dreams. He talks to me and tells me he’s okay, and–”

She reminded you to take a few deep breaths, She didn’t want you to overwhelm yourself like you were so clearly doing. The tears were getting much worse to control. She was making this whole thing so much easier with her gentle touches, you’d probably be an even bigger mess if she wasn’t here. “He was upset that I wasn’t wearing the necklace he gave me.”

She didn’t say anything, just allowed you to take your time. “I-I have my necklace, the one with his initial on it, but I haven’t been able to bring myself to wear it.” It was sad, you loved the dainty piece of jewellery, it was something you held dear to you since receiving it as a gift on your one year anniversary, and recently was the only time you’d taken it off since he gave it to you.

MJ had never seen you so broken. “It’d be good to keep wearing it,” she said. “Don’t try and block him out of your memory, Y/N.”

She was right. You’d never forget him, never, but trying to pretend as though he didn’t exist by blocking out the memories, or hiding everything you had connected with him wasn’t a good idea.

“I think— I think I might go and see him tomorrow, maybe I’ll be able to wear it then.” She offered to come with you, knowing it might be too painful or uncomfortable to go alone, but you politely turned the offer down. This was something you had to do alone, you didn’t want her to see you grieving more than she already has. You couldn’t imagine you were going to be pleasant to be around. “Thank you, for everything, MJ.”

»»——⍟——««

You didn’t think you were ever going to get used to visiting your boyfriend’s grave. It was strange and you weren’t one that could bring yourself to have a conversation with the headstone like you knew a lot of people did, it felt too weird, you didn’t like it. But you were still going to sit there and reminisce for as long as you could.

Before you left your home, you’d clipped your necklace back on. It’d been tucked away shallowly in a drawer and running your hands over the gold letter had brought a tear to your eye. Peter watched over your shoulder as you fumbled to get the clasp fastened correctly. It made him smile, you’d always been bad with necklaces, he was always the one who’d put them on for you.

It felt so intimate whenever he did that, he would always place a sweet kiss to your shoulder that signalled he was done and it would have goosebumps erupting all over your body. Apparently you both remembered the thought at the same time, a small smile creeping onto your face as you let go of the chain, letting it rest against your skin. You picked up the flowers you’d gotten in advance for this, making sure to take them with you.

“You can do this Y/N.”

That was all the encouragement you needed. With the necklace firmly around your neck you were heading right to the graveyard, walking through the many rows of graves to find the specific one you were looking for. The name carved in the stone sent a shiver down your spine.

You took a seat on the grass in front of the headstone, raising your hand to let your fingertips trace the writing of his name. You set the flowers down at the bottom of the stone, taking a singular one out and keeping it in your grasp.

“Hey, Pete,” you whispered. You pulled your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them. You rested your cheek against the tops of them, letting out a sigh as you delved into your silence that you’d remain in for the entirety of your visit.

Your mind and heart was full of memories of the times you’d spent with him, they made you happy and brought a sense of warmth to your heart. You had quite a few in the space you were in right now, only of another person’s grave. Being in this place reminded you of the times you’d accompanied your boyfriend to visit his Uncle Ben. The last time hadn’t been that long ago, he made it a monthly thing that he always stuck to.

You were there to provide him comfort. Sometimes the two of you would just sit in silence together, other times when it was particularly difficult, you’d cradle his head and stroke his cheek, letting him talk about all his good memories with Ben to make him feel better.

If you focused you could still feel the skin of his cheek under your thumb, and if you concentrated even harder you could feel the faint touch of him doing the same to you. He simply wanted to return the comfort.

You sighed, closing your eyes as you willed the tears away. That was how the rest of your day was spent, in the same spot, in the same silence, until your phone started to ring with a concerned parent calling you. You let your mom know where you were and that you’d start to head back. You didn’t know when it got dark but it meant you’d been sitting there a while. The time flew by like it was nothing. “I’ll see you soon, Peter.”

You fiddled with the singular flower in your hands that you’d taken from Peter’s cluster, deciding you had one more thing to do before you left to go home. You remembered the route to Ben’s grave easily, considering May didn’t frequently visit her husband’s grave anymore, finding it too painful, and now Peter was gone, there was no one else left to see him. You thought the man deserved better than that. You didn’t know him too well, mainly just knew things from what Peter had told you, but that didn’t matter.

You laid down the flower at his grave. “‘M sorry, ben.” You don’t really know what you were apologising for, maybe it was because his nephew was gone, or maybe deep down you just felt guilty that they were both gone and you were still here. Either way, you made a promise to yourself to bring the old man a flower every time you came to visit Peter.

For the first time in a long time as you headed home in the dark you felt scared. Usually you had that reminder that Peter was out there watching over the streets of Queens, nothing bad would happen to you when he was out there. And if he wasn’t on patrol, he was the one walking you home, but you no longer had that safety net.

Of course he was watching you like usual though, over your shoulder to make sure you were safe. Peter didn’t know what the limitations of death were, he didn’t know what he could actually do for you if anything bad was to happen, but he likes to think he could do something. For now though, you were just set on getting home.

»»——⍟——««

Nervously fiddling with your necklace had become a bit of a thing for you since you started wearing it again. You couldn’t actually believe what you were about to do, neither could your friends. You’d told MJ and Ned you wanted to apologise to Flash for the other day. If you were truly going to move on from everything, get back to being the happy person you were before Peter’s death, then you had to stop with the hatred. He could hate you all he wanted, but you couldn’t do it anymore.

You left your friends by your locker when you saw the kid heading down the hall. With a deep breath you were calling his name, watching his eyes widen as he saw you. “Hey, Flash.” He really hadn’t expected you to approach him, especially after the way MJ reacted to him in the library.

“Are you here to yell at me? Did Michelle not do a good enough job?” he spat. You huffed, swallowing down any snarky remark you wanted to shoot back at the unbearable boy. Now you remembered why you disliked him so much, he truly was insufferable. But this apology was all about moving on and making things right. You couldn’t get angry and back out.

“I-I’m sorry about the other day, about jumping to conclusions,” you started. “MJ was just being protective, and–”

He shook his head, flashing you a smile that you’d never seen before from him. It actually looked genuine and it surprised you. He thought if anything he should be the one saying sorry for everything he’s put you through, as well as Peter in the past. It might not make up for anything he ever said or did to the boy, but it was certainly a start. “I should be the one apologising.”

It was shocking that you could have an actual genuine conversation with Flash, this was something you’d never done in the numerous years you’d known him. It went better than you thought it would and by the end of it all bad blood between the two of you had been squashed. He could never take back anything he said, or apologise directly to Peter, but you deemed it good enough that he was willing to make amends between you. If only he’d do the same with your friends.

After your talk with him you went and found them again, seeing they were still waiting for you by your locker. The grins on their faces were a telltale sign of how they thought it went. “So, how did it go?” The pair were ready to tease you for your trying, believing the kid wasn’t someone you could have a civil conversation with. They believed him to be just as insufferable as you did before about five minutes ago, possibly more.

“Actually, really well.” They stared at you like they were waiting for a punchline, but it never came. It was difficult for them to process that you were being completely serious, so they treaded carefully. “H-He really had a conversation, and apologised to you?”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, now can we be done with this?”

They shared a look that you didn’t want to begin to address, taking their silence as a yes. MJ was the one to actually change the subject though, leading the three of you to your first class of the day, going off on some tangent about a book she’d been reading the previous day.

Ned stole your attention though, the boy wrapping his arm around your shoulders sweetly. “He’d be proud of you,” he whispered, not wanting to interrupt the ranting brunette girl. It brought a smile to your face the more you thought about it. “You think so?”

He nodded, confirming. “I know so.”

»»——⍟——««

Peter was right. The pain of losing him never went away, he was still the first thing on your mind every time you woke up, but it had considerably started to suck less as time went on.

You got yourself into a brand new routine that no longer involved him, and in a way things were starting to go back to normal for you. Or at least as normal as they could be, it just took some time.

Part of your morning routine before work was to go and get a coffee from a cute little shop down the street from your home. It was quiet, quaint and the perfect place for you to ease into the morning of a busy day.

That was where you met him for the first time. It was unintentional, you’d just got your coffee and were heading out of the door when you stumbled over your own feet, ever so clumsy. Of course you had to drop your newly purchased drink too, watching it spill on the floor. He was the one that caught you, saving the embarrassment of landing flat on your face in the middle of all these people. And you were ever so grateful this moment wasn’t one of those typical cliché’s where you spilled your coffee on him and a romance blossomed when you offered to repay him.

You were a little flustered when you finally built up the courage to speak to him, chuckling nervously as you wiped your sweaty palms on your jeans. “S-Sorry about that, my friends always tell me I’m clumsy. I guess I underestimate them.”

His deep chuckle reached your ears and you could’ve sworn your heart paused for a minute. You raised your head to look at him for the first time after you very literally fell for him, and you were slightly shocked. You hadn't expected him to be so attractive. If you didn’t feel a massive wave of guilt and a sudden thought about Peter the moment after that, you probably would’ve thought about the possibility of getting his number. But that felt wrong, like you were betraying the boy you promised had your heart forever.

