#peterparkerxreader

So now he was sitting on a rooftop, reminiscing about where it all went wrong. A boom roared in the distance, leaving him on edge. It was the time of year when it was difficult to tell if they were fireworks or gunshots. Differentiating between cries for help and loud children was even worse. He thankfully saw a bright array of colors in the sky and let out a sigh of relief.

Even though it wasn’t intentional, he spotted you out of everyone from the view on the roof. For some reason, it was always you. You were sitting in the living room of a foreign apartment with another guy, smiling carefully. Peter’s body tensed as he realized he had been replaced. It wasn’t hard to imagine; you were beautiful and talented. Anybody was lucky to have you, and he was dumb enough to let you go.

The guy placed his hand in yours and Peter swore he was stabbed through the heart. You grinned back at him and relaxed at his touch. He had to remind himself that this was on him, even if it was intentional or not. The end was bound to come, he had figured. In the last weeks of your relationship, you both fell apart. There were too many tense late nights where you were up waiting and worrying for Peter. There were too many times that he came in through your window injured from reckless decisions. And maybe ending it was another one of those reckless, dangerous decisions.

But when you were the one who got hurt, Peter knew it was over.

The guilt overcame him entirely. The guilt of not being able to protect you and knowing that with him, you could never be happy. All Peter wanted was for you to be okay and for you to be happy. It seemed like he made both of those things untrue. And it killed him, inside and out.

So, he did what he thought he could to keep you safe and happier. As much as he definitely hated the guy you were with, you looked happier. His plan was working, only at the cost of his own happiness. He finally peeled his eyes off of you to acknowledge the light show and the ooh-ing and aah-ing of the crowd. It could distract him for a little while at least.

Unfortunately for him, the fireworks reminded him of you. You were together last year - strictly as friends - on the fourth. Everyone else retreated inside while you two stayed and watched the fireworks over the lake in the cool July air. You were forced to go inside once it started down pouring, but you loved every second of it. Peter loved every second he had with you, but he had to mess that up too.

He loved you, with everything he had, but he had to let you go. You deserved to find someone who could love you and protect you, and that could no longer be him. And although he watched you move on from a distance, he never uttered a word. After all, he left without explaining, and he can only imagine how badly he hurt you.

The thought destroyed Peter. He left you to stop hurting you, but he managed to do that without even being there. His stomach churned at the realization that maybe he didn’t do the right thing. But it was too late now. He turned his attention back to you, who pressed a kiss to the man’s cheek and walked to the door. Tears began forming in his eyes, and he didn’t care enough to stop them.

In a turn of coincidental events, you ended up landing on the same rooftop as your ex, Peter Parker. You simply wanted a place to breathe and take in the fireworks, but it seemed like your plans suddenly changed.

“Peter?” He jumped up and faced you. His eyes were red and his face was splotchy, which was a dead giveaway that he had been crying.

“Hi,” he quietly spoke. The silence was deafening between you, neither wanting to breathe another word. It had only been a month, but the month seemed to last a lifetime. Peter realized he needed to at least clear the air, even if he could no longer be the one to make you happy, “I’m sorry,” he blurted. You studied his face and recognized the purely genuine expression.

“Why did you do it?” He peered down to his feet and drew in a shallow breath. “You started acting weird before you did it, and then just left with just a goodbye? I can’t do this anymore? We were friends first, and I lost even that. Why?” You felt the anger releasing from your chest - anger that you tried to forget was there.

“I wanted to protect you. You got hurt, because of me, because of Spider-Man. I needed you to be okay,” he explained meekly, “And I needed you to be happy.” A sob rose from your throat. You were entirely wrong about the situation, and it made you feel terrible. You always knew Peter struggled with these feelings, so why didn’t you think of it when he ended things so abruptly after you broke your arm while he was on patrol? You wanted to break down right there in his arms and tell him everything was okay, but you couldn’t yet. “Say something, please,” Peter pleaded, voice full of concern.

“I… I thought you didn’t love me anymore. I thought you might’ve found someone new or not wanted me.” Watching his face, you thought he was about to break down instead of you. Another tear fell from his eyes, but he didn’t wipe it away.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” You took a step closer to him, wanting to absorb his hurt and make it all go away. He looked deep into your eyes and suddenly a flicker of jealousy flashed across his face. “Who’s the guy? I saw you. He… He makes you happy.” You almost rolled your eyes at the statement.

