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justcallmehitgirl · 5 years ago

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Good Woman Part 1 (Peter Parker x Female Reader Smut)

Summary: Peter Parker can be a bit of a peeping Tom.

Warnings: voyeurism, exhibitionism, smut, suit!porn, and language

Word Count: 3200

A/N: I’ve been on a roll lately, and this just happened. Point of view switches between Peter to Y/N so hopefully it’s not too confusing. I don’t condone spying on people, but suspend some reality for this fic please.

(5/7/20): I fixed some typos, grammar mistakes, character inconsistencies, etc. from my original posting. I also made some stylistic changes.

PART TWO / PART THREE / PART FOUR / PART FIVE / PART SIX / PART SEVEN / PART EIGHT / PART NINE / PART TEN / STORY PAGE

He knows he shouldn’t. He feels downright sleazy. He’s the friendly, neighborhood Spider-Man. He’s someone that people admire and look up to. He’s an Avenger. But he’s also a seventeen-year-old hot-blooded male who can’t keep a boner down when a PG-13 sex scene pops up on screen.

It’s a dilemma Peter faces on a cool September night, the crisp air sending a shiver down his spine, as he peers inside your bedroom window. His eyes are fixed on you—lounging on your bed in nothing but an oversized shirt with your smooth legs stretched out in full display. The glow emanating from the TV screen illuminates your face, highlighting your features.

Peter is well-aware of your reputation at Midtown. You’re smart, pretty, and a tease—barely giving any attention to the boys at Midtown. You didn’t date (save for that one short-lived summer fling that became school-wide gossip), you rarely went to parties, and you never stayed out past curfew. You are, and have always been, way out of Peter’s league.

He’s known you since elementary school, silently observing you throughout the years even though you were in the grade above him. You've always been nice and polite to him, though. You always said “excuse me” when you brushed past him in the hallways, and you always gave him a small wave or smile whenever he accidentally made eye contact with you.

Peter has no idea if you even know his name, but he likes to think that you do.

He swears it’s a coincidence that he found your window. He had randomly swung by and landed on your fire escape to take a quick breather after stopping a petty theft down the street. He was about to leave when he spotted you from the corner of his eye, your presence taking him by surprise.

And as usual, Peter couldn’t stop himself from staring.

—

His heart beats rapidly as he stares at you sprawled across your bed—eyes glued to your TV, head propped up by a mountain of pillows. You let out a yawn, face contorting, with your arms stretched out above your head. Your shirt rides up, revealing a pair of black, polkadot panties.

Peter gulps, imagining his hands pushing your shirt up higher to expose more of you.

He swallows hard, knowing that this is an absolute abuse of power. He knows he should leave, but he stays rooted in his spot.

He continues gazing at you until your eyelids begin to droop, body relaxing against your mattress. Your mouth parts slightly while your chest rises and falls evenly.

Peter thinks you look like a princess in a fairy-tale.

He imagines running his fingers through your hair and tracing patterns over your soft, bare skin. He imagines the feel of your plush lips pressed against his while his hands roam over your body.

He frowns and glances away. He knows that it will never happen— girls like you didn’t give guys like him the time of day.

He hangs his head and exhales, quietly cursing himself under his breath. He starts to stand, but he senses movement from inside your bedroom. He crouches back down and cocks his head, eyes flickering with curiosity.

He takes in a sharp breath while his jaw practically drops to the ground. He gapes at you, pupils dilated, as your hand moves down your stomach and grazes the waistband of your underwear. He leans forward, feeling his cock instantly harden underneath his suit. He bites back a groan as he watches with building intensity as your hand disappears beneath the thin, cotton fabric.

Your back arches off the bed—fingers frantically moving over your clit, knuckles straining your underwear. Your body writhes, and you let out a soft whimper. You roll your head to the side, facing him.

He watches your face scrunch up in ecstasy. You bite your bottom lip, and your eyes flutter open.

Peter’s breath catches in his throat; he knows he’s fucked.

—

You blink, eyes adjusting. You immediately pale, eyes widening at the shadowy figure pressed against your window. Your heart lurches in your chest. You quickly rip your hand from your underwear and scramble off the bed. You stand on wobbly legs, bottom lip trembling as fear grips throat.

You step backwards until your body hits the wall, eyes frozen on his form. You cower against the wall and try to will your body to make a run for it. You size him up, taking in every detail even though he was bathed in shadows.

The figure holds his hands up and frantically shakes his head, his movements almost pleading.

You blink once, then twice—just before your eyes go wide with recognition, and your breath catches in your throat.

It’s Spider-Man.

You want to feel relieved. You’re well-aware of his superhero reputation—saving the Academic Decathlon team in D.C. and taking down Liz’s dad. But despite his prior good deeds, you continue to eye him warily. You had no idea who was underneath that mask, and your mind races through the possibilities—from a 30-something-year-old pervert to a deranged psychopath preying on high school girls.

You start to move towards your door—back still pressed up against the wall for support. He presses a hand on the window, almost begging for you to open it. You tilt your head as you start to wonder how long he’s been out there—and how much he saw. You shiver at the thought of him watching you, skin tingling.

You pause at your reaction, and your curiosity begins to gnaw at you.

You know you should run out of the room; maybe call the police or the national news while you’re at it—expose Spider-Man as being a total creep.

But another thought pops into your mind—one that sends a tingle down your spine.

You nibble on your bottom lip. You're known as being such a good girl—always coloring within the lines and following the rules. Your life has been dictated by your professional aspirations. You’ve spent your life carving out a respectable reputation as the responsible daughter, dependable friend, and exemplary student.

But at seventeen, you already felt weighted down by the pressure and expectations.

You seldom take any risks—always choosing the same ice-cream flavor, shopping at the same stores, and sticking to the same hairstyle. You even broke up with your first—and only boyfriend—because he tried to inch you too much out of your comfort-zone.

