#not that it really matters but i kind of pictured the ps4 peter/felicia here

[thebonerpit]

you know i’m no good [FIC]

you know i’m no good

Felicia Hardy/Peter Parker, 1881 words, [E], read on Ao3 here

Peter loses a bet and has to wear Felicia's panties under his suit while on patrol. It's a lot more distracting than he anticipated.

For @peterparkerbingo “panties” square, card at the end

Felicia’s phone vibrates in her hand as she walks through the crowded atrium of Cordco. She doesn’t rush, smiling at anyone who catches her eye and complimenting an older woman on her dress. Diamonds glitter on almost every neckline and the smell of expensive cologne shifts with each smartly dressed group she passes. Charity fundraisers always make people want to splash their money around, although Felicia wonders why she’s the only one who finds it so distasteful.

The phone has stopped vibrating for a moment but it resumes just seconds later. Felicia rolls her eyes, grabs a glass of champagne from a passing tray, and dips into a quiet corner to answer it.

“I told you not to call me.”

There’s a distant train horn in the background and then a soft thump followed by the startled coo of a pigeon.

“Shoo, this is my street lamp!”

“Oh my god, I don’t have time for—”

“Wait, Felicia! Fee. Please. Come on, this is torture. Can’t we do this another night? Please?”

Felicia smirks into the lip of her glass and waits for someone to pass by before she answers.

“No. A bet’s a bet, Parker.”

“Ok but when a bet interferes with my ability to do my job, that’s kind of a problem.”

“Oh! It’s affecting you, is it?” Felicia puts on her best Marilyn Monroe and giggles into the phone. “But… but I thought you said it wouldn’t be a big deal at all! I thought you were a big boy who could handle a little distraction.”

There’s a loud groan from the other end and the unmistakable sound of web shooters.

“I could! I CAN! But…”

“But…”

Another soft thump. Peter’s voice suddenly becomes a bit clearer, less robotic, and Felicia knows he’s taken off his mask. Must be on a rooftop somewhere.

“Felicia, it’s… my suit, it presses everything so tight against my body, and my senses…”

A pleasing image. Felicia bites her lip and watches the crowd.

“They’re… they’re just so soft and I’m—”

“So hard?”

Another groan but this one is tinged with arousal, and despite herself Felicia feels a flush spread across her cheeks.

It was a stupid bet, as most of their bets are. If Peter won, Felicia would have to donate every penny of the money she stole from her last heist to F.E.A.S.T. If Felicia won, Peter would have to wear her panties on patrol. For a whole week.

The outcome is obviously clear.

“Oh, poor Petey Pie,” she coos, not sounding sympathetic in the slightest. “I picked out my favourite pair. I’ll be really offended if you don’t like them.”

Honestly, Felicia did him a favour by choosing those gorgeous Kiki de Montparnasse briefs for his first night. They have a decent amount of fabric on them, not a thong, made of the finest silk and French lace… he should be thanking her.

“I think I like them a little too much, actually,” he replied with a breathless laugh.

“Well,” Felicia says as she pushes off the wall with her shoulders, “you do look lovely in them. Shall I pick up an extra pair for you to keep?” She deftly switches her phone to an earpiece and puts it back in her small evening bag as she heads towards the elevator. “Or maybe the new pair should be for me. You’ve probably stretched these out, hm?”

Only one guard by the elevator doors. Felicia smiles and shows him her ID badge.

“Forgot my lipstick in my office. Can’t fit anything in this tiny little purse,” she says.

The guard chuckles and presses the button for her.

“Whoa whoa whoa, you didn’t say anything about lipstick, I can’t get that inside the mask, the marks would be impossible to get out!”

The elevator heralds its arrival with a ding and Felicia steps inside.

“Have a nice night, miss.”

Felicia nods and lets the elevator doors close.

“As adorable as your mouth would look in red, that wasn’t part of the bet. But I’ll keep that in mind for another time.”

“That’s not what I… Felicia, where are you?”

“I told you, I’m at a party,” she replies, stepping out of her heels and tossing them up through the hatch in the top of the elevator. “Some idiot friend of Harry’s, remember?”

“But why—”

“Because rich people serve good food. Now can we please get back to the more interesting topic here which is you on a rooftop with a seriously inappropriate hard-on in your suit? Do you really think you’re going to be saving old ladies from muggers with that? You’d probably be arrested too, you know.”

“Ok that is NOT helpful.”

A well-placed foot on the railing gives her enough leverage to easily lift herself up on the roof as well. The bag Felicia left up here last week is still intact and she shuffles out of her slinky black cocktail dress and into her equally slinky catsuit as the elevator travels upwards.

“Maybe you just need a bit of relief, hm? Clear your pretty little head?”

“Wh-what? Here? NOW?! Felicia, I’m working, what if… what if something happens, I can’t—”

“You’re overthinking this. I know you can sense trouble a mile away.”

“And you also know how easily I can get… overwhelmed.”