“Justin. And I just told him we aren’t going anywhere.” Peter’s eyes jumped back to yours.

“But- Why?”

“You are such an idiot.” He ignored you.

“If he makes you happy, why wouldn’t you stay?” This time you did roll your eyes back at him.

“Because you make me happier. You always have and you always will.” Three fireworks exploded at that moment, one in the air and two in your hearts.

“I’m so, so sorry I did that to you. I got scared, and I shouldn’t have. I trust you. And I love you-”

“Oh shut up already,” you interrupted. You leaned forward and kissed him with all the feeling you had left.

–Peter’s point of view–

“Hey kid,” Mr. Stark said, sitting across from Peter and sliding a folder across the table, “You’ve been wanting a solo assignment for a while, so here it is.”

“What’s it about?” Peter said, picking up the folder.

“There’s a strange string of murders. The police recently admitted they have no clue how to handle it, and passed it off to us. Apparently, they’ve been going on for years. You don’t need me to tell you this, it’s all in the folder. See ya around kid.” He stood up, leaving the sixteen year old alone at the table.

Peter inspected the pages closely. Dozens of seemingly unconnected murders had happened in the last three years. No fingerprints, no signs of a struggle or anything. Half the time there was a note near the body, signed ‘D.M.’ explaining what the person did wrong, other times there was none. 

The strangest part: Every single victim was left in the shape of a cube.

How on Earth does that happen?

–Y/n’s point of view, a few days later–

You conjured another pane and used it to press the man against the wall.

“P-Please!” He yelled, “I don’t know who you are!”

“Shh.” You said, “The neighbors might hear, Mr. Brandon.” With that, you used your ability to move him to the center of the room. For now, the invisible box of panes was large enough for him to stand in. For now.

“You don’t know who I am, although I am sure you know Ms. Eliza Weaver.” 

The man’s face drained of blood.

“How do you… I already served my time! I’m done!”

“Shh…” You repeated, “I know you think you atoned for what you did. You served a few months for ruining her life. That doesn’t quite seem fair, now does it?”

“She was asking for it!” He attempted to defend himself, and he started banging on the magical sheets of glass suspending him. They didn’t break, and never would.

“No. She wasn’t.” As you said that, you closed your fist and the panes crushed the man into a perfect cube. Before leaving, you carefully placed a note on the floor a few feet away from where he’d land.

Here lies Tray Brandon,

Raped Eliza Weaver, for which he was jailed for only a few years. 

Released on good behavior

Eliza can tell you more about his behavior. 

It was anything but good.

-D. M.

You always left notes like this for the people you voluntarily killed. They had it coming, honestly. As you opened the window, you breathed in deeply. Another monster was gone. Glancing down at your watch, you saw you had time for a quick snack. You maneuvered the panel beneath your feet slowly to the ground. You exited through a window facing the alley. 

It’s possible someone saw you, but that’s okay. You were wearing a black, long sleeved shirt and similar jeans. The one identifying feature was the bulldog mask you stole from a Watchdog. They’d tried to capture you about two years ago, since they were against anyone who got their powers from Terragenesis.

Because of your connections, you had been warned. They’d set up a trap, which you knew about. You managed to fight off the dozen who were crouched in wait, all while staying out of their sight. In their hurry to escape, one had left behind his mask. 

You slid it on, and found it fit perfectly. So you’d been using it. Partially to keep your identity secret, partially to mock them. The bulldog shaped mask was a pleasing mix of white and silver, with large yellow-tinted teeth and red gums.

As you reached the ground, you slid the mask off and into your bag stashed there. You threw on the jacket stashed inside, and you were ready to perfectly blend into the streets. The afternoon sun shone down, you ate a very late lunch, and soon started heading to your next destination. 

It was evening by the time you arrived, and the invitation said to arrive around dusk. You circled the block once, on the opposite side of the street, taking moderate precautions so as to not be seen. Noting every window you could jump out of, where you could slip away unnoticed and unfollowed, that sort of thing.

The sun set and the streetlights buzzed on, you slid on your mask, approached the side entrance, and knocked, just as instructed.

“Who’s there?” A voice called from inside.

“Pest Control.” You said unenthusiastically. The door opened and you walked in. There was a short corridor. The walls were lit every few feet with intricate candleholders, which now held lightbulbs. You imagined that not too long ago this would have been a mighty house. Now the carpet smelled and was covered in unidentifiable stains.