You suddenly feel a wave of exhaustion. You’re tired of feeling like you’ve been merely ambling through life and not actually living it; tired of being safe��of being just the good girl.

You slowly push yourself off the wall and step forward.

—

Peter knows he should leave, but he feels frozen in place. He watches you slowly pad across the carpet towards him, an unreadable expression on your face. You carefully push the window open, and he braces himself for your wrath—expecting you to yell at him or shoo him away.

But instead, you simply press a finger to your lips. He gawks at you, feeling dumbstruck. You wave your hand, motioning for him to come inside. He gulps and tentatively crawls through your window.

Once he enters, his senses are immediately assaulted by your scent. His eyes dart around the room, quickly taking in his surroundings—from the pink and purple hues covering the walls to your frilly bedsheets.

He looks over at you as you quietly shut the window close behind him. You turn to face him, eyes flickering with and nod towards your bed. He silently obeys, his body stiff as he takes a seat on the soft mattress.

He eyes you warily, almost afraid of what you’ll do next. You sit beside him, your body facing his side with your legs folded underneath you. He turns his head, and watches you tuck a piece of hair behind your ear and lick your lips. You scoot closer until your knees are lightly brushing against him, causing him to blush.

You slowly reach over, your fingers lightly grazing his gloved hand before taking it into your own. You splay your hand over his, your eyes fixed on his hand engulfing yours. He merely stares at you as you quietly play with his fabric-covered fingers.

“This is a strange material,” you murmur, eyes cast downward at your entwined hands.

He hesitates before clearing his throat. “It’s durable. . . and tear-resistant. It’s waterproof too.”

You look up, eyes sparkling. “You sound younger than I imagined,” you muse.

“You aren’t scared of me?”

You give him a half-shrug. “No, not really. I just. . . didn’t really think this far ahead.”

“I’m sorry for being a creep,” he blurts.

You shake your head. “Only a little creepy. . . d—do you do this this with a lot of girls?”

He immediately straightens. “I don’t! I—I’ve never done this before.”

“You’ve never been a peeping Tom or you’ve never seen a girl touch herself?” you tease.

He hesitantly mutters, “Both.”

You purse your lips and pause, cheeks turning pink. You tilt your head. “Are you a virgin?”

Peter bites the inside of his cheek and looks away. He quickly ponders whether he should tell you the truth. As Spider-Man, he can say anything he wants—be whoever he wants.

He looks back up and opens his mouth, but your doe-eyed look gives him pause. He merely nods in response.

“Me too,” you breathe. “It’s not a religious thing or anything like that. I just haven’t found the right person to do it with.”

You look down and continue playing with his fingers, twisting and entwining them with yours.

“I feel pretty silly right now,” you whisper. “You probably thought I was some experienced sex goddess or something when I invited you inside. Instead I’m just pathetic and lonely.”

He frowns. “Hey, don’t say that. You’re amazing.”

You look up, brows raised. “How would you know that? You don’t even know my name.”

Peter flinches, inwardly scolding himself. “I mean, you seem very. . . put together,” he mumbles.

Your mouth twitches before you let out a soft giggle. “Inviting a stranger into my bedroom is the exact opposite of being put together, don’t you think?”

“Fair enough,” he chuckles lightly.

Your eyes roam over his covered face, smile fading as your eyes burn with curiosity. “Do we know each other?”

Peter stiffens, jaw tight. You look at him inquisitively, waiting for an answer. He knows he should tell you the truth—ripe it off like a band-aid. But instead he just frowns and shakes his head.

Silence fills the room again.

“I wish I could kiss you,” you blurt.

He tenses.

“Oh my god,” you groan. “I’m sorry. . . just forget I said that.”

Peter quickly breathes, “Okay.”

Your eyes widen. “R—really?”

He lets go of your hand and clutches the bottom of his mask. He hesitates slightly before lifting it up right underneath his nose, revealing his jaw and lips.

You gulp. “You have very nice lips.”

He gives you a crooked smile. “No girl has ever said that to me before.”

“Well I guess tonight is a bunch of firsts for both of us.”

He nods in agreement.

“I—I’m going to kiss you now,” you announce. It sounds more for yourself than for him, he muses.

“Okay,” he murmurs.

Your hand cups his cheek, your breath softly caressing his exposed skin. You lean towards him and tilt your head. His heart pounds as your mouth hovers over his.

Peter feels a surge of confidence and closes the space between you, pressing his lips to yours. He closes his eyes, feeling electricity move through his veins as he kisses you. He’s never felt more alive.

Your soft lips kiss him back, and you slide your hand to his neck to tug him closer. He pours everything he has been feeling for so many years into the kiss. He wishes he could tell you how long he’s been wanting to do this.

He pulls back and smiles brightly. “Wow,” he breathes.

Your eyes flutter open, pupils flared. Without hesitation, you surge forward and kiss him with so much fervor and passion that that he thinks he’s going to pass out. Your tongue traces the seam of his mouth, and he parts his lips to welcome your probing tongue.

Peter pulls back and trails wet kisses down your chin to your neck. You tip your head back and moan. He grips your waist and swiftly lifts you up onto his lap. You settle on him.

“Oh,” you cry.

Your face flushes, and you take your bottom lip between your teeth, his hard bulge pressing against you—separated by his suit and your panties. You grab his shoulders, anchoring yourself as you begin to move over him, movements slow and tentative.

He splays a hand on your back while his other hand tentatively plays with the edge of your shirt. He pushes it up, and you gasp as his gloved hand touches your bare stomach.

“Is this okay?” he breathes against your neck. “Should I stop?”