“Don’t worry, I’m just glad I could prevent a pretty girl from getting hurt.” His flirting wasn’t subtle and it had heat rushing to your cheeks as you froze in your spot like a shocked school girl. He noticed the way you didn’t take easily to the flirting, but he brushed it off as you maybe being shy and tried to ease it up a little.

“Could I maybe buy you another coffee, I feel partly responsible for making you drop yours.”

You seemed hesitant to him. He was starting to grow a little embarrassed himself, thinking you were completely uninterested and he’d just made a fool of himself. He watched as your hand came up to your chest, twirling the small letter pendant in between your fingers.

It suddenly hit him the possibility of you having a significant other and he backtracked on everything he said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even think about you having a boyfriend, I-I was just so distracted and—“

You shook your head, offering him a smile. This is what he meant by moving on and you needed to start trying to do so eventually. “No, uh�� I don’t. It’s complicated.”

You realized that probably wasn’t the greatest of explanations you could’ve given, so you tried to attempt to save the conversation. “Why don’t I let you know over that coffee?”

The grin returned to his face, his head nodding. “I’d like that. Maybe I could start with getting your name.”

»»——⍟——««

Even after many years had passed, the loss of the love of your life was enough to haunt you every day. You’d tried to do as he asked, you tried so hard to move on, not only with your everyday life, but your love life too. And you did, but no one would ever replace Peter.

Thankfully, after some searching, you’d found a man that was okay with that. He was completely respectful over your attachment to the male, because he couldn’t truly understand the hurt you’d gone through losing Peter at such a young age and he didn’t want to be the one to force you to forget all of your progress.

No longer would you cry a river every time you saw a picture of his face, and you wanted that to be acknowledged, hence the small pictures that decorated the apartment you and your new boyfriend shared. He didn’t mind them, he actually embraced them often. He was always wanting to know the stories behind them and wanting to see others you had stored somewhere. He quickly came to discover you and Peter documented much of your time together, and often when you were feeling down and particularly missing him, he would recreate some of the infamous dates you spoke of even years later.

The dreams had also gotten easier. At first Peter plagued your dreams every time you closed your eyes to go to sleep, but eventually his visits to your unconscious mind grew fewer the less you needed him. That was due to him believing it wasn’t helping you like he’d thought. Reminding you of what you used to be was keeping you from blossoming in your new relationship.

Whether you were ready or not, Peter decided tonight would be the time he said goodbye. He had a feeling it’d be quite the emotional one, but thankfully you had your new lover beside you to comfort you if you needed it.

He waited until you were in a deep enough sleep, invading your dream with a comforting smile that would hopefully make this go down easier.

When you first noticed him he watched the sweetest grin spread across your beautiful face, making his heart feel all fuzzy. “Pete, I missed you.”

You didn’t hesitate to throw your arms around him, burying your head in the crook of his neck and being engulfed by that familiar scent of him. He couldn’t let you believe this was going to be one of those pleasant memories though. If he wanted this to be as easy as it could be, it was going to have to be quick. “We need to talk.”

Your smile dropped quickly, that aching feeling lingering in your chest. These dreams with Peter meant too much to you for them to go away now.

You had no idea that this was him actually finding his way into your dreams, before now all the quick greetings had led into at least one memory you shared so you just assumed they were things you actually experienced. But this one wasn’t real, this one was new.

“I have to stop coming here,” he said, stroking your cheek lightly with his thumb. It hurt him more than you could ever understand to be doing this to you. “You don’t need me anymore.”

“What? Of course I do. Y-You can’t leave.”

This was the difficult part, convincing you that his actions were in your best interest rather than him being cruel. “No, believe me, you don’t.”

The sweet tone he was using was confusing your mind. You wanted to give in because of how kind he sounded, but that completely conflicted with the feeling of pain blooming in your heart at the words he was saying. “No, no.” It felt as though agreeing to this term meant you were agreeing to finally letting Peter go. That wasn’t the case but your emotions were really beginning to cloud your judgment to the point it didn’t matter what was true and what wasn't.

Your hands reached forward to fist the material of his shirt, trying to swallow down the sob threatening to topple past your lips. “Peter, please, don’t leave me,” you begged, your blurry eyes fixed on the figure standing in front of you. You didn’t try to wipe your tears anymore because they only proved to fall harder and faster down your already stained cheeks. He smiled that soft smile that you loved you so much, his thumb gliding over your cheek.

“You don’t need me anymore,” he repeated, not in a rude or controlling kind of way, my god he would stay by your side in a heartbeat if he truly believed he needed to, but rather in a wise way. It was unhealthy for you to keep clinging onto this last bit of him you saw in your dreams, especially when you were trying to move on, unlike his, your life had to keep moving forward.

Of course he would always be watching over in case you really needed him. His Spiderman persona may have been what got him killed but he still had the urge to protect people, more specifically and especially you, from any form of danger.

It was difficult for him, because Peter couldn’t progress anymore, he was stuck having to spectate from now until forever. But he was glad he could continue to watch you grow, watch you marry, maybe even have the family you always talked about together.

He would never truly leave you, but he couldn’t keep visiting you like this if he still expected you to stop having him on your mind day in and day out.

“I do, I need you more than anything,” you said, trying to convince him to keep coming back to your dreams. The nicer dreams were sometimes all that got you through certain days, and you didn’t think you were willing to give that up what felt like so soon. Of course it wasn’t soon, it’d been years, but that didn’t make it any easier, you just didn’t want to let go.

“No baby.” He cupped your face, resting his forehead against yours before lightly pecking your lips. “You’re okay now, you can do this without me.”

You tried to protest, but apparently he’d made his mind up. You were too upset about the situation to notice the tears building in his own eyes as he kissed you for the final time before he’d have to part with you.

“I love you, Pete. Forever,” you said, sniffling quietly. One of your hands was cupping his cheek, the other playing with the hair at the nape of his neck like you used to do when he’d take naps on you. He smiled a watery smile. “And always.”

You awoke with a loud gasp that dissipated into a choked sob, one that startled the man next to you. He was surprisingly used to waking up to you in this state, and he didn’t blame you for it. He was quiet as he helped you to lay back down, pulling you into his body.

“Hey, you’re okay. You’re home, in bed, safe.” You melted into the man’s side comfortably, most of the initial stress of your dream fading away at the touch of the man you loved. His lips lightly came down to leave a few pecks on your hairline, his large hand rubbing up and down your back until your body stopped its trembling.

One of the things you loved about him was that he never forced you to talk about these dreams if you didn’t want to. Even without telling him what it was he knew exactly who was there.

“It was another Peter dream,” you spoke after a few minutes of silence. He hummed quietly. He didn’t hate it when you talked about Peter, or the fact that you still had your pictures together decorating your apartment, or the fact that he knew you always carried around a polaroid of the man, because he understood. Or he understood as well as he could, but he respected that you were trying for him and that’s all that mattered. He was at least proud of how far you’d come grieving wise since he’d met you.

“D’you want to try going back to sleep? Or we could watch a movie or something.”

You shook your head to the latter offer, mumbling something about just going back to sleep peacefully in his arms.

He was perfectly okay with that, nodding his head and doing whatever he could to make sure you drifted off again. He was finding it harder to fall asleep, worried that you would need his help again.

Instead he just lied there, listening to your slowing breaths in the dark room, his fingertips trailing up and down your arm. His eyes scanned the room for what he could see, eyes landing on the framed picture across from the bed.

It was of you and Pete of course, right next to another one of you and him together. Peter could remember the day it was taken, it was one he would often project in your dreams when he could feel that you were especially needing him. It was the day of the incident however, but he hoped by helping you remember the good of the day, it would outweigh the bad.

His eyes flickered down again to you in his arms. The way your breathing had slowed now that you’d fallen back asleep, peacefully this time due to the sense of protection you felt being cradled by your boyfriend.

For the last time he looked back up at the picture and his mouth twitched into a smile, his eyes watering partially at the circumstance. And as Peter began to disappear for good so your boyfriend could love you in peace, he watched as the man stared at your picture and whispered a quiet, grateful, thank you.

