#tom Holland fan fiction

[shawnxstyles]

man-handled

DATE: DECEMBER 4, 2023

summary: you get a little caught up in your boyfriend’s muscly arms and can’t help but imagine what it would be like if he man-handled you.

request: i thought it was but i guess not??

words: 5.1k

warning: SMUT (f- receiving (multiple orgasms, oral, fingering, throat-fucking), m- receiving (oral), slight daddy/sir kink, degrading, name-calling, dirty talk), language, and probably the shittiest ending ever

note: i’m so tired y’all

mafia!tom x reader

–

You weren’t usually like this. You weren’t known for being so horny to the point where you can’t think straight. You were known to be quiet, shy, and even a little innocent. But sometimes Tom brought out the worst in you. But you learned to like that side of you. The secret, dark, and dirty side that only Tom could unveil from you. Watching you unfold and come undone–no pun intended–gave Tom a deep sense of growing pride.

Every day he made it more obvious that he was the only one and that there would never be anyone else for you.

What was causing you to act so strange was a new obsession for you. You had been with Tom intimately numerous times, but he never failed to pleasure you immensely. You two have explored each other’s bodies inside and out, yet your mind still found things to obsess over. Currently, it was his arms.

His arms.

They were usually covered with different brand-name suits, all varying from gray to black. The sleeves always wrapped around his biceps snuggly, hinting at only some of his bulkiness. Usually, the sight of him in his suits when he left for work had you thinking about how hot he looked overall. But as you watched him leave this morning, your eyes couldn’t stop fixating on the packed muscle you knew was hiding under the black suit’s sleeves.

You’re not sure, but you think this newest obsession started last night by complete accident. That accident being Tom’s overwhelming dominance and control when he was fucking you.

Although you were on the quieter and more innocent side, it amazed both Tom and you that you were secretly fucked in the head just like him. You hadn’t even known it until you stumbled upon Tom. Sometimes, you think that he molded you to indulge in his kinks and fantasies, but he’s never forced you to do anything. If anything, it’s always you shyly asking him to do something more when a dirty thought pops into your head. He always makes sure to degrade yet praise you in the most addicting and twisted way.

Last night, while you and Tom were simply watching a movie, things got heated (it was never just going to be a movie). Tom had gotten home early and just wanted to relax. But the makeout between you two got hotter and you both got needier. When you moved yourself to his lap, gently rocking into him, his strong hands forced you to stay still. You remembered the bruises present on his knuckles and wondered if they still hurt when he squeezed your hips. You whined into his mouth before he picked you up easily, throwing you over his shoulder as you squealed.

“Always so greedy.”

Tom has picked you up and threw you over his shoulder before. Maybe the other times he was gentler about it, afraid to hurt his little princess even if you were completely okay with it. But that night, he didn’t seem to give a fuck. He had a difficult day at work, the evidence clear on his wounded hands, so maybe he took some of that aggressive out on you. After he had brought you upstairs, you were extremely drenched as his bulky arms tossed you on the bed.

But after that, he apologized for being so rough. He explained how he had a tough day and he was sorry for taking it out on you. It resulted in long, sweet, loving sex that you adored all the time because you got to see the part of him that no one sees. Just like that secret part in you that only he sees. Except, you weren’t yearning for his softness after being man-handled. No, you were looking to be fucked. Hard. You wanted it rough, messy, degrading, and straight sinful. The nastiest scenes flooded your mind through the night, hoping that you could relive one of them with Tom. As he fucked slow into you last night, your eyes couldn’t remove themselves from his bulging arms holding himself over his head. You watched as the muscles would work and his veins would pop out when he did a push-up, and it had you clenching around him pathetically.

What were you going to tell him when he came home?

For the rest of the day, you wandered around the house needily. You cleaned, you read, you reorganized, but nothing distracted you enough from your fucked-up thoughts and the pulse between your legs. One part of you felt ashamed for hiding it from Tom, but the other half of you didn’t care. It felt like you had your own little secret that no one knew. But then again, you really wanted to tell him because you wanted to see the results. And feel them…

When it was late into the evening, seemingly later than when Tom usually returns, you sighed to yourself. You brought yourself to bed, too worn out from your own desires nagging you down all day. If only Tom didn’t have a rule about touching yourself while he was gone, you would have been able to handle your dirty situation all by yourself. But no, Tom had to be insanely controlling and sexy about everything, just making your situation even harder to deal with. Just as your bare feet slip into the comforter, you hear the hefty front door open. Your head shoots up, instantly on high alert of Tom’s arrival. Just when you thought your body was relaxing, the sound of his approaching footsteps seem to heighten your hormone levels, veering away from homeostasis once again.

Tom peeks his head through the ajar bedroom door, body hunching over the door handle. He doesn’t say a word until he realizes that you are in fact awake, opening the door wider. He skulks closer to you, his body bulky and stoic just how you remembered it being this morning when he left. His hands at his sides had those infamous cuts and bruises that you always wrapped with bandages. He never wanted you to, you demanded that you do. Your heart pounds as your tummy tickles, wishing he could read your mind and just handle you the way you want him to with those bruised knuckles.

“Missed you today, Princess,” his thick hand rose to caress the hair on your head. You feel yourself lean into his touch, yearning it always no matter how intense or soft. You always craved to just feel him.

“Missed you too, Daddy. So much,” your hand reaches up and encloses around his wrist, squeezing softly. His hand gently pulls away as he sits beside you on the bed, and you nearly whimper at the loss of contact.

“What d’you do today?” Tom asked simply and softly, genuinely curious about your day. But finally with him next to you, your mind has gotten all fuzzy, and you feel like you’ve forgotten every word you’ve known. Your eyes haven’t drifted away from his arm since he pulled away from you, mind encompasses in the way he moves.

“I cleaned. I reorganized the shelves in your office. Oh, and I read too…”

Tom tried to listen to your dull list of activities, but he couldn’t help but notice how distracted you seemed. Maybe you were tired from all the chore-like things you did. But your eyes weren’t blinking as they started at his chest, clearly hazy with something. Something familiar.

“Yeah? And what did you read?”

“Um… I don’t remember,” your head started to tilt to the side as you licked your lips, lost in whatever thought was clouding your mind currently. Tom’s mouth curved just the slightest bit up at the airheaded state of you, wondering if you could be anymore adorable. The fact that you didn’t remember what you read, knowing you love reading, is what stood out to Tom the most. Something was obviously off, Tom just couldn’t figure it out yet.

“How was work? Do you need me to patch you up?”

“Work was stressful. People don’t listen and then ask why m’so harsh. And idiots like to go behind m’back and take stuff from me,” Your eyes fall onto his wounded hands.

“S’not nice…”

“Not nice at all, huh?” Tom reaches up to caress your face ever-so gently, not wanting to touch you too much with his open cuts.

“Come on. Let me fix you up. Please?”

Now, how could Tom ever say no to you?

–

Sometimes, Tom could be stubborn. Like right now, where he refused to sit down while you tended to his wounds because he’s saying that it won’t take long enough to sit. You want to roll your eyes in annoyance, but you don’t want him to see your attitude and punish you later. Or maybe you do…

He had his suit jacket off now and just his crisp, white buttoned shirt rolled up to the elbows. The skin that was untouched was smooth under your delicate touch, but his scars and fresh cuts, which were most likely old ones reopened, were rugged. You dabbled light pressure as you wiped away dry blood with the wet cloth, not afraid of hurting him because he barely blinks when he punches someone. He surely wasn’t phased by his girl cleaning up his damages like a little puppy trying to lick themselves better. That’s exactly what your touch felt like—little puppy licks and gentle pawing.

And when you applied the cooling ointment, his pain was eased, but he doesn’t think it was from the cream. No, he is a firm believer that you are his medicine. Your words, your touch, your soul was healing. Although he was your opposite in every way and he hurt people for a living while you mended people’s aches with your mere presence, he could never hurt you. Never.

So, when you’re all finished wrapping his hands with that rough cloth that’s an excuse for a bandage (it was all he had stored), he’s shocked by your blunt statement. You were rarely blatant about anything, especially when it had to do with sexual situations.

“Why did you apologize to me last night?” You just threw your words at him, hoping he caught them. He didn’t know that when you were fixing him up you were ogling his arms like a child in a toy store during the Christmas season. His veins were green, constant exploitation of work causing them to pop out more. He looked delicious and it made you crave him more than ever. Even more with his ripped up hands. You wanted the roughness and pain and the power to be instilled on you. You wanted him to take his particularly hard day out on you. Tom blinked, silently leading you out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom. He tried to recall exactly when he apologized to you, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Clearly, work had gotten to his head too much.

“I don’t remember what you’re talkin’ ‘bout, darling,” Without a thought, he begins unbuttoning his shirt with his bandaged hands. He looked like something of a fancy man mixed with an underground boxer. Not the type of fancy that shows off his money, but the type that’s humble and real and works hard for what he wants. A man who made himself. And that’s exactly who Tom is; someone who built himself.

You swallowed, suddenly feeling like you’re under the spotlight. But you took a breath. “Last night, when we were having… sex… you apologized for being really rough.”

He flatly hums, indicating that you need to continue while he buttons his shirt. You could just faint from his sculpted, stony beauty that was hidden behind a few buttons and fabric. Unlike his knuckles, his skin was smooth and untouched besides his scattered tattoos. He had faint scars that you could barely see unless you were looking really hard (which in your case maybe you were). His build and figure used to intimidate you, but now, you’re just awed.

“Well… I kind of liked when you were rough…” Your words dragged out, especially as your head tilted down to face your lap in embarrassment. “You’ve never really been like that before and it caught me off guard, but in a really good way! I didn’t realize I wanted something like that until… yeah.” You weren’t embarrassed that you were attracted to your own boyfriend’s man-handling, but by the fact that you had to admit that to get what you wanted. Sometimes, you wish he could just read your mind, but life wasn’t a movie or a book, even if it felt like that from time to time with the life you live. Dating a mafia man was insane to visualize–those things only really happened in books. Or so you thought.

“You did?” You softly hummed, nodding your head. You could feel the heat radiating off of your cheeks, your heart thumping in your chest. You didn’t think Tom would reject you. That’s not why your heart was beating faster than its usual tempo. You were anticipated and your organ couldn’t help but be thrilled at what was to come. “You liked when I took my day out on you? Liked when I was a little mean?”

You crossed your ankles that had been hanging off the bed, biting your lip. You nodded, maybe a little too quickly, because you got slightly dizzy from the movement along with your amped hormones. You had that beat in your chest, but you also had that throbbing pulse in your lower body that has been aching since you watched him leave earlier that day. In the most Tom-way possible, he stalks over to you, torso bare while his trousers remain on. He’s slow and calculated, and it makes you even more anxious. When your eyes finally look up at him, he’s glaring down at you with blown-out pupils, a darkness swirling with the brown color of his irises.

He’s close to you now, inches away from touching you. But he doesn’t. You hear the clink of his belt loosening around his waist before it’s adoring his hand. His quick movements cause the leather to slap your bicep, making you gasp, but what he doesn’t do is apologize. You’re not sure if what he did was purposeful. Did he want to startle you and show you how rough he really could be? You never lingered too long on the idea of him using a belt on you, but if Tom was going to be man-handling you more often, then the thought would probably be more recurring. Tom shrugs off his pants as if they’re a bother, and by the large bulge outlined in his briefs, it seems as if they really are.

You hadn’t even realized you were licking your lips until Tom’s hand came up around your throat, thumb pulling it out. He tucks his thumb into your mouth, gripping it tightly.

“Drooling over m’cock and I’m not even fully undressed yet,” he removes his thumb before lightly tapping your cheek. “On your knees. Need to fill that filthy mouth.”

The devil on your shoulder wants to be a brat and not listen to him, but you’ve been craving this all day. If Tom knew what you wanted–which he did–his punishment to you would just be not giving it to you. And that’s not your ideal plan at the moment. So, you slide off the edge of the bed and onto the floor at his feet. The first thing he does is spread your thighs open with his ankle.

“You don’t get to squeeze y’pretty little thighs together while sucking me off. That’s rude, pet. Get as wet as you want, but if you close y’legs, you’re not comin’ tonight. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Your hands were waiting anxiously by your sides, clawing at the skin on your thighs. Your pussy was already clenching around its own wetness, unable to close due to his new limit.

“It talks,” his tone was sinister and demeaning. The kind that would make someone’s eyes twitch and hands fist in an argument out of irritation. But his works were fueling some type of sick need inside of you that needed to be sedated, and this seemed to be the only way to do it. And you didn’t mind it one bit. You fucking loved it. “Who knew such a slut would be so obedient?”

You knew better than to respond to that rhetorical question. Instead, you patiently wait for his smirk to rise in cocky pride before he finally slips off his briefs. Like every time you’ve seen his cock, it’s pretty. You didn’t know they were supposed to look so yummy and dream-like. He was smooth with inklings of hair scattered down at the base and his tip was a cute coral color that grew an angry red when he was hard. From the looks of it, he was pretty hard. His tip was leaking that delicious pre-cum you were dying to taste, even if you’ve had it thousands of times before. Having to sit and stare at his glory without touching was some type of punishment, you think.

His hand latches onto the base and the other grips the back of your head. He pushes you closer, tapping your cheek with his tip. You suck in a breath, readying to take him.

“You know what to do if it’s too much. And it will be.”

Tom shoves his cock into mouth once you’re open wide enough. He doesn’t wait for you to adjust to his size or explore his prick like he usually does. This time he’s quick and harsh like he’s trying to beat some type of record. But he’s still just as calculated as he always is, and you know he’s not just going to come fast because he can. Most men do that all the time when they want to get off briskly, but Tom wasn’t like that. He liked to take his time and appreciate the moment, edging you both just a little to make it a little fun. He always edged himself more though, forcing orgasms out of you before you would even touch him.

Your cunt pulsates around nothing, trying to grasp the pleasure he is holding from you. Hands clawing at his meaty thighs until your nails break the skin barrier. Moans attempt to escape your mouth, but are instantly shoved right back down your throat from his thick cock. Tom drills into you with no mercy, causing saliva to cascade down your chin in long strings. The muscles in your jaw ache from their open stance, begging for a break that you would never get. If it was too much you could easily tap his thigh a few times and it would all be over, but that’s exactly what you don’t want. You love that he came home after a stressful day and you could make him feel better. You didn’t want your limitations to restrict his maximum abilities when you secretly wanted more to begin with.

“Look at you letting me fuck this throat. This whiny, little throat and your filthy mouth. Always so fuckin’ needy for it,” his grip on your hair intensified, stilling your head from any movements you might subconsciously make. You’re not surprised when the tears finally start to leak from your eyes, rolling down your face in wavering streams rather than small rivulets. “I’m so big I made you a crybaby. That good, sweetheart?”

There were no words that were able to leave your stuffed mouth, only rumbles of moans that vibrated around his cock so dirtily that his head was falling back. Deep, guttural groans emitted from his rough throat, his movements never faulting. Even when you feel the tip of him twitching in the back of your mouth, he doesn't stop.

“Take it. I’m going to come and you’re going to take it. All you wanted was to be a storage for my cum, right?” Tom’s words were cruel and degrading, but they were the exact thing that got you off. Your stomach churned in lust, feeling a bit neglected, yet pleasured by him fucking your mouth.

He was going all out tonight and you didn’t want anything less. Tom didn’t even give you a warning about when he was coming, he just wanted you to take it. And who were you to defy him? When ropes of his much-needed release fired from his prick, you made sure to swallow every drop. He slowly removes himself from your mouth as your jaw aches immensely. Saliva and cum were lathered around your chin, coating your lips with the taste of him. Your hand lifts up to massage your jaw as you look up at the flames of lust in Tom’s eyes. You notice that there’s slight hesitation; he wants to default back into a caring lover rather than a dominant one. But even with the soreness in your jaw, you manage a smirk to let him know that you’re fine. You’re more than fine, and you’re more than ready to continue the rest of the night. You know that it will be your turn soon too at some point, right? That throat-fuck was torture for your sopping cunt. You’re mind-dizzyingly horny.

“What’s the matter? Your lip is all trembling and wet,” You didn’t even notice him stuff his prick back into his pants because you were so mesmerized by the taste left on your tongue and the ache in your jaw. He leans down, nearly level with you on the floor, but still hovering over your head. “Just like your pussy I bet, hm?”

Your entire body shivered from his words as if a frozen wind cascaded through the bedroom, but at the same time, your skin has never burned so fiery. His hands were quick to fit under your arms, lifting you up to your feet. When your thighs met again, they squeezed tightly to rid the incessant throbbing between them. You knew you were just soaking wet too–the kind that reached all the way to your bum once Tom laid you flat on your back. The kind that would drip onto the bed sheets if you were positioned on all fours with your rear up in the air. Tom loved to do every which way with you, but he was keen on watching your scrunched-up face relax once you came. The way your nose would wrinkle and eyebrows furrow, mouth just wide enough to slip a finger or two through. Which, of course, Tom would take advantage of. But right now, he wanted to taste you.

It had been such a long day, full of busyness and rage-work. He didn’t mind having to punch a face or two daily, especially when they wronged him significantly because then he got to do more than just a punch. The only part he hated was seeing your face in the aftermath. When he’d come home, he would see you all delighted to see him back and well, just for your expression to drop in concern at his wounds. Whether it was his hands (it was usually his hands), arms, chest, or even his face, you were relentless about fixing him up. Tom’s resistance was nothing to you, so eventually, he would just sigh and let you aid him. You had something of a magic touch because only you could make Tom feel better. Nothing like the doctors he had occasionally visited as a child or even his mother’s kisses. And now, his knuckles may be bruised and may be bandaged, but that would never stop him from taking care of his girl. Especially when his girl got all shy about wanting to be man-handled. He thought you were the most adorable thing really.

Usually, Tom would gently lay you back on the comforter and make sure you had a pillow underneath your head. This time, he didn’t even hesitate to throw your willing body like a ragdoll on the bed. The gasp you let out was practically a moan. His invasive, manly hands shredded your bottoms down your legs without a care in the world. You’ve never seen him so aggressive with you, but God, if it wasn’t exactly what you wanted. You had been craving this type of fucking, and now that you have it, well, you might just pass out from how good it’s all going to feel.

“This slutty little pussy,” he growls, thumb circling your throbbing clit. He can feel the way it swells underneath his rough touches, and he can hear the way your breath gets caught in your throat. You were always so delicate to him, like you would break if he held you too hard. But while you were soft, you were also strong, which is why Tom was able to treat you like this and you wouldn’t shatter like thin glass. “So weepy and wet. Who knew you were such a cock whore, hm? Or is it just for me?”

“You. Only you.”

Tom knew it was only for him. And of course, you knew it was only for him. No one has ever gotten you as wet as Tom has, and no one has pleasured you nearly as much. He strived to satisfy you until you begged him to stop, which no one had ever come close to doing. Every past partner you’ve been with always had to use lubricants because they couldn’t make you wet enough. You were always ashamed and embarrassed, but then you realized that’s how they should feel. Their performances are minuscule and rubbish; compared to Tom’s, they don’t stand a chance. But you didn’t bother with those past “lovers” anymore, because you had your one and only right in front of you. Or more like right in between your legs with his head on your thigh.