“Right this way.” The man who answered the door said. He wasn’t tall, nor short, although his dress pants seemed slightly too long for him. His shirt was untucked and wrinkled. He led you to a door, and motioned for you to enter after him.

“Sir,” He said, “Here is ‘Pest Control.’”

“Mhmm.” The man sitting at the table nodded.

“Hello, sir.” You said curtly.

“Mx. Dog Mask,” The unkempt man said, addressing you. You didn’t particularly mind the name you’d gained. In fact, you’d started signing your notes ‘D.M.’ because of it. It’s just that it made you sound a little too much like a servant, someone who would perform tricks on command. Someone who would beg for scraps. And that wasn’t you.

“This is Mr.--” He tried to continue but you cut him off.

“I know who he is.” You said, “I did my research before deciding to work with y’all. No introductions needed. Who do you need gone and where is he?”

“Harris Kingsly,” the man said, slightly taken aback at your abruptness, but went along with it. “We think he’ll be lying low somewhere. We’re… not sure where…”

“A name’s all I need.” You assured him. “Do you have a message you want him to hear before he goes?”

“No.” He sat back in his chair, relieved that you didn’t need more information. “We just need him gone.”

“Understood.” You rolled your shoulders back, ready to leave. “One more question, how much are you offering for this?”

“Fourteen grand.” He said immediately. 

“You got it.” The two of you crossed the room, and shook hands. You hadn’t met this newest gang before, but you liked how naive they were. They seemed to almost be afraid of you. As you turned to leave, the man said something.

“One more thing,” He called, “No witnesses.”

“That’s how I operate.”

Five hours of research and waiting later, you arrived at an unassuming apartment building. From your prior experience, you knew this was a hiding place for one of the many gangs. It wasn’t your first time here. It was a little strange, you thought that its gang had abandoned it a while ago.

Dawning your mask, you summoned a panel and silently flew towards the window. You opened it, careful to not disturb anything on the windowsill as you entered. The apartment was meant to look empty. You could see the flaws. The packages of food on the counter couldn't have been old, or else the mice would’ve eaten it.

There, the bedroom. A slight creak had alerted you to the presence of another. You inched around the corner. If you remembered right – you usually did – the room had a single window. Too small for a man of Harris Kingsly’s size to fit through. No need to block it off. You rounded the corner and swiftly opened the door and saw… Nothing. 

The unexpectedness was just enough to keep you from noticing the figure on the ceiling above you. As you stepped further into the room, he dropped down behind you, and closed the door. You wheeled around, and was faced with a red-clad man. He didn’t seem like a huge threat, so you decided to wait till he threw the first punch.

“Dog Mask!” He said, “You’re coming with me!”

You cocked your head to the side. Why did this guy seem familiar?

“Who do you think you are?”

“I’m an Avenger.” He said. Wow. You knew you were well-known in the city’s underbelly, but you never thought you’d draw the attention of Avengers.

“Well,” You said, “You know? This is the closest anyone's ever gotten to catching me. Congrats, you set a record. You heard my voice.”

“I plan on bringing you in.”

“How?” This guy’s strange mix of confidence with uncertainty was amusing.

“You’ve never fought anyone like me.” He slung a web towards you, which landed on your forearm. You yanked on it, flinging him across the room. You stepped forward and turned, your back now against the door. He seemed a little surprised, but rolled with it. 

Flurries of punches were exchanged, with Spider-Man utilizing the furniture to dodge and maneuver. More than once you were locked in a staring match, him on the ceiling where you couldn’t reach him till one of you twitched and set the fight off again. During one of these pauses, you spoke.

“Tell me,” You said, a little out of breath, “Was Harris Kingsly ever real?”

“Nah, I made him up to lure you. The new gang, too.”

“I’ll be better about vetting my jobs in the future.”

You fought for a good fifteen minutes before you started getting bored. 

“You know, Spider-Man,” You said, “It’s been fun.” Conjuring three panels, you trapped him in the corner. 

“What the heck!” He exclaimed as he was moved. “Woah. What was that?” 

“Simply sheets of unbreakable material.” 

“Oh. Unbreakable?” 

“Mhm. But don’t worry.” You said, opening the door to leave, “They’ll disappear in an hour or so. Once I’m long gone. Normally I don’t leave witnesses. Today I’ll make an exception. For your sake, I hope I never see you again.”