You place your hands on his chest, and he lifts his head up. You grab the hem of your shirt and pull it over your head in one fluid motion. He leans back, mouth falling open while his eyes hungrily drink in the sight of your bare chest.

“You’re so beautiful,” he blurts.

You bite at your bottom lip and blush. He reaches to brush a knuckle just under the swell of your breast. Your body trembles slightly as your lashes flutter. He licks his lips, sliding his hand over your skin and smoothing his thumb over your nipple. He cups your breast and squeezes softly while an airy gasp tumbles out of your mouth.

He leans forward and swipes his tongue over your other breast, lips closing around your nipple. You whimper as he sucks it softly into his mouth while he tweaks the other between his fingers. He licks at your skin, and you let out a breathy whine.

“P-please touch me,” you beg, sliding his hand down towards your pussy.

He eagerly pushes your soaked underwear, dragging his fingers over your damp folds. He lets out a strangled groan, his mouth watering as your slick coats his fingers.

“I didn’t know it could be this wet,” he says in awe.

He slides his fingers up and down your slit until his thumb finds your clit. He presses on it, and you let out a soft sigh.

“There?” he asks, and you fervently nod.

He starts rubbing your clit in steady strokes, eyes glued on your face as he studies your reactions—making adjustments to the pressure and direction depending on your expression. Soft moans fill the air as you continue grinding on his covered cock, your movements increasing with need. You claw at his shoulders, your breathing growing more and more restless.

“I—I’m almost there,” you pant.

He circles his thumb faster over your clit, and you start to tremble. You bury your face in the crook of his neck to muffle your cries as you tip over the edge. Your body spasms relentlessly, legs quaking.

You shudder in his arms and breathe heavily. He presses kisses on your naked shoulders and pulls his hand away from your clit. He holds you close as you come down, wilting in his arms.

“Was that good?” he whispers.

You lift your head up and look at him, eyes half-lidded. “You did amazing.”

His mouth curves in a wide smile. He reaches gently caresses your cheek. “I can’t believe you’re even real.”

You rub his jaw affectionately. “I feel like I know you from somewhere,” you murmur.

Peter swallows, smile faltering for a moment. He quickly forces a small chuckle. “Of course you do. I’m your friendly, neighborhood Spider-Man.”

You roll your eyes and snort, “Right."

He presses his lips against yours, the kiss soft and slow. He pulls away and glances at the clock on your nightstand. “Shit,” he frowns. “I have to go.”

You draw your lower lip between your teeth and nod. You lift yourself up off his lap, taking a step back to bend down and grab your discarded shirt. You slip it over your head and toss your hair over the collar. He rises from the bed and tugs his mask down over the rest of his face. You fiddle with the hem of your shirt as you follow him to your window.

“Will you come back?” you blurt, pursing your lips.

He faces you, cocking his head. “Y—you want me to?”

You bat your lashes and nod enthusiastically in response.

“Then I will,” he says softly. He crawls out the window, feet landing on the fire escape.

“Hey Spidey!” you call out, and he whirls around. “Knock next time, okay?” you wink, eyes sparkling.

He chuckles softly and nods before turning to disappear into the night.

—

Back in his bedroom, Peter lies in his bed, his arm folded underneath his head as he stares up at the ceiling. He smiles to himself, body buzzing with excitement, thinking about the next time he’ll see you. He lifts his hand up and eyes it closely. He chews on his bottom lip, basking in the memory of all the things that his hands did with you—to you.

He may be Spider-Man, but he knows tonight was all Peter Parker. He thinks that maybe, just maybe, he might not be totally out of your league after all.

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tinymixtapes · 7 years ago

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Column: Favorite Rap Mixtapes of September 2017