“Right. I’m feeling a bit hungry. You’ll let me eat, won’t you?” He widens your legs, forcing them to spread so you can’t suffocate him with your thighs. Lewd whines spill from your mouth as his breath hits your pussy, warm and close. “Oh, wait, I’m making the decisions.”

His lips lock onto your clit, sucking on the nub. You don’t conceal the moans that instantaneously begin to slip out of you like a mantra. He changes his rhythm, going firm and fast, and then slow and calculated. It was addicting, and it left you clawing at the bed sheets and curling your toes. His tongue swirls through your folds, collecting your juices and prodding inside of you.

No man has eaten you like Tom has. When they did it, they did it as if it was a chore. Tom does it as if it’s a reward.

He cherishes you, honors your body with his hands and mouth while also showing you who’s in control. It’s these things that make you utterly obsessed with him, thinking about him for twenty-four hours even when you see him at the start and end of every day. You were obsessed with the way his tongue was licking into you, desperate to consume every drop of your wetness until you were drained. His thumb returned to its home on your clit, pressing and holding as it throbbed beneath his finger. Your head spun as if you were drunk on a carousel, but it wasn’t nausea you were feeling. No, it was the ecstasy of pleasure building up inside of you as you approached your high.

“S-so close. Fuck—”

A slap to your inner thigh caused you to squeak into the heated air. Tom never cared when you cussed before, but the fact that he did now was another little turn-on that just got added to the list. Seriously, what was wrong with you?

His mouth popped off of you, thumb never letting up on your clit. He cleanly slides his middle finger through your slick folds, easily curling it inside of you. Even with his wounded and wrapped hands, his thrusts are flawless and perfectly paced. The sandy texture of the bandage occasionally itches your inner thigh, adding a delicious stimulation to your skin. As he pumps his digits inside of you, you are aware of the muscles in his arms flexing, which makes you clutch tightly around him.

“Oh, what’s got you so tight?” You groan at his words, not responding clearly. “Don’t be a brat.

“Your a-arms,” You can’t help but moan as he curls his fingers inside of you again.

“Yeah?” he hovers his body over you now, one arm supporting his bulky weight right beside your head. It was exactly like how you had remembered it and you didn’t even have to tell him. His bicep was next to your head, pulsing and working to keep him up right. You could feel and hear him grin and grunt every time you squeeze tightly around his fingers. “You’re the filthiest fuckin’ girl I’ve ever seen. The way you’re taking my fingers I just know you’re wishing it’s m’cock.”

Your skin was on fire. Your hair was a mess. Your head was going to evaporate into a cloud of lust. And your body was an oozing waterfall. That’s the only way to describe how you felt.

His transitions are natural and effortless as if he could do it with his eyes closed because he’s mapped your body out so well. But no matter how many times you’re with him, you’re still withering beneath him, shaking until your orgasm washes over you like a tsunami. He tilts his head, licking his lips before whispering in your ear deeply.

“Since you’ve been crying for it all day, come. Go ahead. Soak my fingers. Soak the fuckin’ sheets.”

You topple over your orgasm into a pool of pleasure, indeed soaking his hand and the sheets beneath you. As your body becomes hypersensitive, you wiggle away from his touch, only for him to hold you in place. He snatches your hips, stills them roughly with a press of his bandaged hands.

“I’m not done here, sweetheart. For this one, I want you to be as quiet as possible. Can you do that? Or are you inclined to let the neighborhood know who is making y’come this many times?”

Tom was incessant about making you come a magnitude of ways that night, all with specific rules. One with no touching, one with no moving, one with no moaning. It was a rollercoaster of crying and orgasms. To say you were exhausted was an understatement, but you’ve never felt more refreshed and satisfied.

You were so tired that when Tom left to begin your aftercare, you had passed out on the messy bed sheets.

—

i rushed the ending so much, but i felt bad that i’ve posted in so long and i’m just so busy that i never have time to write anymore

taglist:

@motheroffae @noa217 @nelly-belly97 @spidermanffh3000 @rugbeat3000 @mysticdaisy21 @emilyparkerholland @mrstealuregirl @bisexual-desi @sherlockstrangewolf @madsttx @graywrites20 @bradtomlovesya @princesspannnn @sageisswaggg @purplerose291 @girlbossnancy @lockwood-lover @theslayerofthevampires @breaxthing @eatshitanddiee @lnmp89 @crybabyddl @pretty-npeach @marine-mayday @aerangi @justanotherpasserby-blog @tinafuentes @moniffazictress11 @eywaheardyou @alwaysclassyeagle @raajali3

crossed out= not able to tag

[destielholmes]

DARKNESS 6 - Part 2

                                                              6

It was getting warmer by the second, my t-shirt was starting to glue to my body, and I just wanted to rip my jacket off. Isaac remained next to me, which confirmed his family was behind his appearance. I was happy he engaged with my little conversation – even if it was just a bit, even if his family made him be by my side – it still made me happy.

While I was struggling with my inability to control my discomfort from the heat and thought Isaac's little stay would end after I had my lunch, he proved me wrong as he told me to follow him outside. I tried to hide my sweating body from my parents as we walked outside. The faint breeze hit my face, which made me melt. I opened my jacket slightly to welcome it in, but it wasn't enough to satisfy my dehydrating body. The taste of the sweetness of the air made me want much more. I want to show you something. He told me as he watched me dissolve within the breeze. Heat wasn't a concern anymore, as he captivated me. I followed him, keeping a safe distance, afraid to scare him off with my voice or annoy him with my figure, I remained invisible. I wanted to explore his little world.

Through the trees we've been that same morning, skipping the blood that the ground drank, he took me away from my safety and closer to my desire. We walked for a while, the same skinny trees kept the landscape on our horizon, but I didn't know anymore where we were. I was lost in that forest, with only my captor to lead me out.

Whilst the fog seemed to be long gone, the heat kept rising, and I couldn't keep my composure. I had to show him again the marks he left on me, and I was afraid he would leave me. I took my jacket quietly, not to disturb his newfound patience. I tied my enemy to my waist and kept the pace. This far away from the house my parents wouldn't see.

When the trees started to fade a new place came to view. Much like my little friend, back at the old house, this one also shone to the sun. But unlike my little friend, Isaacs friend was much bigger, tranquil and unmoving. Down in a small quarry, surrounded by trees, was a lake. The water wasn't pristine blue, but I could still perceive the fish swimming around. A wooden deck was built at the side we came up through, which had a few things laying around, asserting it wasn't abandoned. Isaac helped me down past the rocks and to the lonesome deck. Down there, the air stood still, no wisp of breeze, only peace remained.

Isaac pulled off his shirt, forcing me to stop my cheeks from redden, averting my eyes from him. One more minute and you'll melt. He jumped in the greenish water, making it come to life. He wasn't wrong, I almost looked like I had already disturbed the quiet lake.

I took the jacket away from my waist and dropped it with the rest of the clutter, like he did, and jumped after him. The water wasn't too cold, just enough to take my warmness away. I opened my eyes to see the greenness void. I felt his movements though the waives he made. If I could've held my breath longer, I would have felt all of them. I came up to the surface where Isaac was waiting for my approval. I giggled with ecstasy, and he smiled – for the first time. I made certain to carve it into my memory, so I wouldn't forget this moment. He made me want to live so I could hope for another moment like that.

He turned around, diving into the new movement of the water; I followed. I'd dived deep into it, so I could touch the ground, to understand that it was real. Resurfacing with a found spirit of existence, I let out a scream of joy, that was answered with another scream from Isaac. It was pure bliss, another human communicating with me. Could I be normal too? I felt butterflies in my belly, coldness at the surface of my skin, I felt the air I was breathing... I was alive.

We laughed at our stupidness. I danced in the water, as the leaves danced in the air. I forgot about me.

I couldn't tell how long we stayed floating around, I wondered if I could stay there forever, but my wrinkled-up fingers told me no.

Isaac helped me out of the water, as the weight of my clothes pulled me back in.

I told him that was the most thrilling thing I've ever done. He smiled and handed me a chair. We sat in the sun's direction, waiting for the heat to hunt us again. We felt like completely different people. I wondered if he would let me be his friend. I stole a glimpse of him – water drops shining with the sunlight, glued to his body, others fleeing to the wooden floor. The image of the innocent young boy was being erased from my mind, replaced with him. His cut curls, his new framed features, his frowning face, his muscly body, his pleasant voice... I wanted to drown within him and his peculiarity.

I'm sorry. He spoke. I would have responded if I wasn't drunk with him. The bruises. He clarified. I wasn't sorry. They would keep you with me for as long as they dwelt. I told him not to worry, that I would keep them away from my parents.

He explained that it wasn't his intention to hurt me. I was afraid. He murmured.

I smiled, amused at his statement, and asked if he was afraid of me. He looked back at me – of course.

I pushed him for a reason, and although he didn't want to respond at first, he eventually told me. You took away my freedom.

Copyright © 2023 DestielHolmes.  All rights reserved.

Author's note: Thank you for reading! Btw I've edited all chapter on wattpad and fixed some spelling errors. I encourage you to read it all again because it's been a while too. Don't forget to support the story, like and comment. I would also appreciate if you could vote on the chapters on wattpad. Thank you!!

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[spider-stark]

INFINITELY YOU

part one // back at the beginning

SUMMARY - In every universe, Peter Parker seems destined to fall in love with you. And, in every universe, he realizes it too late. When universes collide and two of them are granted a second chance at rectifying their biggest mistake, neither of them are willing to let the opportunity go to waste–even if you end up not being the person they thought you were.

WARNINGS - 18+, story will contain mentions of blood, broken bones, weapons, suggestive language, and more. all versions of peter are between the ages of 19-23 in this story. I will try to update warnings accordingly for each chapter, but please read at your own discretion

WORD COUNT - 5.4k

// masterlist // series masterlist // send me your thoughts // playlist // no way home fan fiction //

The world seemed to slip out from under you, fracturing beneath your feet and leaving you to sink into a deep, dark hole.  

It was quiet—so unbearably quiet—and the tension between you and your estranged friends had become so thick that you feared it would soon take form and seep into your lungs. Maybe that would be for the best, you thought, wondering if suffocating on your collective grief would somehow be easier than whatever came next.  

“Aunt May…” You sputtered, unable to force the words out. Shaking your head, you asked, “Are you sure?”  

God, what a stupid question. You almost wanted to slap yourself for asking something so mindless.

Ned’s lips pressed into a thin line, trying to swallow his own sorrow. “I wish we weren’t,” he said with a small, wistful chuckle, still too shocked to fully acknowledge the gravity of it all. “But… yeah, we’re sure. She’s… She’s gone.”  

Your heart sank, unable to think of the right string of words to form a reply.  

With your mind reeling, you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking that this was some sort of cruel joke–the kind where the punchline would never quite hit. But all it took was one look at the red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained cheeks of Ned and Mj to know that they were telling the truth.  

She was dead—Aunt May was dead.  

And, somehow, it seemed as though that wasn’t even the worst part of the mess your friends had gotten themselves in.  

“I know that it’s a lot to take in all at once,” Ned started back up, perhaps noticing the way the color seemed to drain from your face. “If you need me to go back over it or explain anything then I can-”  

You stopped listening to him, staring blankly at the doormat beneath their feet. They hadn’t even bothered to come inside your apartment, too panicked to waste any time before delving into the details about Doctor Strange and the multiverse and other Spider-Man’s.  

But honestly, you didn’t care about any of that.  

You didn’t care about string theory or whatever multiversal villains had apparently slipped into your world—because you couldn’t stop thinking about what Ned had said about how May died. It hurt to think about it, the shrapnel and debris that had torn her flesh, the glider that had punctured her side and left her bleeding out in Peter’s arms…  

Aunt May had died a horrific and brutal death, and you weren’t sure that there would ever be any way for you to come to terms with that.  

“Peter,” you finally spoke, fire raging in your eyes as you looked at Ned. “Where is Peter?”  

He spared Mj a sidelong glance, as if silently asking for her permission to answer. Frustration began to prick your skin, crawling up your spine as your stare turned harsh, offended that he didn’t just tell you outright. You knew that things between the four of you hadn’t ended well, but this… 

Mj crossed her arms, looking almost as frustrated as you were with Ned’s choice to look to her for permission, and decided to answer in his place.  

“Downstairs,” she told you, her tone purposefully clipped as a way to show that the wounds sustained in the downfall of your friendship had not yet healed–and you didn’t care, because you knew that yours hadn’t either.  

“Is he…” you trailed off, not sure how to say it. If May’s death had been so brutal, then God knows what kind of injuries Peter might’ve sustained in the fight?  

But you didn’t have to speak, because whether the two of you liked it or not, you had been friends—and she always knew what you were thinking. “He’s safe,” she told you, quelling your nerves just a little. A reluctant sigh slipped her lips, shaking her head as she added, “But he’s not okay.”  

You knew what she meant—physically Peter had survived the fight with this Goblin man that they had told you about, but mentally…  

You understood why she was hesitant to tell you about it, too. Of the three of you, there was only one that had ever been able to delve down into the depths of Peter’s trauma and help him claw his way back out of the gnawing pit that threatened to consume him—and it wasn’t either of them.  

And, just as Mj knew you, you knew her. 

She didn’t want you around Peter, not anymore—and so if she was willingly telling you that he wasn’t okay, then it meant that she knew how much he truly needed you right now.  

“You guys should’ve told me sooner,” you grit your teeth, desperately trying to bite back against the resentment rising in your throat. “You should’ve told me as soon as all of this started, instead of waiting until everything went to shit.”  

It wasn’t your intention to sound bitter, but that didn’t stop you from coming across that way. Ned recoiled from your tone like a blow, but you didn’t have it in you to feel guilty right now.  

They had been dealing with all of this multiversal crisis bullshit for nearly a week now—and yet none of them had thought to say a single word to you until now. And while you knew that your presence likely wouldn’t have changed the course of events that had unfolded, it still hurt.  

And it still made you angry.  

“What do you need me to do?” You asked after realizing that neither of them intended to respond to your sharp statement.  

“Well,” Ned started, nervously rubbing his sweaty palms against his khakis, “it’s gonna take us some time to figure out where the villains are hiding, and even longer to work out what to do with them. And, since these other Peter’s have dealt with these guys before, we could really use their help…”  

He trailed off, once again looking to Mj, this time to silently urge her to finish his sentence.  

She rolled her eyes. “We need you to let them stay here.”  

Your brows furrowed, glancing between the two of them as if once again waiting for some sort of punchline to hit. It didn’t.  

“It might take us a bit–a few weeks, maybe—to find all of them and stop them. And now that Happy’s complex was literally blown to pieces, we don’t have anywhere for the two of them to stay while they help out.” Mj tried to explain. She looked defeated when she said, “We didn’t know who else we could go to that would actually understand.”  

Understand.  

If you weren’t still reeling from everything they had just told you, then you probably would have laughed at the word. You would hardly say that you understood what was going on—but you knew what she was getting.  

Mj’s dad would hardly allow two random men to stay in his house with them, and Ned’s Lola probably wasn’t too keen on the idea either. With Happy’s place destroyed, they had nowhere left to turn.  

You weren’t sure how to feel now that you knew they had only come to you because you were their last choice.  

At the risk of aggravating Mj, you said, “I wanna talk to Peter.”  

“I don’t know if now’s a good time,” Mj swiftly shot back. “I told you that’s he’s not okay—”  

“But he’s here,” you stated, nodding your head towards the stairs somewhere behind them that led back down to the lobby. “And you’re insane if you think I’m gonna agree to let two random ass men stay in my house without at least knowing what his plan is.”  

Mj bristled at the harshness of your tone; and so did you.  

You weren’t used to this.  

Mj had been your friend for far longer than she had been whatever she was to you now, and neither of you were used to this—to your once special connection being reduced to nothing more than strained conversations and fractured feelings towards one another.  

“Fine,” Mj surrendered, her hands lifting slightly. “Do whatever you want.”  

It wasn’t until then that you realized that you had been waiting for her permission, even though you didn’t believe you truly needed it. Peter was your friend—and he had been your friend long before he even knew Mj. If you wanted to talk to him, then you had every right to.  

Yet you still hadn’t been able to will yourself to push between the two of them until she had spoken, side-stepping to let you pass. When you started descending the stairs to the lobby, you were shocked that neither she nor Ned followed, offering you a sense of privacy with Peter that you hadn’t expected—as if she still held some shred of trust in you.  

You didn’t want to think about it though, unsure of how you felt about that, too.  

Halfway down the dank stairway of your complex, you felt a shiver dance along your spine. It prickled your skin and set your nerves on edge, but it didn’t catch you off guard. You always felt this way when Peter was around—as if your body could always sense when he was around, even when you hadn’t yet seen him.  

The last step creaked when you placed your weight onto it, and from across the poorly maintained lobby, Peter’s neck snapped in your direction at the sound.  

It felt like ice skittered across your bones at the sight of him, your heart lurching against your ribcage.  

You had gotten used to seeing Peter battered and bruised years ago. Even before he became Spider-Man, he often found himself the victim of bullies and assholes, rarely going more than a few weeks without a busted lip or a new bruise. But this…  

This was different, somehow.  

It wasn’t just the blood-stained suit that set your heart racing, nor was it the lacerated skin or his sweat-matted hair. No, those things were normal—in the same way that being bitten by a radioactive spider was normal.  

It was even normal to see him standing before you, his chin high and shoulders back, presenting a perfect image of strength even after experiencing something as traumatic as losing May.  

Peter’s relationship with trauma had been intimate enough these past few years that you weren’t shocked to see him like this, standing tall rather than balling up and crying on the floor. You figured that was what most others would do if they were in his situation.  

But Peter wasn’t like other people.  

Peter was a hero—and if you had learned anything about heroes in your lifetime, it was that they were incredible liars.  

His eyes couldn't lie, though.

Bloodshot and ringed with exhaustion, his eyes were what had made you feel so sick, your stomach twisting itself into knots.  

They lacked the life and hope of the boy you had loved so dearly, replaced with something like rage—a pure, unbridled and unrelenting type of rage. Looking at him now you couldn’t ignore the burning talon that seemed to rake against your mind, filling your brain with thoughts you didn’t want to think right now—telling you that looking at Peter now, with the light draining from his eyes, was the same as looking in a mirror.  

“Peter,” a metallic tang danced on your tongue as you dug your teeth into your cheek, biting back against the tears threatening to well-up in your eyes.  

Letting your instincts guide you, you rushed across the lobby to where he stood by the front door, reaching for his hand without a second thought.  

His suit had been torn along his palm, and as you felt the warmth radiating from his calloused skin, you tried to take some comfort in the fact that at least he had survived—even if you still weren’t ready to accept that May hadn’t.  

“Don’t,” He yanked his hand back from you, his voice hoarse. “Don’t say you’re sorry.”  

You froze for half a heartbeat, your hand hanging awkwardly in-between the two of you. “I wasn’t going to.”  

You weren’t sure if you were telling the truth, but it didn’t seem to matter either way.  

Either way, you tried to understand his reaction, even as you winced from the sting of rejection. What good would an apology really do for a boy who had already lost everything?  

It wouldn’t bring the light back to his eyes.  

It wouldn’t bring May back to life.  