You would have to lie low for a few weeks. An encounter with an Avenger wasn’t ideal. You were being too open, your alias flew around the underbelly of the city, but now it was wafting above. The last real job would pay you enough to get by. Most things were easily acquired from one of those ‘Centers For Less-Fortunate Teens.’ 

With a few strategic donations, you’d convinced one center to allow you access to showers and food without any official documentation. They only knew you by your first name, Y/n.

After stopping by there for dinner and a shower, you arrived home. It was an abandoned warehouse, complete with mold, leakes, and rusty pipes. A smaller side office was converted into your bedroom. A twin-sized bed pushed against the back wall, and a table and chair perpendicular to that.

The table was scattered with papers. It would seem like a mess to anyone else, but there was a method to the madness. Police reports next to newspaper clippings, organized by crime. 

You thought about going to sleep, or doing a bit more research on a possible next target. The fight earlier still had you thinking, though. Why hadn’t you seen this hero before? Was he really an Avenger? How’d he figure out where you’d be?

Those questions motivated you to do a deep dive on him. Hours of searching yielded no results. Spider-Man was a blank slate. He’d first appeared in newspaper clippings a few months back, stopping petty theft, small-scale robberies, and things of that nature. 

For a straight week, you buried yourself in this work, and yet nothing came of it. A few more days passed, and you received a request for a job. Basic find and return type stuff, and it was from a group you’d worked with in the past, the Blue Growlers.

You met up with their liaison in an alleyway, who laid out the details.

“Hello there.”

“Hey.” You said through your mask.

“Here’s the basics.” He handed you an envelope which contained a fat wad of cash, a picture, a name, and an address. 

“We need him back. $3,500 paid up front, and twenty five hundred once you return him.”

“The usual, no witnesses?”

“Mhm.”

“Alrighty,” You tucked the packet into your jacket pocket, “Can I ask why y’all are willing to pay so much to get a child back?”

“Eddie’s the boss’s kid.”

“Ah, that makes sense. Pleasure doing business with you.”

The child was being held at the main base of the rival gang. The Diamond Bulls.  You knew their base like the back of your hand, from the countless times they’d hired you. If all went right, they’d never have to know tonight was you, and you could continue getting jobs from them. The Diamond Bulls were one of your biggest paying customers, and frequent ones, too. Logically, you knew that they wouldn’t find out, but deep down you worried. 

Silently, you floated on a pane up the side of the building. You drifted from window to window and peered inside. A few windows later, you saw a kid playing in the dark. Just as you were about to open the window, you spotted another child. Had the Diamond Bulls abducted two? Or was this kid unrelated?

Either way, you still had to retrieve the boy. You opened the window, and quietly entered. The kids were young, around four years old. As soon as they saw you, they dove back into the bed, and pretended to be asleep.

“Is one of you Eddie?” You asked. They gave no reply.

“It’s okay, your dad just sent me to bring you back home.” From under the blankets, you heard a whispered conversation.

“I believe them.”

“But I want you to stay and play!”

“We could have a playdate?”

“Mm… Okay.”

The boys poked their heads out of the blanket. 

“I’ll go with you.” Eddie said. “But can it wait a few minutes? I wanna keep playing with my friends.”

“I’m sorry Eddie, but we’ve gotta go now.” You shook your head, “Your dad’s really worried about you.”

“No no no!” Eddie stomped his feet, “I want to play longer!”

“Kid quit it.” You warned, but it was too late. Someone had heard him. A man walked into the room.

“Kid you’re supposed to be asleep! Oh.” He said, “It’s you.”

“Mhm.” You flung him against the wall, and used a pane to decapitate him in a single stroke. Scooping up Eddie, you covered his mouth with one hand, and created a panel with the other. Once on the ground, you didn’t slow down. 

Not long later, you showed up at the Blue Growler’s front door with a kid tucked under your arm and a bloody hand. He was welcomed with open arms. When someone tried to hand you the rest of your payment, you declined.

“What?” He asked, “Why?”

“I didn’t complete the job to the agreed upon specifications.” You said, handing back the payment from earlier, “In other words: I failed.”

“But the kid’s home safe, how did you fail?”

“I left a witness.”

From that day on you never got any work from the Blue Growlers, or the Diamond Bulls. They didn’t like failure, or being backstabbed. For a good stretch, you had to take every job you could. The smaller gangs you now worked with were worse at the whole ‘secrecy’ thing. So, Spider-Man often intercepted you.