━━━━━━━━━♡♥♡━━━━━━━━━

peter parker taglist → @call-me-baby-gir1 @parkerlovebot @sinisterspidey @givebuckyhisplumsnow @lowkey-holland @hollandcrush @wizkiddx @sannie-san-shine @sonnydoesrandomshit @hopeless-romantic-baby @thehumanistsdiary @dummiesshort @itsbieberxholland @lillucyandthejets @bvttercupbby @spideyspeaches @httphollands @captainamirica @lou-la-lou @slutforsr @tayyx @annathesillyfriend @paninipress @whoeveniskendall @dhtomholland @multixfandomwriter @magicalxdaydream @hallecarey1 @lovehollandy12 @peterbenjiparker @the-girl-in-the-chair @belovedholland @rqmanoff @hogwartsmarvelmommy @elishi03 @mn-jun @nocturnalms @peter-parkers-gf @wrendermeuseless @ladyluvr @ccosmic-illusion @camelliaflow3r @ellabellabus07 @hunnybunimdun @tomslover @instabull @usergarfields @raajali3 @kayasholland @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @peterparkersgirlfriend1 @wildholland @reallysparklychaos @thollandgf

#tom holland #peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #peter parker imagines #peter parker imagine #peter parker oneshot #spiderman #tom!peter parker #peter parker x reader

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gay-face · 2 years

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Alright, I never do this but this needs to be talked about, i need a long rant. There are some people who are harshly judging the new Wednesday show (as to be expected with anything new) but it's getting to the point where it's a little frustrating. This is Tim Burtons re-imagining and NEW interpretation of the family and that's great! We can't keep sticking with the same thing over and over and over, it gets tiring BUT we can still have the same charm to the original formula.

There are people complaining that they turned into "psychopaths" and "murderers", " they would never hurt anyone or their own family!". Firstly, in the original comics: they have body bags labeled with different names stored somewhere in their house, pugsley and Wednesday are constantly threatening to kill each other even morticia told Wednesday to get back at him by poisoning him, they told the baby sitter to watch her back because the children would definitely find ways to harm her, pugsley creates torture devices AND created his own hazard signs to probably cause chaos and get others killed (the stop sign scene in the 90s movie), morticia even asks to borrow cyanide for god knows what. It's the fact people are saying the 90s movies are bad examples of their characters when they were pretty much spot on! Pugsley is also offered a cigar occasionally like come on. And the show from the 60s? Well that's different for its own reasons and you can't compare them to each other but they still had their dark humored jokes.

Oh and "Wednesday never smiles THAT'S NOT THE WEDNESDAY WE KNOW" she is drawn almost all the time smiling in the comics and smiles a few times in the movies because of her devious and creepy nature..she also enjoys stories being told to her, picnics playing with dolls and is also a ballerina in the 60s show, so don't say she's always this menacing evil child. There's so many contradictions with people's arguments like they can't make up their minds because they don't even know!

"The casting is terrible, gomez is ugly and fat, morticia looks nothing like morticia, and jenna is too old to be playing a child"...the casting is PERFECT. Gomez actually looks like himself from the comics and is nothing to be compared to raul julia..unfortunately he's gone now but someone else has to play gomez now. A character can't always be played by the same actor. Morticia doesn't always have to be a tall thin pale woman with her face plastered with makeup, and jenna ortega is young enough to play the part. She's literally 19. That's why she was picked in the first place and because she's a good actor? Like that's just how casting and acting works? We also don't even know how old she is in the show.

Do you people have any idea how many older actors have played younger characters? Tobey Maguire was 27 playing an 18 year old peter parker, Olivia Newton John played a 17 year old girl when she was 29...Jason Earles played a 16 year old when he was 29 like HELLO??? Most of your favorite characters who are young are played by people who are older than that. Anyway, The Addams family will always be the addams family, they love each other and will threaten anyone who messes with their family.

They are still the same silly and quirky 🤪 family that we've always known. I adored the show, loved the movies, and enjoyed the animated movies so I'm very excited for this one. What are you expecting? It's Tim Burton, it's going to be twisted, dark, weird and funny!

Change is good some times so please don't judge too harshly before even watching it. You can have your own opinions of course! But don't bash and hate something when you don't know anything about it.

#art #my art #fan art #the addams family #tim burton #wednesday addams #this really needed to be said because no one else would say it

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averagewriter-inthedark · 3 years

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Trying To Do Better, Yet Brilliant But Lazy | SM: No Way Home Series P.4

Contains spoilers for Spider-Man No Way Home

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairings: Tobey!Spider-Man x female!Reader Black Cat (Romantic) , Andrew!Spider-Man (Platonic/flirtatious), Tom!Spider-Man (Platonic), Michele Jones-Watson (Platonic), Ned Leeds (Platonic). Dr. Otto Octavious (Platonic/Flirtatious).

Nicknames: Tobey’s Peter: Spider-Stud & Spider, Andrew’s: Spidey, Tom’s: Little Spider

Black Cat PS4 theme | Tobey’s Spider-Man theme | No Way Home teaser trailer music

Warnings: major angst, fighting, blood, violence, flirtatious banter + plus one innuendo, profanity, fluff w/ tobey!peter, unedited (I’ll fix the errors at a later time) | This is very long: 5k-8K words roughly.

Chapter Four Premise: The Spider-Men are up against the fight of their lives when former enemies from the past work together to destroy the ritual box needed to send them back home. With a little help from two high school students, and a escape artist with a knack of bad luck behind her, familiar faces are reacquainted. Some for better, and some for worse.

_______

The three Spider-Men were well aware they needed to lure the villains to them for their plan to work. But having to fight them all at the same time was not a walk in the park. So when 3 of the 4 show with Goblin no where in sight, the trip have their work cut out for them. An lightening storm—bright yellow in color, was enough to hint Max had arrived.

Decked in a new fit compatible for the stolen arc reactor, yellow energy flowed through Max. “What’s up kid?” His voice echoed. (Young) Peter spun around, seeing Max phase before him with his arms raised by his side. “How do you like the new-new?” The smile he wore was menacing, “Look, you give it to me—I’m going to destroy it, but I’ll let you live. Don’t make me a murderer, Peter,” although his words seemed genuine, Max looked more than willing if it meant accomplishing his goal.

Peter pulled his mask down, racing to the edge and flipping backward to descend downright. “Okay guys, here he comes.” Max was trailing him, phasing with energy while the two Peters pulled their masks down and running in opposite directions. The taller Peter flung himself out just as Max had phased directly in front of him.

“Hey, Max!” He called to him, making Max’s face turn to shock. “I missed you, man!” He shot a web, pulling away just as an energy bolt was directed at him. “Woah.”

Having been distracted by the sudden appearance, Max didn’t see the younger Spiderman swinging toward a portal with the box. “Alright, MJ, heads up!” The box soars through the air, falling into her hands.

“Got it!” She shouted, catching the object. “Close it.” Ned started making circular motions, but nothing happened. “Ned, it’s not closing,” her heart starts racing and seeing him struggle.

“Yeah, I know.” He tries again. And again. And again. Deflating each time nothing happened.

“Why isn’t it closing?”

“I-I don’t know,” he tells her, shaking his head.

“You closed it before, no?

“N-no—I mean, I’ve opened some….” The two start arguing, MJ begging the boy to close it. His attempts continued to be met empty handed. They needed to hurry, because any minute more villains would be arriving.

And at that same moment, Down below in the freezing water, Dr. Connors in his all lizard glory emerges from the rock. He hops over the fence, letting out a roar before stalking his way up the stature. Meanwhile the three Peter’s are still struggling with Max, with taller Peter trying to talk some sense into him.

“Max, Max, Max,” he pleads in a calm manner. “Can we just talk for a second—just you and me, just talk—.”

“Look who showed up,” the man sneers. “My old friend, Spider-Man.”

“I’m trying to save you, Max. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“You’re not trying to save me,” Max rejects, not wanting to hear him out.

“Yes, I am.”

“—You’re ain’t even the shit no more.” The vigilante drops his head, letting out a tired groan. “Don’t worry about me,” Max looks down to the arc reactor, smiling at the energy powering him. “I saved myself.” Glowing brightly, Max shoots electricity toward Peter, causing him to jump back to avoid the attack.

(Tall) Peter falls, narrowly avoiding the sparks and bolts as he maneuvers through the various obstacles. “Well I got his attention! Now what?”

The older Peter, swinging in the air, goes to respond but is cut short by a weight pulling him down. Dr. Connors clamps onto his angle, making the man kick at him with his free one. “Uh just fyi, lizard guy’s here too!” He’s pulled down, colliding with one of the construction areas.

“I need Max’s cure!” (Tall) Peter shouts, still dodging the electric man’s attacks. Young Peter see’s both of the two struggling with their opponents, and becomes conflicted on who to help. Part of him wished Y/N would make an appeal even soon.

“Here!” Older Peter shouts, climbing up in attempt to get away from Connors. “I need the lizards cure!”

“U-Uh, okay,” Young Peter goes to move toward them, when suddenly he’s roughly pulled back. When he looks down, a large fist made of sand is clutching him. Spinning around, he watches a face emerge from the cloud of sand forming.

“Where’s the box, Peter,” Flits rough voice rings in Peter’s ears.

“Flint! We can help everyone—,” he tries to reason.

“I don’t care!” Anger is laced in Flint’s tone. The man is done with the games and science projects, wanting nothing more to go home so he can be with his daughter. He could care less about curing his problem or helping the other villains.

So now all three Spider-Men are caught in a pickle.Tall Peter’s got his hands full with Max, while the older has a Lizard problem and the young Spidey is stuck in a sand pile. With all the chaos, the three are unable to help one another and instead start causing unintentional problems.