“Ned told me everything,” you told him, unwilling or unable to say Mj’s name right now. You clenched and unclenched your fists, painfully aware of the absence of his warmth. “You know I’ll do anything I can to help, so just tell me what needs to be done and I’ll do it.”  

Peter scoffed, his jaw tensing. “We both know that what I want doesn’t matter,” he said bluntly. Motioning to your surroundings, he continued, “If what I wanted mattered, then we wouldn’t even be here. We wouldn’t be asking for your help—wouldn’t be dragging another person into this and asking them to risk their life!”  

You did your best not to react, knowing that he hadn’t meant it quite as bad as it sounded. It already hurt knowing that you had been Mj and Ned’s last choice for help, but knowing that Peter didn’t want you to be a choice at all hurt far worse—even if it was to keep you safe.  

“Well, you’re here now,” you told him, keeping your voice steady. “So you might as well tell me what your plan is—or at least tell me how long I’ll need to play bunkmates with strangers.”  

You were lying when you had told Mj and Ned that you needed to talk to Peter before agreeing to let the alternate Spider-Men stay in your apartment—you didn’t care about housing with strangers, aware that there was nothing they could do to you that you haven't endured before.  

Selfishly, you had just wanted a reason to come down and talk to him. To see him. To know that he was alive. You didn’t care about anything else.  

Sometimes you worried that you didn’t even care about your own life, only Peter’s.  

But Peter cared about your life—far more than you would ever want him to.  

“My plan doesn’t matter,” he said, his tone clipped, “cause I don’t want you getting involved. And I definitely don’t want you to let those guys stay here, alright? We don’t know them.”  

You steeled yourself, resisting the urge to argue with him and instead asking a simple question. “Do you have anywhere else for them to go?”  

He didn’t respond, huffing out a breath, already frustrated with the defiance he knew you were about to display.  

“You might not want my help, but if Ned’s right–” you told him, gesturing backwards towards the staircase, “–which he usually is—then you’re gonna need these guys.”  

“But that doesn’t mean we need you,” Peter protested gruffly.  

Your chest tightened, but you kept shoving back against the hurt. Later, you would deal with that later.  

“It doesn’t matter if you need me,” you retorted with a defiant tilt of your chin, unwavering as his rageful gaze seemed to pierce through your skull, “because you’re stuck with me either way.”  

You hadn’t expected the statement to affect him, but it did, his voice softening slightly. “I always have been.”  

“Exactly. So you might as well make this easy on the both of us and not fight me on it,” you declared, trying to conjure up the most convincing smile you could offer. “Let me help, Peter.”  

A sigh slipped his lips, heavy with reluctant resignation as he realized he wasn’t winning this battle. “We’ve already lost so many people… I’ve lost so many people. And there’s already enough blood on my hands,” he said, lifting his hands to display the torn, blood-stained fabric, driving his point home. “It doesn’t matter what I say—so let them stay here or don’t, I don’t care. But just know that whatever happens to you, it’s not on me. Because I told you to stay out of it, alright?”  

He took a step closer, and you didn’t dare move a single muscle as his lips hovered just inches from your own. “Do whatever you want,” his voice was barely a whisper, laced with a venomous edge that nearly made you tremble, “but don’t expect me to come running to save you when it all goes to shit.”  

His words hung in the air like a curse, lingering in the lobby for far longer than he did. As soon as the promise had left his lips, he was already turning on his heel and shoving the door open, abandoning you in the dim space.  

You knew better than to think he meant it.  

But knowing didn’t make it hurt any less.  

You stuck your hands beneath the running faucet, scrubbing the blood from a jagged cut on your palm. It wasn’t all that deep, shallow enough that it probably wouldn't even leave a scar once healed. When you were done rinsing it, you cupped your hands and gathered the water in them, splashing your reddened cheeks.  

Crying would have been a normal part of grieving for May, and when you forced yourself to look back at your reflection in the bathroom mirror, you couldn’t help but wish that you could’ve been a little more normal.  

But tears hadn’t been the cause of your flushed appearance—no, because you had never been very good at expressing the more delicate emotions, like sadness.  

You were good at expressing anger, though.  

You were very good at expressing anger.  

After Peter had stormed out of the lobby and abandoned you to choke on his cruel promise, it had taken you several minutes to work up the nerve to go back upstairs and face Mj and Ned. By some stroke of luck you had managed to keep a tight leash on your often volatile attitude, telling them your decision to let the other Peter’s stay with you.  

And then you lost control as soon as they left, loosening the reins on your anger and taking the uncomfortable feelings out on a nearby potted plant, shouting curses as you tossed it at the wall.  

By the time you thought to clean it up, after finishing another string of irate profanities, your hands had been shaking so bad that you cut yourself on one of the dirt-covered shards. And maybe, once you felt the jagged ceramic dig into your palm, you should’ve hissed or cursed more or stopped cleaning to patch yourself up.  

But you didn’t. You stayed quiet, continuing to pluck the shattered fragments off the floor until you had gotten them all, dumping them into the trash before grabbing the broom and dustpan and cleaning the dirt and scattered leaves, too.  

There were more important things to deal with than cleaning a dirty wound.  

Like making sure none of your friends could see that you weren’t nearly as composed as you tried to seem.  

The familiar rhythmic rapping of Mj’s knuckles against the front door made you forgo the bandage you were going to fix to your palm, tossing the rag you’d used to dry your face into the sink and heading straight to the living room.  

Carefully shoving your injured hand into your pocket, you opened the door and tried not to look surprised when Peter wasn’t standing in-between Mj and Ned. Of course he hadn’t come with them—why would he? He had already made it clear how he felt about all of this.  

It did become significantly harder to mask your shock however when a tall, messy haired boy stepped into view from behind them, clad in a crimson and cobalt webbed suit.  

“Get inside,” you hissed a bit harsher than intended, stepping aside and waving the three of them into your apartment.  

The last thing you needed was your neighbors seeing an unmasked, alternate version of Spider-Man standing in front of your door. It had already been risky enough that Peter had come here in his suit, standing in the lobby and sticking out like a sore thumb.  

Once they were inside, you shut the door and turned to Ned. “I thought you said there were two of them,” you noted, avoiding looking at the lanky Spider-Man who seemed just as desperate to avoid you, busying himself with walking around the room and studying the art on the walls.  

Ned shrugged. “He didn’t wanna come.”  

“Not that he didn’t want to come,” Mj pointedly corrected him, frowning at his bluntness. “He just wanted to keep patrolling. The Goblin, the one who…” she cut herself off, unable to force the words off her tongue. Scrapping the sentence altogether, she started again, “The Goblin’s from his world, so he seemed to think that he had the best chance of hunting him down. But we gave him the address.”  

You didn’t bother giving her an actual response, a subtle nod the only sign you had heard her at all. She didn’t seem to care much, just as unsure of what to say to you as you were to her.  

“So,” Ned clicked his tongue, trying to cut through the growing tension. “This is Peter 3!” He announced, gesturing to the other Peter, who was picking up a frame that had been face down on an end table. “That’s what we’re calling him, at least. Y’know, to tell them apart. The other one is Peter 2.”  

You gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Creative.”  

Done dawdling over Ned and Mj, you forced yourself to look at the un-masked hero from another world. He was placing the frame back onto the table—not face down, as he had found it, but up-right. You frowned at the photograph it displayed, a picture of you, Ned, Mj, and Peter from sometime last year.  

“You’re awfully nosy,” you told him, your voice like ice.  

His muscles tensed, hesitating as he faced your gaze. “Sorry,”  

His voice was slightly deeper than Peter’s, his hair a shade or two darker, his features a bit less soft, but still noticeably young, putting him in his early twenties at most. Truthfully, if it weren’t for the suit he was wearing, you would’ve never guessed that he was supposed to be the Peter Parker of another world.  

You had expected him to be more… Peter-like, in appearance, and yet as far as you could tell the resemblances were very slight, if they even existed at all.  

The mannerisms were there, though. The subtleties of Peter Parker, the things that most people never noticed and yet were ingrained in your mind. He licked his lips, a nervous tic that left you always carrying chapstick in your pocket. His hands hung at his sides and you saw the way his thumb tapped against each of his fingers, starting with his index and ending with his pinky, only to start over again.  

Watching him, taking note of every familiar twitch and tic and habit, made something in your chest tighten.  

And, when you told him your name, it was as if your icy tone had melted altogether. “It’s nice to meet you.”  

For a moment you thought he wouldn’t respond, his throat bobbing as he swallowed roughly, eyes darting around the room. But then, suddenly, he gave you a weak smile. “You too.” A trace of amusement laced his response, too subtle for you to detect.  

“We’ve gotta go,” Ned suddenly spoke, jutting a thumb towards the door. “Peter’s waiting outside so he can make sure we get home safe, but-” he stopped, brows furrowing as considered whether he should finish. “But text us later, okay? Just to let us know that you’re okay.”  

Your heart stuttered at the mention of Peter’s name, at knowing that he actually had come—even if it hadn’t been for you—but you didn’t mention it.  

Instead, you focused on Ned, giving your sweet friend the kindest smile you could muster—which, admittedly, didn’t feel like much. Despite everything that had happened with your friends in the past few months, your fight had never been with Ned. He was just caught in the middle, unfairly forced to pick sides.  

And you couldn’t bring yourself to be mad at him for picking Peter. Not when you knew that you would’ve done the same.  

“I will,” you promised.  

Ned gave you an equally somber smile before opening the door to leave. Even once Ned was in the hall, already descending the staircase, Mj lingered in the entryway—not for long, a heartbeat, maybe—turning back towards you just long enough to mutter, “Keep your guard up.”  

You didn’t have a chance to say anything back to her before she let the door slam shut, following quickly after Ned and leaving you alone with… this guy.  

The other Peter had abandoned his spot by the end table, seemingly done with investigating your apartment and left to do nothing but stand awkwardly a few feet away from you, clearly unsure of what to do or say now that it was just the two of you.  

“So,” you breathed out, popping your lips. “Peter 3, yeah? Good name. You go by that back home, too?”  

He laughed, a suit-clad hand nervously rising to the back of his neck. “Uh–yeah, no, definitely not. Just plain ole’ Peter Parker over there.”  

The nervous energy radiating from the boy almost seemed contagious as you started to pick at your nails. “Do you have a nickname?”  

He blinked, looking as if he hadn’t heard a word you said. “Sorry, what?”  

“A nickname,” you repeated, only for your brows to then furrow. “You have those where you’re from, don’t you? Nicknames? Like, you know, something you go by other than your actual name?”  

“Oh! Yes—sorry, yes we have nicknames in my world,” he exclaimed, his pale skin starting to flush.  

“I just thought that this whole numerical system thing that Ned’s going with to keep track of who’s who seems a little dehumanizing, yeah?”  

“For sure,” he agreed, sucking on his lip as he nodded along with you.  

You gave him a second, waiting and waiting for an answer to your apparently long-forgotten question, before asking, “So… Do you have one?”  

The slight blush that had tinged his skin instantly darkened, suddenly the same shade of crimson as his suit. His grip on the back of his neck tightened, too, his fingertips prodding into his own skin.  

“Sorry-” he apologized for the millionth time, more nervous laughter spilling out alongside it, “I do! I mean, sort of, I think. I don’t know if it’s really a nickname, but back in my world you really just called me by my last name most of the time anyway, so–I don’t know—maybe that would work?”  

The sheer quantity of word vomit spewing from his mouth was impressive and likely hard-to-follow for most, but you consider yourself a bit of an expert in the anxious ramblings of Peter Parker.  

“In your world?” You echoed, instantly catching the subtle mention. “We know each other?”  

Maybe it shouldn’t have been shocking to learn that there were other versions of you throughout the multiverse as well, and yet it was. You figured that it was plausible, of course, considering that two variations of Peter had just been thrown into your world, but for some reason it just didn’t feel right.  

You reasoned that anyone would feel that way, though.  

“Yeah,” the boy, Parker, answered, a bit clipped. “We do.”  

“Interesting.” Your brows lifted, “Are we friends?”  

Parker scrunched his nose, his head tilting slightly.  

“Yeah,” his voice was an octave higher than before, and if you knew him better, then you likely would’ve called him on the obvious tell. But you didn’t know him, and so you didn’t say anything when he decided to double-down on the lie, “Yeah, we’re friends.”  

“Well I guess that means that this is just as weird for you as it is for me, then.” You laughed, trying to add some humor to the situation.  

Parker gave a tightlipped smile. “Definitely weird.”  

The seconds felt like they stretched into minutes after that, silently racking your brain for something to say, hoping that he might say something—but, eventually, you settled on offering an escape from the situation instead.  

“You’re probably exhausted from the whole multiversal travel thing, so if you want, I can just show you the guest room and give you some privacy or something,” you told him, vaguely gesturing towards the hallway.  

Parker seemed to relax a bit at the prospect of being alone, loosing a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Uhm–yeah, that’d be great, actually.”  

He followed you down the short hall, his hand finally falling from his neck and his skin returning to its normal complexion as his nerves began to wane.  

“This is it,” you told him, the hinges crying out as you shoved the door open. “It’s not much, but it’s somewhere to sleep, at least.”  

Wasn’t much felt like an understatement, though the room was typical for a New York apartment.  

A tad bigger than your average shoebox, there was just enough space to fit a full-sized bed, a small armoire, and a single nightstand adorned with an old desk lamp and a little pink teddy bear—a gift from Peter, years ago.  

Parker walked into the room, looking around and brushing his fingertips against the emerald quilt. It was a bit old and somewhat thin, but it was better than nothing you supposed, and Parker certainly didn’t seem like he was going to complain about it.  

“It’s great,” he assured you, and even though he did sound genuine, you couldn’t help but snort. He looked over at where you still stood in the doorway, giving you a timid smile as he said, “Way better than sleeping on the streets.”  

You returned the gesture, lazily lifting a shoulder. “We’ll see if you still feel that way in the morning. That mattress is about a hundred years old, so it’s probably the equivalent of sleeping on really lumpy cement.”  

Parker hummed his amusement, carefully perching on the edge of the bed, his smile seeming to deepen when he caught sight of the little bear on the nightstand.  

“I guess I’ll let you get some sleep,” you told him, reaching for the door handle, “if you need anything—extra blankets, or something—just let me know; my room’s right across the hall.”  

He muttered his thanks, but as you went to pull the door closed, you heard your name fall from his lips. It was strange sounding, strangled and foreign, like he didn’t quite know how to say it. When you turned back to face him, a subtle wince seemed to etch across his face.  

“Can I… Can I ask you something?” Parker stammered out the question, his voice faltering like a candle flame in the wind.  

You nodded once, fingers still wrapped around the knob, savoring the coolness of the brass against the now-clotted wound on your palm.

He took a breath, his gaze momentarily flickering back to the teddy bear on the nightstand. His thoughts felt heavy on his tongue as he tried to force them out of his mouth, “Are you happy?”  

You blinked at him, unsure of what to make of the hope that seemed to cling to each syllable and half-wondering if you’d heard him right.  

“I-” you tried to start, only to realize that you had no clue what to say.  

There was a fleeting moment where you realized that you could tell him the truth. You could tell him that happiness felt like a distant shore far from your reach, forever obscured by the fiery tempest of a brutal and ancient rage—a rage that, sometimes, didn’t even feel like your own.  

But then he looked at you with those big, expectant eyes; eyes that should have been foreign to you, and yet felt so familiar—and you realized that he wouldn’t like that answer.  

Sucking in a breath, you evaded his question as best you could. “Ask me again when all of this is over,” you told him, your lips curving into a soft, playful arc, “and maybe I’ll tell you the truth.”  

This time when you went to close the door, he didn’t stop you.  

series masterlist

a/n - i wish that i could properly express just how amazing (and terrifying) it has been to rewrite this story. first created at quite possibly the lowest point of my life, infinitely you has provided me with a necessary escape at a time when i desperately needed it. now that i'm in a better position, i found it necessary to give it the plot, writing style, and dedication that it deserved. i'm aware some people might not be interested in a rewrite and that's ok, but for those that are i just wanna say: thank you, thank you, thank you for giving infinitely you (and me) another shot. you're incredible.

if anyone would like to be added to the tag list, just let me know! as of right now, chapters will be posted every other monday, though i may switch that to weekly soon!

part two, titled "crullers & constants", to be released april 1st

[spidey-webz]

giving peter his first blowjob

warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, peter is 18+ here of course, oral (m receiving), inexperienced peter, hair pulling, tiny bit of dirty talk (soft), swearing, cum swallowing

pairing: tom!peter parker x reader

a/n: this is just peter brain rot because the image of him coming from a blowjob lives in my head rent free

masterlist

Peter and you had been dating for a few months now. You had taken it all fairly slow, not wanting to rush each other through any part of the relationship. And it was working well.

Your time together was always cherished by the both of you. Whenever you were alone, you did spend a considerable amount of your time kissing each other and exchanging innocent touches.

But you never went the whole way.

However, you loved the feeling of Peter growing hard between your legs while you had him on top of you. His soft kisses against your neck spurred you on as you were grinding your hips up into his. The low groans escaping him reverberated through your body and you knew you wanted more.

“Peter,” you mumbled between kisses one day, your boyfriend looking down at you with wide eyes. His hair was a mess, a few stray curls hanging down onto his forehead and his biceps was straining against his shirt as he supported himself with his arms. Your fingers softly wandered over his cheek, then down to his chest. "I want to touch you," you whispered, hands slipping under his shirt. His skin was soft, but the muscles beneath were strong and hard and you wanted to explore them with your tongue.

Peter's cheeks turned a soft red before he pressed a small kiss to your forehead, lying down on the bed beside you. You were quick to settle on his lap as his hardened cock already pressed against his pants, eager to be touched. To be honest, you were just as eager to finally get your hands on him.

His hair was tousled as he spread out on the pillow, letting you take the reins now. You pushed his shirt up further, exposing his happy trail and the tight abs he sported. Kissing over his stomach and then further down while Peter was starting to breathe faster. His hips pushed up to meet your kisses.

You opened his jeans with ease and pulled them down his legs, revealing a few scars on his upper thighs and the visible boner in his boxers. Heartrate rapidly increasing, you took your time pulling his underwear down inch by inch and eventually, his cock sprang free.

His tip was already red and leaking pre-cum as you admired the sight before you. Your boyfriend’s cheeks had grown a deep red as his chest was rapidly rising and falling, your own hands putting his underwear away before you took the time to squeeze his thighs. Peter's thighs were strong and you loved sitting on them, but not today. Today would be all about him and getting a taste of him.

Your hand delicately wrapped around his cock. He wasn't too big, probably just the right size. Prominent veins ran up the sides of his length and you knew you wanted to get your mouth on it as soon as possible. Judging by Peter's fast breathing and the way his hands clung to the sheets, you had to take it slow – drag out the moment, enjoy it.

A soft groan escaped your boyfriend's lips when you stroked him for the first time. Peter had touched himself to the thoughts of you countless times, but it was a better feeling with your hand wrapped around him. His eyes had closed in the process and you were eager to make the man underneath you squirm and moan.

A few more tugs followed, Peter's lips parting as more sounds escaped his throat. The sight was heavenly. His curls were even more of a mess now and his face was filled with pure bliss. His biceps flexed as he tugged on the sheets below him, eyes fluttering open to find your gaze as you continued your work.