A particularly vivid memory of Peter sobbing, babbling absolute nonsense, as Felicia rides him while scratching red lines into his chest with her nails nearly causes her to stumble when the elevator comes to a halt. The doors open below but Felicia quickly climbs upwards instead, forcing open the doors on the floor above and stepping out into the dark hallway.

“Now you’re the one distracting me. Naughty boy. I’m supposed to be mingling,” Felicia says as she heads toward the server room.

“Can you… can you just, um, talk me through it? I promise it won’t take long. Please?”

Tempting. So, so tempting.

Felicia flips her goggles down and examines the lock on the door. It’s going to take a while for her system to hack it, and she has always been good at multitasking.

“Put your mask back on and stream the video to my phone.”

There’s some fumbling noises in the background and Felicia takes the brief moment to start the hack. The bar is visible in the upper left of her HUD so the rest of her vision can be dedicated to Peter’s video. She settles on the floor, confident that her motion sensors will alert her if anyone gets close.

When Peter starts the video his suit is already half off, bunched around his waist. She wants to scold him for it but fuck, she also wants to lick at every single one of those delicious abs.

“Let me see them, sugar.”

“Y-yes, yeah, ok,” Peter gasps, wriggling around to shove the suit off all the way. The juxtaposition of his well-muscled body, strong thighs, and tiny little panties sends a shiver through Felicia’s whole body. He looks absolutely incredible, but Felicia knows him well enough to understand that isn’t what he wants to hear.

“Tsk, look at you, you’ve made such a mess already,” she scolds. Peter sucks in a breath and she can see him nod. “Do you know how expensive those are, Peter? Hm?”

“S-sorry, I’ll buy you more, I swear, I’m sorry—”

Felicia cuts him off with a sharp laugh.

“No you won’t. Those cost more than your share of rent in that shitty apartment you live in.”

She watches as his cock twitches in the stretched lace and silk.

“Please, fuck, please, Felicia,” he begs, fingers digging into his thighs because Felicia hasn’t given him permission to touch. Such a good boy.

“Please what? You want to make even more of a mess? I can see you’ve already soaked them enough. You’re as wet as a girl, Petey Pie.”

He whimpers and bucks his hips up into the air, desperate for some sort of touch or friction.

Felicia glances up. The bar is at 50%. Faster than she expected. She can’t draw this out as much as she’d like to.

“Ugh, fine, I don’t know why I’m being so nice, you obviously don’t deserve it. One finger, over top of the fabric. That’s it.”

“Thank you! Thank you thank you thank you,” he babbles. It’s an indescribable power trip, to watch a man who could break through solid iron bars with a flick of his wrist, be so obedient and desperate to please. As the bar ticks over to 60% Felicia presses one hand between her legs and bucks against the pressure as Peter shivers and gasps under the pad of his own finger.

Peter can’t seem to decide where to use the single digit: over the lace cut-out in the front, the sodden silk everywhere else, or the tip of his cock peeking out over the edge. She knows how sensitive he can be with textures and his thighs practically vibrate when he moves from the roughness of the lace to the smooth silk.

“So good, feels so good, please, please!”

Felicia giggles. “God, you’re pathetic, aren’t you? Begging to come? Such a little slut.”

Peter whimpers, loud enough that Felicia is actually concerned that someone might hear him. He tends to completely forget about discretion when he’s so turned on like this.

The bar is at 85% now. She needs to end this, both before the hack is finished or before the police arrest Spider-Man for public indecency, whichever comes first.

“I—I am, I’m a slut, oh fuck please Felicia, please I’m so close!”

“I don’t think pathetic boys like you get rewarded. Keep going, tell me when you’re about to come.”

She squeezes her thighs together and allows herself one last press of her hand before sighing quietly as she gets to her feet. Her goggles record everything and this will get her off at least twice later tonight, but for now, she needs to concentrate.

95%.

“Fee, I’m—gonna come, gonna—”

She waits a few seconds longer.

“Take your hand away. Come, now Peter.”

He sobs as he comes all over Felicia’s panties, his orgasm ruined from the sudden lack of stimulation. He makes a mess of himself but Felicia can see how tense he still is, muscles corded in his thighs, and he’s whimpering into the mask.

“Is that what you wanted? Hm? Look, you got your orgasm pretty boy, didn’t you? What do you say?”

Peter inhales a shaky breath and Felicia can hear him sniffling. He must be crying and she hates that she can’t see his face… it’s one of her favourite looks on him.

“Th-thank you,” he whispers.

100%.

“That’s right. Now, I have to go. And you have work to do. So pull yourself together and put that suit back on. I don’t want to hear another complaint. If you’re good for the rest of the night I might let you jerk off on my tits when we get home. OK?”

“Yeah,” he rasps out, “I mean, yes! Yes. Please.”

“Hanging up now.”

“Wait! Fee… thank you. Seriously. Have fun at the party, ok? I… um. Love you.”

An awful fluttering erupts in Felicia’s belly, but she swallows thickly and concentrates on the door swinging open in front of her.

“Goodnight, Petey Pie. See you soon.”