Young Peter tries to get out of Flint’s grip by shooting a web to the construction tower, but the action causes tall Peter to lose grip on his own web when he collides with it. He shoots another web, not taking a particular aim and ends up hitting the older Peter in the face—blinding him which allows Connors to throw him off his shoulder.

“Sorry!” (Tall) Peter apologizes, still falling through the air. This time when he shoots a web to avoid hitting the ground, he makes his target. Getting up with a groan, the older Peter snatches the web off his face muttering, ‘gross.’

“Sad to tell you, Sandman,” Max’s voice echos. “Nobody’s going home.” A bolt hits the tower where the older Peter and lizard had been on, and falls onto Flint making him drop (young) Peter. Flint disperses out and the tower descends to the ground. Dr. Connors was still chasing the older Peter, but the man swings out to avoid contact with the ground. Unfortunately for the lizard, he’s pinned when the tower falls on his legs.

Meanwhile the taller Peter gets hit by Max’s bolt and is thrown back onto the construction level. His back meets the hard floor, making him groan at the pain erupting through him. Manipulating the sand from the dumpsters, Flint grows bigger and creates a sandstorm around the statue to trap the three. It makes it hard for anyone to see and Max grows frustrated.

(Young) Peter pulls off his mask once he finally breaks free of Flint’s hold and takes a deep breath, aware the others were approaching him. “What the hell is going on out there?” The tall Peter helps him up and starts arguing with the older man when he reaches them. “I keep yelling at you, Peter two–Peter two!”

“I know-I but I thought,” The older Peter stops and gives him a bewildered look. “You were Peter twoooo–.”

“—What? I’m not Peter two!”

The young Peter snaps, “Stop arguing—both of you and listen to Peter one!” They both shut their mouths and turn to the boy, a little in shock by the outburst. “We’re clearly not very good at this.”

“I know-I know we suck—.”

“That’s saying something,” they all turn at the unexpected voice cutting the taller Peter off and see Y/N has made her way up to their level. She had been camped out below the statue, in case any of the men had been outnumbered and the two kids still struggling with the portal were safe. It wasn’t until Flint had arrived that she finally left her spot, seeing how the three were struggling. Her face expressed amusement, tskling lightly at them. “God, It felt like I was watching a bad-action movie. You boys were really getting your ass handed back there.”

The Peters all become offended and the Taller one scoffs, “Uh excuse me, Cat-lady, aren’t you supposed to be helping us?” Had it been another time, the name would’ve made Y/N fling her grappling hook at the man, but she refrained. Instead, she simply raised her brow at the trio.

“I would’ve thought you spiders could manage these goons, but I was mistaken. Not to mention Little Spider’s friends are still having trouble closing that portal so I was keeping an eye on them,” she inches closer to them, confidence in her walk. It makes her look more intimidating, and she looks between the three before stopping next to her husband. “You guys obviously don’t know how to work as a team.” Her words have an effect on the younger Peter and he begins bouncing on his feet.

“Well I do,” he tells them, remembering what it was like to fight Thanos with the Avengers. “I’ve been in a team. I don’t wanna brag, but I will. I was in the Avengers.”

“The Avengers?” The older Peter repeated making the boy nod.

“—Yeah.”

“That’s great!”

“Thank you—.”

“What is that?” The question has the young Peter fall silent, almost in disbelief.

“Wait you don’t have the Avengers?” Y/N, aware of who the group was given she had time to do some research on the new world she was in, shakes her head ‘no,’ but it goes unnoticed because the taller Peter cuts into the conversation.

“Is that a band?” He’s asks and immediately becomes giddy at the thought. “Are you in a band?” Y/N chokes out a laugh, wishing the members of the Avengers could’ve heard that.

The young Peter shakes his head, “No, I’m not in a band. The Avengers is Earth’s—de-uh—mightiest—,” He flinches when the older Peter loses his patience with a loud, ‘HOW’S THIS HELPING?!’ He decides not to bring them up again. “Look that’s not important all we gotta do is focus,” he points to his head, “trust your tingle, and coordinate our attacks, okay?”

Having calmed down with the help of Y/N’s comforting hand on his shoulder, the older Peter closes his eyes and nods. “Yes. Okay, let’s pick one target?” The younger Peter nods excitedly, making Y/N smile at his enthusiasm. The taller Peter adds in on the plan.

“We take them off the board one at a time.”

“Now you’ve got it. YN, you cover us and make sure Ned and MJ are safe,” The woman salutes him with a nod, and the young Peter starts pointing at each of them to number them off, starting with himself. “Okay Peter one. Peter two—.”

“Peter two—.” The older Peter says with a roll of the eyes, making Y/N laugh.

“—Peter three—.”

“Peter three!” Tall peter repeats with an exaggerated and displeased tone. Seeing them all together and interact was quite the sight, and Y/N was gonna miss it once it was over. She squeezes her Peter, Peter 2’s shoulder and steps away when they get ready to charge, but Peter 3 stops them.

“I love you guys,” he tells them, voice expressing his awe. He’s met with silence, although he can see Y/N trying to hold back a smile. It wasn’t the best timing, which is why he received perplexed looks from the Peters. Peter 2 couldn’t think of anything to say, while Peter 1 replies, “Thank you.”

The look on Peter 3’s face had Y/N cooing and almost reaching over to pinch his cheeks, “Awe, he’s too adorable,” While Peter 3 blushes at her compliment, she bats her eyelashes to her husband. “I love him. Can we keep him, honey?” The noise he makes is one of ‘are you serious right now?’

“W-what, no—we can’t! We have other important matters at the moment—.”

“But he would get along so well with—.” Before she could finish Peter 1 cuts in.

“We don’t have time for this! Aright let’s do this,” He pulls down his mask, the other Peter’s following in suit, but Y/N makes sure to press a small kiss to Peter 2’s lips whispering, ‘good luck’. He returns the kiss, smiling when she pulls his mask down.

“I’ll watch y’all’s six!” She shouts when they run. A grin is on her face as they take off the edge with ‘woohoo!’s and swing away. She races to the edge, just in time to see them land with her husband first in his usually stance followed by Peter 3, and lastly Peter 1.

Directly in front of them are the three villains positioned with Sandman in the middle with Connors and Max on either side. Together the three Spider-Men launch forward, with Peter 2 landing a kick to the lizards face while Peter 1 maneuvers over the poles to avoid Sandman and Max’s attack.

“Okay, Spider-Mans, Sandman’s first.” He barely avoids a lighting bolt from Max and escapes to another level. Peter 2 was currently being pursued by Flint, so he quickly calls a plan of action.

“I’m gonna lead him inside the statue.”

“I’ll meet you at the top,” Peter 3 replies, and quickly dodges the arms of Dr. Connors. He picks up the cure for Flint, but is soon tackled and pinned to the floor. Hands are around his neck, and the big giant lizard bears down on him. “Hey, Dr. Connors.”

“Hello, Peter,” he snarls back. Peter 3 spots Peter 1 swinging and quickly calls out ‘Peter 1!’ while tossing the cure. The boy catches it making the turn to head toward Peter 2, however Max is able to struck him with a bolt causing him to fall. He braces for impact, but before he meets the ground a rope wraps around his waist and pulls him up so he lands upright on his feet. The cure drops from his hand

“You good, kid?” He hear’s Y/N’s voice and turns to see she had been the one to catch him with her hook—for the second time that day.” He unwraps the rope, bidding a thank you before racing up to the top to help Peter 2. Meanwhile, Peter 3 is struggling with Connors who was inches away from taking a nasty bite out of his neck.

Retracting the grappling hook, Y/N launches it over a pole directly over the lizard. It swings her over and she sticks her legs out to stuck him in the side, making him roll off of Peter 3. The creature groans and Peter 3 pushes himself up to quickly send webs at the crazed doctor. “Just wait your turn, doc. I’ll be right back,” once enough webs has secured Connors, Peter 3 turns to Y/N who was holding the cure for Flint. “Thank you,” he tells her.

“Anytime, Spidey,” she smiles and hands him the device. “Now get your ass up there and help my man.”

He takes the cure, “Ma’am, yes ma’am,” and takes off to the top by dropping down and creating dual webs to catapult him. He launches, the bolts of Max’s lighting forming around him and throws the cure to Peter 1’s awaiting hands. He arms it, sending it in the direction of Peter 2 who was almost fully emerged in Flint’s sand.

A bright glow illuminates the crown of Lady Liberty after the button is pressed, followed by a loud *bang*. The sand around him dissolves, Peter 2 removing his mask to take multiple breaths to catch air. Movement in the corner catches his eye and soon he’s face to face with the human form of Flint Marko. “It’s okay, Flint,” he gently says when he sees the man’s scared expression. “We’re gonna getcha home. Just—stay right here.”

Down below, Max is powering himself up more than he ever has—the arc reactor doing him justice. The three Spider-Men perch on the crown of the stature, wondering how to attack him. “How do we stop him?” Peter 2 asks, his heading snapping to the side when he see’s Y/N beside him.