You could feel your own arousal rising within you. A tight coil in your stomach, a heat that was slowly spreading throughout your entire body. But this was about Peter now.

"Feel good?" You asked. "Do you like it when I touch you like this?"

It sent a shiver straight down your spine when Peter replied with a raspy voice, nodding quickly.

"Yes. Keep going. Please..."

You didn't have to be told twice.

For the first time, you wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, tasting his salty pre-cum. A small touch from your mouth alone was enough to make Peter buck his hips up. He was desperate for more and he hoped you'd give it to him.

Your right hand still stayed wrapped around his length, but you were circling your tongue around the tip of his cock, enjoying the taste and the feeling to the fullest. When you were sure that Peter had enough of the teasing touches, you decided to take him into your mouth completely.

His cock quickly hit the back of your throat and Peter let out another soft moan. It sounded like music in your ears, so you started to move your head up and down once you got used to the feeling of his length in your mouth.

"Shit," he groaned and pressed his head further into the pillows, while his hips moved up to meet your touch. Your hands held onto his strong thighs, nails digging into his skin as you swirled your tongue around him and took him into your mouth over and over again.

The sweet taste of him remained on your tongue, a firm reminder that he was getting close and Peter grew more desperate by the second.

"Fuck, I'm going to come." His voice broke halfway, knuckles turning white before he removed them from the sheets to bury them in your hair instead.

His hands gently pressed you down further on his cock as he started to thrust up into you instinctively and you couldn't help but moan around him as he did so. A few more thrusts, a few more pants and he was spasming inside you, warm seed filling your mouth.

You swallowed it down without a second thought, pressing a few more kisses to the head of his cock before you let go of him. A swipe of your tongue across your lips and you looked back up to your boyfriend.

Beads of sweat had gathered on his forehead, but there was a smile on his lips and Peter didn't waste any time to pull you back into his arms. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, not bothering to put his pants back on.

Cuddling you and then touching you in return was way more important now.

[sticky-bros]

I'm gonna fucking cum, dude.

[spideyanakin]

jokes on you (p.p)

brooklyn nine-nine au, where the mcu lives in the same universe as the 99

summary - jake is the only cop who has ever managed to capture spider-man

back to main masterlist 

peter parker masterlist

Peter landed on your fire escape with an inaudible thud, hand gripping the worn-out metal bar to reach for your window. Before his fist could collide with the glass, he noticed the rainbow maker sticker he had bought for you at the MOMA's gift shop on your last school field trip.

He noticed only after spotting the trinket, that you were nowhere to be seen. He could see the mess on your desk, mountains of papers and colored pencils littered the space. The small blue desk light was on, shining across the squiggles on your paper. Peter couldn't see what it was about but he was ready to bet on his superpowers that you were trying to work a case. Either one Peter had told you about or one that had recently caught your attention on the news.

Or maybe even better--a case you had found this afternoon on your internship.

There you were. Peter's sense caught up with your light footsteps towards your bedroom door. Your hand catching the silver handle of your wooden before swinging it open.

Your face lit up when you saw Peter waiting at your window. You jumped on your feet, socked feet bouncing on the blue carpet as you made the few steps toward him.

Your fingers hooked with the handled of your window before pushing it open.

"How long have you been waiting here?" You greeted, soft smile dancing on your lips at his sight.

"A few minutes, barely," Peter swiftly slid into your room, removing his mask and throwing it on your bed before turning back to you.

You took him in, biting your lip. His hair was messy from his spider-man mask, his eyes bright as he stared back at you. He looked happy and you couldn't help but copy his contagious smile.

"That's good," you blurted out, lost in trying to figure out what made him so happy--but he was always happy, it was Peter.

“How was your internship?” He jumped a bit on his heels, pointing to the brand-new NYPD jacket you forgot you were still wearing.

“Fun, actually.” You chuckled. “I got to help fight crime today, a bit like you, I guess," you joked. "I'm assisting a detective, we're working on a case, it's pretty cool."

"Explains this?" He walked towards your desk to get a better look at what had previously caught his attention. You had drawn over a map of New York with different colors and shapes--scribbles only you knew the answers to.

"No, that's a whole different thing," you chuckled, meeting Peter by your desk and leaning closer to him.

“How was your "internship"?” You tilted your head to get a closer look at him. The air quotes getting a small laugh out of him. "Anything on that case you were telling me about?"

“Nope, nothing," he shrugged his shoulders. "Not much but the usual. Stolen bike, helping an old woman cross the road, always that same guy trying to steal a redbull from Delmar's. "

"Every day!"

"Every day! You'd thought he get the hint by now. Delmar threatened to call the police today though."

"As he should."

"Talking about the police, did you know that every cop in the state of New York is trying to catch you? They have this giant bet on which precinct will catch you first. It’s pretty funny actually," you laughed to yourself, thinking back on today's briefing when they taught you all about it. Jake had even shown you his folder with a collection of every single little detail he had collected, including old police reports from other precincts about failed attempts to catch him, to witness interviews.

“Oh well, I'm impossible to catch, darling,” Peter gave you his best grin.

"Confident much?"

"Always," he kissed your cheek.

“Well, be careful. They all think you’re the bad guy," you fixed a few strands of hair on his forehead.

“I always am, princess.” 

"So tell me, what's up with that guy you were telling me about. Because I think they have a similar case going on at the precinct.”

“Well, the guy I'm currently searching for is called Todd Willis. Known for selling drugs around Queens and Brooklyn, but now we think he’s selling Alien substances. Alien drug if you want. Tony asked me to keep an eye on him until they know more. What did you hear today?"

"I don't think that's the same guy, but one of the detectives was going on about how this guy was found with an ungodly amount of drugs and wouldn't tell them who he bought it from."

"Well, please tell me if you have anything on Todd Willis. I think it's bothering Tony more than he's letting on. Be nice to have some more clues."

"Promise."

- 

The next morning you got dressed in the NYPD uniform the nine-nine gave you, stuffing your name badge in your bag before scurrying off to grab breakfast at your closest Starbucks. You never went to Starbucks but you were in a rush and you forgot where you had placed your go-cup. Only when you were waiting for your coffee did you realize Peter had borrowed it two weeks ago and never gave it back.

You basically flew down the steps of the subway, thanking whatever gods were with you that morning because the train was just arriving as you swiped your card.

You finally allowed yourself to breathe correctly once you were sat on the uncomfortable blue bench and the silver doors closed, the train harshly starting again, and leaving behind the platform, heading in a straight line towards your destination.

You checked your watch before taking a new comforting sip of your drink, warm and sweet and everything you felt like you needed to survive today. Your shoulders slacked when you realized you had managed to catch up with the lost minutes, you were going to arrive right on time.

You decided to take your one-month mandatory work experience/ internship Midtown High required, with the NYPD. Unfortunately, you made your decision a little late, so the nine-nine was the only district available. It was a little far from your home, but at least it was still on the same side of the river. A few subway stops weren't going to scare you away.

You didn't mind as much as you thought you would. You loved Brooklyn, and the nine-nine had been much more welcoming than you'd imagine. In the little hours you had already spent with them, they had broken every stereotype that you built about working at a precinct. The images you had made yourself about the calm, serious, and strict detectives were quickly replaced by the chaotic staff that had greeted you days before.

“Morning intern!” Jake bounced on his chair as he saw you walk in.

“She’s not your personal intern, you know,” Amy raised an eyebrow, looking up from her computer as she took a new sip of her coffee.

“She’s technically Captain Holt’s intern,” Rosa entered the conversation, her sharp eyes keeping their focus on her screen. 

“Yeah, but he assigned her to work with me,” he pointed his finger at you and back to him. 

“Two days ago! She worked with me yesterday,” Amy raised her hands, almost offended by Jake’s comment.

“No, she didn’t! She worked with the two of us!”

“That’s because you wouldn’t leave us and forced Captain Holt to put you on the case,” she looked at him with the whites of her eyes.

“Alright, alright. But I’m sure we’re going to work together again.” Jake pointed the pink eraser of his pencil at you and winked. 

You bit your lip, trying to not laugh. 

“Morning Precinct," Captain Holt walked out of his office, head down on a pile of papers in his hands. "I have a new case for you Peralta,” he lifted his gaze to meet Jake's bright eyes. He walked the few steps to his desk, blue sneakers squeaking on the clean white floor before dropping everything that was in his hands on the messy desk, in between the scattered cups of coffee and the old-looking banana peel Jake promised had only been there two days. “So you can let Amy and her intern work on their case,” he nodded, "and clean your desk Peralta" he added, raising a disgusted eyebrow as he scanned the wooden surface. He looked back at Jake before turning on his heels, making large steps back towards his office.

“HA! My intern-” Captain Holt, turned around, and raised an eyebrow for the second time that morning, Amy gave him a small, apologetic smile before awkwardly turning back to you.

You took this as your cue to grab a chair and sit at Amy's desk.

Jake smirked at Amy's awkward interaction before looking down at the files Holt had dropped on his desk. He eyed the white paper who was staring back at him as if this was the greatest puzzle in history.

“Todd Willis?" He blinked, trying to reread the words as if there had been some kind of mistake, hoping he wasn't losing his mind. "Didn’t we close his case a while ago?" Jake turned to Holt who was still standing at the border between the room and the safe heven that was his office.

"Yes, but it was just reopened. He’s been apparently selling some... new, stronger drug.” 

Your face fell when you heard the name. Peter was going after that guy too. Was he that dangerous that he had also caught the eye of the police?

You'd figure Jake was going to ramble about him as he worked the case, maybe you could remember some information and tell everything to Peter. Help him beat the nine-nine and crack the case before they did.

But wait. What if you cracked the case before Peter?

You loved Peter with everything in you but he was always smug about his Spider-man powers making him more useful than any detective around town.

What if you helped Jake and the nine-nine break the case before your boyfriend? Now that would be fun. 

“Captain?” You politely raised your voice, making Holt's attention drift to you. He nodded, expectantly looking at you--you took it as your cue, “may I work with Jake on the case? I was fascinated by this case when it was ongoing,” you gave him your best smile, hoping he would let you in on.

The challenge of helping the nine-nine beat Peter was way too thrilling. A race you were ready to win. A way to grab on to feeling like a super hero in your own way.

Holt raised his eyebrows, taking a second to process your request. Jake was talented but he was the personification of ADHD and could be a pain to work with. Holt truly thought that you had experienced that firsthand the other day. Nevertheless, he saw your attitude towards the Todd Willis case and knew that if you had indeed been fascinated with it, then you might indeed be some great help to his craziest recruit.

“I don’t see why not. Y/n you can work with Peralta on the case. Sorry Santiago, you can partner up with Boyle," he nodded before finally disappearing back into his office.

Amy’s mouth fell open, and Jake abruptly stood up, making a happy dance around his table.

"I'm sorry?" You offered Amy who looked at you with betrayal written all over her features. You stood up and moved your chair to sit next to Peralta.

“She’s my intern now! In ya face! Suckers!” 

“So, what you got so far?” You grounded Jake back to reality. He smiled before sitting in his chair, dramatically straightening his back and licking his finger to better flip the first page, ready to reveal all the information laid out on the files before him.

“Let’s see…”

-

Four hours had passed since you and Jake started working, your help being way more precious than he ever thought it would be. You had relocated to one of the workrooms. A large pinboard on the wall with the potential clues and locations. A table was in the middle of the room, with just even more papers splayed across it; an Agatha Christie book you thought held a potential clue, a random yellow kitchen glove neatly placed in a ziplock that had been found on a goose chase to catch Todd. You hadn't been allowed to pull it out of the bag, but you thought having it around might still be important.

The last blueberry muffin of a box Terry had kindly given you after your first hour of research stood proudly in between the mess you had created, and empty glasses previously holding peach syrup sat on the edges.

You looked at the map pinned to the wall.

“We're missing a step. It’s impossible he carried the drugs from LA to here without anyone noticing," Jake's fingers danced across the map, stopping on the picture of the drug cargo that you had pinned to the Hudson River hours prior. "He must have a base somewhere in New York,” he continued.

You sighed. You knew you needed some information that you could only get in the field, and it bothered you that you couldn't be as free and sneaky as Spider-man. You understood why Peter and the avengers cracked cases so fast and easily. They were able to get information fast and spying came easy. For the police, going on the field meant a whole lot of equipment and prep. They had to be sure, use the clues they already had before they could act on their suspicions.

Your familiar ringtone broke you out of your thoughts.

Of course, it was Peter. As if he knew you were thinking about him. “It’s my boyfriend. Can I take that?”

“Yeah, don’t worry,” he shook his hand as if to show you it was more than ok, "we should take a break anyways."

You nodded before exiting the room and making a beeline to the terrace where the staff would take their private calls or the occasional cigarette.

“Hey babe,” you smiled over the phone. 

“Hi” 

“What's up?” 

“Nothing much,” he chuckled over the phone. “Just wanted to hear your voice, see how work was going. I got some more info on Todd, Im about to leave the compound."

"Oh neat," you bit your lip. That easy to get information out of Peter?

"I discovered he has a base in Brooklyn,” Peter replied making the last part of his sentence a little mysterious.

“Brooklyn?” Your eyes lit up. “Where in Brooklyn?”

“Clinton Hill, Myrtle av. Plus it’s not far from you." You could hear some shuffling and a door closing behind him. The familiar sound of webs and suddenly, a lot of wind over the phone. "Why?” his voice came out as muffled.

"Peter, are you calling and swinging again?"

"Maybe?" You could barely hear him, making you huff.

"Peter-- we talked about this, please be careful. Call me back after your mission, kay?"

“Yep. That works, bye, love you.”

“Love you too," you hung up, and pocketed your phone. "Unbelievable," you shook your head in disbelief. After the number of times, Peter almost crashed into a building by being on the phone with you or Ned or even Tony--and he had to do it again.

You sighed before walking back into the building, at least he gave you a lead. A very good lead.

“Jake, I think I got something,” you approached the table, eyes dancing across the accumulation of papers before you found your pick. It was a small yellow Post-it note with Jake's sloppy handwriting; ‘Moaning M Ry 2' written in blue ink. You and Jake had spent the whole afternoon wondering what it meant, and your conversation with Peter had struck the answer right out of you.

“Are there any streets around Myrtle av that starts with Ry?” 

“I don’t know so let me check,” Jake turned from the pinboard to his laptop, fingers dancing across the keyboard as he searched the map of Brooklyn.

“Yeah, Ryerson St. Why?”

“Well is there an N2 to this street?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you check the building?”

Jake fidgeted with the keys of his computer before getting the picture of an old grey building.

“Hey! We searched the building ages ago!” Jake pointed to it. “It’s totally possible their base is here!” He approached the board. “Hey this actually makes a lot of makes. But how did you-” he pointed, shock evident in his eyes.

“Well, these guys aren’t the only Harry Potter fans out there,” a small smirk rose on your lips as you handed the paper to Jake. He looked at you with quizzical eyes and then down to the note in his hand. 

“Oh my god!" His eyes grew wide as he read his lopsided letters "Moaning M is Moaning Myrtle I'm so dumb! Harry Potter is just the best right?” He gave you a bright smile.

“Yeah!” You chuckled. “I think you should get a team there as quickly as possible, you don’t know what their next move will be.” You added, wanting more than ever to win this one-way race with your boyfriend.

“Yes. And thank you for your help… Detective.”

- 

You sighed, watching the bottom of your coffee cup, fingers mindlessly tapping on the wooden surface of Jake's desk--while Gina talked about some random life facts about her, instead of giving you the lists of tasks that Captain Holt had asked her to hand you about an hour ago.

"Any news of Jake and Amy?" you turned to Terry who jumped at your voice, quickly closing the flappy golf page--fear of getting caught playing a video game by an intern during work hours quickly rising in his chest.

In all truths, he was bored. While Amy, Jake, and Boyle had run off to the location you had found, he had to work on what was probably the most boring case Holt had assigned him to this year.

He checked his phone, sighing when there was no message, simply his daughters' faces and big bright white numbers staring back.

"No," you melted a little more in your chair at his words.

You wished that you could have gone with them, but security was what mattered most, and of course, interns were not allowed on fieldwork.

You had no news of Peter either, making you think this had actually been a really good lead, and they were all busy trying to figure out what the heck was in this abandoned building.

In the meantime, Jake parked the disguise van and started his lookout. The big grey building sat quiet, as of yet no signs of life revealed to them. Everything was quiet until a light thump rang through the van. 

“What was that,” Amy grabbed the nearest car handle, whispering in panic. 

“Oh my god, I bet it’s Spider-man!” Jake whispered back like a fan girl whose celebrity crush had just breathed the same air. 

“You really think Spider-man is on top of our van?“ Amy tilted her head thinking his idea was absurd.

"That would be amazing,” Boyle said over the intercom. Until now he stayed quiet in the back area of the van accompanied by all the spying equipment. 

“You think we should try and catch him?” Jake whispered even lower. 

“How do you want us to catc-” Amy raised her voice, attempting to speak normally but Jake slapped his hand on her mouth. 

“Shhh. He has special hearing,” Jake whispered as low as he possibly could.

“How do you even know that?” Amy asked, trying her best to match Jake's whispers.

“I have a plan,” Jake carefully looked at Amy. “Alright, Boyle, can you look at the van’s door camera.”

“On it,” Boyle excitedly pressed on the camera buttons. 

“Alright, if he gets down, hit him with a tranquilizer, and quickly grab him. Put him in the van and come in the front with us. Make sure you double-lock the door. Make sure you do it quickly.”

“Why so quick if he’s tranquilized?” Amy didn't see the logic.

“Don’t you know anything about him!? He heals super fast which means we have like two minutes until he wakes up and gets back on his feet,” Jake huffed as if this was common knowledge, almost offended that Amy knew nothing.

“How do you know so much?” Amy whispered scream. 

“He’s like my favorite hero!”

“Yeah, Amy. He’s like Jake’s favorite hero," Boyle added through the intercom.

“And every cop knows that the sixty-seven tried to but he woke up before they could get him,” Jake added like it was obvious. 

And as if on cue, Spider-Man jumped down the van he thought was empty and slowly walked towards the building, careful not to make any startling noise for the potential bad guys who took cover inside.

"JAKE JAKE!" Boyle whispered and screamed as he saw the red silhouette appear on his computer. "He's there!"

Jake let out an excited squeak, and Boyle grabbed the tranquilizer gun that was stored on the side of the computer desk. Boyle took a breath before opening the door in a flash, perfectly shooting a tranquilizer right into Spider-man.

"Jake! Amy!" Boyle screamed and Amy and Jake rushed out of the van--making Jake scream when he saw his hero laying face flat on the floor.

"Oh my god, this is the best day of my life!" He jumped like a kid high on sugar. "Amy we caught Spider-man! We caught Spider-man!"

Amy stared at him in shock, trying to register what was even happening. She blinked when Jake and Boyle high-fived.

"Well, what are you waiting for get him in the van!"

- 

You were washing your hands in the bathroom when Jake and Boyle came back in the precinct in a hurry. Jake's hair looked at mess and his eyes were as big as they could possibly get over the excitement,

“Guys, guys! we caught Spider-Man!” 