With a cascade of releases spewing from the likes of DatPiff, LiveMixtapes, Bandcamp, and SoundCloud, it can be difficult to keep up with the overbearing yet increasingly vital mixtape game. In this column, we aim to immerse ourselves in this hyper-prolific world and share our favorite releases each month. The focus will primarily be on rap mixtapes — loosely defined here as free (or sometimes free-to-stream) digital releases — but we’ll keep things loose enough to branch out if/when we feel it necessary. (Check out last month’s installment here.) --- --- Kodie Shane - Back From the Future [STREAM · DOWNLOAD] Though Back From the Future’s artwork might imply the vast, dystopian cityscapes of Blade Runner or Neo Tokyo, Kodie Shane’s newest tape administers the same amount of concise introspection as past standout offerings like “Hands Up” and “Losing Service.” The most visible member of Lil Yachty’s Sailing Team clique dabbles in her own Soundcloud-influenced riff on the New Jack Swing sound of the mid-80s, spitting hypnotic hooks atop jazzy guitar chords on opener “Get Right” and later belting out a vaguely gothic synth-pop banger in the form of “Normal.” Shane also returns from the future with a few tracks that feel ahead of their time: “Runway” milly-rocks its way through a hyper-melodic revamp of Playboi Carti’s current brand of sauce while “Level Up” trims Popcaan-esque rhythms with garlands of twee-pop keyboard. Though a quick seven-track listen, Back From the Future shines brilliantly in its ability to channel the zeitgeist while looking a few steps beyond. Whatever forthcoming time Kodie Shane’s returned from, it looks bright for her. –Jude Noel --- Young Nudy - Nudy Land [STREAM · DOWNLOAD] Young Nudy’s capable enough, but there’s some major right-place-right-time going on here. In addition to being 21 Savage’s cousin, he’s a friend, or at least frequent patron, of producer Pi’erre Bourne, a one-two punch of guaranteed rap success in 2017. At times, it feels as though this would be better (or at least as good) without Young Nudy — he hasn’t yet ascended to Carti-level mastery of riding Bourne’s year-defining beats. Yet there’s something to be said for curation - in fact, for mixtapes, it’s the very genesis of the form. Without Young Nudy, there’s no Nudy Land — without Nudy Land, there’s no next step to take. There’s enough here to keep you checking for the next one. –Corrigan B --- Standing On the Corner - Red Burns [STREAM · DOWNLOAD] Red Burns, most likely a reference to the way white people get cancer and die from the sun, is an audio book in the Prince Paul tradition, which is to say it’s sardonically funny and delineated by turn-the-page tones. It’s probably more definitively free than it is rap or a mixtape, and though they say it’s about not being able to breathe, it moves with ease. You might remember the name Standing On the Corner from our September 2016 mixtape column. This is the same group, but with a whole new vitality. And between this and Poor Boy, my man Slauson Malone’s making a strong bid for beats of the year. Last weekend, it was 90 degrees in New York City and 40 degrees in Reno, Nevada. Something’s cooking. –Samuel Diamond --- Fredo Santana - Fredo Kruger 2 [STREAM · DOWNLOAD] The best 300 (and family) mixtapes always drop in the fall, when that weird glow comes over the city as evening falls: Keef’s Back From the Dead 2, Durk’s Signed to the Streets, Reese’s Supa Savage, and of course, Fredo Santana’s It’s a Scary Sight. Fredo Kruger 2, Santana’s second mixtape of 2017, is both a reprise and a refinement in the oeuvre of the 300/OTF/SSR family’s wildest member. (Mostly) gone are both the one-take autotune rambles of mid-period Fredo and the maximal grind of Scary Sight. Instead, we find ourselves in eerie, echo-filled horrorscapes, where Fredo finds plenty of headroom to talk his shit, count his money, and mourn his losses. All the old collaborators found here have undergone stylistic changes since 2013 (when the first Fredo Kruger dropped), but the most refreshing thing about FK2 is that the whole crew is still doing their thing in unexpected ways, sometimes all on the same track: on mid-album banger “Go Live,” Sosa, Fredo, Ballout, Tadoe, and even the late Capo’s younger brother DooWop trade verses over a twisted Southside beat. Just in time for Halloween. –Nick Henderson --- Chief Keef - The W [STREAM · DOWNLOAD] A chief beneficiary of the Chicago drill fascination of a few years back, Keith Cozart hasn’t gotten quite enough love since rap fans moved on briefly to “bop” and then into the de-territorialized fog of SoundCloud rap. After all, he was pumping out hooks whose melodies could have been ripped from pop punk songs and half-snarling verses in breathy staccato long before these became commonplace on the radio. Fresh off the largely self-produced career highlights Thot Breaker and Two Zero One Seven, he’s reconvened with mixtape authorities like Zaytoven and 808 Mafia and returned to the basic palette that launched his career. Less adventurous and downright weird than his self-produced releases, The W is also more concise and aggressive. Where recent mixtapes derived a loose, homespun character from sparse instrumentals and inconsistent mastering, the focus here is solely on Keef’s wordplay, in something closer to the fashion of the Bang series. Here, he’s best captured running playfully through insults on “Germs” and trading bars with Lil Bibby and Ballout on “Musty,” though the more essential image might be the one on the cover of him hotboxing the glossy plastic interior of an action figure box — The W continues Cozart’s creative practicing of capturing himself, and all of his adaptability and cartoonish humor, in miniature. –Will Neibergall --- UnoTheActivist - Sorry For The Wait (Brooke’s Interlude) [STREAM · DOWNLOAD] Acting as a de facto prologue to his recently-released LiveShyneDie mixtape, Sorry For The Wait isn’t the pregnant pause its title suggests. It’s more of an inhale that precedes a more polished sigh, finding Uno slurping up buzz-worthy Soundcloud motifs like a traphouse Kirby, minus the bulbous pink exterior. In 4 short bursts, the Atlanta-based trapstar spends the duration of the tape regurgitating a sometimes-sickly amalgam of Trippie Redd’s pop-punk brattiness, Young Thug’s penchant for breathless triplet flows, and those purring synth textures that stand in for power chords on Playboi Carti’s “wokeuplikethis”. What’s left spattered across the floor is a eyeliner-tear-stained tribute to the sweeping hooks of mid-00s pop rock, sneaking shades of Paramore or Avril Lavigne into dreamy production that combines driving beats and wailing melodies like an old Rites of Spring CD. “You’re Back” is the cream of the crop here, hustling at a sprinter’s pace to the screech of a Pokemon Red & Blue sample. I sip with tension, Uno sputters, clammy hands shaking neurotically as they’re wrapped around a double cup. “I write like a pencil.” –Jude Noel --- Peewee Longway - The Blue M&M 3 [STREAM · DOWNLOAD] Peewee Longway had a very good summer. Despite a bizarre, ongoing cycle of retirement and return, his career is in great health — the videos for Blue M&M 3 singles “Rerocc” and “Stepped On” both have view counts in the millions, and his appearance on NBA YoungBoy’s “Wat Chu Gone Do” made the track a highlight of the AI YoungBoy tape. Combine that with by far the best nickname in the game (marrying his Crip affiliation and impossibly rotund figure), and it’s a bit of a mystery as to why Longway hasn’t blown up. No matter; fame or not, Longway’s output has been consistently outstanding since his breakout in the heady Lobby Runners days of early 2014. The Blue M&M 3 is no exception. –Corrigan B http://j.mp/2fVCK54

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justcallmehitgirl · 5 years ago

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Good Woman Part 4 (Peter Parker x Female Reader Smut)

Summary: Peter knows he’s getting in too deep.

Word Count: 4700

Warnings: smut, language, fluff, and some angst.

A/N: Sorry for the delay! I meant to get this chapter out sooner, but I’ve been bar prepping during the day so my writing has been limited to my nights. I’m excited to see where this story goes so I hope you enjoy this chapter. Things are about to get interesting is all I can say for now. As always, thank you for reading! Your support really means a lot to me and inspires me to continue writing.