“I’ve never seen him this powerful,” Peter 3 replies, having been the one to go head-to-head with the electric villain years prior. Though not to the extent he was now.

“It’s the arc reactor,” Peter 1 points out the energy source. “We gotta get it off him.”

Y/N thinks for a moment, “If I can get close enough, I can distort his field and hopefully make his voltage act up.” They all turn to look at her, bewildered by the idea. “What?” She shrugs.

Peter 2 shakes his head, not liking the idea of her getting close to the electricity. “No, It’s too dangerous.”

“This is really not the time to be lecturing me about danger, Spider.”

“Maybe he’s right—,” Peter 3 tries to add, but she cuts him off.

“Y’all wanna power down Sparky or what? I’m trying to give you time.” Max, hearing her words, glares down at the group.

“Who the hell is this chick?”

Her eyes narrow, taking a cat like stance, “Someone who’d like to give your ass a little taste of bad luck.” The man snarls and starts to glow brighter, noticing how the Spider-Man beside her sized up.

“You’re not gonna take this away from me.” A web leaves Peter 1, aimed at the reactor in an attempt to pull it off, but Max takes it off with ease. “That’s not gonna work.” Charging up, a very large energy bolt is sent their way and collides with the crown. All four jump away to avoid it, landing in different areas.

“Okay, we gotta do this up close,” Peter 1 gets ready to charge, “Peter two, go right. Peter three, go left. On me—.” He launches up, the other two doing the same and all three shoot webs at Max. They manage to catch his hands so Peter 1 could reach for the reactor, but Max’s energy is so strong he’s able to shoot the bolts from his chest.

Peter 1 is hit full on and thrown back into the stature, landing with a pained grunt. The next one to charge is Peter 2, but he’s met with the same force. He collides with a construction tower, while Peter 3 flings towards Max. Instead of being thrown like the others, Max holds him with the bolts causing pain to erupt in Peter 3. Screams leave his lips, and Peter 1 flys toward Max.

Unfortunately for the boy, Max phases causing him to hit the statue once more and topple down to the bottom level. His back is met with pain, making him groan once more. None of the men noticed Y/N had managed to sneak away and crawl up one of the towers. She was about to shoot her hook to pull her in Max’s direction—to get her close enough to alter his probability field when the sound of ripping caught her attention.

Her eyes land on the Lizard. He tore through the web and made his way over to the edge, ears perking up at the sound of voices above him. Y/N snapped her head up to see and sure enough Ned and MJ were still dealing with the portal, unaware Connors was now focused on them. Peter 3 was still tangled in Max’s bolts, and she couldn’t see where her husband was.

“Alright, fine.” She heard MJ talking aloud, “We’re gonna do it again—we’re gonna keep trying.” She now had to make a quick decision; give Max bad luck so they can get the reactor or turn to save the kids.

It wasn’t a hard decision. Especially with her thoughts picturing two certain individuals standing in the place of the high school students.

Feeling her heart race, Y/N aimed the gun at the area above the portal. Her finger met the trigger right and she soared through the sky. The timing was perfect for her, and much to his bad luck, Y/N intercepted Connors. She collided with him, sending him to the side and into the drywall where he fell a few several levels down.

She landed in a cat-like position, hoisting herself up to get through the portal. She was met with the stunned look of the teenagers, both with their jaws slightly stopped. “Hi,” she said placing her hand on their shoulders to move them out of the way. “You two need to move. Now.” She could hear Connor’s and it would be any second till he got to them. “Keep a strong hold on that box, MJ.”

“W-wait, what?” The girl looked at her in shock. “How do you know my name?”

“I know a lot of things, but we don’t have time to explain—scale guy is about to try and rip your face off for that box so do as I say.”

“Wait a minute,” Ned said in realization. “You’re Y/N! The Black Cat and the cool youth pastor guys—uh,” he turned to MJ and lowered his voice to a whisper. “What were they again? He didn’t really specify if they were dating.”

“I told you we don’t have time to exp—wait,” she shot him a bewildered look. “Did you just call my husband a cool youth pastor?” Again, the teens were stunned into silence. Meanwhile Y/N was pocketing that nickname in her brain—another thing to tease Peter about.

“It’s what the other guy had called him—.”

“You two are married?” MJ cut Ned off, eyes wondering over Y/N and her attire. “Wow, I knew you were badass from what he and my peter told me, but seeing you kickass up close and personal—he hit the jackpot.” Y/N smirked at the girl, hearing the genuine tone of awe.

“I like you,” she smiled then added, “You’re a true firecracker from what I’ve heard. I wish the MJ I know back home was more like you—Maybe then we’d probably get along.” The girl didn’t know whether to blush at the woman’s compliments or raise her brow in concern.

Before MJ could ask what she meant, a loud roar fills their ears. They turn to the portal in time to see Connors launch himself through only to get thrown into a lab table when Peter 1 swings through right behind him. Y/N pushes the teens in front of her making them run in front of her so she would be the first to take Connor’s attack. Peter 1 is right on his tail.

Catching him off guard, Y/N stops abruptly and kicks Connors in the stomach. Peter has to hop to the ceiling when he falls back and shoots a web to pull him away from the group.

“Run!” “Get out of here, go!” They simultaneously shout. Peter tackles the lizard into the wall, Y/N ushering the teens out and keeping the portal guarded. She withdrew a knife from her thigh holster, launching it into Connors’ arm making him roar in pain. It was enough to give Peter time to push him off so he could jump on his back. When they draw closer to her, Y/N swings over Connors’ and lands a kick to his back making him trip to the floor. “Peter, get the cure!” She took off after the creature, seeing him get to his feet.

When they got to a corner of the level, Ned had opened another portal—full of water, and Connors was swept away by the impact. Peter caught up to Y/N and they both jumped to the railings to avoid being hit by the water. They then notice MJ had been the one to grab the cure. Peter swings to Connors, landing abruptly to the floor before him and crouches down so Y/N could step off his shoulder. She launched onto Connors’ shoulders, spinning under his arm backward and flipping him onto his back. She holds tight to him, ripping out the knife still etched in his shoulder and the man lets out another roar.

“MJ!!” Peter 1 screamed when Connors threw Y/N off him and was starting to stand. The woman groans, head spinning when it smacks against the floor and a warm liquid descends down her temple. MJ pulls her arm back and throws the cure with all her might. It’s caught in Peter’s hands before he thrusts it into the lizards open mouth. The force of the bite penetrates the container, and a misty blue-green fog envelopes around Connors.

He stumbles back, meeting the harsh rods spewed on the ground. While the cure makes it’s way through him, Peter 1 rushes to Y/N to help her up. “You okay, Y/N—uh Mrs. Parker—dah uh L/N-Parker, sorry.”

A tired laugh escapes her, brushing off her suit and placing the knife back in it’s place. “I’m fine, kid. Don’t worry about me, how are you?”

“Really in need of nice nap,” he honestly says making her laugh more.

“You’re right on that one. And please, call me Y/N, Peter.” Her smile makes him do the same, despite her not seeing it cause of his mask.

“Okay.” They both turn to the foggy mist, which was slowly disappearing and revealing the now human form of Curt Connors. He was silent, watching the green scales leave his body and his lost arm taking it’s original form. “Dr. Connors,” Peter gently says, “Welcome back, sir.”

Y/N pats the young boy on the back, “Nice work, little spider.”

“Thank you.” Seeing movement in the corner of her eye, Y/N see’s the mechanical limbs of the man she once called a mentor. Knowing Connors was no longer a threat she excused herself.

“I’ll leave you to it then.” Quiet as a cat, she climbed up a few levels so she was directly above a long waited reunion taking place below her.

“The power of a sun,” Otto hummed, his eyes on the glowing arc reactor in his hand. “In the palm of your hand.” The words finished from beside him. Turning, he sees a figure in a Spider-man suit, but this time it’s one he recognizes.

“Peter?”

The mask is pulled revealing a familiar face. “Otto,” Peter 2 greets. Both bear expressions of contentment, happy to see the other. “Oh it’s good to see you dear boy,” the doctor expresses.

“It’s good to see you,” Peter returns, still reeling in the feeling that Otto was before him after nearly twenty years. After everything that took place between them, including taking Y/N hostage that fateful night, the doctors sacrifice was still something Peter held onto. Y/N had come to forgive Otto, understanding he wasn’t in the right mind with the A.I in control and losing Rosie, she beard no ill will. And Peter did the same—the two saddened by his death and wishing they’d done more to help.

Otto grins, noticing how Peter had aged—indicating a lot of time had passed since his supposed death. “You’re all grown up. How’re are you?”

The man takes a moment to think, a knowing smile forming on his lips. “Trying to do better.” Watching the interaction in the shadows, and feeling it was the best moment to join in, Y/N takes her cue. Both men hear a sound resembling that of when one retracts an automatic vacuum cord. A flash of white meets their eyes beside Peter, and he turns to see Y/N hanging upside down from the rope of her grappling hook.