You two had a few interactions, but you usually beat him. If you weren’t winning, you always made sure to get out of there before being captured was a real threat. It became a stalemate, neither one of you ever truly beating the other. He saw your attacks coming, and you could counter his.

One night someone contacted you to discuss a job.  All he wanted was for you to destroy a power plant. If it was for less, you would have pressed further, but since the pay was more than you’d make in a year, you decided it was worth it.

After obtaining proof that he could pay, you started planning. 

The night finally came.

You were suited up, crouched on the roof of the power station. The squat main building was made of metal, concrete, and glass, one side was open to the air and filled with cables and wires strung back and forth. That’s one thing you’d have to be cautious of. There was a platform right in front of them from which you could fling panes into the inner workings of the station.

Just before the arranged time of 2:15, you dropped into the room. You conjured  a panel and readied it. Waiting, you stood with your back to the wires. 

Your watch beeped, prompting you to launch the first panel in an arc in front of you, tearing through metal with a horrible scraping sound. An alarm started blaring. As you pulled your arm back for another round, a spider’s web wrapped around it.

“Hey!” The familiar voice shouted from somewhere in the rafters, “You can’t just wreck the place!”

“Hello Spidey. Come to try to capture me again?”

“No! I’m here to stop you from tearing this power plant apart!”

“You’re a little late for that.” You said, motioning at the damage your first attack had done.

“Yeah, well. Not everybody’s perfect.” He flung himself at you, and managed to land a kick to your back, sending you flying forward. You thunked against a rail, and flicked a panel at him, propelling him to the side. Strange, he could normally see your attacks coming.

“How’d you even find out I was here?” You asked. Taking a good look at him, you could see his suit was a little tattered.

“Your crazy boss started ranting about his evil plan to shut off the city’s power after I beat him.” 

“I wasn’t aware I had a crazy boss.”

He slung a web and darted away just as a panel slammed into the wall. His footing was off. Sloppy. He didn’t swing right. Nevertheless, you lost your visual on him as he ascended into the rafters.

“Yeah, he was a weird one.” His voice echoed. “Did you ever think about the ethics of working for a madman bent on city-domination?”

“I never actually met him. Guess I shouldn’t trust strange men I meet on the internet?” You joked, catching a glimpse of red in the darkness.

“That’s for sure,” He laughed. “About the ethics, though. How do you reason through destroying a power plant?”

“First off, good pay.” You said, “Second, I figured this probably wouldn’t kill anyone since hospitals generally have a backup generator.” Without looking, you hurled a pane where you had seen him seconds prior, but he wasn’t there. Instead he came from behind you, and kicked you backwards. You dragged him with you, and while tumbling, you managed to fling him off.

Directly into the live wires behind you.

A horrible screaming filled the air. They sounded terrified. The scent of charred flesh clogged the air. Quickly, you slashed the lines using a panel. He dropped to the ground draped in power cables and covered in burns. 

“Help!” He cried, “May! Please help me!”

Gasping for breath, he tore his mask off, revealing a much younger face than you’d anticipated.

“Wait, fuck.” You said, walking over, “How old are you?”

“What?” He wheezed.

“Just tell me.”

“I’m fifteen.” He answered. Immediately, your demeanor shifted from cold and gloating, to intensely concerned.

“Oh fuck. I’m so sorry. You’re with the Avengers, right? They’ve probably got a doctor or something at their tower.” As you knelt down next to him, you reached out a hand, and he flinched.

“Shh,” You said, mentally mapping out the fastest route to Avengers Tower, “It’s okay. What’s your name?”

“Peter.”

“Okay Peter, I’m gonna get you help.” You reached your arms around him and lifted. Standing, with him like a backwards backpack, you stepped onto a panel. Since you needed to move your arms to move them, you’d just make a temporary path and leap from sheet to sheet.

“I need you to keep talking, can you do that?”

“Yeah.” He said, “I think so.”

You started running on your path above the half-darkened city, and he quietly mumbled about his aunt. Sometimes his voice would trail off, and the first two times you could prompt him and he’d keep talking. 

“Peter?” You asked breathlessly, “You were telling me about your friend Ned.”

No reply.