“You caught The Spider-Man? You sure this isn’t just some guy in a costume?” Holt fixed his glasses, giving skeptical eyes to Jake.

“Hundred percent sure, Sir. No look five!” Jack blindly threw his right hand behind him, just to collide with Boyle's hand who took the cue faster than his mind could comprehend.

“Is it that guy dressed as Spider-man that lives in your building again?” Rosa interrupted. 

“Rosa, if the real Spider-man lived in my building I would have a tattoo on my forehead that says ‘Spider-man lives in my building’” Jake pointed to his forehead and chuckled. 

A small silence fell in the room, Captain Holt crossed his arms, eyes boring into Jake's as he tried to pull answers. 

“We should still check, I really want to know if I should add the 15th bar to my ‘Jake caught a random guy dressed as Spider-man’ board.” Rosa stood up from her chair. 

The whole of the team didn't bother with the thought of Jake's latest potential find, making only Captain Holt, Terry, and Rosa who came only for mere entertainment purposes, followed the team of three to the parking lot where the van had been parked.

"Brace yourselves!" Jake fed into the suspense, slowly placing his hands around the handles before ripping the door open "Ta Da-"

Before the five cops that stood around the van could register, the one and only hero flew out of the confined place, throwing as many webs as he possibly could in an attempt to escape the clutches of the police. Captain Holt was thrown to the floor as a web hit his leg and glued him to the floor.

Without a word, and almost a sigh of total annoyance, Rosa grabbed the taser on her belt and hit Spider-man that was standing right in front of her with it. The poor hero fell to the floor, unconscious.

"Well, you were right. This is The Spider-Man. Now I would really appreciate it if you would get me out of these… Webs.”

“Soz, Sir don’t think I can. You have to wait two hours. Got caught in them once, good luck going to the bathroom Sir.” Jake sheepishly replied, his tone cheery. He bounced on his heels in excitement as he spotted Terry and Rosa already starting to pick up Spider-man.

-

“Thought he would be heavier,” Terry said as he slowly draped the unconscious hero on the chair of the interrogation room.

“Y/n!” Jake called out, out of breath from sprinting up the stairs.

“Hey, how was the mission?”

“It is what we thought it was but that’s not important! Come!” Jake waved his hands for you to come, you raised an eyebrow watching him grab his guitar before making you follow him down to the interrogation rooms. 

“Bab–aaspider Man?” Your eyes went wide. You saw Peter, still fully dressed in his Spider-man suit, face down on the table-- cuffed hands twitching as he was slowly starting to wake up.

“Babpider man? I like that” Peralta added not realizing your almost mistake to call the hero in front of you, babe.

“I hate when you make up words Peralta,” Captain Holt deadpanned.

“We’re about to reveal who he truly is.” Jake bounced excitedly next to you. “Couldn’t let you miss it!” He turned to you, and your mind went through every possible way that you could stop this from happening--but no idea came to mind. “You guys ready?" Jake sat on the table. “I want to wake him up first.” Jake looked at you before unzipping the guitar bag, just to reveal and light brown guitar. You watched as he carefully placed it on his legs, clearing his throat.

“Oh boy,” Amy exclaimed before covering her ears, signing you to do the same.

“SPIDER-MAN, SPIDER-MAN!” Jakes screamed while doing notes on his guitar you were sure not to be the right notes to this song. "DOES WHATEVER A SPIDER CAN!"

Spider-Man shot up, the eyes of his mask opening wide. He looked around at the unfamiliar faces, right until he saw yours. You gave him the most apologetic smile you possibly could, and you could see from the way the eyes of his suit twitched that he was silently asking for your help.

Jake got closer, hand reaching to peel his mask off.

“What but- You can’t just do that!” You tried.

“What do you mean? Its Spider-Man we’re talking about!” Jake almost whined, not understanding your reasoning. 

“But what if his identity remains a secret for a reason? Maybe he wants to stay quiet?”

“Hey hey hey, please don’t remove my mask sir.” Spider-Man shifted in his spot, attempting to move his hands but he was trapped.

“Oh C’mon! This is like my life’s dream. Relax a little, guys! Be cool,” Jake tried to ease the tension.

“But-” 

“You guys can be so stupid sometimes,” Gina lost her focus on her freshly manicured hands, ready to take the matter into her own hands. She planted herself right behind Spider-man before ripping his mask off in one swift motion--a moment straight out of a Scooby-Doo episode, you thought.

“Oh damn your pretty,” she exclaimed before examining his face. “Oh hey, Y/n it’s your boyfriend! Damn girl,” she looked at you and then back to Peter.

Your face burned in embarrassment as the whole of the precinct now stared at you. 

“You know him?" Terry pointed to Peter.

"Kind of?”

"Kind of?" Gina interrupted you. "Queen, you're literally together, kissing on your lock screen."

“Y/n’s boyfriend is Spider-Man,” Jake shrieked.

“Yeah?” You offered him.  

“Y/n’s. Boyfriend. Is. The. Real. Spider. Man,” he looked at everyone in the group. 

“You ok, Jake?” 

“Im cool. Everything is Cool. Cool, cool, cool, cool, cool, cool, cool.” 

Jake walked out of the room. Silence fell before a loud scream coming from the main room was heard.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA” 

“He’s gonna be alright”

[viviennes-tears]

Little Tease (Tom Hiddleston, Tom Holland, Sebastian Stan & X reader One shot)

18+ blog: It is YOUR responsibility, as a reader, to think about the content that you consume at your own discretion.  ~

A/N: Hello all you wonderful people! 

It's been forever since I last updated and I apologise profusely for my absence. I won't ramble on here about it, as there's a full explanation on my profile about my lack of updates, and an announcement too for you to check out. However I am hoping the following updates have been worth the extended wait.

Also thank you to Florence_Nightwing for sending me another prompt from back in October and for waiting extremely patiently for me to write this. I will say I got into a flow which then took a turn and I hope it worked out well. It was certainly fun to write and a great way to come back 😊 x

(This is now the last of the October 2023 prompts and prompts are still currently closed.)

Prompt requested by Florence_Nightwing on AO3: If your not too inundated, can you please do another like this? Tom and Sebastian go to the costume trailer to see Tom Holland in just his Spiderman thong for the female costume assistant he fancies. They decide to be annoying big brothers and tease him in front of her even going as far as to give him a wedge and ask her how she likes his butt cheeks, and they play with them. Something goofy like that, please.

Summary: You are working on a Marvel set as an assistant in the costume department. You've worked on all the solo Tom Holland (your crush) SpiderMan movies previously working on this movie set. You've always enjoyed the working environment and those who you've worked with, however this one particular day onset was one you weren't expecting, which ended up involving Tom, Tom Hiddleston and Sebastian Stan. Along the way you gain a new self-discovery. 

------------------------------

"I'm sorry I keep causing you extra work all the time." Tom says, while rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

"Nonsense, Tom, you know it's my job to do repairs and assist on costume designs." You assured him, as you prepare to fix his Spidey suit for the thousandth time whilst working on this movie alone. 

Actually you've been lucky enough to be a costume assistant on all the solo SpiderMan movies since Tom took on the role, however this is the first time you've worked on any of the other Marvel projects, because usually when they asked for you to come back you had to decline, due to other work obligations. Although you made sure for all the solo SpiderMan movies that you were available to work, partly because you enjoyed those who you worked with, and partly because of your crush on Tom. Not that he knows you have feelings for him, nor have you noticed he has a crush on you too, despite it being so obvious to everyone else.

Once you had set everything ready you helped unzip him out of his suit, before he carefully pulled the suit down and off in order to not cause any further damage, albeit neither of you are aware of being watched during this short interaction. At least not until...

"Well, well, well Thomas...have we been careless again?" Sebastian says playfully, as he himself and Hiddleston emerge from their hiding spot from around the corner, each of them carrying their own costumes in their arms. Holland instantly sighs and rolls his eyes at the older men as they approach while you try to hide your amusement.

"Come now, Seb, don't embarrass the boy in front of the lovely lady." Hiddleston says flirtatiously, taking your hand and kissing it, purposely to annoy Holland and make you blush as you often did whenever he put on the charm.

"Aren't you two done for the day?" Tom asks slightly frustratedly, as Hiddleston winks at you and lets your hand go.

"We are indeed." Hiddleston replies, taking Sebastian's costume from him and hanging both of their costumes onto the correct standing rack.

"But there's no rush to be anywhere...besides we've not had much chance to catch up yet." Sebastian adds with a sly smile on his lips as he eyes Holland up and down. Clearly he is calculating his next move, making Holland a bit nervous, as for yourself you've somewhat recovered from Tom's charming act a moment ago.

Hiddleston suddenly appears behind Holland without him noticing until he feels the older man's big hands on his shoulders, causing him to flitch slightly, and then breath out when he turns his head to see who it was. "Relax, Tom." Hiddleston chuckles before he begins massaging his bare shoulders.

"Yeah, just us here..." Sebastian adds, his eyes darkening with mischief intent and Tom assumed Hiddleston looked the same way, they usually do when the teasing is going to take a turn that he can never quite predict what will come of it.

You cleared your throat shortly after Sebastian said that and then you began to assess the full extent of the damage to Tom's Spidey suit over by your workbench. Holland gulped as he felt Hiddleston’s hands gently trail down his back, before the slight squeeze on his hips. The way Tom squirmed distracted you and made you look between the men confused by the silent looks between each of them.

"What?" You asked with furrowed eyebrows, abandoning the Spidey suit on your workbench.

"What do you think of Thomas here?" Sebastian asks out of the blue, stunning you from the unexpected question. Sebastian's smirk reappears as he pulls Tom closer to him, making him face you while he drapes his arm around Tom's neck, and his hand resting on his bare chest. Tom stands there awkwardly, and he knows if he tries to move away it would be a futile attempt, meaning Sebastian will make it worse for him if he tries.

"Well...I-I think he's a great guy. Never difficult to work with nor does he cause any drama like some people can on sets." You replied, choosing these words as a safe way to answer the question. "Want more than that, love." Hiddleston says in a low seductive voice close to you, his scent invading your senses too. He did it on purpose again, getting you to blush and for Holland to feel annoyed he's flirting with you once more.

"You can't say you're not attracted to him right now...I mean look at this face." Sebastian teases as he pinches Holland's cheeks together with his free hand, the other still resting on his bare chest, his actions causing Tom to get a little flustered now he's worked out their intentions. Even if he hasn't worked out how far they will go.

You struggle to find words to divert from divulging your true feelings for Tom, but the blush on your cheeks was evident enough for them anyway, not that either Sebastian or Hiddleston would mention they've known for a long time already. Despite your inability to defend yourself it didn't falter the older men from teasing the pair of you further.

"He's quite the catch, no?" Hiddleston asks, his fingers brushing against your exposed arms due to the short sleeves you have on today, the feather-like touch forming goosebumps on your arms. 

"What's not to like? He's young, good looking and sweet as you girls like to say." Sebastian continued, letting go of Holland's cheeks, but the hand which had been resting on his chest no longer stayed still. Instead his fingers started to circulate around Tom's left nipple slowly and gently. The sensation caused Tom's nipple to react and form a tweak-able point, much to his annoyance Sebastian took advantage, rolling the peak of his nipple between his fingers. Your eyes widened slightly, this wasn't at all where you imagined this conversation to go at all, of course your reaction amused the older men to no end.

"What more could you ask for, darling?" Hiddleston adds, as he moves over to the guys, his fingers gone yet left a tingling sensation in their wake.

"Alright, alright guys, I think Y/N is getting uncomfortable now." Tom says with nervous laughter and pleading eyes. It's clear he's trying to hide something from you, you just can't work out what, at least not yet.

Sebastian mockingly ponders for a few seconds before saying, "no, I think we're getting somewhere with this. Right, Tommy?"

"Right." Hiddleston agrees, wrapping his arm around Holland's waist, Sebastian's still around his neck. "We're only helping out the little guy." Hiddleston adds playfully, both he and Sebastian chuckle simultaneously. Holland sighs exasperatedly, you're speechless, this being the strangest interaction you've had with any of them.

"Come on, Thomas, lighten up." Sebastian says, his hand trailing down Tom's back down to his ass, squeezing his bare ass cheek firmly. Holland's eyes widened in surprise as he jumped a little at the same time. "Do you like his ass, Doll?" Sebastian asks, a darker look appearing in his eyes as he stares at Holland.

"I-I er..." You stuttered, your cheeks flushing again at another risque question, Tom's cheeks just as red too.

"I think you just need a memory refresher." Sebastian says, his fingers wrapping around the thin waistband of Tom's thong, then tugging at them swiftly and yanking them upwards. Tom lets out a little unexpected yelp as his balls were being strung up. His lips then press into a firm thin line as Sebastian man handles him with his free hand, Hiddleston's arm falling from his waist, his butt then on full display to you now he's been made to turn around. "Mhm...peachy." Sebastian adds, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. 

A few seconds later Sebastian man handles Tom again, he stumbles as Sebastian forces him to walk over to the workbench, he frees up some space, shoving things aside including the Spidey suit to one side too. Followed by Sebastian standing to the side while pressing Tom forwards against the workbench, forcing him face down, his hand pressing down on his back with his fingers splayed out to keep him in place. Hiddleston starts smirking in his signature Loki way, his eyes darkening now too to match Sebastian's own, he also continues to crotch down on the other side of Holland, spanking his ass hard and Holland yelps again. Your jaw drops instantly, realising they must have a much closer relationship than anyone knew about, plus the more you witness their behaviour the more you realised you're now somehow involved too.

"He likes a good spanking." Hiddleston seemed to have a look about him that made you realise he really wasn't joking, despite his tone sounded like he was. The next thing you knew was Hiddleston grabbing hold of your wrist, gently pulling you closer, as Holland peered over his shoulder shyly with brightly flushed cheeks. "Give it a try, love." Hiddleston encourages, his thumb gently rubbing over your skin and you feel another tingling sensation from his touch.

The older men see you're hesitant, you have every right to be though, after all you've never spanked anyone before. Sebastian and Hiddleston give each other an exchange of looks in agreement, leading to Hiddleston easing your hand towards Holland's butt, before getting you to cup his bare ass cheek in your palm. You all hear the loud gulp from Holland and you feel his ass clenching beneath your touch. Followed by you taking a shaky breath out of nervousness, albeit your fingers soon twitch, feeling the warmth of Holland's ass in your hand and Hiddleston's fingers lightly caressing the back of your hand. This lasts for a long moment before Hiddleston leads your hand away and back again, a light tap on Holland's ass on re-entry, he's easing you into the idea of spanking. All the while Sebastian watched Hiddleston teach you how to spank someone the right way to bring pleasure. Of course he was delighted by the sight and absentmindedly caressed Holland's body.

Every touch and sensation was affecting Tom, his breathing becoming more shaky and low, his cheeks still bright red, while his fists kept clenching and unclenching. Although the long awaited anticipation eventually arrived, after the small little practice goes your hand thwacked against his ass hard, a low moan escaping Tom's lips upon impact while you felt the way his flesh had a slight heat to it already.

Hiddleston rose up to his full height shortly thereafter, leaning in closer towards you, his scent assaulting your senses again due to the closeness. "Again, darling." Hiddleston whispered lowly, his lips brushed against the shell of your ear, causing your lips to part slightly to allow a tiny puff of air to escape. A smirk appeared on his lips like before as his fingers wrapped around your wrist once more. "Again." He repeats.

You look toward Sebastian who nods approvingly and bites his lower lip. By this point however it's like these men have gotten under your skin like you never imagined they could, yet somehow they had accomplished to do so. On the other hand it was all rather arousing too, once you had become acquainted with the situation you found yourself in, a situation which would be engraved into your memory for sure.

As you prepared to give Tom another good smack he peered over his shoulder at you again. His eyes seem to be staring into your soul, not like he's begging for you to stop, in fact you see the opposite and you know he wants more. There have been many times where you pictured Tom during the throes of pleasure, however never in your wildest dreams had you pictured him like being dominated. That look did give you reassurance about doing this and you went for it this time. This time you spanked Tom's butt repeatedly in a rapid quick session, the older men not able to take their eyes off the scene before them, while Tom moaned and yelped in pleasure. 

"Enough." Sebastian suddenly cuts you off mid action after a few consecutive slaps. You do as you're told and watch Sebastian help Tom to stand up properly again. His hand massaging Tom's butt, earning a low grunt from Tom, both older men chuckled.

"Not bad, love." Hiddleston praises and places a kiss upon your reddened cheek. Getting their approval actually felt nice, but you also had a feeling you've definitely delved into something with the three of them now. 

In the end you found it wasn't as far-fetched as it may have first sounded, because within the next hour an hour you found yourself in Hiddleston's trailer with the three of them, naked. Your seemingly normal day working on set turned into an afternoon delight partaking in a foursome. A foursome with even more kinky antics and you being fucked in every hole at the same time. Your body got used and over simulated in the most pleasurable way by the end. Along the way discovering a new side of yourself, a side of yourself you wanted to continue to explore, the exploration you knew would only ever be satisfied with these three beautiful men.

------------------------------

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Source: @viviennes-tears

[anne-chloe]

Peter Parker Develops A Crush On You

Imagine

Gender Neutral Pronouns

The both of you were on the same side in debate class

It was originally supposed to be about something political, but it somehow turned into a debate about SpiderMan

Peter was obviously biased, and so was Ned, but he somehow hid it better despite sweating nervously through his shirt

Someone was openly slating SpiderMan, calling him a menace and a “wannabe hero”

“He’s not on the same level as the Avengers”

“He’s weak” “He can’t fight the Avenger-level threats well, he’d bring the team down”

It wasn’t so much of a debate anymore, it was mostly on par with a childish argument

“How are you seriously going to compare Thor and SpiderMan?!”

Peter was actually hurt that his classmates felt this way about his alter ego

He had even rescued a few of them, yet a lot of them were hysterically against SpiderMan

The friendly neighbourhood SpiderMan, who just wanted to help old ladies cross the road, and assist the vulnerable wherever possible

Fighting Avenger-level threats would be the dream, obviously

But seriously, did nobody believe in his abilities?

And that’s when you started raising your voice to be heard above the rest of

And you really laid in to the opposing team

Peter was in awe at this point

The both of you weren’t close by any means, but you had sat next to one another on the bus plenty of times, and you’d shared notes during classes more times than he could count

He wasn’t even aware that you knew so much about SpiderMan

The way you stood from your seat and pointed out all of the kind things SpiderMan had done, and the way he had risked himself to save others

Again, Peter was in awe that you could recall every time he had rescued someone

Were you his fan?

At one point Peter wasn’t even listening to the debate anymore

How could he?

You were far too perfect to not focus his attention on

He was so deep in thought, that he wasn’t even aware when the debate class ended and everyone was dismissed

You were gathering your bag together when you caught him staring

Peter couldn’t help but fluster when your nose crinkled in confusion

“Do I have something on my face?”

“No…?”

“Then why are you staring at me?”

Peter is SWEATING

“I wasn’t!”

“Sure you weren’t”

And as you started to walk out, Peter scrambled to follow

And he couldn’t help but follow you like a little lost puppy

Because you saw all the good things he did as SpiderMan

And that was very important to him

You were very important to him

[tinas1469]

I hope Zendaya and Tom adopt this dog and name it Stanley Thomas

[rorywright]

Does anyone know what happened to that peter parker (tom holland) smut series? I think it was called 'basic training' ???

[riotinyellow]

I just logged into my 11-14 year-old self's wattpad account. I haven't opened that shit in years, which explains why I then proceeded to receive an uppercut by my own library

this is a very grim look into my preteen mental state

this was my heartstopper

there was more in there, 226 fics to be exact , but to be honest, I'm too embarrassed to show the rest

[shawnxstyles]

the only one

DATE: JANUARY 2, 2024

summary: you go on your first date with peter, and it ends even better than you could have ever expected. ;)

request: yes!

words: 6.3k

warnings: SMUT (f-receiving [oral, fingering, multiple orgasms], protected sex, dirty talk), language, and the most gentlemanly man.

note: i cannot believe i’m finally writing another gyno!peter after all this time… anyway, this is NOT an actual series, simply just more situations/scenes of these two together!

gynecologist!peter x patient!y/n

–

Every date that you’ve been on in the past never made you this nervous. You didn’t spend two hours just deciding on what to wear and taking an extra hour to prepare yourself. You worked for a fashion magazine, editing and reviewing comments and critiques. You were surrounded by clothes and creativity all day, but struggled to pick a “first-date look” from your closet. You swore you read something about that before…

You never thought first dates were anything more than a simple introduction, a first impression of another human being. It was one of the foundations of the question, “Could I get along well enough with this person to go on a second date?”.

You had only been on two first dates: one with your ex, who you were with for four months, and recently with that guy from your work. The second one was mainly just a hook-up, and the first one obviously led to some type of relationship that didn’t work out in the end. Maybe you didn’t have enough experience in the dating world to be wondering if the amount of nerves you had right now was healthy.

Your hands were clammy as you strapped on your black heels. You noticed you were swallowing more frequently than normal, and you didn’t understand why. When you looked in the mirror, your hands flattened out your black dress more times than you could count, ridding wrinkles that aren’t even there.

After your appointment a few weeks ago, you had texted Peter. More specifically, you texted him the next day. Immediately after simply saying hello and your name, you thought of how many other people he may have given his phone number to. Or worse, how many people he had fingered in his office… You started worrying if you shouldn’t have texted him at all because he was a doctor. He was probably too busy for anything. It was just a nice gesture, maybe?

But an hour later, in the evening, he had texted you back with a short apology. He was working a little past the clock in order to get more doctor stuff done. Even his texts were sweet with a dab of charm. How do women control themselves around him?

Or maybe it was just you, and you were a fucking weirdo.

Yeah it could be that.

Peter and you went on to texting every now and then to texting daily. Texting him was something to look forward to after a long day at work. It also became pretty clear that he wasn’t texting anyone else because well, he was working throughout the day doing doctor stuff while you were doing editor stuff. He would even text you during his lunch break and that always made your heart skip to see his message in the middle of the day.

One night in particular, you were complaining to Peter (yes, you had gotten to the point where you could complain about little inconveniences) about your sink malfunctioning. Instead of asking you to send pictures of the pipes under the sink, he had you FaceTime him. It was the first time you guys have ever called and the second time you’ve ever seen his face, so your heart was a little race-y. But when that charming, wide grin flashed on your screen, he easily slipped into conversation. Peter helped you fix your sink with a little wrench movement along with replacing a broken screw through the phone.

It wasn’t awkward. It was relieving.

You didn’t have to force a certain personality in order to engage in a conversation with him. You felt more yourself than you ever have when talking to him, flowing easily like two streams into one. You hadn’t even realized how late it was by the time you guys ended the call until he was gone. The serenity of your place felt a little more emptier than usual without the sound of his beautiful accent from your speaker. It was nearly midnight by the time you went to bed, wondering how things would be if you and Peter took your friendship a bit further.

Would talking always be this simple? Would he always be this charming?

After that night, you would make excuses to call him. He never denied you, even after he told you he had a long day at the hospital. You guys were not only texting now, but calling daily. You would get excited for his texts and calls, looking forward to talking to him. That’s when you realized you wanted more with him. It felt like you knew each other forever, but it had merely been a few weeks. You wanted to go on a date with him, wanted to be with him in person again. And of course, your mind wandered to the thought of how he is in bed.

If he was that good with just his quick fingers, then how good was he with more space and time? You began to dream about it.

Then he finally asked you. It was so sudden, you honestly didn’t expect it.

You were debriefing your plans for the week and what you had to do at work.

“Sometimes, I feel like my life is on repeat,” You chuckle, but it sounds tired.

“You’re always doing the same thing every week?” Peter questions. He found that he loves just listening to you talk for hours about whatever. He prompts you with questions, and you always answer thoroughly. It’s like an unspoken routine for you two.

“I mean, it feels like that. I never have time to go out and do anything. And when I do, I don’t go out,” You half-smile to yourself as you look down at your lap. You sounded kind of lame, so you were trying not to cringe at yourself.

“You told me your agenda for this week, but what about Saturday and Sunday?”

“Oh, well, you know I don’t work on the weekends. Sometimes, I get extra stuff done at home, but only because I’m bored. I watch TV…” You squint your eyes, trying to think of things you do on the weekend when you’re not busy. “You know, I’m listening to what I’m saying, and I am so lame. God, I need a life outside of work.”

“You’re not lame. Just busy. Give yourself some credit,” he waves off your dig at yourself, and you don’t stop yourself from smiling. He’s just too nice. You can’t take your eyes off him through the small screen as he watches you back.

“Yeah, yeah. Enough about me. What are your weekend plans?” You definitely talk too much, so you always attempt to ask him questions back.

“Well, I was thinking of taking you out,” he very casually says, nonchalantly staring at you through the camera. “Unless you’re busy watching TV.”

“W-What?” Heat crawled up your neck and ears, skin flaming off of his quick words. He’s always charming and always confident with you, so why are you surprised he’s this smooth? You wonder if he’s been thinking about it for a while or if he just got the idea randomly. “Are you serious?”

“Yes. Unless you don’t want to. In that case, I am joking…”

“I want to, Peter,” You smile with the words. It feels impossible to lower your cheek muscles because of the giddiness coursing through you. “If I’m honest, I’ve kind of been waiting for you to ask me.”

“I was a little slow, yeah?”

“Yeah, both the turtle and the hare beat you to the finish line,” His wonderful laugh echoes through the speaker of your phone, and it fills you with warmth.

While other people have belittled you and forced you to be one way, Peter naturally allows you to be yourself. Your wit flourishes, and your insecurities fade into unique parts of you. Whether you two are friends or more, you need more people like Peter in your life.

After you two had confirmed the plans for Saturday, you two both went to bed when the call ended. When your head hits the pillow, it’s instantly filled with scenarios of you and Peter. Mostly how your first date might go. Is he the type to pull out a chair for you? Definitely. Would he pay without a second glance? Probably, knowing he has that doctor paycheck. Would he kiss you after walking you back to your door? Maybe, maybe not.

But he did finger-fuck you in his office, so nothing is really that impossible.

So, you let your mind wander for the rest of the night while you sleep peacefully. Yes, you had some great dreams.

–

Instead of texting you that he’s here, Peter knocks on your door. The sound itself made your heart accelerate instantly as you stride quickly to answer it. You’ve been overthinking all the ways that this day could go bad, seriously hoping that it doesn’t.

“Hey,” Peter says, clearly eyeing you up and down. He sounds slightly breathless, but not as if he just ran to your door. No, more like he’s speechless. But you could just be overanalyzing every little detail.

“Hey,” As you repeat the word back, you’re both silent for a second. It’s not awkward as it is tense. You’re both just observing and taking in the appearance of the other, appreciating the time and effort in the looks. Peter’s wearing a navy button-up with black slacks. The first two buttons are undone, giving you a peek at his seemingly smooth chest. He’s not wearing a jacket, so you get a view of his arms. From the way the rich fabric stretches around his muscles, it’s obvious that he works out. He just keeps getting better. He continues to check more of your boxes. “Let me just go grab my purse really quick.”

You snatch your bag off of the coffee table after checking you have everything. What if his one flaw is that he won’t pay for at least half the dinner? You must prepare for all the possible outcomes.

“You look brilliant,” You can see him swallow before his compliment, and you wonder if he’s as nervous as you are. He never makes it a point to look even the slightest bit unsure, which you admire. He’s very charming, which takes a lot of confidence, and he’s very good at it. When he asked you out in his office, you saw that persona slip just a tad, enough for you to see that he is human and that he gets nervous too. You found him adorable. You still do.

“You as well,” You blush as you shut the door behind you. The two of you walk to his car, and of course, he opens the door for you. You can’t stop blushing. “Seriously, how do you make such a simple outfit look so good?”

“Unbutton it,” he answers before gently shutting your door closed. Your mind instantly went to places that it shouldn’t have, making your skin burn. You thought about unbuttoning his shirt slowly and sensually until it fell down his bulky arms. You thought about unbuttoning his slacks and palming his cock. He would be so hard for you, and you didn’t hesitate to get on your knees. God, you wished it was real because you truly would not hesitate for this man.

You shake your head, attempting to rid yourself of those dirty thoughts, so you can have a peaceful date. A first date with Peter.

–

When you guys get to the restaurant, that small voice in the back of your head expects it to be awkward the second you sit down. But once again, you were proven incorrect.

Peter instantly engages in a smooth conversation, asking how your week was overall. You told him all about work and the papers you’re reviewing, and he told you about some of his patients. Every time he mentions anything doctor related, it just makes you swoon. It’s impressive how intelligent he is, and even more so how hard he works. It’s obvious he loves what he does, and you never realized that loving one’s passion was a must-have in your partner checklist.

You also just love the way he talks. His accent makes your skin hot and your spine tingle. Your mind wanders to places it shouldn’t more often than not. And his gaze never leaves yours, only when talking to the waiter when ordering.

There is never a dull moment. Even as you were patiently waiting for your food, you still found things to talk about.

“What do you think they’re celebrating?” he asks, observing two people in the back corner with smiles on their faces.

“They’re dressed nicely, and they’re holding hands too much to be together for that long. I’m going to guess the three or four month anniversary.”

“What about them?” he nudges his head in the direction of the people not too far from you two, sitting with straight faces.

“Oh, they’re not celebrating. Probably breaking up.”

“Who goes to such a nice restaurant for a break-up?”

“I don’t know. Sounds like rich people problems to me,” You joke, and you both share a chuckle. It feels nice to casually chat and people watch with somebody else. When your food arrives, you both eat with more adding silence, slipping in words slowly.

“Did I tell you you look really good tonight?” Peter changes the topic, eyes fixating back onto you.

“Yes… Thank you,” You feel yourself blushing all over your body. You use your napkin to wipe your lips, but you’re really using it to protect your face. It was so obvious what his words did to you, that’s probably why he said them. Suddenly, the room feels a little too hot, even just in your dress. “Took me a while to find out what to wear.”

“You could have worn a garbage bag and still looked great,” Peter says, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Oh, stop it. You’re such a charmer. What’s your game? What do you want?” Your words are playful, but the look in Peter’s eye seems more serious. More powerful and heated. Eyes you haven’t seen for a long time in another person, and it freezes you still. The only thing that’s countering the lust circling his irises is the uprising smirk on his lips.

“To take you home.”

Boy, was he a charmer.

“Don’t ask if I’m kidding because I’m not,” he adds, setting down his napkin on the table. He leans over, a curl falling onto his forehead. A hand reaches halfway across the white cloth and rests delicately on your hand. Even his touch was warm and soft, not forceful in any way. “If you want, I’d like to.”

“I…” You were speechless. You knew what your answer would be, but you were just starstruck. How can one person be so gentlemanly yet hot? Cocky yet so sweet? God really didn’t give anyone a chance when making Peter. “Yes, I would like that a lot.”

Your thumb rubs reassuring circles on his thumb while you smile like a fool. Peter’s smirk only got bigger as the night went on.

–

You talked. You laughed. You smiled.

But as he drove you to his house, you got nervous again. Maybe you guys would do something as normal as watch a movie. Maybe even cuddle a bit. But you really, really hoped it was more. Especially after your first meeting, you knew Peter wasn’t too shy about sexual matters. However, maybe he didn’t want to do that with you yet and just wanted to take things slow.

But his office…

When his hand was on yours on the table, your memory was brought back right to the moment of his fingers inside of you in the chair. You remembered the feeling of him pushing his digit in and out repeatedly and how good it felt when he removed his latex gloves. Your core rumbled with lust, getting off on the mere fantasy of it all.

When you arrive at his house, you both silently get out of the car. Besides the sound of nature, you could only hear your racing heart and how it was racking against your ribcage in intense beats. He unlocks his door, keying jingling while the breeze flows past. You’re hyper-aware of every noise as if Peter could hear your choppy breath. When he finally opens the door, he lets you in first and you smile, trying to not let your obvious nerves surface.

But you clearly fail when he points it out.

“What are you thinkin’ about?” Your eyes lock on his hands as he rests his key on his door side table and feet as he casually slips off his dress shoes. Everything about him was mesmerizing. You swear you could just watch a documentary of a regular day in his life and you could be starry-eyed.

“Bunch of things.” But it was really just one thing.

“Care to share?” Peter shifts to the kitchen and you follow him like a helpless dog, clutching your bag for dear life.

“I keep thinking about…the last time we were together,” the words fall from your mouth as you round the counter. You felt like you needed to create some distance between you two if you were going to admit something like that.

“What about it?” Peter’s knack to ask questions right now is making your face burn from embarrassment under his bright kitchen lights. He grabs two glasses and fills them up with fridge water without even asking if you wanted some.

“You know, the fun part,” You round the counter to reach the water, slowly taking a sip. When you set the glass down, your eyes don’t leave his chest. You’re too afraid to look into his eyes.

“I thought it was all pretty fun,” he says, placing down his own glass and taking one large step towards you “Especially the part where you came all over my hand.”

Your skin flames, eyes peering at him for a moment before dashing away. His finger slides beneath your chin to turn your face back to him. He could feel your radiating heat and could see the widening of your pupils under the luminous lights.

“Were you thinking of that?” His finger directs your chin upwards, forcing you to look at him. His voice was low and husky, only for you to hear. “Because I haven’t stopped since the day I walked out of that room.”

“Peter…”

“Just say the word, honey, and I’ll kiss you right now.”

You could just melt into a puddle on the floor of his kitchen. His words are so sensual, there is no way you could ever say no to this man. He’s irresistible without trying too hard.

“Please,” You mustered out seemingly breathless while your eyes were locked into his surely.

He doesn’t miss the beat. His head turns as his lips crash against yours. Your lower back hits the island of the counter of marble, but you don’t flinch. His lips electrocute yours, sending jolts of energy coursing through your body like a shock. Your hands naturally find his neat yet messy styled hair on his nape, fingers rummaging through the curly ends. One of his hands holds your waist down from moving as if he already knows you’re antsy to grind on him. His other caresses your jaw in a stable position, the type of dominance you’ve been craving since that day in his office.

His hand goes underneath your thigh, leading you to wrapping your legs around his waist. You thought he was going to sit you on the counter, but he walked all the way to a bedroom without breaking the kiss.

Peter gently lays you on the bed, causing you to depart from the kiss. He wordlessly goes to unbutton his shirt, but you quickly sit up to do it. You’ve been thinking about doing it since he picked you up, so it only seems right that your fantasy comes true, right?

Just like you imagined, you slowly flicked off the buttons and delicately removed the fabric until it was a bundle of cloth on the floor. On the edge of the bed on your knees, you stare up at Peter with a lustful glint in your eye. That glowy look caused Peter to kiss you again, hungrier than before. His force makes you fall onto the mattress again, making you gasp. He trails down your neck in sloppy kisses, touching every inch of your neck and chest with his lips.

“Where did you get this dress?” You didn’t expect him to ask you that while he was groping your breasts through the material. You moan at the feeling of his rough thumbs on your nipples. It’s very distracting while you try to remember where you got the dress that is currently in the way.

“Um Zara? I-I don’t remember,” You moan loudly, not having time to conceal it as he suckles a mark on your neck.

“Do you like it?”

“What?”

“The dress.”

“S-Sure, yeah. It’s-It’s not my favorite, though,” His tousled hair tickles your face as he gets closer to your boobs.

“Maybe you should have worn a garbage bag.”

“Why?” You pull back a little, moving his head up so you can see his face. You thought maybe you would see some expression of disgust, but he only has pure enjoyment. His soft smile turns into a smirk that you’re growing really fond of. It means he’s about to do something hot.

“Because then I wouldn’t feel so bad about ripping it off of you.”

Just like that, the thin straps are easily snapped from his large hands while he yanks the long dress down your body and onto the floor. His mouth instantly went onto your nipple, sucking until he was satisfied with the raw peak of it. He repeated the same movement the opposite one until you were a panting mess, huffing and puffing from just his mouth on your chest.

You can tell he knows how to do this. Yes, he works in gynecology so it’s a benefit that he knows the female body inside and out. But he’s actually skilled in his technique. Although he is hungry and nearly primal, he takes his time with certain areas, making your body want him more and more each time. It’s incredibly smart, and you’re wondering why every man doesn’t know how to properly treat a woman.

You don’t even know your body the way he seems to know it.

His mouth is at your panties before you could even process it. Right when you think he’s about to widen your legs like you so desperately want him to, he stops when his hands rest on your knees gently. He had been going at a fast pace, but now, he’s slow and controlled. Taunting in a way. Torturing.

“I’m going to remove these now, yeah?” He knows you want it now because he has you in his bed right where you want to be. His tone is not as shy as it had been in the office. It’s more controlling yet still soft. “Words, Y/N.”

That demand was all too similar to his words back in the chair with his hands on your waist. He was about to pull off your underwear then for professional reasons, and now, he’s going to yank them off for selfish ones.

“Please take them off,” Just like you had then, you clenched around nothing. Just his sensual words that make you spiral into horny oblivion. Your wavering tone makes him smile as he tugs down the thin material from your legs, tossing them somewhere in the room.

Then he finally widens your legs, facing your aching pussy that hasn’t forgotten about him since all those weeks ago. You were throbbing and leaking to the damn bed sheets, but you couldn’t give a fuck less. You wanted his fingers, his mouth, his cock–anything that he was willing to give you.

“That day,” he starts, “I really wanted to taste you. You were dripping all over my fingers. It was so hard to stay professional.”

He leans down and gets really close to your cunt, inches away from doing what he really wants to do.

“You’ll let me taste you, right?” he asks in an innocent kind of way, but there’s hints of taunt in there. It makes your core burn, and you almost moan at the way his breath hits your center.

“Yes, please. Do whatever you want,” You say that because it’s true–he can do whatever he wants to you, and you would be grateful.

“So polite. So eager,” he kisses your thigh, dangerously close to you now, “And so, so wet.”

“Peter, please,” You were begging now, but you didn’t care. You would beg all night for Peter to touch you the way he did in his office. You’ve tried to replicate it, but it’s no use. You’ve been craving that feeling for weeks now, and he seems to be the only one who can get you there.

“So polite. Good girl.”

To your luck, he doesn’t say another word. He finally puts his mouth on your pussy by slurping up all of your juices. You immediately moan, just by the mere knowledge that his mouth is on you. His tongue slips through your folds all the way up to your clit. Peter suckles on it, feeling it throb in his mouth.

“Taste even better than I imagined,” You don’t know if his whispered words were meant to be heard by you, but you heard them. They caused you to clench right as his tongue slotted inside of you, desperate to taste more of you.

His large hands are pressed against the insides of your thighs, forcing you to stay spread for him. You can feel them ache, but nothing feels as prominent as his tongue inside of you. And then, just when it starts to feel good, he makes it feel even better. One of his digits finds your clit, circling pressure until you’re a moaning mess.

“Fuck, Peter. That’s… so good.”

His mouth pops off of you for a second to catch a breath. But he could honestly drown in the taste of you. He smoothly slides a finger to replace where his mouth was, filling you up just like in his office. Now, his mouth is sucking on your clit, needing to make it throb. You feel that feeling you’ve been chasing for the past few weeks building up in your stomach, and you know it’s not going to be long at all until you achieve it.

“Come. Show me what only I can make you do,” Peter grumbles, his words cascading over your body. The deep rumble of his voice tips you over the edge, causing you to come all over his fingers again. After cleaning up some of your orgasm, he lifts his mouth, but doesn’t remove his fingers. He continues to pump them in and out, even though you’re sensitive.

“So fuckin’ tight, and I haven’t even given you a second finger,” one of his fingers taps of your clit, causing you to gasp at how sensitive you are. “Can you give me another?”

“A-Another one?” You’re panting and sweating from just one, but he wants to give you another? Who is this man, and where has he been all your life? “I can’t.”

“Oh, but you can. The body is an amazing thing,” he inserts another finger into your cunt and increases his intensity on your nerves. You gasp again, moaning without caring how loud you are. “See, your clit makes you do that. And I love that.”

“Oh, Peter,” You helplessly whimpered. As he thrusts his fingers inside of you with that charming smile and a hint of a smirk, you already feel your high approaching you again. The sight and the feel of him was just too overwhelming. With each thrust of his fingers, his arms bulged, forearm veins popping deliciously. He was a sight for sore eyes.

“C’mon, baby. Give me another. Want to feel you clench around my fingers. Imagine it’s my cock. Imagine how big my cock is going to feel in your little, tight cunt.”

His words oozed sex. So it only made sense that you came not long after. Your release coated his skilled hand once again, and this time, he seemed satisfied with your two orgasms.

When you could finally catch your breath, you didn’t see him reaching for his belt like most men do. But you really, really wanted him to reach for his belt.

“Are you tired? How do you feel?” The tone in his voice was soft. He was easily able to change from sex Peter to caring Peter. Your heart melted at his concern.

“Tired, but good tired. I’ve only ever had three orgasms, and you just gave me two of them,” You laughed breathlessly while he chuckled. “Would I be selfish to ask for more?”

That made him laugh. It was wholehearted and deep, echoing throughout the room. “Not at all.”

And then he reaches for his belt. You feel your organs twist in that lustful, horny way that they do when he does anything. When all his clothes are discarded and you’re faced with his raging cock, you’re practically drooling. He was right when he said he was big; thick and veiny all along the sides. It seemed unfair, really.

He reaches over to the nightstand and grabs a condom, ripping it and rolling it on easily. You continue to watch him in awe as he strokes himself a few times over the condom. Truth be told, he’s already incredibly hard. The second he slips inside of you he fears he will come on the spot because of how tight you are.

But he leans over your body, elbows holding himself up. You can smell his fresh scent, full of pine and wood.

“Did I tell you you look beautiful tonight?” he whispers next to your ear, his warm breath hitting your skin, which gives you the shivers. Your hands trail up over his body until they’re resting on his broad shoulders. You can feel his tensed muscles working to hold him up right, even though it looks like an effortless task to him.

“Oh shush. But thank you,” His comment makes your face warm, like a candle right next to your cheek.

“You look especially pretty under me,” his cock brushes your cunt, sliding delicately through the folds. You’re not shy of gasping, trying to mentally prepare yourself for his impeccable size.

When he finally pushes the head in, you take a deep breath and release it in a small whimper. You know you’re tight because you haven’t been with anyone in a few weeks. The most you’ve taken are Peter’s fingers, which are nothing compared to his cock.

He waits a few moments before moving again, giving you time to adjust. But you don’t think you’ll ever be able to fully settle with his size. It seems like he’ll always be stretching you out, no matter how many times you take him.

“Breathe, baby,” his words are breathy and wavering, but so sweet. The small nickname gives you the butterflies you haven’t felt for a while. Not the nervous butterflies, but that tingling, excited feeling of fondness. It’s one of your favorite feelings, and you’re so glad Peter gives you them.

You listen to him, taking deep breaths. He takes the opportunity to push himself a bit further until he’s fully inside of you. He stays still, looking at your face as you grow more comfortable. He watches as your expression contorts into desperation, which is what he’s been waiting for.

“You’re so tight, honey. But you’re taking all of me. Knew you could,” Peter reassures you, even as you clench snuggly around him. It’s embarrassingly hard for him to stay still, given how warm you feel wrapping him.

“Please move. Fuck, I need to feel you.”

Slowly, Peter removes himself and then slots in again. You remember to breathe as his movements become less languid and more fluidly quick. Soon, his thrusts have a bit of speed, causing you to scratch his shoulders at the intensity.

“You’re so big… so deep,” Your moan bounces off the walls of the room, making Peter smirk as he continues to move. His cock pins your hips, shutting down your squirming.

“No one’s ever fucked you like this? Never been this good, baby?” A small huff of his breath hit your skin and you were awed. His words alone could get you off, and then he’s pumping himself perfecting inside of you too, just making you go insane. He knows where all the right spots are, lifting up one of your legs with ease to get a better angle. You love that you can just let him take over you without having to work for your orgasm like you’re used to. You’re used to being on top, but it’s evident that Peter just wants to take care of you. He wants you to be satisfied for once, and you’ve never felt so seen. You’ve never felt so… good.

“Y-You’re the only one,” You sigh as you bite your lip, loving the way he's speaking to you. He’s all sultry in tone and even sexier with his words. You believe he has no flaws that are worth noticing.

“S’right. I’m the only one who can make you feel this good. You can only take my cock like this, deep in your cunt,” All you can do is moan and shake as you feel your next orgasm approaching.

Just when you go to reach down to your clit to push yourself even further, he reads your mind and does it for you. His thick finger circles the throbbing bud until you’re arching your back. Your fingers play with the pebbled nipples on your chest as your insides grow more tight. You haven’t had an orgasm feel this intense yet, so it’s hard to anticipate the feeling.

“Gonna come, baby? Come all over my cock, I need to see it. Need to know I’m the only one who can make you feel this way.”

With one entire pump inside of you, you’re coming over Peter’s cock and showing him that he’s the only one. All you can see is his charming, fatigued smile surrounded by stars. His brown hair is tousled and a dash of sweat is above his eyebrows, but God, he’s never looked so fucking hot.

It’s not long after that he’s coming after you, his release filling the condom completely. Peter was trying his best to hold himself for as long as possible. But with you, he discovered it was very difficult. Like he thought, the second he was inside of you, he could’ve come. You’re so slick and warm, just so alluring.

He gets up from the bed to discard the condom in done trash while you lay there in naked awe. You already know that you’re going to be sore tomorrow like the day after the gym.

As Peter comes back, he has a wipe that he uses to clean you up.

“What are you doing?” You ask before he starts to wipe you.

“Cleaning you up. You know, like aftercare. You can go to the bathroom and even take a bath if you’d like,” Peter answers while you sit straight up dumbfounded. “May I?”

“Yeah, yeah go ahead,” You allow him to soothingly clean you while you just accept it. Your mind is still whirling with confusion. Are all guys supposed to do this? Or is he really just that great? “Thank you. I… No one’s ever done that before.”

“Really? God, you were really with some twats, Y/N,” he shakes his head and walks back to the bathroom while you chuckle. It’s funny that you had to go through those two guys in order to get to Peter. Third time’s the charm. “Want to take a bath?”

You ponder for a second. You were tired, but not like you would drown in the tub. Maybe if you had better stamina you would ask Peter to join you, but for now, maybe you just need to sit and think about what’s happening alone. Peter is too good to be true. He’s such a gentleman, he never misses a beat. You hope you’re not overstepping by accepting.

“Can I? Or is it too much—”

“Nonsense, I want you to be comfortable. Now, do you like the right or left side of the bed?” You stare at him in confusion. One, because that was a random question. And two, because when did he put on boxers?

“What?”

“Which side do you sleep on?” You felt your cheeks burn for some reason, and then you realize you’re still naked while he’s semi-dressed.

“Um right, I think. Why?”

“So you can sleep there. You are staying, aren’t you?” Peter’s cheeks tint rosy red, that peek of nervousness shining through. It made you smile because even if he seems too good to be true, there is a little human in there who’s just like you.

“Yes, of course,” You can visibly see his tenseness fade as a small smile grows on his lips.

“I’ll start the bath then get you some clothes then, or else you’ll keep me hard all night.”

Your skin burns, but you feel like that’s not the last time that will happen to you. Not with Peter. No, you know.

—

thank you all for being patient!! i also think this is the longest taglist i’ve ever had, so thank you again!! 💞

taglist:

-> @motheroffae @noa217 @nelly-belly97 @spidermanffh3000 @httpscomexe @mysticdaisy21 @emilyparkerholland @deathst9r @ellenita98 @ellabellabus07 @mrstealuregirl @bisexual-desi @sherlockstrangewolf @madsttx @graywrites20 @bradtomlovesya @princesspannnn @sageisswaggg @purplerose291 @girlbossnancy @lockwood-lover @marzipaanz @eatshitanddiee @invisibletrolleyson-jeremy @lnmp89 @crybabyddl @pretty-npeach @marine-mayday @aerangi @justanotherpasserby-blog @tinafuentes @moniffazictress11 @eywaheardyou @alwaysclassyeagle @raajali3 @likeapplejuicenpeach @winuvs

crossed out= not able to tag

[marvelgirlstories]

Masterlist

George Weasley

Stucky

Tom Holland and Family

Harry Potter - nothing yet

Marvel

Marvel cast - nothing yet

Fic Recs

[spider-stark]

INFINITELY YOU

part three // spitfire

SUMMARY - In every universe, Peter Parker seems destined to fall in love with you. And, in every universe, he realizes it too late. When universes collide and two of them are granted a second chance at rectifying their biggest mistake, neither of them are willing to let the opportunity go to waste–even if you end up not being the person they thought you were.

WARNINGS - 18+, minors DNI

WORD COUNT - 4.5k

// masterlist // series masterlist // send me your thoughts // no way home fan fiction // rewrite

name key: tom!peter = peter // andrew!peter = parker // tobey!peter = pete

On the walk back from Peter Pan’s, it seemed as though Parker had managed to entirely escape the sputtering awkwardness that had ensnared him the night before. 

And, after countless city blocks of listening to him babble about absolutely everything and anything, you realized that there was one very striking similarity between him and Peter. 

Both boys had a fervent interest in all things nerd. 

“New Hope takes place nearly two decades after the rise of the Galactic Empire, meaning that Leia is only nineteen when she's kidnapped and forced aboard the Death Star! Which is like, absolutely insane, right? Seriously! Imagine being nineteen years old and stuck inside of something that has the potential to obliterate an entire planet!” 

Shoving open the lobby door to your complex, Parker hardly even waits for you to hum your agreement before continuing his retelling of the Star Wars film. 

“And at the exact same time, Luke is finally beginning his Jedi training! Which, honestly, nineteen is actually super old for that, but-” 

Moving towards the stairs, Parker close on your heels, you cut him off with a question. “Too old? Nineteen is hardly even an adult,” you argue. “What age do most Jedi start training?” 

“About four or five, so obviously Luke was way behind,” 

Not even a full three stairs up, you come to a grinding halt, leaving Parker to bump into your back. “Four?!” You cry out, wide-eyed as you spin around to face him. “That’s insane!” 

Parker only lifts his shoulders, clearly not understanding the reason for your horror. 

Furthering your point, you add, “There’s nothing ethical about taking a bunch of little kids and training them to be weird, intergalactic warriors!” 

“It’s the best way to train them!” He lifts his hand defensively, explaining, “The earlier they start training, the less likely it is that the kids will have formed an attachment to their families! That way they learn to act out of logic instead of emotion!” 

For a heartbeat, you’re rendered entirely speechless by the absurdity of his claim, left to stand with your mouth agape as you blink at him. 

“That sounds like emotional abuse,” you finally huff, shaking your head. “Actually, scratch that—it doesn’t sound like emotional abuse, it just is!” 

“It’s not abuse-” 

You hold a hand up, stopping him before he can say anything else. “Give me one good reason why a group of adults should withhold love and affection from children if they aren’t abusing them.” 

“Uh, how about the fact that love is basically what made Anakin turn to the dark side!” Parker scoffs, clearly unwilling to recognize how insane the notion he was pushing actually is. 

“Or maybe Anakin turned to the dark side because he was indoctrinated and traumatized by some stupid space cult!” 

The expression on his face is downright laughable. 

It was as if you had just reached out and slapped him across the face. His jaw went slack, his mouth hung open in blatant offense. As a sputtering noise falls from his lips, trying and failing to come up with a good rebuttal, you smirk. 

“Exactly,” you boast, taking his inability to speak as a sign of victory. 

Twirling on your heel, you continue up the stairs, nearly all the way to the top before you finally hear him come stomping up behind you. 

“The Jedi Order is not a cult!” He finally shouts after you. 

Already traipsing through the hallway, fiddling with your keys, you sing-song, “Whatever you say, bug-boy.” 

Reluctant to admit defeat, Parker continues grumbling under his breath as you unlock the door, spouting something off about your lack of respect for George Lucas. 

“Look,” you tell him, pushing the door open, “if liking Star Wars matters this much to you, then I’ll gladly watch them with you.” A wry smile plays on your lips as you turn to look at him, standing in the doorway, “Maybe watching them will be enough to change my opinion on turning kids into galactic slaves.” 

Eyes narrowing in a playful glare, he’s only able to hold the expression for less than a few seconds before a laugh causes him to break character. “I just can’t believe that Peter hasn’t made you watch them already,” he admits. “I had you watch them so much that you could probably recite the scripts from memory alone!” 

His amusement dies off as soon as he finishes the sentence. Despite having been the one to bring it up, the mention of his world seems to cast a sullen shadow over him, ruining his sweet, boyish smile. 

Curiosity instantly claws at you, begging you to ask him why his world seemed to have such a negative effect on him. Or, rather, why his version of you seemed to have such an effect. 

This had happened last night too, when you had asked him if the two of you were friends in his world—and it was because of this that you assume that you’re somehow the common denominator in his discomfort. 

Still, you don’t let yourself ask him about it. For as much as you’re starting to like Parker, you don’t know him nearly well enough to try prying into his life. 

Not yet, at least. 

“Well, you’re more than welcome to force me into sitting through them in this world, too.” You tell him sweetly, sweeping an arm out to gesture inside of your apartment, inviting him. “It’s not like I’ve got any plans for the rest of the day.” 

You couldn’t even remember the last time you did have plans. Life had been so quiet since that last night with Peter and Mj—the night when everything went so horribly wrong. 

Parker sucks in a breath through his teeth, a hand coming to rest against the back of his neck. “I should probably get back out on the streets,” he reluctantly says, sounding more like he was convincing himself of that than you. “But, I don’t know, maybe we can take a rain check on it, yeah?” 

Disappointment washes over you, sudden enough that you’re sure it shines through on your face. It takes a shocking amount of willpower to stop yourself from trying to persuade him to stay, wanting to remind him that two other Spider-Men were already running themselves ragged in pursuit of the villains—so why did he have to go, too? 

You had grown used to his constant talking, having found solace in the chatter that kept you from slipping too far into your own thoughts. Selfishly, you wanted him to stay so that you wouldn’t have to be alone; so that you wouldn’t have to risk thinking too long about Doctor Strange or the multiverse or constants or Peter. 

The thought of admitting any of that out loud, however, felt incredibly humiliating. 

“For sure,” you force a smile, trying to ignore the many thoughts swirling in your mind. Then, eyeing the slightly too-tight Ramones shirt that he’d stolen from you, you add, “But shouldn’t you at least come in and change?” 

His nose wrinkles slightly as he shakes his head. “Nah—I think this city has more than enough spider-people swinging around it right now. I figure we might actually benefit from one of us patrolling on the ground-level, y’know? Maybe I can ask around for any giant lizards or blown light bulbs.” 

It’s hard to tell if the last bit is meant to be a joke or not, but you laugh anyway if only to avoid knowing why you should be worried about lizards and light bulbs. 

“Sounds like a plan,” you second his idea. “Well, I guess I’ll see you later then?” 

A surprising sense of joy lights his eyes at the sound of your hesitance, unfitting of the simplicity of the moment, but charming nonetheless. He grins—a wide and endearing sort of grin—as he takes a step back, “I won’t be gone long,” he promises before reminding you, “lock the door behind you, alright? And if you need anything-” 

He pauses, patting the pockets of his jeans only to remember that he didn’t bring a phone with him to this universe—and that, even if he did, there likely wasn’t a wireless plan good enough to support multiversal travel. 

“If you need anything, call 911.” 

“Got it,” you laugh, watching as he stumbles backwards towards the stairwell, cheeks red with faint embarrassment. 

Turning to go inside, you can’t ignore the warmth that now blooms in your chest. 

You could definitely get used to having him around. 

A peculiar sensation prickles at your skin, curling along your spine like icy fingertips. 

Something was wrong. Very wrong. 

The usually comfortable atmosphere of your apartment had shifted. An eerie tension fills the space, a near-suffocating feeling that has the very walls holding their breath, humming a tune of warning as you inch further into the living room. 

Your stomach twists as the sharp tang of exhaust fumes fills your nostrils. By the couch, a faint breeze rustles the curtains of a window, wafting in the nauseating scent of the city street below—a window that hadn’t been open when you left earlier. 

A mere foot or so away, you notice that the picture frame Parker had been fiddling with before is now lying on its face, having been knocked off the end table and abandoned. Atop the table, you notice that the lamp is sitting askew, its base just inches from tumbling over the edge and joining the frame. 

Someone had come in through your window—and it didn’t appear as though stealth had been very important to them, given that they had clearly stumbled into the table upon their entrance. 

Adrenaline floods your senses, your spine stiffening as you take a series of slow, quiet steps. 

Moving towards the corner, you carefully reach out a hand to grab the metal bat propped against the wall. The bat had been an unlikely housewarming present from when you first moved in, given to you by Peter’s mentor and your own reluctant renegade, Tony Stark. For nearly two years now it had sat in this corner, unused and gathering dust—until now. 

You wrap your fingers tightly around the base, wincing slightly as the rubber grip pulls at the still-healing flesh on your palm, making you curse yourself for not properly bandaging the wound last night. 

But you’re used to pain—and so you’re easily able to bite back against it as you ease through the living room, checking for any sign of the intruder's presence. 

As you walk, gripping the bat like your life depends on it, you can’t help but hear Tony Stark’s voice echo in your mind. 

If you’re gonna live alone, then you should have some sort of protection—he had told you, gently placing the cool steel into your hands for the first time, a ribbon tied sloppily around it—not that you need it. 

Satisfied with your search of the living room, you start easing towards the hall. You’re good at sneaking around, having had a lot of practice at it—every movement you make is calculated, every footfall so purposefully gentle that it’s nearly silent. 

Quiet as you were, you could do nothing to ease the sound of your blood thrumming wildly in your own ears, your heart pounding against your chest. 

The incessant beating worries you—because you know that there are people in the world with the unnatural ability to hear such things. Peter, even with his enhanced hearing, had to be close to someone in order to hear something as soft as their heartbeat; but you had heard rumors that there were others who could hear a pulse from miles away, others like the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. 

The thought makes your blood run cold, though you try to push the worries from your mind. From what you know, the Devil doesn’t have a habit of breaking into apartments, nor was Queen's his usual jurisdiction. 

No—what you were dealing with had to be no more than an average burglar! 

An average burglar who, somehow, scaled up the side of a building to break into your apartment… 

Alright—you think, approaching the end of the hall—perhaps it’s a not-so-average burglar, then! Still better than the Devil. 

Peeling one hand from the bat’s handle, you curl your fingers around the doorknob to the guest room, Parker’s room. You ease the door open slowly, trying to keep the old hinges from crying out as you peer into the space. 

The sweet scent of vanilla is the first thing that hits you, contrasted by the subtle bite of vetiver. 

Parker—the room smells of him, even though he had only been here for one night. 

On the bed, the quilt is rumpled and thrown about, pillows strewn about. The doors of the armoire are wide open, a few old shirts hanging over the edge of one of the shelves, no doubt from when he went digging through your clothes in search of something to wear. 

The room was messy, but empty. 

Your shoulders sag, half-a-breath loosing from your lungs. The relief is short-lived, however; as by the time you edge back into the hall to turn towards your own door, you’re overwhelmed with dread. 

If whoever broke in was still here, then this was the only place they could be—save for the bathroom, though you seriously doubt any burglar would have much interest in scouring through your toiletries… 

Easily, gracefully, you twist the knob, the metal yielding quietly to your careful touch. 

The curtains are tightly drawn, eradicating any trace of sunlight and leaving the room cloaked in shadows. But, even in the darkness, you’re able to see the rough outline of a figure sprawled out across your mattress. 

For a split second, you think of Parker’s advice to call 911, the weight of your phone suddenly heavy in your back pocket. 

You think of how you should follow that advice. 

You think about how fast you could run—if you would be able to reach the front door before they could catch up to you. 

But then you stop thinking, disregarding all logic and reason as you take a step into the room, as if drawn in by some invisible force. 

Remaining mindful of your surroundings, you slowly approach the edge of the bed. Squinting in the darkness, you try to study the body laid out atop your comforter. Watching the steady rise-and-fall of their chest, it suddenly hits you that, whoever they are, they’re asleep. 

Slinking around the corner and coming to stand at your bedside, you’re finally close enough that you can see them in spite of the absence of light. Crimson and blue spandex clings tightly to their arms as they cling one of your pillows to their chest, and you feel your entire body sag with relief as you loosen your grip on the bat. 

So this must be Peter 2. 

The fabric of his mask is bunched up and resting along the bridge of his nose, which is somewhat smushed against the pillow he’s holding, no doubt leaving him to breathe in the scent of laundry detergent and your perfume. 

Lower, you can make out the subtle contours of his jawline and the curve of soft, pink lips. Higher, you’re met with the impassive stare of then white lenses sewn into his mask. 

The lenses shield his eyes from your view, and a curious feeling begins to tug at the furthest corners of your mind. Take it off—it seems to whisper, compelling you to move in closer, your shins pressing against the side of the mattress—take it off. 

You grit your teeth and try to ignore the feeling, try to ignore the velvet-voice slithering through your mind; begging you to look at him, to touch him, to notice him, to-

Pain shoots along the side of your temple, likely in response to the sudden tightness in your jaw. It distracts you enough that you’re able to shake the strange feeling long enough to regain your focus—even if the remnants of it still linger. 

You shouldn’t be interested in him—you should be pissed at him. 

Not only had he broken into your house, which was already bad enough, but he had also climbed into your bed and made himself cozy! The absolute gall, the audacity he must have, has you allowing the tiniest sliver of rage to ignite inside of you. 

Both hands still gripping the bat, you lower it from where it rests against your shoulder to swiftly jab its head into his stomach. 

A cough sputters past his lips as the impact pushes the air from his lungs. 

You’re actually shocked that you landed the blow—in truth, you had expected his spider-sense to kick in and detect the incoming hit, waking him with just enough time to dodge the shot. But, apparently, his instincts had made the mistake of assuming that you were of no threat to him. 

“Morning sunshine,” you chime, your feigned cheerfulness set off by a sneer. 

He’s scrambling into an upright position, knees sinking into the mattress as he presses a hand against the sore spot you’d created on his stomach. “What the fu-” 

His voice is hoarse—from sleep or pain, you’re not sure—and he doesn’t finish the curse spewing from his mouth once his head shoots up towards you, as if finally registering the sound of your voice. 

“I don’t know what things are like in your world,” you muse, swinging your bat back to rest against your shoulder, “but in this one, breaking and entering is considered a crime.” 

He’s still catching his breath, and while those damn white lenses covering his eyes give so little emotion away, you assume that he’s going to apologize. It’s what Peter would do, and Parker, too. 

But not him. 

“Your friends said I could stay here,” he defends himself. Taking another deep breath and extinguishing the burning in his lungs, the lower-half of his face transforms into a defiant smirk. “It’s not breaking and entering if you were invited.” 

“And did they tell you to sleep in my bed, too?” You shoot back, brows rising in annoyance. “Word of advice: next time you’re invited to stay in a total stranger’s house, maybe try not to repay their kindness by crawling through their window.” 

He mocks you without missing a beat, “Word of advice: you live in a shitty neighborhood—if you don’t want people coming through your windows, you should try locking them.” 

“Ah, right! Cause the average person is definitely willing to scale the side of a building for the prospect of an unlocked window!” 

“You’re a pretty girl in a dangerous city,” he drones, lifting a shoulder as he meets your sarcasm with purposeful calm. “You’d be surprised what people would be willing to do for a chance at getting you alone.” 

The insinuation sends a shiver down your spine, but you mask your unease, flashing a smile that’s more predatory than sweet. “Aw,” you coo, “so you think I’m pretty?” 

He returns the expression, skillfully avoiding your derisive question. “I think you’re irresponsible—and a little cocky.” 

“Better to be cocky than a felon,” you remark. “Just spare my neighbors the acrobatics show next time, would you? Maybe try knocking on the door like a normal person! Preferably when you’re not dressed like… that.” 

It’s not that his suit wasn’t nice, because it was. But it lacks the advanced Stark-tech that makes Peter’s suit so uniquely sleek, meaning that it was likely safe to assume that no one in this world would mistake this boy for the real Spider-Man. 

Unless they were to catch him scaling up the side of your building… 

“I tried knocking.” he sounds exasperated, as if you are testing his patience. “You weren’t home.” 

You snort a laugh, wondering if he truly believes that is all the reason he needs to break into someone's home. 

“Then you should’ve waited until I got home,” 

“I hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours. I was too tired to wait.” 

“Then you should’ve slept in the alleyway with the rest of the strays,” you hiss at him, fingers tightening around the bat as your frustration builds. 

The sheer ferocity in your voice gives him pause, stunning him into silence. 

Then the corner of his mouth begins to twitch upwards, lazily grinning at you as if he actually enjoys the verbal onslaught. 

You can tell that he’s watching you through those white lenses, and his tongue darts over his bottom lip, you feel your breath catch in your throat. “Fine,” amusement dances in his tone as he raises his gloved hands, “fair enough.” 

For a moment, no sound comes from your parted lips, leaving you to stand there gaping at him until you remember how to speak. “Fair enough?” You echo, shaking your head slightly. “That’s all you’ve got? No apology?” 

He moves, forcing you to take a step back as he shoves his legs over the side of the bed and rises to his feet. He’s not as tall as Parker, but he still stands an inch or so higher than you, making it hard to not feel intimidated as he stares down at you, your own face staring back from the reflection of his lenses. 

“Better not push your luck, Spitfire,” 

He’s baiting you—he has to be! Using a stupid nickname to get under your skin, to try and prod further at your short temper. And it’s working—god, you hate how much it’s working!—because you find yourself contemplating putting his superhuman durability to the test by whacking him over the head with your bat. 

“By the way,” he says before you have a chance to act on your intrusive thoughts, pointing at your hands, “you’re bleeding.” 

As if his words switch a flip in your head, you’re suddenly aware of the acute throbbing in your palm. You loosen your grip on the bat, letting it clatter recklessly to the floor as you hold your hand out to examine it. 

Unsurprisingly, the rubber handle managed to tear open the barely-healed cut on your palm, courtesy of your too-tight grip on it. You hiss through your teeth, watching as blood oozed from the cut, dripping down towards your wrist. 

Slipping past you, the boy only half-manages to stifle his laugh. “You should probably take care of that.” 

He’s already slipping out into the hall by the time you regain enough awareness to follow after him, gritting your teeth against the pain. 

“And where do you think you’re going?” 

“To the other room,” he calls over his shoulder. Once he’s standing in front of Parker’s door, he spins back around to face you, his snarky expression still in-tact. “Where I’m hoping you won’t follow me.” 

Everything about him causes your blood to boil—his grating voice, his insolent attitude, his stupid soft lips. 

“Would it kill you to be nice to me?” You exclaim, your voice strained with pain as you try to wrap your hand in the lower half of your shirt. 

It takes no-time for blood to start seeping through the thin material, and you certainly don’t look intimidating like this—the lower half of your abdomen on display as you try to apply whatever pressure you can to the wound—but you don’t care. 

“I don’t have to let you and Parker stay in my house—I’m doing it because I’m nice, alright? And, so far, you’ve been nothing but a dick!” 

The thin fabric of his mask shifts, brows furrowing at the mention of Parker. Unlike Peter, however, he doesn’t bother commenting on the nickname. “Nice isn’t exactly the word I’d use to describe you. Especially since you’re the one calling me names.” 

The levity in his tone makes you want to scream—what was his deal?! 

You press harder against your bleeding palm, your breathing turning shallow. You’re not sure if it’s frustration or pain or what, but you feel like your head is spinning. “Look, I don’t know you, alright? But this? Isn’t gonna work,” you bark at him, chin lifted defiantly as you stare into his mask, unrelenting. “If you plan on staying in my house, then you’ll get your shit together—got it?” 

His head tilts, curiously watching as you continue your frantic speech. 

“No crawling in through my windows or sleeping in my bed or smarting shit off! And take off that stupid mask!” You huff, shaking your head. “Or, I don’t know, pull it down the rest of the way! Just do something because you look stupid like that!” 

The words are spewing from your mouth like a torrential downpour, fueled by the rage swirling in your stomach and the throbbing in your hand and—

He laughs, a genuine laugh that isn’t born of derision, and you feel your racing thoughts slow to a halt. “You should work on your insults,” reaching for the nape of his neck, he tugs his mask off. “Because that was pathetic.” 

It’s no longer just your thoughts that have slowed, but the entire world. Everything around you feels like it has come skidding to a stop—leaving you staring up at him like a dumbfounded idiot. 

He’s beautiful—a commonality among Peter’s variants, it seems. 

He’s smirking, an infuriatingly charming smirk that lets you know he has no intention of listening to your demands for him to silence his quick wit. But you’re not focusing on that—no, you’re focusing on the features that had been hidden from you this whole time; his dark hair, tousled from removing his mask, falls in a chaotic halo around his face, contrasting the vibrance of his eyes. 

His eyes. 

They leave you breathless, and you hate it. Colored with the deepest cerulean you’ve ever seen, his eyes feel like staring into the depths of a crystalline ocean. You can almost feel yourself getting swept up in their tides, feel them enveloping you in a feeling of familiarity, as if this wasn’t the first time you had been pulled into their ebbing waters. 

“Have we–” your mouth has gone dry, your voice cracking. “Have we met before?” 

It’s a ridiculous question, and you recognize that even as it’s spilling from your lips. You couldn’t have met him before—not when the two of you weren’t even from the same universe! 

He seems to be thinking the same thing, and you’re already preparing to take the full force of whatever smartass comment he’s about to fling at you. “I’ve met you,” he says simply, taking you by surprise. Then he inclines his head towards your still-bleeding hand, “You should patch yourself up before you stain the carpet.” 

You look down at your hand, at the hem of your shirt, soaked in blood. 

“But just so I know,” you look back up, his body half-turned towards the door, his fingers resting against the knob, “if Peter and Parker are already taken, then who does that make me?” 

You have to force yourself to take a breath. “What did I call you in your world?” He’s silent for a moment, staring at the floor and chewing on his lip. Then, pushing the door to Parker’s room—their room—open, he smiles.

“Pete.”

a/n - ayyy, pete's finally here! and, ofc, lots of other little important details sprinkled around as well.

also, i really wanna say thank you to everyone who has been reading and enjoying this story so far! it truly means the world to me to read all of the nice comments and to know that you guys are interested in this story! so, again, thank you 💖 as always, please comment/like/reblog and let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist!

part four, titled "blooms of subterfuge", to be released april 29th

[spidey-webz]

peter parker masterlist

some of these are andrew!peter, but i primarily write for tom holland's peter parker! if no other peter is indicated, it's tom holland's portrayal

main masterlist

✦ – contains smut

✧. ┊ DRABBLES

Lost and Found (Andrew!Peter)

Peter lost you. When he finds you again, he can't believe his eyes...

New Neighbour

Your neighbour keeps you up all night – just not in the way you expected.

A bunch of coincidences (Andrew!Peter)

What are the odds to end up in a different New York where your brother acts strangely and you find a different, quite attractive, version of yourself? (Spider-Woman reader)

Reminder of her (Andrew!Peter)

You are Peter's best fried, yet he isn't the one to save you from the fall...

Giving Peter his first blowjob ✦

Self-explanatory

✧. ┊ ONE SHOTS

Red

You and Peter decide to end your relationship since your lives grew to be too different. But it's too hard to forget him. Part of the Red Anthology

✧. ┊ HEADCANONS

Peter being a dad (Andrew!Peter)

Spider-Woman!Reader learning about her powers from the other Spider-Men (platonic)

Nerding with Peter (Andrew!Peter)

Going to prom with boyfriend!Peter

Sleepover with boyfriend!Peter

[bluemoonperegrine]

Fanfic Masterlist

Werewolf By Night WIPs The Happiness You Bring (collaboration with @abirdie @grabyoursaintsandpray @lisseim @lookitsgrim @onbearfeet) Elsa Bloodstone/Jack Russell, Elsa Bloodstone & Ted Sallis, Jack Russell/Ted Sallis (ao3 link)

A Friend Indeed (collaboration with @onbearfeet) Elsa Bloodstone & Jack Russell, Ted Sallis, Nina Price (ao3 link) Moon Knight/Werewolf By Night silly romance AU Hallmark by Knight co-written with @vicarious-rebel

Those Who Wander Marc Spector/Jack Russell, Marc Spector & Steven Grant & Jake Lockley, Layla El-Faouly, Lissa Russell, Khonshu (ao3 link, YouTube playlist)

Unannounced Marc Spector/Jack Russell, Marc Spector & Steven Grant & Jake Lockley, Khonshu, original characters (ao3 link, YouTube playlist)

Moon-Crossed Lovers Marc Spector/Jack Russell, Marc Spector & Steven Grant & Jake Lockley, Khonshu, Lissa Russell, original characters (ao3 link)

The Out-of-Towners Marc Spector/Jack Russell, Layla El-Faouly & Marc Spector, Marc Spector & Steven Grant & Jake Lockley, original characters (ao3 link)

Indivisible Steven Grant/original character, Marc Spector/Jack Russell, Marc Spector, Marc Spector & Steven Grant & Jake Lockley, original characters (ao3 link)

The Knight Before Christmas Marc Spector/Jack Russell, Lissa Russell (ao3 link)

Adventures in Moon Doofery Marc Spector/Jack Russell, Lissa Russell, original characters (ao3 link)

Werewolf By Night

The Happiness You Bring (collaboration with @abirdie @grabyoursaintsandpray @lisseim @lookitsgrim @onbearfeet) Elsa Bloodstone/Jack Russell, Elsa Bloodstone & Ted Sallis, Jack Russell/Ted Sallis (ao3 link)

A Friend Indeed (collaboration with @onbearfeet) Elsa Bloodstone & Jack Russell, Ted Sallis, Nina Price (ao3 link)

Ted's on First Elsa Bloodstone/Jack Russell, Ted Sallis, original characters (ao3 link)

Something Awful This Way Comes Jack Russell & Elsa Bloodstone, Elsa Bloodstone & the Bloodstone eldritch horror (ao3 link)

Five Simple Tips Elsa Bloodstone/Jack Russell, Lissa Russell (ao3 link)

Makes the Heart Grow Fonder Jack Russell/Elsa Bloodstone

Bittersweet Symphony series

Take Me Home, Country Roads Elsa Bloodstone/Jack Russell, original characters

Jack and Elsa Go to White Castle Jack Russell/Elsa Bloodstone

Show Me State of Mind Elsa Bloodstone/Jack Russell, original characters (playlist)

Prodigal Daughter Jack Russell/Elsa Bloodstone, Billy Swan, original characters

Once Elsa Bloodstone/Jack Russell, 18-year-old Jack Russell/female original character, 17-year-old Lissa Russell, Lissa Russell Price, Adam Price, Laura Russell, Philip Russell, original characters (audiobook edition)

Past Is Prologue Jack Russell/Elsa Bloodstone, Lissa Russell Price, Laura Russell, Gregory Russell, Philip Russell, original characters (playlist)

Ties That Bind Jack Russell/Elsa Bloodstone, original characters

Werewolf By Night/Daredevil/Starman/MCU

The Wolves Within Jack Russell, Matt Murdock, Scott Hayden, Wilson Fisk, Vanessa Fisk, original characters

Moon Knight MCU crossovers

What You Wish For Marc Spector/Layla El-Faouly, Steven Grant/Layla El-Faouly, Jake Lockley/male original character, Khonshu, Taweret, Scott Hayden/female original character, Jenny Hayden/Paul Forrester [Starman], original characters

Paint the Town Red Moon Knight system, Wade Wilson/Jake Lockley

Midlife Crisis series (Starman/Moon Knight/Spider-man crossover)

Those Vagabond Shoes Scott Hayden, Moon Knight system, Khonshu, Paul Forrester [Starman]/Jenny Hayden, original characters

Whirling Heavens, Drunken Lion Scott Hayden, mentions of Marc and Steven

Dress for Success Scott Hayden/female original character, minimal Marc and Steven, original characters

Your Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Pharaoh Scott Hayden/female original character, Spider-Man, references to Marc and Steven, original characters

Twenty (Thousand) Questions Scott Hayden/female original character, minimal Spidey, Marc, and Steven, original characters

No Good Deed Scott Hayden/female original character, Spider-man, minimal Marc and Steven, original characters