She inches away, smile on her face and the light reflects her eyes making the sparkle under his gaze. Her one leg is loosely wrapped around the rope, while the other holds it tightly between her thighs and one hand is gripping it behind her back to give balance. In her other hand was the gun keeping the rope attached to the hook planted on a beam above them. The position is rather bitter-sweet, with the fact it’s normally Peter who hangs upside down.

Unaware of the floored expression she was receiving by Otto—her eyes only on Peter’s—Y/N lets out a soft giggle. “You’ve done more than just better, Spider.” She reaches over and he meets halfway in a short but sweet, endearing kiss. Again, a heartfelt moment between the two that brings them back to the earlier days where they were just young kids in love. Y/N breaks away first, maneuvering her hands and feet so she could turn and drop backward in his direction. Peter catchers her in his harms bridal-style and her arms meet around his neck.

She finally turns to address Otto, a teasing smirk on her face. “He’s still though what you would call, brilliant but lazy.” Placing another quick smooch to his blushing cheek, Y/N extends her arms back—body following so she could do a back layover and land upright—smirking at the way Peter’s hand stays on her skin to guide her.

Peter frowns, noticing a spot of blood on the woman’s forehead that’d been covered by her hair and mask. It’s nearly dried, but he moves his hand up to wipe away any excess. “I thought you were gonna stay out of trouble,” he murmurs, looking down at her. She leans into his touch, eyes turning soft and bites her lip.

“You know I like when there’s trouble,” her voice is low and sensual. “Hey, Doc,” she says stepping closer to Peter, her hand moving to his back and his to her waist.

“Y/N.” Otto breaths out, blown away by the sight of her standing in front of him. And with the little interaction they had displayed, it was easy for the doctor to figure out they were still together. It was a beautiful scene, and Otto was delighted to see his former protege and intern happy beside Peter. The two radiating love and contentment.

“Nice to see you again,” her voice is full of altruism, before it takes a more playful tone. “Still as handsome as the last I saw you—though less menacing and wanting to kill me.” She couldn’t help it. It was her second nature to tease and it didn’t matter who were. Yes she was married and Peter was the only one who’d have her heart, but Y/N was always going to play around whenever she wanted. And Peter had nothing to fear, she made sure of that when the night took over.

Her words had the doctor stuttering, a light blush traveling up his neck caused by the sudden wave of shame. He couldn’t even imagine how she thought about him for what he’d done. “I-I’m sorry, Y/N. I wasn’t thinking clearly and —-.”

“I’m just messing with you, Otto,” she laughed, hearing Peter chuckle next to her. “I forgave you along time ago—and I’m glad I get the chance to finally tell you that.” Seeing Peter nod in agreement, warmth fills Octavius. A grin forms on his face, and the couple return it—the three finding closure and fulfilment.

The moment is interrupted when a very large portal opens beside them making Otto take a few steps back, and a very displeased man in a cloak appears. Apparently his presence is enough for Peter 1 to haul his ass over to where he was at, the boy brining his hand up to tear his mask off in a hurry. Peter 2 gently squeezes Y/N’s waist, making her step away from him, and he moves to where the kid was at. “Strange wait we’re so close—.”

“Skip it!” He stops him. “I’ve been dangling over the Grand Canyon for twelve hours!—.”

‘I know, I know—.” Strange went to say something else, but the words fall flat when he makes eye contact with an older man in a similar spider suit. “I-uh-um—,” Peter 1 watches how Strange’s gaze moves to Peter 3–who landed on his left. “I’m sorry about that sir, I mean—.”

“You went to the Grand Canyon?” Peter 1 questions in disbelief, and Peter 3 steps in too. “He could’ve used your help.”

“No, no, no. It’s okay-it’s okay,” Peter 1 stops them, “uh-uh these are my new friends,” he points to the two men beside him. “This is Peter Parker, this is Peter Parker. Spider-Man, Spiderman—they’re me’s from different other universes. They’re here to help—.”

“No. No,” Strange begins to murmur.

“—This is the wizard that I was telling you about—.”

“Look! I am really impressed that you’ve managed to give them all a second chance, kid. But this has to end,” Strange looks him hard in the eyes. “Now.” Unaware to him, all three of the enhanced trio were feeling that familiar tingling sensation. And all too familiar voice has both Peter 2 and Y/N filling with absolute dread, their eyes making brief contact before coming face-to-face with it’s owner.

“CAN THE SPIDER-MAN COME OUT TO PLAY?!”

Flying through the air on his glider, Norman—no, the Green Goblin was barreling toward the group. Several razor bat pumpkins are soon soaring from the glider, making everyone scatter to avoid their blades. Y/N flips to the side, rolling away so she was on all fours in a cat-like position—not realizing how close she was to the edge. Strange was guarding by ritual box so Otto used his tentacles to deflect the pumpkins.

Norman manages to swipe the box, taking off into the air. Otto lets out a grunt, extending a tentacle arm to catch the glider in his grasp. Y/N gets up with her grappling hook in hand and uses the opportunity to send the hook over Norman and attach to the front side of the glider. She and Otto pull with all their strength, the woman wrapping her hands tightly several times around the rope while her heels dig into the flooring. It prevents the Goblin from escaping— giving Strange time to form a whip and steal back the box.

What they didn’t anticipate was for Norman to spin the glider around and cut off Otto’s tentacle. The older man reels back with a groan, all while Y/N is suddenly pulled forward by the force of Norman fleeing away with her hook still mounted on the glider. She looses her footing and a shriek escapes her lips, unable to get her hands free from the tangle of rope when she falls forward.

It all happens so fast—they barely have time to react. Y/N’s dragged across the floor toward the edge causing Peter 2 to scream out her name. He rushes to her, Peter 1 right behind him and the older man catches her by the waist before she could fly over the edge while the younger grips the rope above her hands. Together they pull her back but the fast momentum of Norman’s glider was a match against their strength.

“We got you, Y/N,” Peter 1 says, grunting when he feels his grip slip from the rope.

“Shit,” she pants, feeling her arms and wrists burn by the tightness of the rope staining against her skin. The lightly-thinned gloves were doing no good at bringing relief to the former vigilante. “My hands are stuck—dammit.” The realization at seeing a knot had formed from twisting her hands around the rope sparked dread in Y/N.

“Hang on, baby,” her husbands voice brings some form of comfort, but the angst was becoming overwhelming. “We’re gonna get you lose.”

Y/N’s barely dangling in the air, the only thing preventing her from falling over is her tangled grip on the rope and the two Peter’s holding her back. Fearing what could happen if Norman cuts the rope before they could free her, Y/N shouts to Peter 3. “Spidey! Get one of my knives and cut the rope!” Sweat was coating her forehead, heart racing with fear and anxiety. It had been a long time since had been so scared as she was now.

And that of course was when she first encounter the Green Goblin twenty long years ago.

The other two couldn’t risk letting go, otherwise they could lose balance and send her over the edge. Peter 3 had to act fast. He shoots a web at the knife secured on her right calf—the blade landing in his palm and he races over. He pushes Peter 1 to the side, his hands replacing the others immediately and brings the knife down onto the thick material. In a fast motion, he cuts through—the rope thinning with each slice. Peter 1 stands close to the right, ready to pull back anyone or shoot webs if worse comes to worse.

“Pull her back in three….” Peter 3 starts to count down. “Two…now!!” The rope rips and the two tighten their hold, pulling with all their might to secure Y/N on their side of the edge. The sudden force has them stumbling, Peter 2 falling back to the floor with Y/N on top of him—landing with a *oof*. They’re both breathing heavily, his hands on her immediately when they sit up.

“Oh my God,” he murmurs, brining her close to him. Y/Ns cheeks are cupped in his hands while his eyes trail over her shaken form and he goes to calm her down. “I got you-I got you. You’re safe, darling. It’s okay—look at me,” he coos when she closes her eyes. They’re slightly glossy, still very shaken by the events — and most likely thinking about when she first encountered Green Goblin, nearly died at his hands. Peter brushes his thumbs over her cheekbones. “He won’t hurt you again. I won’t let him hurt you—you know that right?”

Her lip quivered but she nods, and Peter leans to kiss her forehead—brushing away the damp hair that had gathered. Turning away to not intrude at the private moment, the other Peter’s step away. Once she’s calm and breathing back to normal, Peter 2 helps Y/N up and pulls her to his body.

“You okay now, trouble?” He asks, guiding her to where the others were. Y/N let’s out a strangled laugh, face nuzzling into his chest. “I’m really tired of having to deal with mad scientists, Spider.”

Peter laughs with her, happy to see she was back to that playfulness he loves and plants a kiss to her head. “You and me both, sweetheart.” They stood beside Peter 1, giving nods to the two hero’s as a way of saying thank you. Strange started to finish the last details to the ritual, and Y/N held onto Peter—feeling his arms tighten around her when it was looking like they were about to be transported home.

But just when they thought they had a small sliver of peace, the green glow of a pumpkin bomb takes it all away.