(4/21/20): I fixed some typos, grammar mistakes, character inconsistencies, etc. from my original posting. I also made some stylistic changes.

PART ONE / PART TWO / PART THREE // PART FIVE / PART SIX / PART SEVEN / PART EIGHT / PART NINE / STORY PAGE

“You wanna come over and watch ‘Batman v. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles’ after school? I just downloaded it yesterday!” Ned exclaims, bouncing on his feet excitedly.

Peter glances over, readjusting the strap of his backpack over his shoulder as students hastily brush past them towards the entrance doors, signaling that it’s the end of another day.

He gives Ned a half-smile. “Sorry man, I can’t today. I gotta work on some stuff.”

Ned’s eyes dart around cautiously before leaning in and whispering, “Spider-Man related stuff?”

Peter shakes his head. “No, just academic decathlon-related stuff.”

Ned knits his brows. “Academic decathlon? But you haven’t been to practice in weeks.”

Peter massages the back of his neck, his forehead creasing. “Yeah about that, I talked to Mr. Harrington and I’m stepping down from the team—”

“Dude, you can’t! You’re the only one who aced Physics, you can’t leave us!”

“Relax Ned, it’s all good cause I’ll be helping out with coaching instead.”

Ned knits his brows. “But Y/N Y/L/N’s in charge of coaching?”

“Yeah, I’m actually meeting up with Y/N after school.”

Ned stops in his tracks, placing a hand on Peter’s arm.

“Wait, I think I hallucinated for a second. What are you doing after school?”

“I’m meeting up with Y/N.”

“Holy shit, you’re seriously going to hang out with Y/N? When did you start talking to Y/N?!”

“Chill, Ned, it’s not a big deal,” Peter shrugs, continuing to walk forward as Ned follows.

“Not a big deal? She’s one of the prettiest and smartest girls in our school. And you were just saying how hard you’ve been crushing on her for years.”

“Shhh, Ned! Besides, that was like a month ago.”

“So you don’t like her anymore?” Ned asks, raising his brows.

“I never said that.”

“So you’re in love with her?”

“Ned,” Peter groans. “It’s complicated.”

“How? When? I need details, Peter!”

Peter licks his lips, contemplating whether Ned should know the entire story.

“She just sat next to me in art class the other day and we started talking and then she asked me for help.”

“I can’t believe she asked you for help. You know she doesn’t give any guy at this school the time of day, right?”

“Gee thanks, Ned. And so what? She has a right to spend her time as she wants. She’s a busy person with a lot of responsibilities. She wants to go Ivy League you know.”

Ned just shakes his head. “You got it bad for her, huh?”

Peter rolls his eyes, stopping outside the doors of the library.

“I’m meeting her here.”

“You are one lucky dude.”

If he only knew, Peter thinks.

“Let me come with you,” Ned beams, tugging on Peter’s arm.

“What? No way!”

“C’mon, I need some entertainment this afternoon since you’re bailing on me.”

“Ned. . .”

“Alright, alright, I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone then.”

Peter playfully shoves Ned’s shoulder. “Thanks man, I’ll see you later.”

Peter heads inside, taking a quick look over his shoulder to see Ned still watching him intently. He motions for Ned to leave, who throws his arms up in mock frustration as he walks away.

Peter scans the library, his breath quickening as his eyes land on you. sitting at a table by yourself. You’re sitting alone, your chin resting on the palm of your hand with your eyes cast down at a textbook. Peter’s eyes are wide as he gazes at you for a few moments, admiring your serene expression. He’s become so used to being with you alone in the confines of your cozy bedroom, where it’s just the two of you wrapped up in each other, that it’s a bit jarring seeing you in such a similar state in public.

His hands feel clammy, imagining how to interact with you outside your bubble. He wonders if you’ll figure it out. Peter knows you’re smart—he’s sure you’ll figure it out eventually. But lately he’s been wondering what sort of image you’ve built in your mind as to Spider-Man’s true identity. He wonders if you think he’s some sort of suave Tony Stark-type, or a rugged Steve Rogers.

But he knows for a fact that you’ve probably never considered it could be him: Peter Parker. Peter Parker from Queens with no parents and no money who lives with his aunt in a cramped two-bedroom apartment. The same Peter Parker who spilled milk all over himself in the third grade, got teased every day in middle school, and was too much of a coward to tell you to your face how much he likes you.

Peter frowns and wonders if he’s actually jealous of his alter ego—his alter ego who got to hold you, kiss you, and touch you all over. He thinks he’s going crazy. But he knows that even though him and Spider-Man are one in the same, one got to call you his while the other would only ever pine for you.

The more he ponders, the more he just wants to turn right back around, walk out of the building, and watch “Batman v. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles” with Ned. He briefly thinks it’ll be easier to just make up some excuse to stay away from you at school.

But there’s a part of him that simply aches to be around you as himself and give you the things that Spider-Man can’t. His heart pounds, silently hoping that maybe one day he will.

Peter draws in a deep breath and rakes a hand through his hair before continuing towards you. He grips the strap of his backpack. “Hey.”

You look up and smile, eyes bright. “Hi Peter.”

Peter gulps, tugging on the collar of his shirt as he slips into the seat across from you. “What’re reading?”

“U.S. Government,” you respond, lifting it up to show him the red, white, and blue cover like you’re Vanna White.

He chuckles lightly and unzips his backpack to take out his laptop. “Who do you have?”

“Mr. Grant. He’s tough, but he really prepares you for his exams. Plus,” you lean in close, voice hushed, “I think he’s secretly a softie, but you didn’t hear that from me.”

“Duly noted.”

“Are you taking U.S. History now with Mrs. Taylor?”

Peter nods, booting up his laptop.

“Focus on the chapter takeaways at the end of each section. That’s where she usually gets her exam questions from. Oh, and try to volunteer a lot. She usually bumps up your grade if she sees you making an effort.”

“That’s super helpful, thanks,” Peter smiles.

“Of course,” you smile back and close your textbook. You both just smile at each other for a moment before you blink, looking away to start up your laptop. Peter clears his throat, cheeks flushed as he looks back at his computer screen.

“So, I was thinking,” you continue, “that we could go off of Mr. Harrington’s practice questions first. Then we can look online and compile some of our own. I found a bunch of older questions that they’ve asked in the past which we can use as a guide or something. Sound good?”

“Yeah definitely. I mean, I defer to the expert.”

“Great. Oh!” You reach down to dig through your backpack. “I brought index cards. I usually write the questions down on them so it’s easier to go through later.”

You fish out a few unopened packs before reaching across the table to offer them to Peter. He reaches over to take them, fingers lightly brushing against yours.

“Sorry,” he blushes, gripping the index cards tightly in his grasp.

“You’re fine,” you wave. “Thanks again for helping me with this. I was thinking about it more, and I realize I may have cornered you into it. I can be a little pushy.”

“Not at all,” Peter blurts quickly. “You didn’t corner me into it and you’re not pushy. I’m happy to help, and I’m pretty glad I can apart of the team in some way so I guess I should be the one thanking you for asking me.”

You smile. “We’ll call it even then. I feel the same too, by the way. I really miss being on the team if I’m being honest.”

“Why did you quit?”

You sigh heavily and shrug. “My course load is more intense this year so I had to make some changes. Plus I tutor after school so that’s absorbed a lot of my time.”

Peter cocks his head. “You tutor?”

“Yup, sixth and seventh grade math at Queens Rock Middle,” you beam.

“That’s really cool. Do you like it?”

“I love it. I feel like I’m really making a difference in their lives, which is pretty rewarding.”

“Yeah, I. . . uh. . . I wish I was helping people like you do,” he says lamely

Well, besides saving New York from impending doom from time to time, of course, he thinks.

“Well not to sign you up for something else, but they could always use more volunteers.”

Peter squints his eyes playfully. “I feel like you have a secret agenda going on here.”

“Of course, I need to groom a protege to take my place. It’s part of my evil master plan.”

“I doubt you have an evil bone in your body.”

You raise your brow. “Wanna bet?”

You eye him deviously, and Peter gulps—feeling a wave of tension blanket over you both. You suddenly laugh.

“I’m just kidding! Lighten up, Peter,” you tease.

Peter gives you a lopsided grin. He watches as your gaze lowers onto his mouth. Your smile falters.

He furrows his brows. “What?”

You blink and look away. “Nothing, it’s nothing. I was just thinking we have a lot to get through this afternoon so we should get on it,” you murmur, voice tight.

Peter simply nods in response, mouth settling in a hard line as you turn your attention towards your computer screen.

You sit in silence for the next hour. Peter chews on his bottom lip while occasionally stealing a few glances over at you. You keep your eyes cast downward, attention fixed on scribbling down questions on the index cards laid out in front of you. He watches as a piece of hair falls over your face, and he clenches his fist to stop himself from reaching over to tuck it behind your ear.

“Hey Y/N.”

You both look up. Peter’s eyes immediately narrows while his jaw tightens.

“Hi Brad,” you greet, voice even and stoic. Brad’s eyes dart between you and Peter before settling on you, ignoring Peter entirely.

“So, are you ready for the Calc test on Monday?”

You give a half-shrug and respond, “I think so, although I’m struggling a bit with derivatives.”

“Same,” Brad breathes, throwing his hands in the air. “I was struggling like crazy when Mrs. Park was first explaining it."

You chuckle, “Agreed.”

“Well, if you’re still struggling with it, w-would you maybe want to study together this weekend? I’m a big fan of study buddies.”

Peter grips his pen tightly, feeling it start to snap in his hand. He wants to shout, Back off, Brad. She’s mine. Peter immediately admonishes himself—recognizing that such an outburst would be entirely weird and inappropriate. He knows you aren’t his, or even Spider-Man’s. You didn’t belong to anybody.

“Oh that’s so nice, I really appreciate the offer, Brad. But I prefer to study by myself. I’m not really great studying with other people, tend to get too distracted and stuff.”

Peter can sense that you notice Brad’s look of defeat so you add politely, “I’ll definitely let you know if I change my mind though.”

“Yeah, of course. It’s no problem, Y/N. I’m free whenever.”

You nod and plaster a smile on your face. Peter’s forehead creases as he watches Brad continue to gawk at you. You blink and smack your lips together. “So. . . um, me and Peter have to get back to writing up questions for academic decathlon.”

Your voice shakes Brad out of his stupor, face flushing. “Oh yeah sure, I’ll. . . uh. . . see you later.”

He waves awkwardly and hastily scurries away. You shake your head and continue working.

“I think he likes you,” Peter pipes in, eyes cast down as he busily scribbles on an index card.

You glance up, nose crinkling. “Brad? No way.”

“He was practically drooling over you,” Peter remarks.

“You think so?”

Peter purses his lips. “I’m sure of it.”

You smile. “Brad’s not a bad guy.”

“Are you. . . like. . . interested?”

You bit your lip to stifle a laugh. “No, not at all. Brad’s nice, but I wouldn’t want to go out with him.”

“Oh, okay,” Peter mumbles.

“Plus, just between us, I—I’m already seeing someone actually.”

Peter perks up at your response, but he keeps his eyes cast down. “Really? Do I know him?”

“No, he doesn’t go to Midtown.”

“College guy, huh?”

You laugh. “Umm… no. Well, I don’t think so actually.”

“Is it serious?”

You bite your lip. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Well, he sounds like a really lucky guy.”

“No, I'm pretty sure I’m the lucky one,” you beam, a flush creeping on your face as you turn your attention back to your index cards.

Peter quickly glances at you while the corner of his mouth subtly lifts.

—

Peter does not move at first, body pressed near your window as he observes you.

You’re lying on your bed, a pillow tucked under your chest as your eyes scan your computer screen. He takes in the sight of you, from your oversized sweatshirt to your form-fitting black leggings. You toy with a lock of hair, the light emanating from the computer softly illuminating your face.

Peter finally lifts his hand to lightly knock, watching your head jerk in his direction. You smile brightly, waving your hand to motion for him to enter. He obeys, pushing open the window and slipping inside. You quickly shut your laptop close, moving it aside. You sit up as he approaches you, lifting up his mask to give you a kiss.

“How are you?” you ask against his lips.

“Better now that I’m with you.”

“You’re such a sap,” you tease.

“I can’t help it, I’m with the girl of my dreams.”

You narrow your eyes at him playfully. “Are you just trying to butter me up?”

“Me? Not at all.”

You shake your head and look away bashfully.

“Hey,” he says, lifting your chin up with his finger so you’re looking at him. “I want to show you something.”

You tilt your head, and he grabs your hand. You stand up, and he leads you towards the window, gently tugging you along as he pulls his mask back down. You turn your head, and quickly glance over at your bedroom door. Will your parents notice that you’re gone?, you think. Would they freak out? Call the cops? Should you risk it?

But those thoughts are quickly squashed by the warm feeling in your chest as you bend down to crawl through the window, his hands lightly grasping your hips in support. As your feet land on the fire escape, your body straightens, your eyes looking up at the night sky.

Peter stands beside you, and you turn, brows quirked. “Where are we going?”

“Do you trust me?”

You nod in response, and he pulls you close to him. He wraps his arms around your waist. “Hold onto me,” he whispers, voice hot and soft against the shell of your ear.

You loop your arms around his neck. “Okay,” you breathe.

You glance down, body tensing and bottom lip trembling.

“Are you okay?” He runs his arms over your hips.

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

“Ready?”

“No,” you chuckle nervously.

Peter peers down at you, his voice soft and soothing to compensate for his covered face. “Hey, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You reluctantly nod and Peter exhales deeply. He takes a few steps backward before leaping off the fire escape, your face immediately burying in the crook of his neck as you shut your eyes tightly. Your hair whips in the wind as Peter swings over the bustling city below, your grip tightening around his shoulders as you let out a surprised shriek at he momentum.

“Don’t be afraid!” Peter shouts, glancing down at you.

You breathe in deeply before lifting your head and opening your eyes. You blink as you hesitantly looks down, your eyes roaming over the cars zipping through the streets, the lights shining from street lamps, and the crowds of people drifting down the sidewalks.

“Everything looks so tiny,” you murmur, awe transforming your face.

“It’s cool, right?”

You look up, your eyes glistening as you nod excitedly. He grins underneath his mask, tightening his hold on you as he continues swinging from building to building. Your wide eyes dart around, mesmerized by the sight as you clutch him close as your heart beats wildly.

Neither of you had been in love before, but the thought crosses both your minds: “Maybe this is love.”

He feels you nuzzle your face against his chest, your body still and relaxed as you continue absorbing the sights and sounds surrounding you.

Peter eventually slows his movements, spotting a good place to stop and rest.

Once his feet meet the rooftop, you untangle yourself from his arms, jumping up and down exuberantly.

“Holy shit, that was amazing! I can’t believe you can do that all the time!”

“It’s one of the perks of the job.”

“Does it ever get old?”

Peter shakes his head. “No way, sometimes I’m just jumping out of my skin to get out here. To be above the ground, it makes me feel like a bigger part of the world.”

“Thank you for this.”

“I know I can’t give you much right now, and I can’t take you out on dates dressed like. . . this, but I wanted to show you a little piece of my world.”

“I really appreciate that.”

You pause for a moment, your forehead creasing before you continue, “Do you think you’d do this forever? The whole superhero thing I mean?”

“I honestly I don’t know. I feel like I should though. You see, when you can do the things that I can do and you don’t and then the bad things happen. . . they happen because you didn’t do anything to stop them.”

“That sounds like quite a lot to carry on your shoulders.”

Peter gives you a half-shrug. “You get used to it.”

You nod before looking away, your head tilting as you gaze up at the dark sky.

Peter watches you, your mouth

“It’s quite a sight,” you murmur.

His eyes never leave you as he responds, “It is.”

You hug yourself, your body shivering as a cool autumn breeze envelopes you.

“Cold?”

“Just a little.”

He pulls you into his arms, hugging you close as he strokes your back. He feels you relax against him, enjoying the warmth emanating from his suit.

“My brown-eyed boy,” you hum softly.

You both begin swaying to the tune. Peter’s movements are a little clumsy, but your smiles encourage him to continue, even extending his arm to spin you around, earning him a giggle.

He slides his hand down your back, his fingers brushing against your bottom. As he starts to move his hand, you look up.

“You don’t have to stop. I like it when you touch me,” you whisper.

Peter licks his lips, feeling the familiar heat rising in his belly. His eyes dart around the empty rooftop over to the surrounding buildings.

“But. . . “

You take his hand, placing it over your covered center. He tilts his head, pulling his mask above his mouth as his throat bobs.

“Are you sure? What if someone sees?”

“I don’t care. I want you,” you say, your voice husky.

Peter just nods dumbly, gently grabbing the back of your neck to press his lips against yours. The kiss is slow and soft, his hand resting below your ear as your breaths mingle. You press into him, your heart beating rapidly in tandem with his. Your tongues dance for dominance, the intensity building as your hand travels down his spine, his body quivering from your touch.

You pull your mouth away, turning your body in his arms to press your back against his chest. He runs his hands along your body, feeling his way from your waist up to your chest. You turn your head to kiss him again, moaning in his mouth as he massages your breast through your sweatshirt.

Your lips fall away from his, your mouth gaping as his other hand hovers over the waistband of your leggings.

“Please,” you whine.

Without missing a beat, he dips his hand beneath the fabric, his teasing fingers making you tremble. You lean your head back to rest on his shoulder as he runs his fingers over lips, parting them slowly. He start to massage your clit, your wetness trickling onto his hand to help his movements.

The hand massaging your breast snakes underneath your sweatshirt, your nipple hardening instantly under his thumb. You arch your back, pushing your ass against him.

You grip onto his forearms as you rock against his hand, increasing the pressure on your clit. Your eyes flutter open, your eyes fixed on the stars above you.

His fingers briefly leave your clit as he pushes them inside you. Your face flushes as your tight opening clenches around him, his touch drawing even more slickness from your folds.

“Do this feel good?” he asks, his voice strained.

You nod. “You make me feel so good,” you moan. “You make me feel beautiful.”

“You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met.”

He removes his slick fingers from inside you, and you softly mewl. He continues caressing your clit, finger rubbing in steady circles. You tighten your grip on his arms, body tense. You grind erratically against him, his hard length nestled between your cheeks.

You start to babble incoherent words, filled with breathy gasps and moans.

“I want you to come for me,” he whispers, quickening his movements on your clit.

He places his lips on the side of your throat, licking and sucking your pulse point. You cry out loudly as you start to shake in his arms as you cum. He slips his fingers back inside of you, and your pussy clenches around him. He rocks against you, increasing the pressure against his crotch.

His lips leave your skin, head falling forward as his orgasm follows. He grunts, thrusting against you in short jerks as he releases.

He holds you firmly against him, cupping your pussy in his hand as his thrusts slow. Your body slumps against him, He turns you around in his arms to softly kiss you, as you practically melt in his embrace.

“You really know how to show a girl a good time,” you smile dreamily.

He smooths his hand over your hair. “You’d be the first.”

“You’re just being modest. I bet you get all the ladies in real life.”

Peter chuckles. “Maybe in a different life.”

“In a different life, huh? Well maybe in a different life I can say that I met you somewhere? Like when those couples say they didn’t meet on Tinder or something.”

He smiles. “Okay, where did we meet?”

You bite your lip. “Umm, how about on the bus?”

“The bus?”

“Yes, ‘Speed’ was one of my favorite movies growing up so I thought it was kind of romantic that Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bullock got together at the end.”

He shakes his head and chuckles. He strokes your lower back. “Mental noted. Please continue.”

“Okay, hmm. . . how about I was coming home from school one day. All the seats were taken so I had to stand. . . but then you saw me and you were such a gentleman that you gave me your seat. Then we introduced ourselves, and you complimented my sweatshirt, which happened to be my favorite Mickey Mouse one.”

He hums in approval as you continue, “And then you saw the math book in my hands and—”

“And we talked about your love for math,” he finishes.

You look up and grin widely. “Yes, exactly. And then I noticed your Star Wars shirt and we talked about how I haven’t seen the new Star Wars movies.”

“Wait, how have you not seen the new Star Wars movies?”

“I’m a sucker for the originals. I still refuse to watch the prequels.”

“Blasphemy I tell you,” he teases. “But please, keep going.”

“But alas, we arrived at my stop so I had to leave, but you followed me even though your stop was blocks away. You walked me to the doorstep of my apartment building and then we exchanged numbers.”

“And we texted all day and night,” Peter murmurs.

“And then I saw you on the bus the next day, and the next day, and the next day. And then you finally asked me out.”

“I like our story.”

“Yeah, me too,” you yawn.

“C’mon, let’s get you home. It’s getting late and I gotta get out of this suit,” he softly laughs, placing a delicate kiss on your temple.

You knit your brows together, opening your mouth but the words fall from your lips as realization dawns on. You glance down at his crotch, your cheeks reddening.

“Are you sure you can take me home in that. . . state?”

“I’m not sure, this has never happened before,” he blushes.

You bite your lip to stop the giggle from escaping your mouth. You place a chaste kiss on his lips as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“Ready?”

You nod as he pulls his mask over the rest of his face. You inhale deeply as he leaps from the building your body still buzzing from your orgasm. You close your eyes, resting your head against him as the wind rustles through your hair.

Once Peter lands on your fire escape, he nuzzles his face against your hair before easing you down gently, his arms still wrapped around you.

“When will I see you again?”

He strokes the side of your face, closing your eyes as you lean into his touch.

“I don’t know. My patrolling schedule is. . . unpredictable.”

“Okay,” you smile weakly, shoulders slumping.

Peter bows his head, wishing he could wipe the disappointed look from your face. “In our story, I take you to my favorite pizza spot.”

"Go on.”

“And then we get ice-cream. . . go to Astoria Park and sit in one of those benches to watch the sunset.”

“Does this date end with a goodnight kiss at my front door?”

“Sure. . . then I can awkwardly explain to your parents why I’m kissing their daughter.”

“My parents would love you.”

“They would?”

“Mhmm, as long as you don’t tell them that we sneak around at night, of course.”

He laughs. “Sounds fair.”

Peter wants that more than anything. He craves normalcy with you wants—he wants to meet your parents, walk you home from school, take you to the movies. He wants you to hang out with him and Ned and show you all the Star Wars prequels. He wants to call you his.

Peter closes his eyes, hoping this never ends. But soon another thought creeps up in his mind that makes his throat feel tight and chest hurt. He frowns, instinctively clutching you closer in his arms.

He knows that everything ends eventually.

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