Pausing for a brief moment to readjust, you glanced down. A hundred stories off the ground, dizzying. All you could do was focus on conjuring the next panel in front of you and leaping to it. Again and again. The cold night air swept past you as you ran. 

Finally, your feet touched down on a windowsill, and you bolted inside.

By sheer luck, you stumbled into the med bay. It was empty, but you could hear the sounds of laughter echoing from a distant room. You laid Peter down on one of the beds, and rushed towards the noise. 

The corridor opened onto a balcony overlooking a small party. It looked like the Avengers and a few friends.

“Hey!” You screamed, “There’s a burnt bitch in your med bay. He needs a doctor.” Two people got up and followed you back to Peter. One was Captain America, and the other was a woman you didn’t recognize. 

“Tell me what happened.” She said as she started assessing Peter.

“Fight at the power plant, and I flung him into a web of live wires.”

“How long has he been unconscious?”

“He blacked out three or so minutes ago.”

She nodded and continued working. By now Stark had joined y’all, and upon recognizing the mask that still covered your face, he told the Captain to escort you to a cell. You knew that if you left you might never know if Peter survived, plus you were exhausted from the fight and sprinting across New York, so you went without argument. They did take your mask, which made you feel strangely vulnerable.

And so, the next morning you found yourself contained in a cylindrical glass cell. Captain Rogers himself came to talk with you.

“Morning.” He said.

“Hey.” You faced away from him.

“I’m Steve Rogers. What’s your name?”

“It’s Y/n.”

“What were you doing at the power plant?”

“Destroying it.”

“Why?”

“Somebody paid me to.”

“Did you know you were assisting in terrorism?”

“Eh,” You shrugged, “I could’ve made an educated guess maybe.”

“You could have helped to kill countless people!”

“Don’t pretend you’re so high and mighty. You sent a child out to fight me!”

“What do you mean?” His eyebrows knit together in confusion.

“What do you mean ‘what do you mean?’” You turned to face him, realization dawning, “Oooh! Stark didn’t tell you?” You laughed at him for a solid few seconds.

“Cut it out and explain.”

“Sure, sure. I just find it funny that you didn’t know Spider-Man is fifteen. The Avengers, always talking about Saving the World, Morals, and Doing the Right Thing, sent a kid into battle with a known killer!”

“We didn’t know. I swear we didn’t know!”

“It still happened, whether you knew or not. How is he?”

“Dr. Cho managed to stabilize him.” He sighed, and looked down at a set of questions he was supposed to ask, “But we’re getting off topic.” He asked general questions, what are your motives, how did you get your powers, that kinda thing.

“You say these panels of glass you make are unbreakable,” Steve said, “Why haven’t you escaped yet?”

“I don’t really have a reason to.” You replied, “Here I get to chat with interesting fellows such as yourself. Trust me, if I wanted out, I would be.”

“I find that hard to believe. I think we caught you and you just don’t want to admit it to yourself."

“Listen to me closely,” You said, slamming a panel through the glass, shattering the entire wall. Shards of glass tinkled onto the floor around you.

“If I wanted to leave, I would.”

“What’s going on? I know for a fact, you aren’t staying here.” He raised an eyebrow in question.

Letting out a frustrated huff, you pondered what to say, opening and closing your mouth several times as the gears of your mind turned.

“Hey mister Stark.” Peter’s voice rang through your ears.

Somersaults began tumbling in your stomach, as heat danced along your cheeks.

“Oh,” Peter’s surprise was evident in his voice. His features softened when he glanced at you. “Hey, Y/N. I…I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“Yeah, you and me both kid.” Tony chimed in bringing Peter’s attention back to him. “Is there something you need, kid?”

“Uh, I..” Peter frowned as he scrunched his eyebrows together. “I don’t remember..”

As both men before you, had their attention on one another, you slowly backed up before silently getting into the elevator and escaping your dad. For the moment.

Scoffing Tony, turned back to the direction you were previously in. Rolling his eyes, a groan passed his lips when he saw you had disappeared.

—

Putting your belongings away, you were startled by the sudden knock on your door. Before you could stop yourself, you were already responding.

“Uh, I’m not here!”

The sound of Peter’s chuckle made the somersaults return.

“Yeah, I can tell.” The smile upon his lips, evident in his voice.

Opening the door, you wrapped your hand around Peter’s wrist all but yanking him into your room. Shutting the door, you turned back towards Peter. A surprised gasp escaped your lips when you were met with a wall of muscle.