“STRANGE NO!!!”

…………………

Tag list (I gonna try and keep up with this): @m-1234,

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emwritesstuff · 3 years

Text

housesitting | bucky barnes x reader

summary: Housesitting for Steve Rogers has many perks. The man has the comfiest bed you’ve ever slept in; his coffee machine is top tier; and he also pays for every single streaming service you could think of, because he doesn’t wanna miss anything.

You can hardly see how Bucky Barnes stumbling into his apartment at 3 am with multiple wounds is one of them. But I guess it might be?

notes: this is my attempt at a more ~comedy centered one-shot, with some making out in the middle because uh, who doesn’t like that? In other news, reader is Chaotic. Canon mcu (Infinity War/Endgame) is non-existent in this. (word count: 3K)

warnings: language, mentions of blood, gunshot wounds, general patching up shenanigans, some making out/grinding but not quite third base

[PART 2: breaking and entering]

Housesitting for Steve Rogers has many perks. The man has the comfiest bed you’ve ever slept in; his coffee machine is top tier; and he also pays for every single streaming service you could think of, because he doesn’t wanna miss anything. An old popsicle thing, you assume.

It’s peaceful, too. The neighborhood is nice and quiet, the other tenants are either extremely polite or too scared of Captain America to make much noise. You’ve had very nice stay-cations at his place, where you were free to choose to binge The Office while eating an entire pizza in the spam of 2 episodes or taking advantage of the quiet to write your grad-school thesis.

So when a loud BANG almost makes you drop your coffee mug on the floor, your spidey senses are immediately on alert. You don’t care how many times Peter insisted that it wasn’t a thing, your arm hairs stood up and your heart started hammering on your chest all the same.

You contemplate squeezing under the bed, turning off the show that was long abandoned and hiding until whatever it is goes away, but before you can do any of that, a string of sharp cursing and soft thumps and thuds snaps you out of your fear.

Maybe it’s a burglar. You could take a clumsy burglar, easy.

Now feeling like Tony had just welcomed you into the Avengers, you hop off Steve’s bed and let your baby Yoda socked feet carry you stealthily into the living room, holding a table lamp as if it was a baseball bat.

Everything is quiet, with no signs of forced entry at the door (you remember someone on Law and Order using those words), and in the dark you don’t notice the bloody trail coming from the kitchen.

You’re imagining things, then. When was the last time you slept? You don’t even feel tired, but you know sleep deprivation always gets you all kinds of crazy.

It happens the second your arm falls to your side and your posture shows the slight of relaxation. A strong arm around your neck and a hand against your mouth to muffle the screaming.

In the quiet of Steve’s apartment building, there is only you shrieking and howling and thrashing against the hold of a stranger.

“Don’t fuckin’ move.” You still.

And then you bite into the hand that is muting you, immediately regretting it when your teeth sink into something hard. Metal? Concrete? Ouch. You resume your resistance, determined, and is shoved away.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“Who the fuck are you.” His voice is gruff and dulled over the mask he is wearing, and as you’re taking this giant of a man in, you notice it.

The metal arm. The strapped leather jacket. The tortured blue eyes.

Winter Soldier.

The intruder is James “Bucky” Barnes, Steve’s best friend. That’s who the fuck it is.

“I’m Steve’s house sitter! I even have a key.” You say, with arms in front of you to signal no harm but inching closer to the table lamp with every step.

“House…sitter? Where’s Steve?”

“Who knows. Maybe a mission. He texts me, I come over.” You shrug, and put a chair back to where it was before it got knocked over.

“I don’t believe you. Where is Steve?”

“Listen, I don’t know, okay? I guess he’s just out for a few days. I don’t ask. He just lets me stay in here so I can water the plants and feed the Avengers.”

“The– the what?”

“The Avengers! The fish, see.” You point to the aquarium, where a handful of colorful fish swam peacefully in.

Peace. So much for your peace, because now what you have is a surly super soldier eyeing the fish tank like it was the most loathsome thing in the entire universe, except maybe for you.

“I hate this thing. Naming them makes it even worse.” He trudges back to the kitchen, stomping on the floor like he was on a parade.

So much for the other people’s peace, too.

“Hey! Sir. In case you haven’t noticed, it’s 3 in the fucking morning?” You sass, putting your hands on your hips when he retorts that yeah, he does know. “What are you even doing here?”

“Back from a mission.” He grumbles without looking at you, as if you’re the one who stumbled into his place in the middle of the night.

It wasn’t your place, but still.

“Don’t you have a house?” There’s a part of you that knows pushing the Winter Soldier’s buttons is asking for trouble, but your tired and confused brain decides to ignore it.

“You interrogating me? I need a motherfucking– ” He wheezes and nearly doubles over, holding on the door frame between the living room and the kitchen. You finally spot the blood, both on the tiles and seeping out of the Soldier’s jacket and pants.

He’s hurt. Shit.

“– first aid kit.”

“You need a motherfucking hospital!” You shrill, panic chilling your bones. You don’t do blood. Or any kind of wound, for that matter.

The man ignores you, opening up cabinets hastily. You huff, and walk past him to get to the actual home of the first aid kit. Steve’s oldest, closest friend and can’t even find a box with pharmaceutical supplies in his kitchen. You slam it on the counter next to him.

“You’re welcome.”

“Zip it.”

Just a look from him is enough to render you speechless, and not in the good, butterflies-in-your-stomach kind of way. You’re positive that one swat of that metal arm and you’ll be flying out of the window.

He begins by removing his mask, revealing a handsome face underneath, and you try your best to focus on how dark and menacing it looked while locked in that scowl of his. Then, he unbuckles his jacket and discards it on the floor, it coming to a stop next to your feet.

Oh man, he’s naked. Well, not really, just the incredibly toned, strong and muscular top half of him, but you stare wide-eyed as if he was.

“See somethin’ you like, doll?” He quips, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, and you turn your back to him, mostly to hide your own embarrassment.

“No.” You cross your arms resolutely, because you definitely don’t think he’s attractive. He is a rude, grumpy, private-property-invader-bastard. Doll. Yuck.

You hear a rumble come out of his chest. Is he laughing? Shithead. Other noises follow, wheezes, small grunts and the tinkle of metal on the marble counter.

A particular pained grunt makes you turn, and you see Barnes with his body twisted, trying to reach a bloody hole on his back. It would be funny if he wasn’t trying to poke a gunshot.

“Do you need… help?” You ask, against your own will, only to be met with his icy gaze.

“No.”

“Come on, you can’t even reach that.”

Another glare is shot your way, and you quirk your brow up. He did need the help, you think, because aside from the muscles and the sweat making him glisten like a delicious – wait what – glazed donut, the man looked like hell.

“…fine.” He slides a pair of surgical prongs, something you identify in your head as oversized tweezers, and you instantly regret your offer. Pressing an iodine-soaked cotton ball to a wound, sure. But not this.

He turns his back to you without a word, supporting himself on the marble. You think that he’s about to make a dent on the goddamn stone if he keeps holding onto it that hard.

“Ah, fuck. Shit. Fuck. Ugh, it’s so gross. Fuck.”

It’s the most horrifying thing you’ve ever done, but you try your best to get to the bullet quickly, so very thankful that Barnes holds himself perfectly still for you. “Got it!”

He lets out a long breath when you toss the prongs and the bullet on the counter with the rest and resumes his cleanup. So, he’s not even going to say thanks. Great.

You try not to think about how you still want to make conversation while you hurriedly scrub the blood from your hands, because aside from the hostility and him jumping on you as a meet-cute, the guy peeks your interest.

Steve has said Barnes is nice, too, and you believed Steve, because he’s basically incapable of lying. Or maybe because he’s pretty. Both, for sure.

With your hands now clean, you turn to him, mouth open with some kind of conversation starter that is immediately forgotten.

Oh man, he’s naked. For real this time.

Bucky Barnes has stepped out of his pants while you were overthinking by the sink, now standing in only a pair of black boxers. It’s like he feels you staring at his butt, because he turns to you with raised eyebrows.

“Last one’s on my thigh. I got it.” He’s holding the prongs this time, and you’re glad you don’t have to do anything, because your face next to that groin might make you go into spontaneous combustion.

“Yeah.”

He hums. You hope all of this is a fever dream.

“Isn’t there a med bay at–”

“Don’t like people prodding and pokin’ at me.” His comment makes you grimace. He’s the Winter Soldier, damn it. You know the stories, everyone does. Of course he doesn’t like being prodded.

He looks at you funny, probably because you went dead quiet. You don’t want him to think you feel pity, because you don’t, but god don’t you feel bad for poking him now, even if verbally.

“I’m gonna – grab one of Steve’s – uh. Dude you need to put some clothes on. Jesus.”

He laughs at you again, which you’re thankful for because anything is better than the awkwardness of the other subject. You pick up a black pair of sweatpants that was so deep in one of Steve’s drawers that you know he’d have to have bought it and never had the guts to put it on. This one would do just fine.

If there is one thing Steve Rogers isn’t, is a black sweats guy.

“Here.” You deposit the sweats and a white tee on the counter, one of the millions that you found inside the closet. Barnes was patching himself up now, bandages wrapped everywhere on his body.

Got his ass kicked good. You shudder when you imagine the state of the other guy.

He eyes the clothes, and saying nothing, returns to his task. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“I didn’t ask you to help me.”

“Yeah, but I did anyways! ‘Cause I’m stupid, I guess.” You almost hurl a dirty plate at him when he scoffs, muttering a yeah, guess you are. “God, why are you so grumpy?”

“Well you try being shot 5 times and see how cheerful you are after.”

“You got shot 5 times?!”

Looking at you from between his brows, the Soldier nods to the five mangled bullets sitting on the counter. You think about how you’ve made yourself a sandwich just hours earlier on the exact same spot. You want to puke.

Taking time to look around yourself, you can finally grasp the state of Steve’s ever-so-pristine kitchen, now a mess of dirty clothes, blood and your own few dishes from the night before. You don’t even think about what you’re doing as you move, gathering every single cleaning supply you can find, and start working on the cleanup.

You’re struggling, because obviously you’ve never done this before. Anyone can tell, from your soft abdomen and your severe lack of muscle, that you’re not an Avenger. Sure, you work with them, but you’re usually neck deep into advanced tech, not in the gym by any means. Also, you don’t do blood.

That means you have to think about something else, anything else, while you’re manically cleaning the floor. One sheep, two sheep, three sheep, the Winter Soldier’s tight ass, four sheep, get it together goddamnit –

“Leave it. I’ll clean.”

You huff, he huffs back, and you look up at him.

“You got shot five times. Go sit down or something before you blow your back too, grandpa.” You call him that to assure yourself that he is old, like actually super old, and thirsting over him is weird. Even weirder when he’s all bandaged and bleeding. And still shirtless. Shit.

He mumbles something that you ignore, and stomps off. You think you actually did a pretty decent job with the cleaning, considering.

You need coffee. Definitely an entire bottle of vodka too, but there was no alcohol in this god’s good home, so you settle for the brew that you made earlier. You pour a mug for Barnes too, because you’re nice like that, and amble into the living room to find him slumped on a chair.

“Coffee?” You start, settling his mug on the table next to him.

“It’s almost 5 a.m.”

“Guess I’m up early for once. Maybe I should go for a run.”

He snorts, and opens one eye to inspect you from where he is. He reaches out for the coffee, using his metal hand, and you consider the two ways this could go.

He’d shatter the mug right then and there. Or, he’d throw it at you. Your jaw goes slack at what he actually does, sirens blaring loudly in your head. Truly astonishing, the most bewildering turn of events.

He drinks from it.

“Thanks. Quit staring at me.”

“Wow, Mr. Winter knows the magic words. Mr. Barnes. Sergeant?” You’re thinking aloud, abandoning any trace of sanity you’ve been holding. You even sit on the couch next to his armchair.

“It’s Bucky,”

Again, absolutely bewildering. You must be going insane.

“– and you talk too much.” He finishes, with an end-of-story tone, and returns to his rest. At least that felt like normality.

“Bucky. Bucky.” You roll the name on your tongue, feeling a weird buzz start to take over you. It grows stronger when you notice he’s looking at you, one brow quirked as if you lost your marbles. “You know, Bucky, this is definitely not how I saw my night going. Home invasion, playing surgeon – not my usual kind of fun.”

You get up, maybe because you decide that you – and Bucky – need a blanket, or maybe because you need a distraction from his chest going up and down like it’s got a business with making you want to touch it.

You’re not a slut, but who knows? Jim Halper would get it.

“You’re that kid, aren’t you? Stark’s assistant.” Bucky’s voice, low and husky, makes you jump. You look at him, your eyebrows furrowed slightly.

It’s surprising that he knows you, considering. He’s – well, he’s basically a celebrity, if ex-assassins could be considered that. You’re only Tony’s techie, and you and Bucky have never actually met, not even in the few parties you had attended to stop your boss from nagging you that you had to actually go out and have some fun sometimes, because you’re still young and cute and you need to enjoy yourself before you get saggy and bitter.

Jokes on him, you were born bitter.

“I’m no kid.”

“Nice socks.”

You wiggle your toes and it makes the ears of one of the baby Yodas move.

“Still not a kid! If you wanna be sad and wear your sad, plain socks, Bucky, that’s entirely your choice.” You said, pointing your index at him, making circles in the air with it to really get your point across.

Bucky smirks, and you go up to him with the two blankets on your arms. He’s blocking the door with that bulky body of his, and you raise your eyebrows quizzically.

“I’ll have you know – meeting Steve’s annoying, mouthy, pretty house sitter is not how I saw my night going either.” Bucky puts a doubtful tone on house sitter, as if he still doesn’t get exactly what it means.

You blink. You’re positive you heard it wrong. Is he… is this flirting?

“You think I’m pretty?”

“I called you annoying and mouthy too.”

“Yeah, I mean I know that much about me.” You chuckle, rolling your eyes. “The pretty part is new though.”

Bucky still hasn’t moved from the doorframe, and you find yourself staring up at him. He is inches away now, pupils blown wide in the darkness, and you can see a ring of steely blue around them. He licks his lips, and you’re drawn in.

The maelstrom in his eyes sends you spinning.

“I think someone should say you’re not see through, much less–”

Bucky shuts you up by pressing his lips onto yours, a slow, exploratory kiss, the tenderest he’s been all night. His metal hand rests on your lower back, making you shiver at the cool touch.

You’re all panting and eagerness when you cup his face with both hands and press your body against his. You need to deepen this kiss. You haven’t drooled over Bucky Barnes all night to keep things lovey-dovey.

He responds in earnest, pulling you closer. The flesh hand on the back of your neck is a stark contrast against the chill of the other. You and Bucky stumble from the corridor and back to the living room, knocking over a few of Steve’s decorations in the process.

“I don’t feel as bad for this one.” You mumble against his lips, stopping to look at a particular framed picture of Captain America in uniform, surrounded by every single counterfeit Cap in Times Square.

“S’ one of his favorites.”

You nod, you’re aware. Steve thinks it’s the most hilarious thing ever.

Bucky’s breath tickles the hairs on your neck when he continues.

“I hate it.”

“Yeah.”

You capture his lips again, and you two resume your chaotic redecorating. You’re thankful for Bucky’s strong arms keeping you from falling over, because at this point you’re not sure if your legs work anymore.

He takes you with him when he drops down on the same armchair from earlier, and the dizzy spell you find yourself in is broken when you hear him groan.

Right. He’s battered up and stuff.

“Shit, Bucky, I’m sorry–”

“No.” He pulls you close again, and guides your body to straddle one of his thighs. “Stay right here, doll.”

Doll. God-fucking-damnit.

His hand moves under the elastic band of your pants, oh my god you’re making out with Bucky-Hot-Piece-Of-Ass-Barnes in your wiener dog pajama bottoms, and finds the hem of your underwear. He pulls on it, and you yelp when he lets it snap against your side.

He laughs, and you vibrate along with his chest.

You find yourself grinding on his leg, sucking on his bottom lip, raking your nails along his shoulders, doing anything, everything for more, trying to burn the taste and the feel of him on your memory. He moves on to kiss your neck and you sigh, tugging on his hair and making sure you’re holding on for dear life.

Your eyes flutter open, enough to see the fish Avengers in their tank.

The Avengers.

Steve Rogers is an Avenger. So is Bucky, technically.

You’re making out with Bucky. One of his hands is on your boob.

This is Steve’s apartment.

You manage to sober you up enough, despite Bucky’s constant attacks of open mouth kisses and bites on your neck.

“I don’t think Steve would – if we–” You lift your head begrudgingly to look at him. “You know, on his armchair.”

“Right.” He didn’t seem convinced, but his hand moved up from your butt to your waist again.

Steve Rogers was probably miles away right now and still cockblocking you.

Even worse, his furniture was cockblocking you.

Stupid star-spangled IKEA shopper.

And his hot best friend. Who’s currently smiling at you in a such a way that makes you almost abandon all comradery towards Rogers and the sanctity of his place.

You debate getting up, but resign yourself to burying your nose in the crook of Bucky’s neck and just staying there, because honestly, when are you going to have the chance to do this again. Never, that’s when.

Also, he’s surprisingly comfortable for someone with a metal arm and such a jacked-up body.

“You’re sleepy.”

“No, I’m like, super awake.”

It’s a lie, because now that the sparks have flown and the rush of blood in your ears gave way to the quietness of the early morning, you feel yourself drifting, on and off, surprising yourself when you come to once and find that Bucky is still there, warm under you.

“Sleep, doll. I need it too.”

You shift, ready to let his rhythmic breathing lull you to sleep. The last 75 sleepless hours catch up with you.

“Bucky? If you want to break into someone’s house again sometime – I have a first aid kit too. Just sayin’.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x y/n #avengers x reader #emwrites

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