Heat returned to your cheeks, as your mouth suddenly became dry. With all the strength you could muster, you tore your eyes away from his biceps, meeting his awaiting eyes.

“I, uh.” His voice sounding flustered.

Smirking, you gathered yourself before taking a step towards Peter. “What? Cat got your tongue?” You questioned in the best sultry tone you could create.

Judging by Peter’s stiffening stance, you knew it worked.

Tuting, you began circling him. Reaching up, you allowed your hand to trace along his skin and shirt feather lightly, behind your steps. Once your rounded back to his front, you found Peter standing before you with his eyes closed and his head slightly tiled back. His chest rising and falling rapidly. Taking a step closer, you were chest to chest.

Lacing your hand in his loose curls, you gave him a harsh yet gently tug, earning a groan from peter. Smirking, you traced his jawline with your nose, feeling the warmth radiating off of him. Nipping at the skin just below his ear, Peter’s hands jolted out grasping your hips. Not allowing your mind to catch on, your back was met with the coolness the wall offered.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Peter’s hoarse voice sang. His nose tracing the shell of your ear. Closing your eyes, you maneuvered your head to allow him access to the area as well as making yourself comfortable. Your breath hitched in your throat as your mouth began watering.

Placing one of his hands underneath your jaw, he firmed grasped your throat, making you look at him with widened eyes. This was new to the both of you. Everyone had made you aware of his feelings for you and vice versa. Whenever you were around each other, there was invisible electricity that coursed through the air. It seemed to grow with each time you and Peter were with one another. Neither of you acted on the strong feeling until now.

“Baby.” He commanded, causing you to open your eyes as the tumbling in your stomach reached high and low. “I asked you a question.” He taunted, nipping at your top lip while giving your throat a gently squeeze. Opening and closing your mouth, you were at a loss for words. As your mind raced, Peter mirrored your previous actions. Licking at the skin beneath your ear, he followed it with a nip as his hips pressed into yours trapping you between him and the wall. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as let it fall back as the wall allowed, while a pleasured gasp fell from your lips.

“Already drunk baby girl?” He questioned in your ear. His hot breath causing the hair on your arms to stand, while your heart began beating rapidly.

Your only response was a quiet hum.

“Aw.” He continued to taunt. His tongue darting out and tracing the shell of your ear, before meeting your tragus. Reaching up, you created crescent shapes in his shoulders.

Noticing your reaction, Peter lifted his thumb to your lips. Tracing along your bottom lip, he gently pulled the appendage before you got the hint allowing it entry into your mouth. Closing your lips around it, you began swirling your tongue around it in attempt to comment it to memory. Sucking gently, Peter let out a groan in response.

Laying his tongue flat, he licked the column of your throat, causing you both to moan in unison. Latching his lips to the skin beneath your jaw, he alternated between sucking and biting. Once he was content with the bruise forming, he moved on to create another one. After he was done, he removed his finger from your mouth, he placed both of his hands on the back of your head cradling you. Angling you about, Peter’s nose nudged yours. Placing a kiss to the corner of your lips, he kissed your chin giving it a gentle nip. Stiffening at the foreign feeling, your hands wound around his waist, closing any existing space between you.

Moaning quietly, you closed your eyes in the anticipation of a kiss. Peter’s tongue traced the seam of your lips, causing you to tighten your grip on him in response. Groaning at your actions, Peter placed a sweet kiss upon your lips. It was over much sooner than you would like, however it wasn’t much longer before it was heating up. Nipping at your top and bottom lip, he slotted his lips between yours. Pulling you back in, his tongue poked your lips asking for entrance. Opening your mouth, Peter tiled his head, allowing him better access. Snaking his tongue in, he lapped at your tongue, swirling around it while tracing along the creases of your mouth.

Peter began pulling away. Chasing after him, you closed your lips around his tongue lightly sucking. Another groan emitted from the man in front of you. After a few beats passed, you released him.

Resting his forehead against yours, your breaths mingled as you panted.

“That was..” Peter’s hoarse voice trailed off.

“Amazing.” You finished.

Placing a sweet chaste kiss to your lips, he opened his mouth to respond, only to be cut off by Steve.

“You two better not be doing what I think you are!”

Send me Feedback Here

Join my Taglist Here

Request a Part Two (Be sure to mention the title) Here

Requests are Open! Send your request Here

Taglist: