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#Tom Holland x you
shayyprasad · 3 days
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would you love me if i were a worm? | peter parker
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summary: you ask peter a very, very serious question.
warnings: nothing! (reader goes by rose sometimes... like a pet-name?)
pairing: frat!peter x bimbo reader
word count: 0.7k+ words
a/n: i honestly had so much fun writing intellectual, i wanted to add more to this little bimbo!verse! this trend feels like such a cute, bimbo-y thing, so i put it on here! (in no way is use of "bimbo" meant to be a patriarchal stereotype. please do not take it offensively, this is a work of fiction.)
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M.LIST | RULES/REQUESTING | ABOUT ME
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you're scrolling through your instagram reels, trying to pass your time. you're snuggled against peter - he's nice and warm - and lazily draped against him.
his arm has lost feeling at this point, but he couldn't care less, he's totally happy with it. being close to and loved by you is the best thing he could ever ask for. peter's lost a lot in his life, but you'll never be one of them.
he has his head laying on top of yours, tapping away at his laptop. peter's been busy with spider-man, to the point where the essay that is due tomorrow completely slipped his mind. he's trying to multitask since he hasn't spent that much time with you lately.
he's struggling, typing with one hand, but it's worth it.
you swipe to the next video using your freshly painted nails (they're a nice shade of pink, topped with a glitter coat). what's playing is a girl talking to her boyfriend; you can't hear the audio, but there a subtitles. the girl poises a very important question:
what would he do if she were a worm? would he love her still?
which leads you to think, what would peter do if you were a worm?
would he still love you?
or would he give you away? throw you into the dirt? would he step on you?
you gasp at the thought, and peter turns to look at you. "you good?" he doesn't look nor sound especially concerned, but the look in his eyes gives it away.
"petey?" you ask, eyes wide and wet.
"yeah, rose?"
"would you still love me if i were a worm?"
he's about to burst into laughter, he really is, but with one more look at you, he realizes that's not a great idea. the way you're looking up at him, expectant and weary, almost like you're afraid of his answer has him rubbing your shoulder, a chuckle slipping out.
if it's even possible, your eyes widen more. "you wouldn't?" eyes glossed over, lips pouted, he wishes he could take that stupid little chuckle back. he doesn't like the way you're tearing up, even if it's for a reason like this.
peter doesn't get fazed by much, he's spider-man, but watching you cry is number one on his list.
peter thinks it a silly question; he'd love you if you were a damn rock.
you're so gorgeous like this (not the crying), he can't help but think. with your hair in soft curls, satin hugging your figure. the curve of your lashes, how you blink up at him.
god, he's so happy he's with you.
"of course i would," peter says quickly, realizing he's been quiet a moment too long.
"really?"
"yeah," by the look on your face, it's not enough. "uh, i'd love you still."
"you'd carry me around with you?"
"sure. i'd figure out how to give you a cute pink bow, we could tie it around your waist- er... around you. and buy you a little dollhouse, you could use the rooms."
peter's committed now, and your eyes aren't welling with tears anymore.
"can it be a, like, pink dollhouse?" you ask, softly, voice moist from tears.
"with glitter," he adds, "and if we can't find a nice enough one for you, that's absolutely perfect... i'll make you one myself."
"oh my god, really?"
"anything for my favorite lady. in fact, i'd get you the finest food too. top notch- top notch whatever-it-is-that-worms-eat food."
peter's so glad none of his frat brothers are seeing this, he would've died of mortification. but here, in this room, where it's just the two of you - peter doesn't have a care in the world.
"and, y'know what? i think i'd even find you a pink little louis-v bag. that's right, my rose." he's spewing facts right now, he'd do all this. well, maybe not the bag. the two dollars in his bank account might not work out great with that.
but you don't have to know that part, it's fine.
"i'd read your, uh- fashion magazines and stuff to you. show you the pictures and everything," he loves the smile you have on right now.
"you'd be the most beautiful worm there is," he finishes.
"awww. i'd love you if i was a worm too," you say, nuzzling your nose against his.
"i've got no doubt, rose."
it's not all a lie though, hypothetical or not. he's made a promise to never leave your side, worm or not.
taglist: @whatsupstark @ell0ra-br3kk3r @idli-dosa @susvale @kdbsr-h @littlemsbumblebee @sflame15-blog @twinsunkithies @chocolateshepherddreamclod
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jinwoosungs · 20 hours
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{ 134 }
drugstore perfume.
peter parker x fem.reader
notes: post no way home.
{ gone, today | i might just see you around | it hurts but i understand | if you can't find another reason not to stay }
there was a cute guy that often stopped by your diner, exuding a type of loneliness that kept you achingly captivated.
he orders simple meals, often opting for a lighter meal consisting of a simple sandwich with a bowl of whatever the soup of the day was. with your workplace being a diner that remained opened for 24 hours, for once, you were happy that your usual shift was the graveyard shift.
without fail, he would come in around 2 to 3am, wearing a hoodie with unexplained cuts and bruises dotting his skin. and despite the minor injuries that were kept sustained against his face, it didn't do much to mar his soft and gorgeous features.
each time you would serve him, he would give you that same, sad smile. his kind eyes always appeared grateful before digging into his meal, yet it was clear that he was keeping many parts of himself hidden from you.
you had a sense that... that there was so much more to him than meets the eye.
why was it that every time he would enter the diner, he was covered in fading bruises?
why was he always alone, never once coming into the diner with a friend or family member?
and why did you have this inexplicable urge to comfort him each time he would gaze out the diner's window, his unblinking gaze staring at the cityscape with some unknown emotion you could never quite place.
you wanted to get closer to him-
to find out all the mysteries he had to offer.
and you were finally going to do something about it.
it was like you had become so accustomed to his presence, with you getting ready for work each night whilst sporting a gentle smile on your face. once your uniform was on, you step out of your apartment and began your trek towards the diner, your strides having a bit of the bounce to them.
your walk to work was uneventful (as per usual), with you clocking right at 10pm, ready to relieve your coworker of her shift as you take her place, taking on orders for the new patrons that surrounded the diner.
you kept busy, doing your best to not look at the clock as the hours ticked by, your heart practically pounding as it neared 2am. as if responding to the late hours, the amount of customers you served began to dwindle down, leaving you alone with the cook as the diner was now empty.
with a hum, you begin wiping down the tables, eyes trailing over to the clock once more, seeing that the time read 2:05 when you hear the sounds of a door opening.
you look back to see him, flashing you a sheepish smile as his brown eyes met with your welcoming gaze. he spends a few seconds admiring you, shaking his head while fighting back a blush. a cough was heard coming from him before he looks away from you.
walking with a comfortable pace, you allow yourself to stand next to him, brushing back your hair while taking out your pad and pen.
"hey peter, your bruise looks a lot better today."
you greet him by stating his first name, shivering a bit when he lets out a hum in response. those gentle vibrations heard coming from him was enough to make your knees a little weak for him.
"uh, thanks... i told you before that i can heal pretty well."
you nod and meet his gaze, your smile kind and genuine. "what can i get for you?"
"what's the soup of the day?"
"tomato bisque."
"then i'll take a grilled cheese, with some coffee, please."
"got it, peter."
you felt yourself smiling when you turn away from peter, already replaying the interaction you just had with him within your mind. he was just so sweet, and you felt your desires to get to know him growing in response.
you linger against the cooking area, waiting by the window for the cook to finish making peter's order. paul looks at you while toasting up the bread on his grill.
"what's this about? you hardly linger close to me when i'm trying to work." paul lets out a grunt before placing the cheese on top of the slices, combining them together into the perfect grilled cheese.
"i know i know, but... this guy's special to me." you admit to the cook with a whisper, a familiar heat felt against your cheeks. "so i was wondering... could you make me a sandwich, too? just so i can talk to him a bit?"
paul lets out another grunt, "don't see why not. we ain't busy or anythin' so sure. get your boy, then."
you can feel the heat spreading across your cheeks as you waited for paul to finish. within the next 10 minutes, he places both of your orders on a tray while giving you a wink. you smile brightly at him, taking the food while making your way towards peter's table.
peter looks away from his phone, setting it off to the side as you caught a glimpse of the news article he was reading.
SPIDER-MAN STRIKES AGAIN! STOPPING AN ARMED ROBBERY AT THE FIRST AMERICA BANK!!
"here's your order pete. and oh? i didn't peg you to be a fan of spider-man."
your voice was casual as you sit across from him with your own grilled cheese and tomato bisque soup. peter's blushing face and sudden gape made it clear that your question made him feel flustered when he quickly reaches out to shut off his phone, hiding the news article from you.
"ah, y-yeah, i was just curious about him, t-that's all." his voice appeared crack, but he was all too eager to change the subject when he sees you sitting across from him with the same meal.
"oh, you're eating too?"
"yes...uhm, i just wanted to keep you company, i guess?" you admit to him with a shy smile, trying to hide your shyness when biting into your own grilled cheese sandwich.
peter's eyes were seen furrowed for a brief second before his expression changes into a sweet smile. "thanks, i think i could use your company, actually."
that was all that needed to be said when peter begins to enjoy his own meal, biting into his grilled cheese dipped into the tomato bisque. he sneaks glances at you, and you could tell that he wanted to say so much more than what he was actually letting on.
you strengthen your resolve and decide to guide the conversation first. "this may not be any of my business but... i notice that you've been coming here for a while."
"mhmm." peter looks back up at you, and you notice how his rich, brown hair falls across his forehead, making your hands itch with the urge to gently brush it back.
however, you were able to fight back such urges, keeping your hands tightly balled up against your lap in response. "s-so, what i was wondering is... why are you always alone?"
you allow your question to linger within the air, sensing that it was an uncomfortable question for peter to try and answer. his hand seemed to grip tightly at the spoon, and you watch when he seemed to bend the metal in response.
your eyes go wide when peter suddenly stands from his seat, running a hand through his hair as he grabs his phone reached into his pockets to get out his wallet.
"sorry, i have to go."
he grabs a few bills from his wallet before tossing them on the table, filling you with a guilt when you look back at his half-eaten meal. "wait, peter, i'm sorry. i didn't mean to-"
"keep the change."
that was all he said before he quickly leaves the diner, making your heart turn cold as ice was felt coursing through your veins. upon hearing the commotion, paul walks out of the kitchen right as peter left. confusion was seen in the man's gaze when he looks down at the table, seeing the completely bent spoon while letting out a whistle.
"damn, did he do that?"
yet you couldn't bring yourself to answer him, simply taking both of your half-eaten meals, being filled with a guilt for potentially overstepping your boundaries with peter.
just who are you? those were the thoughts that lingered within your heart and mind, filling you with an even deeper yearning to get a better understanding of the mysterious young man who seemed to have built a wall around his very heart...
{ ... }
your shift didn't end for another hour, yet paul could sense how distracted you had become and let you off early. he tells you that the waitstaff for the morning shift was on their way and that you could go home to cool off.
"i'll let 'em know you weren't feeling too well, so you just focus on getting some rest."
you give him a grateful smile, clocking out while grabbing your belongings together. "you're the best, paul."
he lets out a rich chuckle while stating your name, "you're damn right i am. be careful going home now, okay?"
with one last nod, you give him a wave and got out of the diner, taking in the cool, early morning air as the sky steadily began to lighten in response to the incoming sun.
"hey."
a soft voice stops you from stepping forward, and you look behind you to see peter himself waiting off to the side. he wore an apologetic expression on his face, adjusting his hoodie while coming closer to you.
"mind if i walked you home?"
you shake your head eagerly at peter, "n-no, i don't mind at all."
he smiles at you, taking a stance right next to you as he kept up with your casual pace. you look back at him and smile.
"were you... waiting for me?"
"yes." peter admits with a sigh, running a hand across his hair once more, making them appear much messier than before. "i felt like an ass for how i treated you back there."
"n-no! don't be, i...i may have gone too far with such a question. a-and, i'm sorry."
"i'm sorry, too."
admittedly, your heart felt so much lighter with your respective apologies stated clearly, no longer feeling the guilt when you continue walking back to your apartment with peter by your side.
you spent several seconds in silence when his voice was heard cutting through your thoughts. "i've lost so many people, that's why you always see me alone."
your heart clenches when you could detect the unbidden sadness in his voice. "you have, peter?"
he doesn't meet your gaze, keeping his eyes against the skyline when he nods at you. the more you looked at him, the more you could see his soft brown eyes shimmering with unshed tears from beneath the sunlight.
"yeah, i have..."
you stop walking, not liking the fact that peter was suffering so much. his loneliness truly didn't seem intentional at all. wishing to change the subject for him, you sigh and lighten up your tone.
"you know, i've been curious about the bruises i see on your face sometimes..."
peter stiffens in response to your observation, but you quickly hold up your hands in response.
"i-i mean, i don't think much of it, i just thought you were into boxing, or were an mma fighter or something."
your words succeed in making peter burst out in a laugh. "what? are you serious? an mma fighter?"
"ah, you're laughing at me?!"
you join in with him, actually feeling so relieved that he had relaxed, even just a tiny bit, while talking to you. he continues to laugh, and you allow yourself to bask within the sounds of his joy.
"sorry, that's kind of flattering, but i may not be bulky enough to be an mma fighter..." peter purposely trails off, continuing to walk with you when you see a wistful smile painting at his features.
"but that isn't to say that i can't fight."
you freeze and stop walking once more, your eyes looking up at him with intrigue. peter also stops walking again, appearing like it was taking him a herculean effort to not laugh at his very moment.
"care to elaborate, pete?"
he lets out a sigh of your name before shrugging. "nah, i don't think i will. i like keeping you on your toes."
that was all he says before walking ahead of you, making you gasp as you ran towards him, telling him how mean he was being to you while he laughs, seeming to enjoy this banter with you as he continued to walk you home.
{ ... }
your mind was constantly filled with thoughts of peter, and you couldn't seem to sit still whenever your daydreams with him would take over.
after walking with you to your apartment, you traded numbers with him and end up texting him on a near daily basis. he was charming, funny, and had to be the most attractive guy you had ever met. your happiness was so infectious that your co-workers take note of the change in your attitude, seemingly happy that things were going well for you and peter.
today was your weekend off, and you decided to spend it out in the city. you texted peter once more early in the morning, but had yet to receive a reply back from him. not thinking much of peter's sudden inactivity, you went on with your day.
you thought about your plans, and wondered if you wanted to head to a café, or your local bookstore to treat yourself to something nice. and maybe, if peter ever replied back to you, you could invite him to join you with whatever activity you wished to do.
that was all that filled your mind when you waited at the stoplight for your turn to cross the street. you stopped checking the messages on your phone and placed it back within the safety of your bag. when you saw that it was safe for you to walk did you finally cross the road-
however, the screeching sounds of tires quickly approaching you makes you freeze in response.
as if time had gone into slow motion, your eyes take in the quickly approaching car, seeing a couple arguing in the front. the driver was not paying much attention to the road, still screaming at his girlfriend as your eyes take in the close proximity of the car.
within the next seconds, the woman sees you and screams, "WATCH OUT!"
yet before the car could make its grave impact into you, you felt your body being flung away as a pair of powerful arms rescues you from the speeding car.
you were hit with an intense vertigo, filling you with a dizziness as your eyes take in the passing scenery of the city. you were so close to puking-
yet within the next second, you found yourself safely planted against a rooftop.
your steps were unsteady as the same pair of powerful arms that saved you continues to wrap around you.
"hey, hey, look at me, are you okay? you're not hurt anywhere, are you?"
your blurry eyes finally look forward, seeing the familiar mask of a vigilante, taking in the spider motif seen against his skin tight suit. you could tell that he was staring at you with concern, even with the way his mask covered the entirety of his features.
the adrenaline slowly simmers down, bringing you down to your knees as you kept on trembling within spider-man's arms.
"oh my god, i was about to- i-i nearly-"
before you could even process how you were so close to dying, you felt spider-man wrap his arms around you, bringing you closer to him as you felt a pair of soft, chapped lips pressing desperately against your own.
the way his lips perfectly slot against yours was enough to make your anxieties go away. you feel the way his hands delve into your hair, pressing one last deep kiss against your lips before pulling away from you.
"ssh, don't even think about it anymore. you're here, safe and sound in my arms. just breathe... just breathe..."
spider-man continues to distract you, holding you in his arms as he walked closer to the edge of the building. his grip on you was tight when he brushes back your hair, pulling down his mask once more while giving you a chance to calm down.
when your breathing goes back to normal, becoming even while losing its hyperventilated quality did he softly ask you, "do you want me to take you home?"
you were still recovering from the shock of his kiss and your near death experience, only managing to give him a nod in response. and despite how you couldn't see his smile, you could hear it in his voice.
"you just hang on to me as tightly as you can, okay? i won't ever drop you, and all you need to do is just trust me."
you give the masked vigilante a nod. "yes, i trust you, spidey."
wrapping your arms around him, you hid your face within his neck as he used his webs to travel quickly through the city. his webs lands with an accurate precision against the buildings, yet still remained durable enough to hold his and your weight. shutting your eyes, you bask at the sensation, feeling as though you were flying from within spider-man's arms.
in just a few minutes, he lands at the front of your fire escape, unlocking your window with his skilled hands as he climbs into your apartment with you.
your eyes go wide when a sudden wave of clarity hits you, feeling spider-man go into your room when he sits on top of your bed with you, this time, his body was trembling.
"spidey-"
he ends up holding you tight, wrapping his arms around your back while hiding his face within the curve of your neck.
"i-i thought i lost you... f-fuck, i thought you were going to be gone from my life, too."
your heart begins to pound, recognizing that broken quality of his voice when you place you hand behind spider-man's head. the hero allows you to pull his face away from you, not even stopping you when you completely lift up his mask-
revealing peter to you.
you caught a glimpse of his bloodshot eyes for a brief moment when he suddenly kisses you again, allowing you to taste the saltiness of his tears as he crushes your frame closer to his body. sobs were felt raking down his form when you gently kiss him back, all while whispering gentle words of comfort to him.
you allow him to cling to you, letting his tears fall freely when you lay back against your bed with him. as he continues to cry against your neck, allowing those warm droplets to cascade down your skin, your heart became softer for him. making sure that you were holding him tightly against you, you begin to draw invisible circles around his back, waiting for peter to catch his breath.
after several minutes, you felt him pressing a kiss against your cheek, catching your attention when he frames at your face.
"sorry, for giving me a minute to... to let it all out."
he rests his forehead against yours, and you were filled with a soft affection for him, running your fingers through his hair in response.
"did you want to talk about it."
"eventually, i will." peter manages to tell you in a breathless whisper. "eventually, but not now."
you hum in agreement, falling back against your bed while still gently running your hands against his soft hair. "take all the time that you need, peter. i'll be here... i'll always be here for you."
peter lets out a sharp inhale, now strengthening his hold on you when he slowly admits to you.
"you're the reason why i came to the diner so much."
your heart nearly bursts in response to his words, making you meet his gaze once more, seeing the love he had for you shining in them.
"really?"
"yeah...really." peter smiles while brushing the back of his hand against your cheek. "when i first came to the diner, i wasn't expecting to see such a cute waitress; one that stole my heart at first glance."
he sighs and leans forward to kiss your cheek, the action feeling quite soft and sweet to you. "at first, i just wanted to protect you; to make sure that you were safe while working. but... the more i observed you, the harder i fell for you."
peter meets your gaze once more and shakes his head, "that night, when you asked me why i was so alone all the time, i wanted to come clean to you right then and there, b-but, i had to stop myself. i knew that when i finally told you, then it would need to be the full story, with me not hiding a single thing from you-"
you cut off his words with another kiss, basking in his tiny moans of your name before pulling away from him.
"you don't have to worry about telling me, peter. i won't ever leave your side, so... you have all the time in the world."
you go back to wrapping your arms around his back, letting him rest his head against your shoulder when you reassure him once more, "i won't ever leave you, and i'll be happy to listen to your story when your ready."
basking in the way his body loosens up, you allow peter to wrap his arms tightly around you, speaking with a bit of a tremor in his voice when he asks you, "do you promise?"
"i promise." with your oath lingering in the air, you press your lips against his forehead, ready to stay by his side as you smiled to yourself, feeling happy that you managed to break down his walls- slowly becoming the absolute love of his life.
{ and as these days go by | they can't change how long we've waited for | a love that's more ... a love that's more. }
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a.n. - lmao, i am so sorry it took me a whole month to get a new peter parker story out. when i realized i had gained a few new readers with joy, i knew that i couldn't stop writing for peter with just that story alone. this is unedited, but it has become one of my favorite stories that i have written in a long time. 🥹
all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.
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waitimcomingtoo · 3 months
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A Film By Peter Parker
Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader
Synopsis: Peter gets back into making little videos once the two of you start hanging out
warning: extreme 2017 homecoming era nostalgia
Masterlist
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Of course he went for Liz.
Liz was the ingénue. She was perfect in every possible way. Perfect grades, perfect face, and the perfect boy pining after her. You’d been crushing on Peter since the third grade but with Liz around, he never noticed you.
But Liz was gone now. She had moved to Oregon following her dad’s arrest and taken Peter’s feelings for her with her. Now that she was gone, you decided it was time to stop pining after Peter from afar and start pining from up close. And so, when you walked into the cafeteria that day, you didn’t sit at the end of the table like you usually did.
“Oh, hey.” Peter smiled in surprise when you sat down next to him. Smiling was good. Smiling meant he wasn’t creeped out by you sitting so close. You gulped before giving him best smile back.
“Hi.”
“What are you doing here?” Ned asked, making Peter give him a look. You immediately regretted your decision and wished you’d just stayed in your usual spot.
“What do you mean? She always sits with us.” Peter pointed out.
“No, she always sits down there. She’s never actually sat with us before.” Ned replied and gestured to the end of the lunch table.
“Yes, but I’m sitting here today because I needed Peters help with the chemistry homework.” You said and put your chemistry notebook on the table. You knew you couldn’t just randomly sit with them without a reason, so you came prepared.
“Oh, for Mr. Eddie’s class? It’s easy. I’ll show you my notes.” Peter’s offered with a smile. You returned the smile as he pulled out his own notebook. It was a win/win for you since you actually needed help with the homework and it would start a conversation with Peter. While he was explaining the problem to you, you never once looked down at the notebook. You were too focused on the curve of Peter’s suspiciously long eyelashes, the longest you’d ever seen on a boy. Ned noticed the way you were staring his his best friend and frowned a little.
“Does that make sense?” Peter’s asked when he was done explaining.
“Yeah, it does. Wow, thanks Peter. It sounds so easy the way you explain it. I wish this stuff came as naturally to me as it does for you. You’re so smart.” You said as if you had listened to a single word he had said.
“That’s nice of you to say but I’m really not that smart. I just like chemistry.” He replied as he blushed from the compliment.
“Oh, come on. You’re the smartest guy I know. You’re the only one that answers questions in that class. And you always get them right. When Mr. Eddie asks if anyone has any questions, I don’t raise my hand because I don’t even know what I’m confused about yet.”
“That’s I feel in English. I can barely make it through the first line in a poem and you’re already going back and forth with Ms. Teague about Pindaric odes or whatever they’re called.”
“You listen to when I talk in English?” You asked with a soft smile.
“Of course I do.” Peter shrugged. “I always find the reading boring until you raise your hand and talk about how you interpreted it. You make it interesting.”
“I liked that book we read when the kids ate the other kids.” Ned said and interrupted the moment. Your smile dropped as you and Peter looked at him with disgust.
“The one with the flies-“
“We know.” Peter cut him off.
“Anyways, thank you for helping me with the homework. I’ve been stuck on it all week.” You said to Peter.
“Ugh. That’s been me with my paper for Mrs. Teagues class. And it’s due tomorrow.” Peter groaned.
“Oh, the analysis essay? I could help you with that.” You offered.
“Really? You’d help me?” Peter smiled in surprise.
“Yeah. I already wrote mine. It would be no problem.”
Ned was watching this back and forth conversation for a while until it clicked it in head. He gasped and slapped the table, making you and Peter look at him.
“Oh my God.” Ned said. “That’s why you’re sitting here. You have a-“
“Can I talk to you for a second, Ned?” You quickly cut him off when you realized where that sentence was going. Before Ned could even answer, you grabbed his arm and pulled him outside the cafeteria to talk in private.
“You like Peter!” Ned whispered harshly. You clamped your hand over his mouth and pushed him up against the wall.
“You need to keep your mouth shut.” You hissed. “Yes, I like Peter, okay? I’ve had a crush on Peter since middle school. He never noticed me when Liz was around but now that she’s in Oregon, I might finally have my chance. I don’t want to scare him off so just keep your mouth shut and let me handle this.”
You took your hand off Ned’s mouth and he started to gasp for air.
“Oh, please. Your nose wasn’t covered. You could breathe just fine.” You said with a roll of your eyes. Ned stopped pretended and straightened up.
“So you actually like Peter? For his personality?”
“Yes. Is that so hard to believe?”
“Kinda, yeah.” Ned admitted.
“I like everything about him. And I’m gonna tell him that. Just please, don’t say anything before I do. I’ll tell him when I’m ready.”
“Are you going to cast a love spell on him using a lock of his hair?” Ned whispered to you.
“What? No. Why would you even ask me that?”
“Because you’re a witch.” Ned said like it was obvious.
“I’m not a witch.” You groaned. “I just accidentally cackled that one time but it was only because I had phlegm in my throat.”
“Then about that time on the bus?”
“We’ve been over this. It was just a coincidence that that biker fell off his bike after I gestured with my hand. I didn’t move him with my mind.”
“And that one time in physics?” Ned narrowed his eyes.
“I still don’t know how that guys shirt caught on fire.” You shrugged. “It’s a mystery to me.”
“It caught on fire after he made fun of you for being a witch.” Ned pointed out.
“Maybe he was just standing too close to the flame.” You shrugged.
“He was standing in the doorway. There was no flame.” Ned reminded you.
“The magic of science.” You shrugged again.
“But what about that time-“
“Don’t bring up the nosebleed.” You whined.
“I am gonna bring up the nosebleed.” Ned hissed. “In sixth grade, our Spanish teacher got a nosebleed right after he told you to stop staring out the window and made everyone laugh at you. How do you explain that?”
“You’ve made your point, okay? Now are you gonna tell Peter or not?”
“Look, I’m not gonna expose your gross secret feelings, as gross and secret as they may be.” Ned sighed. “But Peter is still my best friend so I have to look out for him. I don’t want any spells cast on him.”
“That’s fine. There will not be any spells.” You held your your hands in defense. Just then, Flash walked by and laughed when he saw the two of you talking.
“Woah. What is this, the friendless loser convention?” Flash snorted.
“Shut up.” You snapped. Flash immediately tripped over his feet and fell to the ground, making Ned look at you with wide eyes.
“Witch!” He whispered harshly as he pointed a finger at you.
“Shut up. Let’s go back inside.” You rolled your eyes and pulled Ned back into the cafeteria.
Later that day, you met up with Peter in the library to go over your assignments. You started with his English essay and finished that within an hour before moving on to your chemistry homework.
“You can plug the numbers into your formula now using the method I taught you. And then you just solve for x.” Peter explained as you worked out a problem together.
“Hm. You make it sound so simple.” You sighed and leaned on your hand. Peter saw the way you were staring at him in his peripheral vision and felt his face heat up.
“It’s, uh, it’s pretty easy once you get the hang of it. I never liked the way Mr. Eddie taught it. I figured this out myself and it’s worked much better for me.”
“Thanks for helping me. You’re a good teacher.” You said and put your hand on his arm. Peter laughed shyly at the contact and cleared his throat.
“Thanks. And so are you. That was the best essay I’ve ever produced. I honestly worry she won’t believe I wrote it.”
“Well if she says anything, I can vouch for you. You put in good work on this essay. You deserve the credit.” You assured him, making Peter blush all over again. It occurred to Peter that he never realized how pretty you were. You’d been classmates since 3rd grade so he always looked at you as just another girl in his class. Now that you had his full attention, he didn’t feel like looking away.
“Thanks. I appreciate you helping me write it. I know it can be frustrating to work with me because of my dyslexia.”
“It’s no problem. And it wasn’t frustrating at all.” You shrugged. Peter smiled at felt better about how long it took him to write the essay.
“Thanks.” He said. You had successfully gotten him to spend time with you one on one but now you needed to commence the next phase in your plan which was to hang out in a non school related setting.
“Would you ever want to hang out socially?” You blurted.
“Like, and not do homework?” He asked. You nodded your head and he smiled before nodding as well.
“Yeah. Sure. I’d love to.”
“Cool. Me too.” You smiled. You hadn’t meant to blurt it out like that but it worked nonetheless.
“Does this weekend work?” He asked you.
“Yeah. What do you want to do?”
Hard cut to that weekend. You were on the subway with Peter and he had his phone out to record himself.
“Firts social hang out with a girl. A film by Peter Parker.” He said in a low voice before flipping the camera to face you.
“Staring me.” You smiled and waved to the camera.
“Are you sure you’re cool with me filming this?” Peter asked as he flipped the camera back to himself.
“Yeah, of course. The other ones you showed me were so cute. But why did it seem like there were so many missing parts? You were always talking about something cool that I didn’t get to see.”
“Uhhh, no reason.” Peter said and looked to the side. He had skillfully edited out any incriminating superhero activity that you were not ready to see yet.
“Well I like it. I feel like I’m on Modern Family.” You said and posed for the camera.
“Which family member would you be?” Peter laughed and zoomed in on you. With his phone blocking his face, he could shamelessly admire your face on his screen.
“Duh. Lily.”
“I can so see that.” He chuckled. The subway lurched suddenly and you both grabbed onto the pole, coincidentally putting your hands in top of each others.
“Oh, sorry. Our hands touched.” You laughed shyly.
“Oh my God. So romantic.” Peter joked, making you blush and look into his camera.
“Stop it.” You laughed and covered his phone with your hand. He laughed as well and put his phone away.
After learn you had never been, Peter decided to the Lego Store. He’d been hyping it up to you all week over text and now that it was finally happening, he hoped it impressed you. You walked in together and Peter heard you gasp.
“Big Lego Aladdin.” You gasped and ran to stand under the giant magic carpet and Aladdin made of Legos.
“That’s the first time I’ve ever heard that string of words come out of someone’s mouth.” Peter laughed and went to stand under it with you. You looked over at him and were surprised to see he was already looking at you.
“This is even better than you described it. You need to show me everything.” You said and excitedly shook his arm.
“I can do that.” He blushed and nodded his head towards some of the sets.
Peter took out his phone to film you as you looked at everything in the store. The way you were looking around like a little kid brought a smile to Peter’s face. He zoomed in on you and caught himself staring at you fondly through the camera.
“Come on. I haven’t even showed you the coolest part yet.” Peter said and brought you over to the build your figure own station. He laughed when you gasped again and started to excitedly rummage through all the pieces. Peter didn’t bring his phone out again until you had built each other.
“Show me what you made.” He laughed from the other side of the phone.
“Looks! It’s a little Peter. He has a backpack and a beaker.” You said as you proudly showed the camera the little Peter figure you had made.
“This is Y/n. I can’t believe I found the shoes you always wear.” He said as he filmed the figure he had made of you.
“You notice my shoes?” You asked with a smile. Peter didn’t catch it because he was too busy fitting the hands of your Lego figures together.
“Look. They’re holding hands.” Peter gasped.
“Aw.” You laughed. “Us on the subway.”
“We should give them some privacy. They might not want us to hard launch their relationship.” Peter said and put his phone away.
“You’re so cute.” You laughed without thinking about it. Peter looked up at you with rosy cheeks and you gulped when you realized what you said.
“I mean-“
“Come on. I wanna take you somewhere else.” He cut you off before you could explain. He brought you to Delmar’s and ordered his usual for you to split. You sat together inside and you tried your best to remain calm. You always wondered what Peter got up to when he wasn’t at school and now you were in one of his favorite places and eating with him.
“Okay, this is Y/n’s first time eating at Delmars since he reopened. Let’s get her reaction.” Peter said as he filmed you unwrapping the sandwich.
“Wait, why is it so flat?” You laughed and held the sandwich up.
“Oh, sorry.” He chuckled. “I forgot to warn you that he always squishes it for me. But you’ll like it. Trust me. It’s much better when it’s squished down real flat.”
“Well I’m glad I now know you like your sandwiches to be squished. I would not have expected that about you.” You said and took a bite of your half before giving him a thumbs up.
“Yeah? You like it?” He asked hopefully.
“I do. Your squishy sandwich was surprisingly good.” You admitted.
“Well, I’m very pleased to hear that.” Peter smiled and phone away. “So to make it even, you have to show me one of your favorite places next time we hang out.”
“Oh.” You smiled coyly. “I didn’t realize there would be a next time.”
“There better be. I had a lot of fun with you today. How come we’ve never hung out before?”
“I don’t know. I always wanted to but you were busy running around with Ned or staring at…” You trailed off and chose not to mention Liz in case he was still hung up on her.
“It doesn’t matter. I’m just glad we’re friends now.” You said instead.
“Me too. I’ve never had a girl friend.”
“What was that?” You said and started choking on your saliva.
“All my friends in my life were guys. It’ll be nice to have a female influence in my life.”
“Oh. Girl friend.” You smiled tightly.
You hung out another hour before taking the subway back to your respective apartments. Peter walked to you the front doors of you building and you had an awkward moment where you didn’t know if you should hug or not.
“We uh, we should probably get an ending for your film.” You said with a timid smile.
“Oh, right. Thats a great idea.” Peter smiled and pulled out his phone. He pressed record and you waved to the camera with both hands.
“So, can you give our first time hanging out a rating?” He asked you.
“9/10.” You grinned and held up two thumbs.
“What? Why’d I only get a 9?” Peter scoffed and pretended to be offended.
“I had a 10/10 time but I have to deduct a point because we saw that guy cutting his hair on the subway and I was scared he was gonna throw the scissors at us.”
“Well I would’ve just protected you with my lightning fast reflexes.” Peter said simply. You smiled at him through the phone and he smiled back. He put the camera down and looked at you with a content smile on his face.
“Seriously, though. When’s the next time we’re hanging out?”
It ended up being just a few days later. And then again a few days after that.
“Peter’s first time!” You cheered as you filmed him during one of your hang outs.
“Trying boba.” He clarified. “I don’t understand this drink. Do I eat the balls?”
“Yes. Sip it slowly so they don’t all go down your throat.” You instructed. Peter took a big sip and immediately started choking.
“Peter! I said slowly!” You said as you slapped his back until he stopped choking. You quickly put the camera down to help him recover.
Your hangouts started getting more and more frequent and Peter soon considered you a best friend. Your weekends became each others and school days were often spent together in the library or at one of your apartments. You were quickly moving up the ranks in Peter’s life, just as you hoped. And the closer you got, the more Peter could not believe he had never noticed you before.
Little did you know, Peter often found himself watching the footage he had taken of you during your hang outs with a big smile on his face. He’d rewatch the videos he had taken and realize that they were slowly becoming less of a documentary and more of a highlight reel for you. He never imagined a girl as cool as you would for him so when he realized he was starting to fall for you, he quickly repressed his feelings. Little did he know, the feelings were mutual.
“Did you always make these little videos?” You asked Peter one day as he filmed you trying to balance on the curb of the sidewalk.
“I used too make them all the time but I hadn’t for awhile. I only started them again when we started hanging out.”
“Really? Why?” You wondered and stumbled off the curb.
“I don’t know. You remind me of the time before my life got crazy. It made me want to do these again.” He shrugged. You couldn’t help but smile at that information and turned around to look at him.
“So I could be the star?” You asked and posed for the camera.
“Exactly. You’re my muse.” He played along, making you laughed shyly. When he watched the video back later that night, he knew he had meant every word of that.
Peter sat in his bedroom one day and filmed himself wearing your glasses while you did homework at his desk. He looked over you every now and then just to admire the back of your head.
“Don’t break those.” You called without looking up. All you needed to hear was the sound of your glasses case opening to know what he was doing.
“I’m not even wearing your glasses.” He lied and admired himself in the camera.
“Yes you are.”
“No I’m not. But yes, I am.”
“Knew it.” You snorted.
“Hey, how come girls always smell so good?” Peter wondered. “Your hair hit me in the face when you turned too fast before it smelled like a baby in a damn meadow.”
“It’s just my womanly essence. Now can you stop looking at yourself long enough to help me with my chemistry homework?”
“It’ll be hard but I can try.” Peter dramatically sighed and set his phone down. You got yo from the desk and went over to the bed with a cheeky smile on your face.
“Incoming.” You announced and patted your elbow twice like a wrestler.
“No, don’t.” He pleaded. You ignored his pleas and jumped on top of him. He groaned and pushed you off, leaving you laying in the bed beside him.
“Ow. My ribs.”
“You’ll heal.” You rolled your eyes. “Now can you help me with number 7?”
“Oh, yeah. No problem. Can you check this email before I send it?” He asked and handed over his laptop. You handed him your worksheet before reading over his email draft.
“Oh, honey.” You grimaced just a few words into the email.
“Is it bad?”
“Good evening, Mrs. Howard. I hope this email finds you well. I’m so sorry for bothering you. I was just wondering if I could possibly have an extension on my midterm paper? No worries at all if an extension is not possible. I apologize for any inconvenience this email may have caused. Thank you for reading, Peter Parker.” You read out loud.
“What’s wrong with that?”
“After your name, you included the name of the class, the time you have it, and a description of yourself. She knows who you are!” You laughed and turned the laptop around to show him his mistakes.
“She may have forgotten.” He pointed out. “I can’t take any chances.”
“Peter, this email is way too submissive. You sound like such a bottom.”
“Well excuse me, genius.” He said sarcastically. “How would you write it?”
“Here.” You said and handed the laptop back after retyping his email.
“Oh, wow. That’s actually really good.” He said once he read your updated version.
“This is why we are such good friends. You have all the math and science knowledge in this little, beautiful head of yours-“
“Little?” He interrupted.
“You’re right. Sorry, I was just being nice. What I meant to say is that your head is huge.” You corrected. “Anyways, you have the math brain and I have the literary brain. It’s like you’re Einstein and I’m Victor Hugo.”
“Who the hell is that?” He laughed as he peaked at your mirror to see if his head was actually huge.
“The guy who wrote Les Mis.” You said like it was obvious.
“Never heard of it.”
“What? You’ve never seen Les Misérables?” You asked in a thick French accent.
“Huh?”
“We have to watch it. It’s so good.” You said and snatched his laptop back. You pulled up the movie and handed it back to him.
“Oh my God. It’s two hours and 38 minutes long? And a musical? Hell no.” Peter shook his head and pushed the laptop away.
“But it’s so good.” You urged. “We can just leave it on in the background while we work. It’s super light and easy to watch.”
“Really? What’s it about?”
“Oh, you know. Just war torn France.” You mumbled.
“No. Absolutely not.”
“But you’ll like it! There’s prostitution and con men and um…oh! And orphans! You can watch it and feel represented.” You said and shook his arm.
“I hate you.” He laughed but nearly gave in to your request just to see you happy.
“Fine.” You huffed. “I finished editing your midterm paper, by the way. You don’t actually have to send that email.”
“And here is your completed chemistry homework.” Peter smiled and handed your worksheet back.
“Aw.” You gushed. “Look at us. I love cheating with you.”
“So do I. We make a great pairing.” He chuckled as he looked over at you. You looked back at him and gulped. You hadn’t realized how close you were with your arms and legs pressed against each other as you sat together in your bed. Peter knew his sheets would smell like your perfume that night and smiled at the thought.
“Now that we’re all done with our work, you know what we should do?” He asked as he moved in closer.
“W-what should we do?” You stuttered now that he was right there.
“You know what I’ve been dying to do with you for a long, long time?” He asked.
“No. I mean, I don’t know. What?” You laughed nervously. Peter moved in even closer and right when you thought he was gonna kiss you, he reached over and grabbed his laptop back.
“I wanted to show you a real musical. Not this French miserable bull crap. Have you ever seen a little movie called Hair-“
“No. I’m not watching Hairspray with you again. You scream-sang every lyric last time and I couldn’t even hear it.” You cut him off and reached over home to take the laptop back. He pulled it away at the last second and you ended up on top of him. You looked into each others eyes and both froze in the positions you were in. Your faces were almost touching but neither of you tried to pull away. Your eyes were going back and forth between his lips and eyes and he was doing the same. Like magnets, you two started to lean towards each other but before your lips could connect, May opened the door.
“What did you guys want- oh! Sorry! I didn’t realize I would be interrupting something. My bad.” May smiled sheepishly and pretended to cover her eyes. Peter burned bright red as you quickly climbed off of him.
“May.” He said warningly.
“Sorry. But maybe lock the door next time. And use protection.”She whispered the last part before shutting the door.
“May!” He groaned and threw a pillow at the door. There was a long, awkward silence before you were even able to look at each other. When you finally did, you smiled awkwardly and kept your distance.
“That was so weird. What did she think we were doing?” You laughed nervously to break the silence.
“Psh. I know.” Peter scoffed. “She said she was interrupting but we weren’t even doing anything.”
“Yeah. What did she think? That we were gonna kiss or something?” You asked and laughed like it was the most ridiculous thing you could ever suggest.
“Us? Kissing? How silly. Imagine that.” Peter forced a laugh as well and looked to the side. The awkward silence returned and you struggled to look at each other.
“Do you think she made dinner?” Peter asked after a beat of silence.
“Let’s check.” You said and quickly got off the bed.
You didn’t discuss the almost kiss and went home shortly after. You couldn’t sleep that night because you couldn’t stop replaying the moment in your mind. No matter how much you wanted him to like you back, if Peter reciprocated your feelings, he would have kissed you.
Your pity party didn’t last long because on the subway the next day, you felt Peter put his earbud in your ear. You heard the Les Mis soundtrack playing in your ear and looked up in surprise. Peter was already filming you with a huge smile on his face.
“This guy 24601 should stop stealing bread and stick to singing. He has serious pipes.” Peter said.
“You listened to it?” You melted into a smile and held your hand over your heart.
“Yep. I stayed up all night watching lyric videos because I couldn’t understand what they were saying with their accents. It’s actually really good. I love Eponine. I just wish Marious wasn’t such an idiot. How does he not see that his best friend is clearly in love with him?” Peter asked with exasperation. You looked directly at the camera and hoped it picked up the irony before looking at Peter again.
“He’s not an idiot. He’s a romantic.” You sighed. “He doesn’t notice Eponine because he’s in love with Cosette. And course he is. She’s prettier and richer and has perfect hair. He doesn’t even see Eponine.”
“Good hair isn’t everything. Eponine is way better than Cosette.” Peter scoffed. “I’m team Eponine all the way.”
“Are you really?” You asked hopefully.
“Oh, for sure. I see why you like this stuff. These songs are awesome.” Peter said and put the other earbud in his ear. He then flipped the camera around to film the two of you sharing earbuds. As Heart Full Of Love played in your ears, you couldn’t help but longingly staring at Peter. The fact that he had stayed up late just to listen to something you suggested made you overcome with fondness for him. If he had done something like that, maybe he actually did feel the same.
“I forgot how good this album is. I haven’t listened in a while. I used to listen to it all the time back when you…” You stopped short when you realized you were about to say too much.
“When I what?” Peter wondered. You looked him in the eyes and decided that it was time to be honest. The song ended and a new, much louder one began to play in your ears.
“Back when you liked Liz. She was Cosette. I was Eponine. I was the one pining after a guy who never noticed me because he was in love with another girl. You were never mine to lose.” You admitted. Peter stared at you for a minute before pulling his earbud out.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear a word you just said. Master of the House is such a banger. What did you say?” He asked you.
“Never mind.” You smiled. “It wasn’t important.”
He smiled back before getting a text on his phone. You looked at his phone when you heard it buzz and realized he was still recording. In other words, he had just recorded you saying you liked him. Your eyes went wide but you only had a second to panic when you read the text he had gotten.
“Did Liz just text you?” You asked in a quiet voice. You felt like you were about to throw up. Years of crushing on a boy who liked another girl turned into months of pinning for your best friend and now turned into a rock in your stomach. Peter stopped recording the two of you to answer her text, which felt a little like a slap in the face.
“Oh, yeah. We’ve been talking lately.” He absentmindedly replied to you as he laughed at whatever she had written.
“You have?” You asked with a dry mouth.
“Yeah. She says Oregon is pretty cool. But she wants to come back and visit this summer to see everyone.” He told you.
“And see you?” You asked with a sad smile.
“I guess so.” He shrugged. “It would be nice to see her.”
“Yeah. Totally.” You said weakly. “So how long have you guys been talking?”
“I don’t know. A few weeks? She texted me a little while ago and we’ve been catching up.”
“That’s awesome.” You lied.
“I know. I didn’t think I’d ever hear from her again after she moved.”
“Neither did I.” You said through a forced smile. You needed to get off the subway and away from Peter before you started crying. So as soon as the subway doors opened, you bolted out.
“I gotta go. See you later.” You called to him before running through the subway station. You wiped tears as you went up the stairs and didn’t stop moving until you were in a bathroom stall at school. You gave yourself five minutes to be upset before drying your face and leaving the bathroom. It sucked, but it could have been worse. Now, Peter never had to know how you felt about it.
Peter was beyond confused by your exit on the subway but he wasn’t about to get any answers from you. You dodged his texts throughout the day and didn’t dare go into the lunchroom where you knew he and Ned would be.
“Y/n isn’t here yet?” Peter’s huffed as he sat down at your usual lunch table.
“Not yet. Actually, I haven’t seen your girlfriend all day.” Ned realized.
“She’s not my girlfriend.” Peter blushed. “And I’m pretty sure she’s avoiding me. She’s been so weird ever since this morning. Everything was fine on the subway until we got to school.”
“Well did anything happen on the subway that would weird her out? Oh no. Did you graze her boob with your hand again?”
“No. That was one time. And it was her boobs fault, not mine.” Peter whispered harshly. “We were just listening to music together and I was filming her like normal. But she could not get away from me faster once the doors opened. It was so weird.”
“Did you say anything weird to her? Girls don’t like it when you say weird things to them.”
“I know that. I didn’t say anything weird.” Peter replied as he pulled out his phone. He watched the video he had taken on the subway with no sound to see where he had gone wrong. All he saw was you looking at him with heart eyes which made his face heat up. But still, no evidence of where he messed up.
“I knew it. We were having a normal conversation about Les Mis and then I got a text from and then she ran. It makes no sense.”
“What was the text? Was it May saying something weird?”
“No. And stop saying weird. It doesn’t sound like a real word anymore.” Peter ordered. “And the text was just from Liz.”
“Oh shit.” Ned said when he heard this.
“What?” Peter wondered.
“Oh, Peter.” Ned sighed. “Peter, Peter, Peter.”
“What?” He asked again, annoyed now.
“Peter, Peter, Peter, Peter, Peter.”
“Are you gonna tell me what happened or just keep saying my name?”
“I can’t tell you. I’m sworn to secrecy. And I don’t want Y/n to put a hex on my family.” Ned said and held up his hands.
“Y/n swore you to secrecy? About what?”
“Can’t say.” Ned shrugged and zipped his lips.
“Does she not like Liz? And doesn’t want me to know?”
“Dude. Dude, dude, dude, dude. You are so close but so far.”
“So she does like Liz? Oh my God. Does she a crush on Liz? And she’s jealous that Liz texted me and not her?” Peter whispered with wide eyes.
“You’re getting colder.” Ned waved his hand. “I don’t even know how you got there.”
“That was all my guesses. Just tell me.” Peter whined.
“Hell no. I don’t want Y/n to curse my crops and make not grow for all of eternity.”
“You don’t have crops.” Peter pointed out.
“I could develop some.” Ned snapped.
“I just don’t understand what she would tell you something but not tell me. We’re best friends. She usually tells me everything.” Peter said right as his thumb accidentally hit the volume button on the video. Your confession to Peter on the subway was heard loud and clear by the two boys. Both of their jaws dropped as the video ended with you asked if Liz had just texted Peter.
“Well I wouldn’t have beaten around the bush like that if I knew you had video evidence of her saying she liked you right in your hands.” Ned sighed dramatically.
“I need to find her.” Peter said and ran out of the lunchroom. He looked around the school until he found you under the bleachers in the gym. You were sitting with your back against the wall and your knees drawn to your chest with your earbuds in your ears. When you saw Peter coming up to you, you quickly pulled them out.
“Hey.” He said and waved cautiously.
“Hey.” You smiled sadly as he sat beside you. You sat in silence for a minute as neither of you knew what to say.
“What’s going on with you? I haven’t seen you all day.” He started off. You looked at your hands to avoid making eye contact and sighed.
“Why didn’t you tell me you’ve been talking to Liz?” You asked quietly.
“I don’t know. I wasn’t hiding it. I just didn’t think it would interest you.”
“Well you have no idea how interesting I found it.” You laughed dryly. “What do you guys talk about anyway?”
“Well, she originally texted me to ask me to confirm I had an internship at Stark Industries because her boyfriend didn’t believe her when she told him she knew a guy who worked there. Apparently he’s been trying to get an internship there for years and he wanted to know how I landed mine. Then we just started catching up. I only talk to her here and there, though. And it’s only ever about school or work.”
“Oh. I thought you guys were talking talking.” You couldn’t help but smile a little when you heard the word “boyfriend.”
“No.” He shook his head. “Just regular talking. When you saw her text on my phone, she was telling me about her cat getting spaded. And I didn’t know what that meant so she had to tell me. I should’ve just googled it.”
You laughed softly at that and he did too. The tension was let out of the conversation and you could finally breathe again. When you stopped laughing, you finally looked in his eyes.
“Do you still have feelings for her?” You asked quietly.
“For her? No.” He laughed. “Those are long gone. I have feelings for someone else now.”
“Oh God. Don’t even tell me. I don’t want to know.” You groaned and buried your face in your hands. Peter looked at you for a minute until an idea came to him.
“Actually, uh, I came looking for you because I was just making another video. Wanna be in it?” Peter asked and took out his phone. You looked at him like he was crazy and could not believe he had just asked that during that moment.
“I’m not really in the mood right now, P.”
“Come on. I can’t make it without my muse.” He said and nudged you slightly. You couldn’t help but to smile at that and reluctantly nodded. He propped up his phone against the bleachers and pressed record.
“In a world where two best friends have no idea how to communicate despite spending way too much time together.” Peter said in a fake deep, gravely voice.
“Okay. Shade. That’s fine.”
“What will it take for them to admit they have feelings for each other?” He kept the voice as he looked at you.
“Wait, what?” You asked and looked at him with furrowed eyebrows. Peter smiled softly at you and shrugged a little.
“What’s it gonna take?” He asked again in his normal voice.
“I don’t understand.” You laughed nervously.
“I watched the video from before. From the subway. I heard what you said.” He admitted.
“Oh shit. You watched it?” You grimaced.
“Uh huh. So if you’re Eponine, I guess that makes me the idiot who didn’t realize his best friend was in love with him?”
“I guess so.” You said with a tight smile and still didn’t understand why he wanted to film this incredibly awkward conversation.
“You know, if I didn’t have a video of it, I never would have believed that you liked me.” Peter told you.
“You wouldn’t? Why not?”
“Because it doesn’t seem possible that the coolest girl I’ve ever met liked me.” He replied.
“You think I’m cool?” You asked skeptically.
“I think you’re the coolest. And you know, I watch the videos I take of you all the time. And half of them are just clips of you existing. So I do notice you. It just took me a second to catch up.” He told you. A smile tugged at your lips as you stared into his big brown eyes.
“You’re my best friend.” You told him. “I’m sorry I want more.”
“I’m not sorry.” He shrugged.
“You’re not?”
“I’m just sorry it took me so long to wake up and find that what I’ve been looking for has been here the whole time.” He said as he hooked his pinky under your chin and brought your face close to his.
“Wait, why does that sound so familiar?” You wondered.
“Don’t think about it too hard.” Peter whispered right before your lips touched. You kissed for the first time under the bleachers but it could have been in a palace for all you knew. The world disappeared around you as Peter slipped a hand behind your head to deepen the kiss. When you pulled away, you rested your foreheads together and laughed nervously together. It was a good nervous, a happy feeling of anticipation.
“Was that Taylor Swift?” You realized when you finally placed where you knew that like from.
“Shh. No.” He shook his head. “But yes, it was. You’re not the only one with good music taste.”
Tag List 🏷️
@thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling
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shawnxstyles · 1 year
Text
panty stealer
DATE: JANUARY 14, 2023
summary: flash forces peter to sneak into the girls sorority and steal a pair of panties as a dare. stumbling into the nearest room to save himself from being caught, he doesn’t expect you to be there, and to let him steal the panties you’re wearing.
request: yes!
words: 5.1k
warnings: SMUT (f- receiving [fingering, oral], praise kink, slight dacryphilia kink, dirty talk, and protected sex), language, alcohol, mentions of weed, and a bit of fluff.
note: frat!peter x sorority!reader / peter masterlist / PART 2
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“are you serious right now, flash?” peter groans with a pinch to his nose. his eyes screw shut in annoyance at flash’s obnoxious behavior.
“of course i am, penis parker!” flash shouts, shoving peter towards the large, white sorority house. “you have to do the dare or else.”
peter groans again, hating himself for ever agreeing to do this stupid game with flash.
the night had started calm and for once, peter was grateful. friday nights were the craziest day at the frat house, but this week, everyone was a bit too busy with schoolwork. except flash apparently.
like all of his other roomies, peter loves a good party. he doesn’t mind thrashing his house every week if that means he can have fantastic parties at his place (okay, maybe he minds a little bit. it gets tedious cleaning up garbage after a while). he knows he won’t be young forever, so what the heck, right?
people never would have guessed that peter was the leader of the frat. shocking, right? everyone would assume it’s flash for his obnoxious and party boy persona or brad for his attractiveness and charm. but what do those qualities have to do with being a leader? everyone else (besides those two) agreed that peter should be the head of the house because he is responsible and smart, unlike those boneheads.
peter often asked himself if he was attractive and if he had charm.
he did, right?
brad was good with the ladies. one glance and a wink made the girls melt into puddles at his feet. every morning when peter woke up early to go to class, a different woman would waltz down the stairs with a glowing, uncontrollable smile in nothing but a t-shirt. peter knew without a doubt that every one-night stand that stumbled down was brad’s; it was rarely flash or the others and ned had a girlfriend who was in the sorority across from us.
peter hooked-up once in a while. he found it more difficult to be like brad when he had college to concentrate on and lives to save inbetween it all. being spider-man in high school was overwhelming at first because it was impossibly hard to hide it. but now, having more freedom in college made everything a bit simpler. just a bit.
flash being spider-man’s “#1 fan!” still made him chuckle every time it came up.
speaking of flash, when peter stumbled through the door in the evening expecting a chill friday night, flash just had to crank up the energy. as per usual.
“what is this?” multiple bottles of liquor were splurged across the dining table when peter walked into the kitchen. flash crossed his arms with a huge smirk plastered onto his face, while ned looked concerned and stressed.
“i tried to stop him, but he wouldn’t listen to me,” ned shook his head in disappointment before walking away to his room.
“we’re having a party. it’s friday, penis,” flash said with an obvious tone. peter could easily have him removed from the frat, being the leader and all. yet he still keeps him here. why must he do this to himself?
“flash, i said no parties today. everyone is tired and stressed, and has a lot of work to do—”
“stressed? i think that’s the best reason for a party. you need to get laid, my brotha,” brad interrupted with an arm around peter’s shoulders and a firm pat to his buff chest. brad is way taller than peter, which some might think intimidates him. but peter is mainly intimidated by intelligence, and brad had the iq of a stick.
peter rolled his eyes at the predictable statement. flash rambles on about how parties are a tradition on friday nights and peter sharply cuts him off with a strict tone.
“ugh, fine! no party, party-pooper parker. but we will be drinking tonight. or else i’m sending an invite to 50 people.”
peter had no choice but to comply. flash, ned, brad, himself, and the other boys are seated on the furniture with the drinks displaced in the center. flash gave peter an ultimatum; play truth or dare or he rings the entire sports program of a party. peter growled and folded.
soon later, there is a sharpie drawing on flash’s ass, a ruler that measured brad’s dick, a flushed ned from downing too many denied truth shots, and laughter bubbling throughout the whole room. peter is the only one who hasn’t gotten asked anything yet and he honestly feels a bit left out. but he also just wants to do his homework and then go to sleep.
“what’ll be, penis parker?” flash inquires with a mischievous look on his face. “truth or dare? or should i say drink or dare?”
peter, not caring at the time, chose dare. “dare.”
“oh, you’re so in for it.”
so in all, peter was basically held against his own will to sneak into the girl’s sorority house. even though he denied the dare profusely and took three shots to make up for it, flash still dangled the party invites over his head like an iron weight waiting to drop.
peter snarled as flash nudged him again impatiently. he thought of an idea that might work. peter would have to do this dare, but would he have to do it alone?
“if you come with me, i’ll give you $50 bucks—” peter sells with raised eyebrows. he licks his lips as the cold breeze rustles the trees and sends slight shivers up his arms. the sky is pitch-black as the heavy clouds cover all the stars. peter felt a storm brewing and he really didn’t want to sneak into the sorority soaking wet.
“pfft, parker, please. i have enough money—”
“—in weed.” peter finishes, causing flash to halt his words. peter knows that flash can never find a good supply because he complains about it all the time. marijuana wasn’t legal on campus, let alone in the state. the trade had the cogs turning in flash’s head.
“alright, deal,” flash gives in and elbows peter as a form of agreement. then flash motivates brad and ned to join, heading straight for the zone as a group.
their goal was to grab a pair of underwear and leave without being caught. as spider-man, that should be easy, right?
for some odd reason, the back door was unlocked. you’d think girls would be more secure and observant than guys, but maybe they forgot. after hopping over the trimmed gardening hedges, the four boys crept through the door and into the kitchen.
unlike peter’s frat, the sorority girls had two big rules that they made known to everyone; no hook-ups allowed and no frat guys. ever. the girls didn’t throw parties like peter, they only went to them, so their place was like a holy sanctuary.
when the guys tiptoed into the kitchen, peter wasn’t surprised the place was damn-near spotless. most of the interior was pearly white; couches, love-seats, tables, counter, cabinets— it was like walking into an insane asylum with minor color accents.
it was at least midnight by now, so the girls had to be asleep. tiptoeing as silent as possible up the stairs, peter leads until they’re all standing in the middle of the large hallway with rapid, contained breaths. flash, being the scaredy-cat he is, follows last and nervously trips over the final step. he slips, tumbling down multiple levels with nosy thuds and bangs of his elbows and knees. all of the guys sprout wide eyes and strained, silent gestures to warn him to stop falling and making an absurd amount of noise.
peter gets goosebumps, hair rising on his skin as he gets a shiver down his spine. his hearing intensifies, picking up mumbled whispers and light footsteps with his spider sense. his eyes wander frantically as he scatters his brain for an idea. nothing comes to mind fast enough, as a door down the hall creaks open. brad and ned drag flash up the stairs, but freeze when they hear the door. out of instinct, peter sprints to the nearest door, slyly slipping inside. he closes the door gently, contradicting the pounding of his heart, without a noise being made. he releases a sigh as his forehead rests on the doorframe.
“what are you doing?” peter nearly shrieks when you casually question him. he stares at you, eyes impossibly wider than before. your arms are crossed as you sit on the side of your bed. peter swallows harshly, gazing at your appearance.
your legs look smooth and supple, and very much bare. he assumes you have underwear on under the t-shirt you’re sporting, and is proved correct when you shift to dangle your legs off the bed. his eyes are drawn to the small sight of your panties that tease underneath your shirt. you smirk, arms still crossed as you let him check you out.
“i-um-uh,” cheeks wildly red, he swallows and averts his eyes to the ground. how does he explain such a stupid thing without sounding like a jackass? i was dared to invade the sorority house. sorry. oh, also, can i have your panties? “it was a dare.”
“to sneak into my room?” your head tilts as you lift yourself off the bed and stalk towards him. peter’s cheeks grow redder while his heart pounds brutally in his chest.
besides the embarrassment flowing like blood through his veins, you were the simple kind of gorgeous that made his knees weak. the kind that is stunning in their own skin and that radiates beautiful energy like magical fairy dust. and peter nearly fainted when he saw your lack of clothes.
he’s seen you many times before; you share a class with him and came to some of his parties. he never talked to you in fear of rejection, but now he doesn’t really have a choice.
usually, he has more confidence with girls, but this is a very unfortunate situation where he lost every skill he’s ever known. even talking.
“no—” ear-piercing screams interrupt peter’s stuttering from the other side of the door. footsteps run all over the wooden floor as low profanities leave the guys’ mouths. “i think she found them.”
“you think?” you clip with raised eyebrows. peter inhales, losing some of his anxiousness at his thoughts of the boys being caught.
poor ned. betty’s going to kill him.
flash deserved it, though.
brad is probably getting one of their numbers.
peter shakes his head and sets his thoughts straight.
“okay, look. flash dared me to do this… stupid thing and i convinced them all to do it with me. i wanted to do nothing but relax tonight,” peter admits with a stressed exhale. you glare at him with squinted eyes, trying to decipher what has him so worked up. it’s not like he got screamed at and kicked out like the other guys. knowing some of your roomies, they might be a lot worse than just kicking them out. you get closer to him and ponder what he said.
“what was the dare, parker?” you shoot a harsh glare at him, daggers that force him to answer. your head tilts with curiosity as your heartbeats sporadically. you’ve never had a guy in your room before, and for that first guy to be peter parker has your heart bouncing around your chest like a boomerang. you’ve had your eye on peter for a few months now; not crazy obsessive, but you won’t deny the blood-rushing crush you’ve grown for the frat boy.
how did you stumble that low? a frat boy? jeez.
peter can’t be too shocked that you know his name, let alone his last name, but you saying it still causes him to forget some of the words on his tongue. many shouts are heard from outside the door, but your chests are nearly touching as you gaze up at him and then the outside world is practically silenced.
“i had to steal some… panties,” he mumbles, voice low and quiet. why does it sound so dirty?
“panties?” you repeat in a hushed voice as your surprised eyes blink a few times. you swallow, clit beginning to throb at the word out of his mouth.
“yeah,” he scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “do you have any that i can…borrow?”
your mind hazes at his question. you tried to remember where your underwear was and if it was clean. but as a clear opportunity lies in front of you, you decide to run with it. you look down with a racing heart, fingers gripping the hem of your shirt.
“i…i have these ones,” you lightly ball up your t-shirt, revealing your laced panties to peter. he quietly coughs, cock starting to harden behind the zipper of his jeans. you glance up at his reddening expression through your eyelashes, devilish eyes hiding behind an innocent facade. confidence and lust ease your anxiety. “will these work?”
“um, yeah,” peter coughs again as rosy embarrassment crawls up his neck and blood rushes to his cock. you strut over to the mattress, rocking your hips teasingly, and peter instinctively follows with his heart in his throat. you lie on your back and spread your legs, arousal dripping from you at every movement. peter watches from a side angle, holding his breath as the tension rises.
“well, you’re not much of a panty-stealer if i just give them to you. come and steal them, parker,” you say with as much confidence as you could muster up. your heart was so loud in your ears you almost couldn’t hear yourself. speechless, peter walks to the front of the bed and kneels down, eye-level with your pussy.
he crumples the shirt over your hips, your legs automatically spreading wider. his senses heighten and pick up on the scent of your arousal. a small patch of it can be seen in the middle of your underwear, sending painful pulses down to his forever hardening cock. his thumbs dance around the laced hem, teasing you to see how much he can go.
he would say some of his confidence is back now.
he hooks his fingers under the band, sliding the flimsy fabric down while sticky arousal slings to you. he stuffs the damp material in his back pocket. both of your hearts rack and hands tremble at the extreme intensity, waiting for someone to do something. anything.
peter decides to be that person and resumes his fingers to your hips where the hem used to be. your folds glisten with pent-up arousal, just begging for him to touch you. your puffy clit throbs, neglected, and your thighs subtly spasm trying to remain open. peter grinds on his molars, nearly moaning at the glorious sight. his rough pads trace your smooth skin as he drags lower, dangerously close to where you’re yearning for him.
“peter,” you whisper, holding your breath, so you don’t move a muscle, even though they’re involuntarily shaking with need. he hums, the dirtiest thoughts flowing through his mind. “d-don’t you have to go? what if you get caught?”
“i can spare a few minutes…” his gaze is hazy and distracted, voice gravelly with lust. you clench desperately around nothing as you quietly plead for him to do something. his thumb tests the waters and finally begins circling on your clit, sending electricity up your body. you yelp at the sudden pressure, naturally grinding your hips for more friction. “hmm? don’t you want me to spend a few minutes with you?
his words are taunting and condescending, making your mind go blurry while the words disintegrate from your tongue. the rough pad of his thumb rubs faster while you clench around nothing again, chest heaving.
“i want more than a few minutes,” you moan as his middle finger pets along your soaking slit, teasing you painfully until your eyes roll back. you can sense the smirk growing on his face based on the satisfied hum he responds with.
“more? greedy girl,” peter slides his middle finger into you without warning causing you to release a long string of moans. “shh, you don’t want them to hear you, do you? then we’ll both get caught.”
you shake your head.
“then be a good girl and be quiet for me,” peter demands softly. you nod shakily, as another finger pumps into you rapidly. he thrusts brutally into you, fingertips brushing over your g-spot. you melt as bliss laces throughout your body.
“it’s always the quiet ones who are the loudest,” a devilish and dirty smirk dances on his lips while your teeth sink painfully into your bottom lip. you slap your palm over your mouth to remain quiet as thrilled moans threaten to pour out of you. your revolving hips are halted by his strong forearm, allowing him to curl his digits deliciously into you. you mewl with screwed eyes, back arching at the immense pleasure.
“i’m so close, peter,” you whisper, scared that if you speak any louder your moans will betray you and alert the whole neighborhood. peter subtly grinds his hips into the front of the mattress, cock dangerously hard from your whimpering and whining.
“can i taste you? been dying to since you opened your legs for me,” peter asks while your thighs tremble and your pussy contracts tightly around his digits. you mumble out a shuddery please before his mouth is devouring you.
he never removes his fingers, pumping ruthlessly while his mouth explores your slippery folds. he sucks harshly on your throbbing clit, a muffled wail escaping through your hand. warm and soothing, his tongue glides curiously and sneaks into your undeniably soft cunt. the moan you release is unholy and way too loud. at least right now.
peter wants nothing more than to hear your sweet, sweet moans crying his name while he makes you come in several different ways. but tonight was not the night. he wasn’t trying to get reported and have intruder as a new notch on his belt.
he had a good feeling you wouldn’t run off and report him though.
the idea of it all got him off much more than he would have ever thought. and looking at you, he could say that same.
his mouth plops off of you, lips swollen and puffy from sucking.
“come all over my tongue. let me taste you, sweet girl,” his tone is euphonious and seductive, yet demanding. his fingers savagely thrust into your seeping hole that clenches tightly around him. your back arches off the mattress as your thighs shake from the upcoming euphoria.
peter’s words send your body into overdrive. your muscles contract and your stomach tightens as your orgasm ripples through your body like a heavenly wave. cum oozes out of you and onto his tongue, slurping up every ounce of your juices until there is nothing left.
“such a good girl,” peter praises while he licks away your arousal from his rosy lips. heat crawls up your neck at your sudden vulnerability. you attempt to close your legs to hide, but he keeps them spread with his rough hands. “you’re going to hide yourself after i just ate you out? we’re just getting started, baby.”
peter pulls his shirt off deliberately, showcasing his bulky abs and muscles that made your clit pulse with desire again. he looks like he was man-made, a real-life sculpture with chiseled muscles and perfectly ridged abs. you were insatiable to this man, who snuck into your room to steal something— you should be mad at him. furious. but when his boxers fall down his legs, only dirty and needy emotions and thoughts are left.
your eyes widen at his impressive length; you’ve only been with a few guys in the past, but none of them were this big. you were scared, yet excited to feel his cock stretch you out sinfully. you imagined how long you would feel him inside of you afterwards, soreness like a good workout at the gym.
“you’re so big,” you mumble, not hiding the fact that you were blatantly eyeing his raging cock with hunger, fear, and lust.
“it’ll fit. don’t worry, doll,” he hovers over you, smoothing your hair away from your worried eyes. “do you have a condom?”
you stretch out your arm into your night stand, blindly grabbing a tin-foiled package. you seductively rip it with your teeth, causing peter to groan in impatience. he snatches it away from you and swiftly slides it onto his sturdy cock.
“such a fucking tease,” he hisses, running the tip of his cock along your folds, which were already soaked in arousal again. “are you ready?”
you nod your head surely, more than ready for him to fill you up.
“you’re one to talk,” you sass, rolling your eyes, which were no longer as worried, but full of needy anticipation. he huffs out a single chuckle, eyes strained on his dick rubbing around your wetness tediously.
“speaking of talking, don’t,” peter thrusts into you savagely, making you gasp and shriek. your hand immediately goes to his shoulder for leverage, nails digging desperately into the meat of his skin. the other tightens securely onto your mouth to keep quiet, even though it’s probably useless now.
hoarse profanities fall from his lips as he shifts around your snug hole. your velvety walls choke his cock so fucking good, he doesn’t think he’ll last any longer. and then you clench even tighter around him, sending peter’s eyes rolling back into brain.
“you’re so fucking tight,” peter groans in your ear, flicking his hips upwards into you. your body trembles in overwhelming pleasure, muffled whines begging to be released.
slapping skin and hushed moans fill the air. peter fits a hand between the two of you and rubs your throbbing clit perfectly. his lips travel down from your ear to your neck, kissing along your skin. his tongue discovers your soft spot, sucking harshly until you’re clutching onto him for dear life.
“you’re so good, peter. so deep, too, oh god,” you can’t help the lusty wail that tumbles from your raspy throat when he rapidly rolls his hips, repeatedly touching your sensitive g-spot. he growls at the praise, every action being intensified by the comment. you notice this and smile with a hint of devilishness behind it.
“you may be smiling now,” peter pants, muscles popping and flexing from the position. “but you’ll be crying soon.”
if possible, his thrusts got harder. and deeper. and faster. he was pounding into your cunt like there was no tomorrow, buckets of arousal leaking from you and all around him. peter would pull his cock fully out just to slam it back in, and it made you wither away into another dimension. his balls beat against you harshly with every brisk thrust of his body. his skilled thumb pets your clit, electrifying all your nerves into blissful flames.
there was so much to feel; the biting of his kisses on your neck, the rough texture of his thumb pad on your clit, the long, thick length plunging barbarically into you, and the heaviness of his weight above you. you were so overwhelmed by the pleasure, water brimmed at your tear ducts. soon, full-blown tears are streaming down your face from the euphoria running through your veins.
that familiar wicked smile curls on peter’s face with your appearance; wild hair, tear-stained cheeks, and swollen lips. he doesn’t think you’ve ever looked so beautiful in front of him.
his cock twitches when you whimper loudly underneath the palm of your hand, begging to let you come. contracting on his shaft, your nails stab his shoulder blade until crescent moon marks appear. a strangled moan leaves him when your body rolls up towards him, back arching harshly.
“need to come. so bad, peter,” you whine. his name from your lips drives him mental.
“fuck, y/n,” he sighs heavily. “come around my cock like the good girl you are.”
with those words, your second orgasm tumbles through your body like a thunderstorm. peter slams his lips against yours to keep you quiet, all your pent-up moans turning into needy hums in your throat. stars spot in your vision and you thought you might pass out from being fucked into oblivion. you wouldn’t even be mad— it was worth it.
summoning all your energy, your muscles tense as the liquid floods out of you. your back arches, making your bare breasts push up against peter’s chest. at the same time, peter comes with a string of curse words against your plush lips. he shoots his load into the condom, balls tightening while his eyes screw shut. he steadies his pumps and slowly pulls out of you, never wanting to leave.
you whimper at the emptiness, already missing his cock. he ties the knot and tosses it into the garbage under your desk. peter slips into his boxers and immediately finds the small box of tissues on your night stand. grabbing a few, he cleans you delicately like an antique doll as if he didn’t just ravish your body and soul.
you were beyond dumbstruck as he wiped you up. the few people you have been with never stayed long enough for aftercare, and even though it should be a necessity, the action still made your heart lurch for peter. speaking of your heart, it was beating a mile a minute. sex was a physical activity, yet having a huge crush on someone felt a lot more physically demanding. but you really liked the feeling.
a million thoughts brisked through your head; how does he feel? does he feel the same? did he hate it? did he love it? you shake your head. if you didn’t stop yourself, you would ruin any chance you might have by overthinking too much.
when you refocus your eyes to the moment, peter has his jeans fully on and his shirt in his hand. he slides it on and then looks at you worryingly, seeming as though you’re still naked and haven’t moved.
“are you okay? did i go too hard? fuck—”
“yes—i mean no! shit,” you stutter after interrupting him and close your eyes in embarrassment. “yes, i’m fine. i’m more than fine. that was… really good, peter. like really good.”
peter’s tensed shoulders relax as his face melts from a concerned expression to a soft one. you slip your large t-shirt on and stand up from your bed. your legs are a bit unbalanced and wobbly, and peter can’t help but chuckle as he holds you steady by your hips.
“stop laughing! you did this!” you whisper-yell with a faked angry face.
“oh, i know. next time, i’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk, let alone stand,” he winks with an arrogant smile cascading his lips. familiar heat creeps up your neck and ears, making you all tingly inside at the idea of a next time with peter.
“next time?” large rings of hope surround your irises as you stare into peter’s. his arrogance slightly fades as he itches with nervousness.
“yeah, if that’s what you want, of course,” why is he holding his breath? why is his heart beating so unhealthy fast?
“if i say yes, does that mean you’re going to try to steal my panties again?” you try to hold back your grin as you joke, peering up at him with squinted eyes.
“are you going to let me steal your panties again?” he clicks his tongue with his all too familiar smirk. he loves your playful demeanor and your attempts to withhold a smile.
you pretend to think, really debating. peter can’t help but stare at you in awe. you were beautiful, and he regrets not approaching you earlier because you were… well, he didn’t really know you yet, but he wouldn’t mind getting to know you better. even if you told him to fuck off and never to see him again, he knew that he would never forget you or this night.
you push yourself closer to peter, chest to chest. you can both feel the rapid beating of your hearts through your shirts. however, you stand, gazing confidently at peter. he watches you as you lean right in like you were going to kiss him.
“mm maybe. you might just have to find out yourself,” your breathy words linger on his lips as you back away and casually get into the bed. you unfold the comforter and tuck yourself in, like you didn’t just give peter a semi-hard on in his pants.
suddenly a loud crash is heard from outside, alerting both of your heads to peer out through the window.
“my car!” flash cries so high-pitched and whiny, he probably woke up the entire neighborhood. peter isn’t surprised that one of the sorority girls destroyed his car because he deserved it. someone needed to humble him anyway. you both laugh behind the palm of your hands at flash’s girly scream.
with that, peter realizes that he has to go and that he no longer has any minutes to spare. flash, brad, and ned probably weren’t worried about peter while they were out-running the girls. but now that the girls had done the damage, the boys would soon realize peter’s absence.
“better hide your panties. this isn’t over,” peter walks over to the side of your bed and kisses your forehead delicately. he cracks open the window, turning to you with half his body out. with a wink from him and a gasp from you, he jumps down the two-story window without hesitation. your heart flutters at his gentle kiss that lingers on your skin, fingers pressed against the spot his lips last touched.
rain begins to splash on the glass as sprinkles of water drip into your room through the open window. you purposefully don’t close it, even when you know the carpet will get soaked throughout the night. you welcomed the idea that if peter wanted to come back, he could, simply by sneaking through the window the same way he left.
so many other thoughts cloud your mind, making you lie wide awake. you wondered if his heart was still thumping hastily like the rain pattering on your window and onto your floor. you wondered what he looked like when he was drenched in natural rain water. probably breathtakingly beautiful; soaking wet hair and a childish smile adorning his rosy face while he laughs wholeheartedly.
as you roll over to turn off your lamp with a wistful sigh, you remember that you never even got his number. while trying to guess which set of numbers fit peter parker the best, you fall asleep with a yearning heart, flapping its wings adoringly in your chest.
oh, god, you were down. and it was bad.
what you didn’t know was that peter was down too, but even worse than you.
tags: @raajali3
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ptergwen · 2 years
Note
starks daughter reader x peter parker, making out? like the avengers ask jarvis to show what’s happening in her room and they see what’s happening?
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ask box  |  taglist  |  blurb masterlist  |  main masterlist
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w/c: 719
warnings: 18+, explicit language, implied smut
a/n: i made one little change so it’s friday instead of jarvis but everything else is the same so i hope you don’t mind and that you enjoy! also don’t forget to join my new taglist y’all mwah
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“y/n…”
you’re kissing down peter’s neck, lips leaving goosebumps on his skin. he’s practically writhing underneath you, and you’ve hardly even done anything.
yet.
“y/n, baby.”
you grip the collar of peter’s shirt in both hands and bring your lips to the shell of his ear.
“yes, peter?”
“c’mon, we can’t. we’re… we’re gonna be late for dinner.”
“wouldn’t you rather eat me instead?”
your teeth sink into peter’s earlobe, a hand traveling down to the bottom of his shirt. peter throws his head back and closes his eyes, trying to resist you, but he can’t. you’re his weakness.
“fuck, y/n/n. don’t do this to me.”
“what, is there something else you want me to do to you?”
you start to pull peter’s shirt over his head, but he grabs both your hands in one of his.
“we’ve gotta go join the others. you know how important team dinners are to your dad.”
“and you know how much i despise them.”
“yeah, but i don’t understand why. i think they’re a sweet idea.”
“i think they suck.”
“how come?”
“steve makes the blandest food, thor has literally zero table manners, and everyone’s always asking me questions. way too many questions.”
“you mean trying to get to know you?”
“it’s the fucking worst.”
peter chuckles and pulls you in by your waist.
“you really are a stark.”
“am i? because the leader of the pack came up with this whole team dinner thing.”
“your dad just wants everyone to spend more time together.”
“well, i just wanna spend time with you.”
you peck peter’s lips. peter smiles and secures his arms around your waist.
“at least wanda’s cooking tonight. means the food will actually have some flavor.”
“yippee.”
peter lets out a breath.
“i’d be more than happy to eat you for dessert, but dinner first, okay?”
“or i could be your appetizer.”
your lips attack peter’s before he can respond. despite himself, he gives in this time, kissing back with just as much fervor.
-
“what’s taking them so long? the chicken paprikash is almost done.”
“looks delish, wanda. i’ve never had sokovian food before.”
“oh, thank you, scott. you’ll love it.”
“sure, sure. i bet i will. i just, y’know… it won’t be spicy, will it?”
sam elbows bucky’s arm.
“dude thinks paprika is spicy.”
“and i thought i was bad.”
scott frowns.
“what? it’s a spice, isn’t it?”
tony enters the dining room with a grin, rubbing his hands together.
“hey, gang. smells good in here, little red.”
“thanks, tony. i’m just about ready to serve it. we’re waiting on the kids.”
“oh? they’re still not down yet?”
“nope,” bruce sighs. “i saw them sneaking up to y/n’s room earlier,” natasha smirks. “dang, you didn’t have to rat them out,” sam remarks.
“like you wouldn’t do the same.”
“fair.”
“stop teasing, you two,” steve chastises. “no, no. this is true. i passed little stark and the spiderling on the stairs,” thor says.
tony glares at thor.
“so you all knew they were canoodling, and no one thought to tell me?”
“uh oh, drama,” scott whispers to wanda. “canoodling?” natasha snorts.
steve shoots them both looks.
“i’m sure they’re on their way down, tony.”
“yeah? let’s find out.”
tony double taps his glasses. his artificial intelligence comes to life.
“friday, show me y/n.”
“on it, boss.”
friday taps into her system that’s installed in your room and broadcasts the feed to tony’s glasses. he immediately regrets asking her to do so when he sees what you’re up to. yours and peter’s tongues are quite literally down each other’s throats, and peter is trying to take your bra off, but struggling to unhook it.
tony rips off his glasses and tosses them onto the dining room table. he shudders, shaking his head to rid his mind of the image. natasha puts on tony’s glasses to see for herself.
“yup. they’re canoodling, alright.”
“for real? this i’ve gotta see.”
“wait your turn, wilson.”
tony snatches his glasses back from natasha.
“absolutely not. no one will be taking turns watching my daughter and parker swap spit. have some class, will you?”
“yeah, have some class!” thor chimes in through a mouthful of bread wanda had put on the table.
wanda joins everyone with a serving plate of food.
“chicken paprikash, anyone?”
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tags: @mystic-writings @just-lost-inbetween-worlds @lnmp89 @jenoslov @crvshnburnn @yourlocalomlette @starlight-starks @belovasheart @liltimmyst @eviewriites @hollandsangel @parkerctrl @eichenhouseproperty @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @varshhyy @ellebutnotwoods @magicalxdaydream @tayyx
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silkscream · 1 year
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angel unaware
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ꨄ︎ pairing: peter parker x silk!reader
ꨄ︎ synopsis: you’ve known peter since you were fifteen, shortly after you were both bitten by the same spider. it was too obvious that you’d end up loving him. as you drift apart during your first year of college, you’re not sure how much longer you can keep dancing in circles with him.
ꨄ︎ genres: best friends to lovers, angst, idiots in love, slowburn, mutual pining, hurt/comfort
ꨄ︎ tags: rated explicit/18+ (smut), alcohol usage, mention of drug usage, unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), characters are 19, mild violence, gun violence (there is a school shooting in the beginning but there aren't too many details)
ꨄ︎ wc: 13.8k
ꨄ︎ notes: omg. happy valentine’s day y’all. i’ve been working on this Big Bertha for literal MONTHS and i’m so happy to finish it and share it with you. thank you for being around even though i haven’t been the most active; this is a gift to you <3
ꨄ︎ listen to the playlist!
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The spider bit you first.
It isn’t until you’re fifteen that someone else finds out about it.
In many ways, you should’ve known. The symptoms, the hypervigilance, the strange, gradual transition of filling out your body. You blame puberty first, but this feels more than abnormal. It's almost as if it's bursting through your skin. The only other person who seems to mirror your coming of age is Peter Parker, whose twitchy nature exacerbates the longer high school goes on.
You keep your head low because there’s no reason for you to tell anyone about your powers. Not even the boy about whom you’re positive shares the same curse as you.
But then the videos come out. Red and blue lycra flying through buildings, a blurred figure saving cats from trees, webs shooting and swaying as onlookers stare like it’s a circus act. He calls himself Spider-man and you think it’s awfully corny.
You’d be a fool to think that you were safe from the antics of Avengers propaganda, rubble, and ash blocking your way to school on more days than not. You’d be a fool to think that you could evade the classic tropes of American violence that force the president to lament about "unthinkable tragedies" multiple times a year. At this moment, you’re a fool for getting yourself locked in a janitor’s closet while there’s an active shooter at Midtown High.
Your breath hitches when the doorknob jangles in front of you. On instinct, you stick yourself to the ceiling, far in the corner with your senses on fire. You’ve never actually had to attack anyone before. You aren’t entirely sure how this would play out with a gun involved.
Peter Parker’s labored breaths fill your eardrums, and without thinking, you shoot your webs directly at him. He stumbles, clumsily tripping over an empty mop bucket. He looks up at you in confusion. He’s wearing half of his suit.
"You. You just–"
"Shut the fuck up," you hiss, covering his mouth with your palm. In the darkness, your eyes widen. Someone is near.
It’s a stupid ordeal. The crime happening, this meet-cute, the way your senses feel haywire being this close to him. Both of you are holding your breath, your heart is pounding erratically in your chest, and blood is rushing through your ears.
The day ends with you and Peter making it out of the closet through a vent and the shooter getting subdued by the police. A troubled sophomore who barely knew how to use the gun in the first place made it easy for Spider-man to intercept the weapon the moment the kid raised his arms.
Peter follows you home that afternoon like a stray cat, babbling over a game of twenty questions that you aren’t in the mood to entertain. Somehow, his presence leaves your chest feeling warm and light, and you realize that you don’t mind the company. Twenty questions become routine.
He’s the only one who gets it, of course.
He tells you about the Avengers, ignoring the way you scoff under your breath. Secretly, you’re only a little jealous. Not because you want that kind of prestige or even a fancy suit, but because at least there’s a group of freaks out there who know.  "How come you didn’t tell me?" Peter asks you. He looks small on your couch despite his sixteen-year-old sleeper build and the fact that he’s taking up more than half of your space.
"What do you mean?"
"If you knew about Spider-Man this whole time… why didn’t you say something?"
"What, like I was supposed to seek you out on the street with a mask on?"
He gives you a pointed look. "You had a feeling about me. In school. Didn’t you?"
You don’t answer, which, to Peter, is an answer in itself.
"I didn’t want to be any trouble. It’s my burden to deal with," you say slowly, blinking up at him.
Burden. Peter smooths the word over in his mind and watches the way your nimble fingers pick at the threads of your sweater. He suddenly feels guilty for pestering you with questions, especially after the trauma of today.
"It’s not a burden," he says carefully. You don’t protest, but he knows there’s a certain level of repression inside you that won't let you give this part of yourself up. As if his knowing about your powers would only be that — knowing. He keeps staring at your fingers.
"You don’t have web shooters?" He gestures to your hands.
"Comes from my fingertips."
"No fucking way. You gotta show me."
"You saw it today," you chuckle as you take a breath.
"Not really," he pouts. The amber-brown of his eyes is annoyingly irresistible, and you know it because of how hot the back of your neck suddenly feels. There’s a hint of a taunting smile on his face, as if he knows.
You take him to the fire escape outside your bedroom window. It’s barely past five and it’s already gotten dark. Luckily, your bedroom faces an empty alley.
"I’m not some circus act, just so you know," you warn him.
"Please," he tuts. "If anything, we both are. Two arachno-freaks."
"You should rebrand as that," you say with a grin.
You shoot a web to the fire escape railing above you, holding yourself up and swinging like you're in P.E. climbing a rope. You feel ridiculous, to say the least. You quickly shoot more webs after a quick scan of your surroundings to swaddle yourself in something resembling a cocoon. It hangs like a playground swing from the metal above.
"Holy shit! Does it ever… run out? Do you get web blocks? Does it come out of anywhere else–"
"I’m not answering that." Your cheeks heat up at the insinuation.
"Sorry, just curious." He holds his palms up in defense, then reaches to touch a fingertip to the silk holding you together. It feels soft like cotton candy and is much less sticky than what came out of his web shooters.
He asks you to swing with him, and for some reason, you say yes. You don’t like to swing very much, and if you do, you try to look for construction sites or abandoned scaffolding to evade attention. Tonight, however, the New York City lights look warm against the velvety backdrop of the sky, and you decide that flying through the air with someone else feels better than doing it alone.
____
He doesn’t understand your desire to stay under the radar. Whenever he brings it up, you take the opportunity to bring up the New York City disasters that have gone underway before the two of you even graduate. If anything, you’ve been a decent backup, but you refuse to be in the public eye. You don’t want to be Spider-girl.
But you don’t mind swinging around the city in your handmade suit, spun and woven together with the silk that flows straight from your fingertips. It’s one thing that Peter’s jealous of, but it helps him when he needs to patch up a wound when he’s on the go with you.
Peter comes through your window with a red gash on his thigh. You can smell him before you see him.
"Ugh, you broke the streak. Five days without a scratch. That’s a record for you, Parker," you sigh, already rummaging through your drawers for the usual first-aid kit.
"I’m fine." He winces as he crouches down carefully on the floor. You’ve gotten good at minding your business and not asking about his wounds, at least not ones that aren’t too deep into the flesh. He knows it would only hurt you if you knew.
"And yet you’re here."
"I wanted to see you. You know I always want to see you."
You open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. You kneel before him, pouring hydrogen peroxide onto the gash as you dab gently with a hand towel. He hisses and grabs your forearm with more force than he intends to.
"You’ll be fine," you reassure him gently.
"Yeah. I could've done it, you know," he says as he carefully holds your gaze.
"‘S’fun sometimes," you reply without looking at him. Carefully, you wrap gauze around his leg. "When I was little, my neighbor and I used to play House, but it always turned into, like… Hospital. And I’d pretend to be a nurse and take care of her, I’d tuck her into bed, and I’d give her lollipops from my Halloween stash for being a good patient."
Peter chuckles. He wobbles slightly as he stands up with your help.
"Am I a good patient?"
"Mm. A very brave boy," you say as you pat his cheek.
"What, I don’t get a treat?"
"Your treat is staying alive." You take him by the wrist towards your living room couch.
He doesn’t know what he’d do without you. It’s not right for him to think of you as an extension of himself, but he often yearns for your presence like a phantom limb whenever you aren’t on patrol with him. He realizes you're the yin to his yang.
It excites him, the images of you two that end up on the Internet. How good you look together. You, on the other hand, dread any semblance of perception by the world.
"People are catching on, you know. Ned found a subreddit on you the other day," Peter murmurs into your lap.
You snort, rolling your eyes the way you always do. You fiddle with the soft strands of his hair. It’s second nature to you. "Ned needs to reduce his screen time tenfold."
"Rabbit."
You sigh dramatically at the nickname. He’d adopted it after the many jumpscares he’d give you when he’d sneak into your room at night. You’d become so accustomed to him that your spider-sense would dull when it came to Peter. He was your source of comfort.
"What, Pete?"
"Why don’t you patrol with me?"
"You know why." It’s too stressful. Too public. Too many run-ins with death that you can anticipate.
"It’s better when you’re around."
"You’re a big boy, Peter," you murmur. Your hand slides across his scalp again, this time with your fingertips settling in the space behind his ears. You aren’t looking at him; instead, you are watching the documentary on the television at a low volume. He crumples at your touch.
"May says you’re my guardian angel. Every time something really bad has happened, it always worked out because you were there."
"I mean, it probably helps when you have another Spider-person as a backup."
"I think she’s right, though."
You don’t say anything. You’re tempted to reply with something sardonic or self-deprecating. You put too much faith in me. But you can’t – he’s looking at you with something that you can’t fathom. Something earnest and entirely too fragile. You have to look away.
He hums, sighing into a tattered copy of Hamlet. "I can’t deal with any more Shakespeare."
"You’re such a slow reader despite being a goddamn genius."
"Did you just say something nice about me?" Peter raises a brow.
"Oh my God, relax, Big Bang Theory."
He scoffs and swallows down a smart-ass remark. A grin lingers in his mouth as he settles back into the book.
____
You’re apart from Peter for the first time since age sixteen. You don’t tell him – you don’t tell anyone – but you decide on an out-of-state university because you don’t want to feel tethered to him. Your friends consider you and Peter a package deal, and yes, he’s probably the first real best friend you’ve ever had, but the gnawing inside of you telling you that distance is needed doesn’t stop.
You, the black sheep, are the antithesis of your hero of a best friend, despite being bitten by the same spider. You’ve always wondered if your story was supposed to play out like some sort of Shakespearean tragedy because of your bond with Peter, so you decide to take your mind off of it. At least it won’t be as painful as severing it completely.
It feels free to be away from all the chaos. In Rhode Island, you can focus on your art and fold your feelings away in a neat little envelope. You’d rather die than let any of that out, especially when Peter insists on such frequent FaceTime calls.
Sometimes, you fall asleep to the sound of his voice. He tells you about taking a train down to Providence in the middle of September to visit you like some kind of long distance boyfriend. The thought makes something in your stomach bloom and stagger in the same way. He doesn’t keep his promise – chem labs are already kicking his ass halfway to Thanksgiving break, not to mention the crime rate in New York City rockets beyond normal.
Thanksgiving comes, and both of you are the same. Peter is exactly as boyish as you left him three months ago, though his brown hair has grown longer and he wears blue-light readers to help with the mild headaches he gets from staring at screens.
He isn't attached to your hip like you expected. Your week off is filled with missed texts and a marathon of TV shows about broken women—the kind with dark humor and falling in love with priests.
The next time you see him, your roommate is out of town. It's not an unusual occurrence given how little she spends time in the dorm, always elsewhere with her new boyfriend.
Peter takes up so much space in your bed that you almost offer to push the two twin beds together, but the feeling of his warmth is too comforting. Propped against the wall, you’re hip-to-hip with him as you scroll through Netflix on your laptop.
You can feel him staring. It becomes routine, or maybe it’s your senses, but you can always tell when he’s merely observing you, watching you carefully like ripples on a pond. You've never really chastised him about it, but it doesn't help that you know he can tell when you're nervous. He has you memorized.
He likes the way you look when you concentrate. Sometimes, when you’re deep in thought, he likes to take his thumb and smooth out the ridges of your furrowed brows even though you end up swatting him away. When he does this now, you look up at him with wide, doe eyes.
"Still as indecisive as ever."
"I have to be, otherwise you’ll just put on Gilmore Girls," you scoff.
"You’re the one who showed me that!" Peter protests.
"And then it was the only thing you wanted to watch to the point where I genuinely considered locking you out of my Netflix account!"
He doesn’t bother to argue, instead resorting to poking you in the side. You squirm immediately, yelping as he continues. He flashes you a leering grin as you whine in dissent, flinching from the feather-like touch of his fingertips dancing across your skin.
"You’re so annoying," you huff, curling your body toward the wall.
"And you love it."
More than you’d ever know.
You pause, rolling your eyes at him. You contemplate kicking him again just to get a rise out of him, anything other than the short silence between you that feels more present than it should be. Your stomach feels warm at his proximity, but then again, Peter’s built like a human furnace anyway.
When you attempt to playfully shove him, he catches your wrist with quick reflexes until the two of you are tangled together. It’s easy to fight with him when you’re both running off the same biological fuel. When he ends up on top of you, you forget how to breathe.
The two of you stare at each other like this, as if frozen in time. It’s you who looks away first, then back to his big brown eyes, settling a palm to his cheek. You can feel how hard he is. You wonder if he knows.
It’s something you’ve only thought about in your subconscious, in dreams, or in moments when you’re bandaging his wounds. How would it feel to have his skin all over yours? It’s a selfish thought, but it rings in your brain without warning at times like these, times of such closeness. The spider bit the two of you for a reason. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.
It’s a curious thing for sure, but there are doors you don’t want to open yet.  
"One episode and then I pick a movie," you mumble.
____
You don’t tell him about transferring when you come back for Christmas break. It feels embarrassing, despite knowing that he’d be ecstatic about the news. RISD proved to be too difficult for your one-track mind as you found yourself sleeping in more and more, flaking on the most rigorous of classes due to your mood. You’d successfully gotten into Pratt for the next semester and were fully moved out, thankfully. But when you see Peter in the arms of another, you wish you hadn't left.
You should’ve expected it, maybe. Peter had always had a thing for Michelle Jones but could never quite get past the friend zone. It seems as though your absence has nudged him further.
No, that feels too selfish to say.
But it’s still too difficult to bear in the loneliness of December, knowing that when the New Year’s parties hit, you’re still the black sheep. Even in a shiny little dress.
You don’t see him much over winter break, but he gets you a silver necklace for Christmas with a spider pendant hanging on it. It’s more sentimental than you expect, and it’s the nicest gift you’ve ever received. It certainly beats the Lego set you’d gotten for him.
Now, in your black cocktail dress, you smile dopily at Ned Leeds as the rest of the room counts down at the television, waiting for the ball to drop. It’s bittersweet when you remember last year’s countdown, in which Peter insisted the two of you swung out to Manhattan to watch the ball drop in person. You remember how much you wanted to kiss him then, but you didn’t. Thank God for his hero's anonymity and the impediment of his suit.
"Five, four, three, two, one – Happy New Year!"
Makeshift confetti falls to the ground as you watch him and MJ kiss. There’s enough champagne in your system for your heart to grow warm at the sight of it.  
____
January is cold. Desolate. Even if you have your friends around you in New York, the place that feels most like home, you’ve come to realize. But there’s still something missing, something lacking. Like you’re inside a familiar place inside a dream.
You ignore the itch, learning to numb it with champagne. It worked on New Year’s, and now it’s been working for several weeks. You don’t leave your apartment.
Even though Peter Parker is a text or phone call away, you fade into the background of his life, watching him through newsreels and YouTube videos. You’re on his mind more than you’d expect. He doesn’t know why, though he does realize that your absence bothers him in small ways.
Sometimes, when he’s on patrol, he’s frustrated by his loneliness, especially in the dead of winter. You were never one to play the hero – he knew that – but it was still comforting to have someone to patch up his wounds or soften his fall. The webs that flow from your fingertips have always been strong, enough to form hammocks in between the corners of his bedroom or a makeshift suit.
And then there are the dreams. They feel real, vivid, and much too physical for something that his mind could conjure in his unconscious. You had only kissed him once before (in real life, that is), at a stupid basement party in the ninth grade, before the two of you were friends, but shortly after the initial spider bite. Although it’s something that’s only been brought up as a joke these past few years, Peter remembers vividly how hard his heart was pounding when the glass bottle landed on you after what felt like an excruciatingly long spin. He could never forget the feeling. He wonders if you feel the same.
It’s not something he should be thinking about right now. Especially when you’re not his girlfriend. He’d rather die a thousand deaths than have you know what you do to him in his dreams when you’re nothing but a reverie of your own silk-spun webs and soft, bare skin. You treat him like prey. He loves it.
Peter can nearly smell you, that sandalwood-citrus shampoo of yours, and your warm breath over his face. Your little whispers of praise, your tiny whimpers. The image of your eyes struggling to stay open while you’re underneath him is burned into his brain.
"I missed you," you say breathlessly. "Missed you so much."
God, how is this a dream? He can feel you so clearly. Until he doesn't, and he wakes up with a groan, an exhale, and an excess of sweat on his brow. Not to mention a dampness below him.
"Fucking Christ," he curses under his breath.
The ghost of you is on his bedroom ceiling, in the corner of his room. Something nearby smells like you, even though you haven’t been in his room in ages. This makes something in his chest hurt until he decides to get out of bed.
He wants to see you, but he feels guilty knowing what he's just dreamt about. He can’t help that the person that makes him feel the most human is the only other one who shares the venom in his blood.
Sometimes he follows you. It feels almost meditative for him to sit on a rooftop and watch you from the window of your favorite cafe, reading and writing and breathing. The brightness of his phone screen illuminates his face as his eyes scan over your contact. Your face smiles back at him, but there’s a distance considering the lack of texts between the two of you over the past month. He sighs as he zooms in on your location – the two of you had shared each others’ years ago and only found it convenient to keep.
Peter doesn’t know why he’s feeling all this yearning all of a sudden – sometimes he recognizes the feeling in his body and he thinks of you and he thinks of safety. Other times, like now, he knows that it only breeds guilt.
But he misses being quiet with you, misses the mundane intimacies of him poking you and you fixing his hair. All the small expressions you make with your face that only he notices. There’s something empty in the space he usually holds for you in his heart, and he doesn’t know why.
He has to see you. Maybe then, something in his brain will click, or he’ll see you as the old friend you’ve always been, and he can blame the heat in his body on his subconscious.
You’re predictable with your routine, because this afternoon, he finds you in your usual spot by the window at your favorite cafe again. You’re writing in your journal with your noise-canceling headphones on, so Peter’s presence is completely unknown to you. After he gets his coffee, he watches you from afar, just for a little bit.
As if on cue, you already know. The moment you skip a song and a millisecond of silence fills the space in your head, you feel him immediately. You always know when he’s around.
"Peter," you murmur without thinking. Your gaze is soft but carries the surprise of a deer caught in headlights.
"Hey," he smiles. "Mind if I sit here?"
He gestures to the armchair across from you, and you nod.
Peter knows how to coax your warmth from you, because within minutes, he has you talking about school, what’s on your mind, and why it feels better to be holed up in a cafe than sit miserably at home. You do the same for him, though you notice he’s more reserved for some reason – he’s tight-lipped about MJ, and doesn’t delve into the details of his hero work. He prefers to bombard you with questions instead, listening intently to your most recent fixations or the newest movie you saw alone in theaters.
"You replaced me yet, Rabbit?" he teases you.
"Never," you scoff, tipping your coffee cup to hide any embarrassment on your face. You haven’t heard him call you that in so long. "You know me. I’m a lone wolf."
"Pratt seems like your crowd though, no? No one at Midtown High was a match for you. You were way too cool."
"Mmm, true, yet you’re my best friend."
"Hey!"
Your laugh is like a song to him; he can’t help but smile ear to ear when he hears it.
"The only person who talks to me at school is this guy Cam from my ceramics class. He’s actually from Brooklyn so we took the train together to get home and he’s around for break, which is cool."
Peter’s face nearly goes cold at the sound of someone else’s name, though he stays composed.
"Fun. Are you two…" He gestures vaguely.
"We hooked up like, once, but I don’t really know where it’s going." You say it so nonchalantly like it’s an afterthought. You’re not even looking at Peter.
"If he fucks anything up, you know where to find me."
You smile, rolling your eyes in that bashful way you do when you shrug things off, and it’s more apparent to Peter now how much he adores all your little quirks and mannerisms. He realizes that he might have them all memorized.
"We’re actually going to a party tonight if you want to come. A friend of a friend’s birthday party in Manhattan, I think? I think her name was Anna?"
"Oh, my friend Gwen knows her and invited me!"
"Small world." You swallow down the image of Peter at the party with an ESU girl for a second, and it feels rough in your throat. But you’ll manage. You always do. "Is MJ coming?"
Peter shakes his head. "Ah, she’s in Philly visiting family. I’ll probably go with Gwen and her boyfriend Harry, though."
You feel shame in your relief. It’s sickening how much you have to bury your desire and your tenderness because you know better. You know that even though the two of you were bitten by the same spider, it doesn’t mean you’re necessarily compatible. Sometimes you think your attraction to Peter is some biological fluke determined by the cells in both of your bodies. And then you think, God, how can anyone look into his brown eyes and not feel a thing?
You're both warm in your chests as you part ways, waiting for your next meeting.
____
The night of the party, Peter revels in the sight of you wearing your spider necklace, which sparkles under the flashing lights of the penthouse apartment you’re both in. His mood dampens when he notices the tall boy attached to your hip like a guard dog.
It’s a stupid game and he knows it. The way he pretends not to see you or acknowledge your presence is cruel, but it feels safe for now. He doesn’t feel ready. He’s high off some gummy that Harry had given him an hour earlier, and it’s still fogging his senses, and even though he can be cloudy and nonchalant at this party, his paranoia precedes him. It feels like you’re everywhere.
He shouldn’t feel this way. Why does he feel this way? You’re his best friend and you have your own life that’s separate from his – he knew this would happen the moment he found out you were going to different colleges. Despite that, there’s a piece of you tethered to him that he can’t bear to cut off. It makes him feel sane, the parts of you that you’ve given him.
But now, he sees you laughing and swaying your hips with someone else’s hands resting on your waist and it makes his face burn.
"Dude," Gwen snaps her fingers in front of his face. Peter blinks back at her. "Are you good?"
"Yeah, sorry."
"Harry wanted to do a shot, you want to join?"
Peter nods numbly, following the blonde to the kitchen. He watches everyone else in the kitchen pour shots and drinks like they are rehearsed marionettes. Harry snaps him out of his daze once he slams down a shot glass full of vodka in front of him.
"Drink up, Parker!" Harry cheers.
The alcohol burns Peter’s throat, but he feels the head rush and the warmth. It feels good, makes him feel looser. Malleable. Invincible, maybe, if he took two or three more. But he knows he has to pace himself. He hates that his default setting is to look for you no matter where he is. But when he scans the room this time, you’re downing a glass of champagne alone.
Your body feels heavy at the moment, so you don’t register him plopping down on the couch next to you. You wake up to the sound of his voice as you always do.
"Hey, you."
"Hey."
Your glass of champagne is empty, so you take the beer bottle out of Peter’s hand without saying a word, and he lets you. He watches you gulp a bit of it down. Maybe you’re a little too drunk. Maybe you’re imagining the way his eyes scan your body.
You’re drunk enough to feel social, but truthfully, you’re deathly afraid of being alone with anyone right now. Being alone with someone would make you feel much too raw and vulnerable, so you convince Peter to introduce you to his friends that you’ve never met, and you try to cope with the fact that they look like they were cut straight out of a magazine.
"Peter talks about you all the time," Gwen gushes, sipping from her champagne flute.
"He does?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.
"Of course," she nods incessantly.
"Only incredible reviews all around," Harry nods, drunkenly slinging an arm around Peter’s shoulders. The brunette smiles sheepishly, bashfully. You raise an eyebrow at him along with a coy smile.
"Should hope so," you tease. "He wouldn’t have gotten through high school without me."
It’s mostly a lie considering Peter was the star student and you were barely second to him. Maybe fifth or sixth. In a way, your words are true, because Peter’s agreeing with you.
You zone out as he starts a story from junior year and you have half the mind to chime in when needed. Harry suddenly puts a whisky coke in your hand and you don’t want to refuse out of politeness, but you know the mix of different alcohol will have your head banging in the morning. Peter downs half of his within a millisecond.
"What?" he asks when he notices you making a face.
"Since when do you drink so much?"
"It’s a party," he shrugs.
"Peter, when I brought you to your first party, you refused to drink anything that wasn’t a fruity canned cocktail. You won’t go near wine let alone whiskey."
"A semester at ESU changes you," Harry interjects. "He’s still a little fruity, though."
Peter chastises him as you and Gwen laugh. As the boys bicker, Gwen gets your attention. She asks you mundane questions, like your major, your zodiac sign, and what you thought of the season finale of White Lotus. You’re grateful when she beckons you to follow her to the kitchen to make another whiskey coke.
Her glossed lips twist to the side, eyes bright with a teasing glance. She has the ability to make you feel calm, almost excited to be there.
"He is obsessed with you," she sneers.
"What do you mean?"
"He just talked about you so much when we met him that I had to stalk your Insta, and I was like Jesus Christ, that makes so much sense. If I wasn’t with Harry I’d snatch you up myself. And then when I met his girlfriend and I was confused that it wasn’t you. Unless you’re doing that, like, exes-that-are-still-best-friends thing."
You blush and nearly choke on your drink. "Peter and I never dated."
"Seriously?"
You say nothing, only forcing an amused smile. You don’t know where to put her assumptions, but you sure as hell can’t keep them.
"I’m actually, uh, here with someone," you mutter, pretending to look around. Briefly, you lock eyes with Peter on the couch, who’s pretending to listen to Harry's rambling. Your eyes flit away quickly. "I think I might step outside for a smoke and look for him."
You don’t have to turn around to know that Peter’s eyes are following you. Or maybe you’re just drunk and projecting. Gwen’s bubbly nature makes her seem like the type to gossip, and just because your best friend happened to talk about you doesn’t mean that there was anything under the surface. But then you notice his slightly nervous energy tonight, the silver necklace around your neck, and the last time he visited you months before, when his body was so close to yours.
A pair of hands situate themselves on your waist and it makes you jump. The warmth feels different, as does the sudden smell of sharp cologne, and then you feel your heart drop the slightest bit when you hear his voice.
"Was looking for you," Cam slurs. You can smell the beer breath as he exhales on your neck, making you shiver.
"You sure? Because you’ve been MIA for like forty-five minutes."
You try to keep your voice even, sighing when he plants a kiss on your neck. Any animosity in your tone is completely ignored.
"I was catching up with some people that I wanted to introduce you to," he says, tugging you along by the wrist like a child. You pull up a chair to a firepit surrounded by a group of strangers, and the charade of icebreakers returns. There’s no point in remembering anyone’s name.
You think about returning inside to look for Peter or maybe Gwen and Harry, but being on Cam’s lap is distracting you. At some point, a joint a passed around, and the feeling of the boy’s arms around you makes it easy to melt into nothing.
____
You’re right. You always are. Peter Parker doesn’t drink, and he’s never drunk this much in his entire life. He’s been sitting in the bathtub for… how long? He doesn’t know. All he knows is that his senses were dulled to the point of detachment and he needed to get alone to ground himself.
He’s so out of it that he doesn’t realize someone’s knocking on the door of the bathroom, and his reaction time is too slow before Harry barges in.
"Are you hiding in the bathtub?" Harry squints.
"No, I’m just… hangin’ out," Peter stammers.
Harry snaps out of the facade of a confused daze and shrugs, unbuckling his belt with nonchalance in front of the toilet.
"Dude!"
"What? I’m turned around!"
Sighing, Peter looks around his surroundings. Generic brand shampoo and conditioner. A deformed bar of soap. A red solo cup with clear liquid. He remembers suddenly – he’d filled an empty cup he found with sink water before getting in the tub.
His brain swims with dizziness and mild nausea that mix up his stomach. Gulping down the water, his throat burns immediately, only to realize that it isn’t water at all. It’s fucking vodka and seltzer. Harry’s turned around again, cackling before washing his hands.
"Idiot."
"Fuckingshitjesusfuckingchrist," Peter groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You should just drink straight vodka at this point, man."
"Oh, I do," Harry agrees. He crouches down, squatting to meet Peter at eye level. A warm palm taps Peter’s cheek. "You good, bro?"
"Mmm," Peter nods. His breathing turns shallow as he hunches over, pulling his knees into his chest.
"Jesus, you need to get home, don’t you?"
"‘m fine. You go home."
"Gwen’s been nagging me to for the past ten minutes, so I might. I’d let you crash on the couch, but we’re getting up early to go upstate. How are you getting home, bro?"
Harry frowns when he realizes Peter is barely listening. "Pete!"
He grimaces at Harry’s constant fidgeting. With an annoyed sigh, he shoos the other boy away with flailing arms.
"Heard you," he slurs. "I’ll– I’ll share an Uber with Y/N."
Harry sighs with exasperation, pulling Peter’s arm forcefully to get him out of the tub and down to the living room of the house. Peter is dizzy in his vision, clumsy in his movements, but finds clarity when he glances towards the couch and sees you sitting there with furrowed brows.
"Peter? Are you okay?" you ask.
"Yeah, absolutely not," Harry says. "Gwen and I gotta head home and we’re leaving early tomorrow so he can’t crash. You guys are like, neighbors, right?"
You swallow a lump in your throat, briefly turning your head to glance back at Cam, then back at Peter. He looks at you with a guilty cadence, though his eyes lull with a tiredness that is unusual for him. He’s corpse-like, still hanging onto Harry’s shoulder like a lifeline. It makes the pit of your stomach stir.
It’s unlike him, to be this drunk. The only other time Peter has been this drunk was once in high school, when he was slurring his words all night and determined to clutch you like a teddy bear in his twin-sized bed. You recall his warmth and how his post-puberty figure appeared gargantuan to your body. Foreign, but warm. Comforting. When you think about taking Peter home tonight, you feel like you aren’t allowed to lay next to a body that doesn’t belong to you.
"Yeah, I’ll take him home."
____
"Coulda swung home myself," the boy mumbles. You hit him on the arm and give him a chastising look. Thankfully, your current Uber driver speaks a limited amount of English, not to mention the radio is on blast.
"You couldn’t have. You’re so fucking drunk, you’d kill yourself," you hiss in a low tone.
"Not if you were with me."
"Well, I wouldn’t be. I wasn’t even gonna go home tonight."
"Ah. Of course. Cam,” he exasperates. “Is he your boyfriend?"
You sigh. "No, he’s not."
"Right, you don’t… you don’t do boyfriends," Peter murmurs, rubbing his face with the palm of his hand.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing."
The car stops in front of Peter’s apartment building.
"Thank you," you say stiffly to the Uber driver as you drag Peter out of the car. The elevator ride is awkward and quiet, as is the fumbling of keys when Peter tries to unlock the door.
He leans on your body as you coerce him into his bedroom, with him thumping onto his bottom bunk.
"Jesus. I feel like if Richie Rich called you an Uber himself you could’ve easily made it up the elevator by yourself. Right, Pete?"
"Mhmm. He’s such. A worry wart. For some rea–" Peter makes a gulping sound that makes your face pale. Immediately, you grab his trash bin and place it between his feet.
"‘m not gonna puke."
"I think you might, Peter."
He pauses and examines you as you kneel in front of him. He’s so drunk, so awfully drunk, but he has enough sense in him to take the caution that the anxious voice in the back of his head commands. But fuck, you look so pretty. He doesn’t know what to do about it.
Peter takes a strand of your hair in his hands and curls it around his finger. His shallow breaths feel louder than they should be. Or maybe they’re yours. He can’t really tell.
"What?"
"Nothing," he shrugs. "I won’t vomit. I promise."
You sigh.
"I should get going–"
"Can you stay for a little?"
Swallowing, you nod. You get into bed with him, because, quite frankly, you’ve had your fair share of alcohol tonight, and laying down in Peter’s warm bed makes you want to melt off the bone.
"I'm sorry for fucking up your night." Peter turns to lie on his side and drapes an arm carefully around you. His hand is feather-bare on your hip.
"You didn’t."
"You were gonna go home with Cam."
"It’s fine, Peter. I wanted to make sure you were safe."
"Like a chore."
"Not like a chore."
"Yeah, okay."
He does that thing again – holds a strand of your hair in his hands. He runs his fingertips nimbly across your scalp as if he’s handling an injured bird. As if he’s afraid you’d bite.
Your eyes are huge, like flying saucers. He used to say that all the time, especially whenever you came to his apartment after experimenting with any new drugs. You only felt safe with him – you had told him that – and he took care of you and your big eyes and your tendencies toward erratic behavior. He always knew how to calm you down. And now, in your adult lives, you were doing it for him.
You let him keep his hands in your hair and he doesn’t know why. There’s a theory he wants to test – one that he dreams about even when he knows he shouldn’t. He thinks about it in vulnerable moments. He considers that maybe this is a vulnerable moment.
His fingertips trace your face between the edge of your eyebrow and the baby hairs on your hairline. He taps along your temple gently, smoothing across the softness of your skin until he sculpts down your cheek and jaw. He blinks once, then twice. And then he rests the pad of his thumb on the corner of your mouth.
Almost automatically, you part your lips. Your mouth is pink, dusted with a purplish-red in the center from the merlot you’d drank hours before, and he wants to lick it off you.
He feels your heart beating, too, and you can hear his. It's a loud bang that resonates in between your eardrums. It’s that shared venom that makes your bodies so acquainted with one another. You briefly consider whether a human body can overheat and burn away simply by being touched by another. You wonder how human the two of you can really be.
You close your eyes.
"What are you doing?" you whisper. Your voice is gossamer-thin, barely there, but you’re so close to him that he hears it so clearly.
"Whatever you want." His voice is dripping honey.
You shake your head, still with your eyes closed. Peter’s hand descends to your jaw, thumb on your bone, with the rest of his fingers warming up your neck. You feel like you might just choke on the feeling of it.
"No, that’s not fair. That’s not… okay."
"What?"
"You’re drunk, Peter. Don’t do that to me. Please."
"What am I doing?"
Your face scrunches up as your eyes open to look at him with a pained expression. You have to close them again. You don’t want to look at him. You want his hands off of you, so you push them away.
"You’re with MJ."
"I… I know."
Your face is crumpled as you inch out of his bed. You’re back to kneeling on the floor in front of him.
"Please don’t leave," Peter whispers.
"I’m tired. I’ll sleep on the top bunk," you mumble. You try not to let him catch you sniffling.
"Goodnight.” You don’t respond.
He falls asleep shortly after and smells your perfume even in his dreams. When he wakes up, he smells you. But you’re nowhere to be found. There’s only the cold air coming from a crack of his window left slightly open.
____
It’s not your fault, but you’ve broken his heart a million times. The night of the party was the most recent one. To be fair, he had also broken your heart. He was just too fucking drunk to remember most of it.
You’ve become a ghost, barely texting Peter back, and when you do, your responses are short and clipped. You don’t have much time to hang out, and he realizes he doesn’t either, not when he has MJ to spend time with along with his Spider-Man duties.
But he would make time for you if you wanted it. He wonders if you know that. He feels too ashamed to tell you that himself.
It’s been like this before, and he’s been able to cope. The way you’re on his brain and won’t leave —stuck on him like a parasite. It’s his fault, he decides, not yours. He knows he’s not being fair. Not to you, not to MJ, not to himself. But he keeps it all in and hopes it doesn’t boil over.
Truthfully, Peter wants to avoid everyone. He understands now why you abhor winter to the degree that you always have. The desolation is too much to bear when there’s not much sunlight in January to activate dopamine receptors, so Peter sleeps in longer than he should. Late enough for Aunt May to get on his case about it.
"Something’s up with you," MJ accuses him on a Thursday evening. It’s one of their ritual movie nights with pizza and wine.
"Huh? Nothing’s up," Peter shrugs.
"No, I know you. Something’s wrong."
"I’m fine, Em." A lie.
It’s a miracle that Michelle Jones sees through Peter’s bullshit because it means that she has the incentive to protect herself from any future bullshit that may break her later on. Peter is too numb to process any of it. There was the refusal of admission, the attempt to keep up the wall of his emotions, which crashed down soon enough by the time MJ was out of the door.
He thinks he should call you, but he doesn’t.
____
Peter is used to scrapes and bruises. He’s seen more than enough charred flesh than a nineteen-year-old should. You had never asked to be his caretaker, but over the course of years, that was what you became. His guardian angel.
He used to make excuses to come over after patrol, trying to coax you out of your nest of a room for just an evening. He'd always known you were far more talented than you gave yourself credit for when it came to spider abilities, but it felt more like a curse than a gift for you to bear.
Some nights, he dreams of you falling stories beneath him. Your face is covered in rubble and ash, and although his nightmares often start with this, he knows that somehow, it’s his fault. It feels visceral, the burning in his calloused hands. Torn lycra to show the dirt underneath his fingernails. Hot tears dripping.
He starts taking that Ambien you gave him years ago.
After that, each day passes like he’s trapped in a nightmarish purgatory. No, that’s an exaggeration. He’s just a victim of a New York winter, and he misses you more than he wants to admit to himself or anyone else.
"I can take care of myself." And with that, the image of you disappears.
"I know," he murmurs softly. He’s always known. It is insignificant in comparison to how badly he wants to take care of you if you let him. Your voice echoes in the cavern of his room. You get farther away by the second until you disappear completely, and he evidently wakes up.
Even in your worst state, he’s obsessed with your honeyed skin. It doesn’t matter the number of bruises or cuts – he caresses them all with his nimble fingertips, and he’s ready to kiss them until they heal. He thinks about this sometimes, how much he cares for you and your body. What he'd do if you just let him in, let him devour you however he pleases, and it disgusts him.
In his dreams where you’re hurt, he’s willing to sacrifice whatever he can so that you can revert to your clean, unbothered state. I’d never let anyone break you. It’s a prayer for him. One that he whispers in your ear whenever he can, at least in these dreams. In reality, he knows that he has to let you go because he knows you. Knows how much you want to be free and alone. How you can take care of yourself. You’re not a damsel in distress – you never have been. But Peter feels like he was made to care for you. It would gut him all the same regardless of whether you loved him or not, and he was willing.
When it’s real, he doesn’t know what to do. He didn’t ever think the two of you would be in this position.
He’s been in enough battles to know how these things end. Mr. Stark had walked him through it all and been by his side while the rest of the Avengers repaired the other broken bits of the universe.
Right now is one of those unique times, the quiet and wretched ones, where Peter is contemplating breath after breath before imagining the full picture. Shambles of the street he’s in. The ache of his bruised body and the blood that he sees from yours, that he shouldn’t have seen, because you said it yourself. You’re not a fucking hero. So why is your blood streaked on the palm of his hands?
The distance between you and Peter doesn’t matter – it never does. The moment you’d felt a dread stirring in your stomach, there was a sharp pain in your head that refused to leave unless the working adrenaline in your body was satiated. It wasn’t the same adrenaline that circulated within you from a night of debauchery – instead, it felt like poison. A compulsory kind of pain, a sharp jolt to your senses. Tonight, you’d felt Peter in danger, and it would’ve killed you if you couldn’t get to him. He'd been the destination you'd been dead set on by the end of the night because of your spider instincts.
The police broadcast was too muffled for you to understand much of it, but you picked out the parts where Spider-Man was mentioned and followed through on them. Although you didn’t fall into the shadow of his hero work, you still kept enough tabs on Peter to know where he would usually be on patrol. It wasn’t like he knew, or that you’d ever told him, but when he was starting out as another guard dog for the Avengers in high school, you needed to at least know his approximate location in the event that something went terribly wrong.
An explosion blasts in the center of a park, where the two of you would meet in the middle between Queens and Stark Tower. This is where you lay your courage down. This is where you find Spider-Man’s mangled body before anyone else does.
"Peter," you huff. "S’gonna be okay. You with me? I’m gonna make sure you’re okay."
He’s just less than conscious, the stretch of his animated eyes limited by his weakness. When he sees your face, however, his face glows – not that you can see it through his mask.
He says your name with a fervor that surprises you. His voice is raspy.
"‘m fine. I have to stay," he grunts, his pain palpable. You know that he’s telling the truth, but you don’t want to leave him alone in his misery.
"Peter. You’re hurt."
"You go home. I’ll come find you later. Just let me–"
"You’re fucking limping."
You had always carried yourself like a feather-like, lithe ghost. Quiet, whereas Peter was bold, despite the fact that his anxious nature had rendered him a boyish thing all these years. This is why he’s surprised that you carry him easily with your supernatural strength. He forgets that you have the same abilities as him. If anything, he’d think you were stronger than him in every way.
Even with his thick skin, he melts into something malleable, comfortable. The solace of your arms makes him feel better already.
A pang of small guilt rots away within him, knowing the circumstances of your last meeting. You’re too good. He didn’t deserve to be saved by you, to be patched up with your nimble fingers like he had been treated when he was younger and more naive.
"I can make it to my place, it’s okay," he rasps gently.
You don’t have to say anything, because bullshit radiates through the stern expression of your eyes, your mouth in a grimace. You had always been stubborn and today isn’t an exception. With your webs, you crochet a path for him toward your home, lifting and catching the boy effortlessly as you swing.
A gentle sigh escapes his mouth when the two of you crawl into the safety of your fire escape. The night is quiet behind you. When he looks at you, you have to look away, fixing your hair nervously or occupying your gaze anywhere but in his direction. His eyes are poignant in their longing, though you’re unsure of what he could be thinking. If he’s sorry about before. If he’s ashamed.
Your wispy webs wrap around the parts of him that hurt, but you wince when you check on him to see that the white fibers are slowly saturated with the dark crimson of his open wounds.
"Peter, you have to wash up," you whisper. "Shit’s gonna get infected. I can put some gauze on you after you shower."
He nods wordlessly when you ask him if he can manage the shower on his own. He feels vulnerable, and although your presence is always desired by him, he finds relief in the hot steam of your shower, alone with his thoughts. He’s still shaken from the explosion. Not completely catatonic, but tense. As if he isn’t in his body at all.
When Peter emerges from the bathroom, he looks like a stranger. Scars adorn his sides. Your face crumples at the sight of his fresh wounds.
"C’mere."
It doesn’t take you long to fix him up, cleaning his cuts and wrapping gauze around his stomach and chest. His quiet grunts startle you, as if he's a wild animal. Eyes screwed shut, brows cinched in pain. A heavy exhale and a mumbled apology followed.
You forgive him with a soft touch and a hushed whisper. He wishes the ache would stop. He wishes he could lie on your bed and have you whisper in his ear all night until the sound of your voice lulls him to sleep.
There aren’t many words exchanged, and you want to ask him why. If you did something. But then you think about the images on the news and his withered face, and you decide not to probe the sphere of trauma surrounding him. Peter has probably gone through more in the last twelve hours than you have in a week.
You stop him before he tries to make it out of your bedroom door and towards the living room.
"I don’t mind sleeping on the couch, I’ve done it before."
"It’s like sleeping on a rock, Parker. You just gone through God knows what," you chide. "Just… get in here."
As he breathes in and out, he nestles in your shoulder, his clean hair tickling your bare skin. There’s a nasty guilt that lurches from your sternum. As if you were the reason for his pain. For the state of his body. And you think back to the desperate look in Peter’s eyes the night you took him home from the party. Were you too cruel, then?
It’s like he steals the words from your mouth. He beats you to it.
"I’m sorry," Peter murmurs. His amber eyes blink up at you, unfathomable. You flash him a downturned grin.
"For what?"
"I feel like… there’s been a distance between us lately. And I don’t want that, because you’re my best friend. And now you’re taking care of me when you don’t have to. I just wanted you to know that I really appreciate it. That I, um, lo–," he stammers. He chews on his bottom lip. "You’re really good."
"‘m not all that good, Peter."
But of course, you are, he protests in his head. You are the moon and the stars and everything in between.
"I’m sorry for not being around."
"Not just your fault," you shrug. "Phone works both ways."
He knows you better than you think because, within seconds, his palm rests softly on your cheek, where he feels a hot tear.
"What’s up, Spidey?" he asks you. It makes you laugh.
"Shut up." You shake your head, trying to hide your face. The feeling of his thumb rubbing your cheek makes the tears flow even more. "I wouldn’t know what I’d do if something bad happened to you. If I couldn’t get to you. Or if you – if you were gone."
"I’m okay, Rabbit. We’re okay."
"Yeah," you chuckle, trying to hide your tears.
"Couldn’t get rid of me if you tried."
You feel warmer in his grasp. His small breaths fall on your arm as his body curls up next to you. He’s bigger than he’d been before back when you were teenagers. The jaw is chiseled and sharp. Not as soft and boyish as you once knew. With your senses, you can discern the steadiness of his heartbeat as his chest rises and falls into slumber. You fall asleep soon after, dreamless but full of warmth.
____
Waking up next to him is nothing new, but it’s been years. You never thought anything of it when the two of you were sixteen, staying up all night reading creepypastas and watching movies until you’d fall asleep on top of each other by four in the morning.
After a night’s sleep, Peter's sullen face is a bit brighter despite his dark circles. His limbs are entangled in yours, bodies fused together. Yin and yang. You can only assume that this is how it will always be.
You keep mental notes of him like trinkets. The uneven slant in his left eyebrow. The faint freckles dotted along his nose, the one near the corner of his mouth. The faint shadow of hollowed-out cheeks. Peter is still half-boy to you, and half-man, but you didn’t want to come to terms with it. Maybe he was something else. Half-ghost. Half-angel.
Slowly, over the course of a few weeks, he comes back to you again. Sitting together and reading at a cafe. The occasional 3 am swing. Walking around high at the 7-11.
"Did you like Rhode Island?" he asks over a joint one night.
You hum for a second, trying to come up with an acceptable answer. It wasn’t that you hated being in Rhode Island. It was that you hated being away from him.
So instead, you shrug. "It was nice to get away from everything. Providence is still a city, but it isn't as large as all this–”
You trail off, making a vague gesture with your hands. Chaos, Peter presumes.
"Less overwhelming?"
"Sure," you say, nodding. "I missed being home, though."
I missed you.
Peter passes you the joint. His brain feels fuzzy. Warm. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He massages your ankle absentmindedly.
"I get it," he says, breaking the silence.
"You get what?"
"Wanting to leave. I've been thinking about it," Peter shrugs, his eyes squinting in the late afternoon sun. "Sometimes I wish we could pack our bags and go to the countryside. See some cows and shit."
We. We. We.
"There are cows upstate," you snort.
"You know what I mean."
"We can do a road trip."
"You can’t drive."
"I am aware and perfectly fine with being a passenger princess. In fact, I’m looking forward to it," you grin.
He yanks your ankle this time, causing you to slip from where you’re sitting on the pavement. Giggling, you swat away his hands, but he’s too quick, untying your shoelaces as you kick and thrash.
"Honestly, it’s probably better for society if you never get behind the wheel," Peter teases. He dodges you when you try to kick him in the shin.
"Oh, but you can be? You get so distracted so easily! Whenever you’d practice driving, you’d miss so many exits or be too anxious to merge on the highway."
"Okay, well, you’re just a force of distraction," he shrugs, throwing his hands up in defeat. "You have that effect on people."
You look at him quizzically, your eyes narrowing. If there’s anything behind his statement, he doesn’t show it on his face. Peter knows his cheeks are burning, however.
There are more moments like these. Ever since you’d rescued Peter that night, he’s grown accustomed to spending hours of his day idly looking for you, learning your class schedule, and following you home like a pet when it’s time to unwind. He stays for hours like he used to when you were kids, and although he always thinks he’s overstaying his welcome, you don’t seem affected.
You curl into him more these days, like a sunflower stretching toward the morning glow. There are more lingering touches, here and there. You have to remind yourself not to get too comfortable, but God, he makes it so easy.
So the burning question pops out during a marathon of Chainsaw Man.
"Does MJ care that we hang out so much?" you blurt out. He looks at you like you have three heads. Also, his mouth is full.
"Um, webrobrup," he mumbles. He frowns as he looks down. Hot Cheeto fingers.
You mock him, of course.
"English, yeah?"
He chuckles as he finishes scarfing it all down. He shyly licks his fingertips, and you have to stop yourself from staring at the way his fingers enter his mouth. Ugh, gross. This is hardly supposed to be hot.
"We broke up."
You keep a straight face. It’s not like you’re excited or anything. You realize you shouldn’t be surprised because… why else would he be so available to you lately?
"Shit. You really fumbled, then."
"Shut up," he laughs.
"Seriously. Who else is gonna wanna put up with you?" You both know the answer to that.
"It was mutual," he says, shrugging. "I’ve got all my Spider-man shit, she’s getting into a bunch of extracurriculars and even a research internship even though we’re literally first years."
"Classic MJ."
"Yeah."
"We’ll get you back on the market, buddy," you tease, patting his head like a dog. A coy smile lights up your features. It makes something inside him melt.
"I’m not a piece of meat."’
You click your tongue.
"Oh, right, you’re an insect."
"Hey, so are you!"
____
You used to think it was a kind of twin telepathy, the magnetism to Peter that you felt. Bitten by the same spider and entangled in the same web. You realize as you grow older that it’s more than a platonic bond. It feels like wanting to share the same skin.
Or maybe it’s the wine talking.
It’s not your job to keep Peter afloat at the party right now, but both of you remember too well how the last party went. He continually sips water in between gulps of whiskey like a paranoid freak, which you tease him about. Maybe it’s just the darkness of his eyes under this light, but his pupils look wide and dilated.
It’s almost March. You’d both endured a proper New York winter, which usually extends until April if you’re lucky, but global warming has other plans. It's warm enough for you to pair one of your favorite dresses with an oversized Carhartt jacket that used to belong to Peter before the bite bulked him up significantly. You fiddle with the black velvet wrapped around your body as you pretend to listen to banal conversations, leaning your head into Peter’s bicep.
You keep picking at loose threads obsessively. You think about your fingertips and their webs. You think that maybe you should take up crocheting to distract your hands from their restlessness.
Peter grabs your hand away from you, squeezing it slightly, not even looking at you. His flushed palm rests against yours. Gently rubbing your thumb between your finger divots
If you were a cat, Peter would imagine you purring right about now. He wants to take you into his lap, stroke your hair while the alcohol subsides in both of your systems. The thought of you on top of him causes his cock to twitch slightly. His rose-colored cheeks are from the whiskey, he reassures himself. An affirmation. He lets go of your hand.
He knows that this isn't the time or place for such thoughts, so he makes an effort to push the desires down. He knows they'll come up again when the whiskey leaves his veins, but at least he'll be of sober mind.
Christ, he feels like he's at a middle school dance. Especially when you run off with a spring in your step to socialize with some girls you recognize from school. The smell of your hair lingers next to him. It's sweet and slightly floral, a scent that makes him think of when you were kids.
His ears perk up like a dog's when you call his name, reaching out to him so that you can introduce your best friend. He has the right mind to be polite, even funny at times, but he knows he pales in comparison to your current charisma, which contrasts with your usual wallflower nature.
Peter likes watching you talk, and you like that he watches you so intently. When you know he's watching, it's easy to deadpan some drunken jokes and elaborate superfluous tall tales from your high school days. His eyes are bright, and his bottom lip is chewed in between his teeth.
Suddenly, he gets to be alone with you in the kitchen. Your scent permeates the air. He could drown in it.
“Rabbit," you whine petulantly. "Swing me home."
"How drunk are you?" he chuckles with adoration.
"Not very. Just tired, s'all," you respond with a yawn. You scrunch your nose. "Can I sleep at yours?"
Peter looks at you with a soft gaze. "Of course, angel."
Angel. He's never called you that before. You decide that you like the sound of it.
By the time midnight comes around, you're barefoot in his bedroom, black velvet spinning loosely around your figure. In Peter's blurred vision, you look like a friendly apparition, one that particularly favors "Champagne Coast" by Blood Orange.
"Come into my bedroom, come into my bedroom," you quietly sing along as you sway your hips.
"You're already in my room."
Your smile beams at him, huge and illuminating, and impossible to look away from. Peter wishes that he could bottle up this moment to revisit it, or maybe live in it for the rest of his life. The sweetest way to exist.
Your body sinks to his level -- no, collapses -- as you roll over his heavy frame and rest yourself on your back. Your hair fans out like you're underwater. Your lips are red and wine-colored, freshly bitten. When you turn your head toward Peter, his hand plays with the exposed nape of your neck, fingertips grazing the creases of your skin.
"You used to be so gangly, you know," you murmur. Your voice is lower than usual.
"Okay, well, I'm not anymore."
"I could totally still take you in a fight." Still refers to the times when the two of you would attempt something along the lines of combat training, if combat training was just you unleashing your hotheadedness with your mutant powers instead of with your fists. If you weren't so agile, maybe Peter would've had a chance of winning.
"I'd like to see you try, angel."
It's decided -- you are on top of him, knees bent around his waist as you wrestle. The fabric of your dress pools around your waist in a way that feels sacrilegious. Peter has his hand on your thighs, and his touch feels white-hot to both of you, so he closes his eyes, tries to focus on swatting you away like a bat instead. When he opens his eyes, he meets your devilish ones, gleeful that you've managed to pin his arms above his head.
It would take two inches to break this spell of separation. He keeps trying to keep this bubble intact because the last time he tried to pop it, the look on your face made him want to dig a hole and lay in it forever.
Peter feels sorry for many things. He feels sorry for the times he's intruded, when he's made Mr. Stark angry, for the times he couldn't be there for you. He feels sorry that you had to take care of him when he wanted to do that for you.
Right now, however, Peter doesn't feel sorry at all. The slight twitch of your pulse, the way you smell, the curve of your bare shoulders -- it's all too tempting for him to feel sorry for. So he kisses you.
He's surprised when you nearly bite him back. You inhale sharply, pressing your body against him as you let go of his wrists and rest your palms on his jaw instead. Your kiss is fervent, desperate.
His brow cinches in confusion when you pull away.
"Wha--"
"Fuck."
"What is it?" He frowns.
"I owe Ned twenty bucks."
"What?"
"I just remembered. At graduation, he was like, teasing me that we were gonna get together, and we bet on who would make the first move. I was just entertaining him, but you know how that kid gets about twenty dollars."
"So you thought you were going to make the first move, then?”
“I mean, yeah. How was I supposed to know that MJ was going to cuff you before I did?”
“You snooze, you lose, I guess,” he deadpans.
“You don’t even fucking deserve me, you little freak,” you taunt, tickling his exposed midriff.
“God, I know. I’ve known that for a while. Too bad I want you regardless.”
He smiles as he captures your lips again, tasting sweet and smoky at the same time. He coaxes you onto your back and you revel in his body heat and the way his large hands grab the plush of your thighs, pushing and pulling your skin taut. It’s so erotic that it almost feels dirty.
You kiss him back like he’s your last meal while you roam your hands under his shirt, then to his protruding collarbones, then experimentally, to the tufts of his chestnut hair. You pull a bit too hard due to your eagerness and he lets out a mewl that you never could’ve imagined to come out of him.
“You like that, don’t you?” you taunt darkly. “Is that why you always want me to scratch your head when we watch movies?”
“I don’t care what you do as long as you’re touching me,” he breathes out, like a confession. “Don’t care how you touch me, s’long as it’s you.”
A tepid blush soaks your face. You shut him up with another kiss. He licks at your bottom lip, groaning softly at the feeling of your soft body against his.
“You’re so pretty, Peter,” you whisper.
“You are.”
Before you can react, you hitch a breath in surprise when you find that his hands have fully reached above the hem of your dress and onto the bare skin of your hip, toying with the elastic of your underwear. You part your legs, bending your knees so that you can pull the fabric off.
He sighs as his fingers tease the slot of your cunt, which grows wetter and wetter with every touch. Your sensitivity makes you squirm a little. He can tell so easily that you’re falling apart for him. He loves it.
You nearly whine when he takes away his fingers from you. Instead, he towers over your body, pulling your legs toward him as he pulls up the hem of your velvet dress and cascades kisses on your knees. He slowly works his way up to your thighs, biting gently, then hard. Meanwhile, his hands roam the perimeter of your chest and your ribs, all soft and pliable for him. You’ll be delighted when you wake up to a bruise on your thigh stuck in the shape of Peter Parker’s mouth.
A shiver lacerates your lower body all the way up to your neck – you feel it, viscerally. All from his mouth. He slots his tongue onto the bud of your clit going slowly just to watch you squirm.
“Please,” you beg.
“Please what?” His eyes are as dark as the sky. As dark as your dress.
“Your– your mouth. I need it. Please. More.”
Peter’s grip on your thighs tightens as his face moves closer to your center, licking incessantly as you cry out. You attempt to muffle your sounds with your hand covering your mouth, biting the skin on your palm. Your blood is hot, pumping hard, all the way down to your swollen clit, and he treats you like a man starved.
“Oh my God,” you gasp. “More, please. Pleasepleaseplease.”
He listens to you, forcing his ring and middle finger into your cunt and curling upward. Your legs shake involuntarily when he does this and it takes everything in him to not stop just so he can see the look on your face head-on. You look so beautiful right now.
“Gonna cum, Pete. Fuck.”
He closes his eyes as he savors your sweet taste. He feels it when you cum as if it’s happening in his body, too. A jolt to the sense. A vivacious rumble. Your mouth is slack, jaw falling open with your eyes screwed shut as you finish, and Peter towers over you to watch. He’s never seen you like this. He wants to keep the image of it forever.
You thank him with a messy kiss, not caring about the remnants of your lipstick. Your hands attack him, teeth nipping at his earlobe as you help him undress. Soon enough, the two of you are naked together, limbs entangled and kissing without paying any mind to oxygen.
You take his jaw in your hand as if he’s a delicate thing. Easy to break. It’s your turn to tease, now.
“What do you wanna do?”
“You’re such a little shit,” he mumbles, but he can’t help but grin.
“Tell me about it, Spidey.”
“Want you, Rabbit, want to make you feel good.”
“And how exactly will you do that?”
“Gonna fuck you. I’ll make you cry if you keep being a little shit like this, too.”
There’s no time for a reaction. He’s on top of you, pinning you down, and he licks your collarbone up to your jaw as you whine like a newborn kitten. He spanks your ass and you have to your bottom lip to keep from being too loud.
“You want it that bad, huh?”
“Yeah,” you respond breathlessly. He melts at the sound of your voice, cooing softly as he playfully bites the skin of your cheek.
You love him like this, a burst of passionate energy focused on you and you only. His little angel. You remember your rabbit heart caged in your sternum fragile and thumping like an earthquake for him.
He pauses to give you another kiss, this time sweet as he licks up the bottom of your lip. You can feel him at the crux of your legs and you can feel the want pumping in your veins. Patience. Patience. Patience.
“You want me to go slow?”
“Of course not.”
You’re so relaxed in his grasp. Gooey with your desire that it might disgust you if you weren’t so enamored. You keep your eyes on him when he enters you – you want to see the look in his eyes.
Peter feels selfish wanting to tease you like this. He’s slow when he enters you, listening to your sweet exhales.
“Easy,” he warns. “‘m gonna take care of you, don’t worry."
Please floods your entire body like a heat stroke. You bend your knees upward and rake the smooth terrain of his back, lifting your hips up at the same time. He thrusts once, then twice, and already, he feels like he’s ready to unfurl completely.
“Fuck,” he groans. You’re so goddamn wet. Soft. Velvety.
“Don’t be shy, Peter,” you murmur. “C’mere.”
You keen into the way he buries his nose into your shoulder, shallow breaths uneven and erratic as he continues, losing control bit by bit as he goes on. His pleasure is the knife you twist inside yourself.
You gasp at the way he can carve you out, the way he knows exactly where to put his hands as he grasps for your body, like he’d molding you from clay. He drinks down your moans with his mouth, eyes fluttering at the impact of your cunt clenching him.
Peter props himself up now, moving his body backward so he’s perpendicular to your core. He holds you by your hips a little too hard, but you’d always liked it rough. You liked it when he would cuddle you or play with you or put his entire body weight on you. To smother was to be encased in something akin to love.
“Fuck,” he hisses, getting the hang of a constant rhythm. His hips slot with yours as his cock thrusts deeper into you, until he can feel the slight tremble of your thighs.
“You okay?” he asks, chest heaving.
“Yes, keep going. Keep going.”
You underestimate how fragile you are. A rough thrust almost has you there, until he pulls out of you like a stolen breath, and it leaves you whining.
“Pete.”
“Shh, I’m just trying to pace myself,” he breathes, jaw slack and glistening with sweat. “You feel too fucking good.”
“Come back or I’ll break your wrists.”
He chuckles, but you’re dead serious. You lift your body to him so you can pull his down, kissing him with a ragged hunger that’s all teeth and lust. He’s quick to match your vigor but with more tenderness than desperation. It makes you melt, how natural it is, how this is how it might’ve felt in a past life. Your bodies entwined in a way that’s proverbial.
He listens to you. Fucks you much rougher than before, giving in to what he wants, because he’s not sorry about how much he wants you. Your broken moans curl out of your throat and into his mouth and the feeling of him deep in you makes you feel like a balloon ready to burst from the pressure.
It’s like Peter reads your mind, because suddenly, his hand is around your throat. You’ve never looked more angelic to him than you do now, eyes half-lidded and your reddish mouth all lax.
“So fucking beautiful, I love you,” he mumbles against his mouth.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
All of Peter’s muscles are tense from holding back. Fuck, he doesn’t want to cum until you do.
Luckily, the way his cock stretches you out has you nearly drooling underneath him. He touches the deepest parts of your insides like he belongs there, like he was meant to be there, as if the way he turns his hips toward you is a vow in itself. You whimper at the feeling of it all and he nearly loses it.
“I’m so close,” you pants. Thank fucking God.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Cum for me,” he coos. “You’re doing so good. Fuck.”
Your gaze lingers on the shape of his mouth. You think about how his voice sounds when he calls you angel.
Your orgasm comes like a flower blooming, like a beam of light in the darkness. He feels it, too, so vividly like he shares your body. It feels strange how much he feels that he hasn’t felt before, and it makes him come undone right after you.
He pulls out of you and spills onto your stomach unceremoniously with something in between a grunt and a whimper. He’s all over you. You want to bury your body into his.
“Peter,” you whisper, your gaze languishing.
“Yes, angel?”
“I think I owe Ned fifty bucks now.”
He looks at you incredulously but you can’t keep the facade, bursting into laughter as he groans in annoyance and flops his body on top of yours.
“Ew, clean me up, at least,” you complain.
“Right,” he says, nodding. And he does, with a spare t-shirt from his floor absentmindedly while he shares a grin with you. “You serious, though?”
“Of course not,” you scoff. “Ned Leeds will never get anything over twenty bucks from me.”
He laughs and it sounds like heaven.
“You said you loved me,” you tell him.
“I do love you. I’ve always loved you.”
You could cry right now. Surely the influx of endorphins in your body is breaking the rest of your brain.
“I love you, too.”
You kiss him again, open-mouthed, teeth sucking slightly as his lips. He takes a fistful of your hair while his other hand caresses your jaw. It excites you when he breaks the kiss by pulling your hair. His cheeks dimple the slightest bit when he smiles at you.
“Don’t do that, you’re gonna get me hard again.”
“You have the stamina,” you shrug, hugging one of his oversized pillows to your chest.
“You’re cute.”
“Hey.”
“Hi.”
“How come you call me angel now?”
Peter shrugs. He rubs his hands on your calves.
“You’re my guardian angel. Always have been. And you’re not allowed to complain about it being corny because it’s true.”
Peter is shy all of sudden as if he hadn’t just fucked you. His brown hair is tousled to bedhead perfection, messy and slightly frizzy, and the warmth of his skin radiates from the way his whole body seems to blush in front of you.
“I have a proposition.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“Come on!” You nudge him, kicking him with your feet. You get off of his bed to rummage through his dresser drawers for an oversized t-shirt, just dodging his attempts to grab you by the waist.
“Okay. What is it?”
“We should use our webs next time.”
He blinks, smirking, indulging you for a second.
“Deal.”
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tagging mutuals: @meliapis​ @cutetomholland​ @userholland​ @sparklingsin​ @tomdutch​ @userholland​ @vendettaparker​ @selfcarecap @simplykenni​ @uhlxis​ @cordiformity​ @sapphicsoie​ @seolaseoul​ @honeyspidey​ @logangarfield​ @justapurrcat​ @arachine​ @cocoamoonmalfoy​ @ohcaptains​ @aniqua
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boiohboii · 4 months
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The people's sweethearts
Chapter 1
(Verstappen!reader x tom holland x zendaya)
Soulmate au
YN Verstappen had been through hell, by her own father, for something she didn't even ask for. She grew up learning that she should hate what was given to her, after all it was the reason her father was always angry with her. So what should she do when the one thing she learned to hate is the one thing that brings her love, safe and comfort that not even her older brother can compare.
WARNING: not proof read, Jos Verstappen (worsned like 10 times for this fic) poly relationship, derogatory terms by father, abusive father. If I missed anything else please let me know
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Max and Yn Verstappen are close, really close, some would even say they are too close for being siblings, after all it's not usual for an 18 year old to go live with her older brother in a country 2 hours away (by plane) from her university rather than just to rent something close by.
Everyone had very harsh words to say about the pair of siblings, some still do but these are just people who hate max verstappen and they know nothing angers him more than someone insulting his baby sister, everyone was very vocal about how strange, weird and abnormal it is for 2 grown siblings to live together.
Everyone thought that the Verstappen siblings would change their living arrangements after Max and Kelly found each other, only to be surprised by Max buying a bigger penthouse that'd be enough for all 4 of them.
Everyone was negative about the prospect of the redbull formula one driver being followed around by his little sister until the release of The Anatomy of A Champion came out.
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When the producers of the show pitched in the idea of talking to yn, max had refused, he wanted his sister nowhere near any of these vultures knowing how bad it can, and most probably will, get. Max was aware from a very young age that what his dad was constantly saying and doing to him and his sister wasn't normal, whenever he was at a race he would see the other boys' dad's hugging them and telling them they did a good job even if they didn't get first place, he would see how other's would have their father waiting for them with water and towels, and most importantly he would see how other dad's had their daughter on their shoulder making the other little girls laugh; Why does dad only make yn cry?
He remembers it so clearly, the way his father hit his sister because of something out of her control, something that she didn't even ask for, something that was thrown at her, it was the day his sister got her soulmark.
Everyone had a soulmark that appeared on their 5th birthday and today was yn's which made jos take her to the soul doctor. Soulmarks were complicated, which is why soul doctors were important, they let you know more about your mark and the bond that's to form between you and your other half.
"Wow young lady, you'll have twice the amount of love it seems."
"What?"
Max knew his father's tone, he know that he's angry and he unconsciously held onto yn's hand, hoping that his father wouldn't take his anger out on her.
"Well Mr Verstappen you see these lines," the doctor gently held up yn's wrist, turning it over to show off her newly given mark "that's an indicator of one soulmate, I'd say he is 3 or 4 years older than her given the shade of the mark, while this other lines that are in a circular shape indicate the other soulmate, he seems to also be around 3 or 4 years older as well. It looks like the mark that indicates young miss yn here is the moon, with how the moon is in the center I would say that yn would be the last in the group meaning that her two other soulmates will meet each other before they meet her."
Jos was angry throughout their drive home, he had already smacked yn into the car while rushing her to get in and as soon as they were in the car he hit her across the head, his arms tall enough to reach the young girl in the backseat. That was the first time max heard these words that would be so easy to recite within a few weeks.
"Two soulmates? Why couldn't you just be normal, why do you have to be such a slut?"
The ride back home was one of the worst max and yn had ever expirenced.
"Two soulmates, ridiculous.They're not even going to want you! They'd meet each other before they even know you!! At least if you turn out to be good for nothing I can just pimp you out on the street, maybe then you'd be useful, and it's not like your soulmates will even like you or want you. Unlovable whore."
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"So," the interviewer started as Sophie Kumpen sat on a white sofa in Max's home in Monaco "how is your relationship with your youngest?"
"It's not as close as I'd want it to be," the mother of three confessed as she looked into the camera "yn is a very sweet girl, she had been through a lot. When Jos and I divorced she wasn't really aware of what was going on, she was too young to understand, and as she grew older all she could see was Max. He had been the one to take care of her: i remember once when Max was around ten years old he called me up, asking me how to make a soup because yn was sick and jos was out god knows where.
Max and YN were and are always there for each other, and I don't think that will ever change. I'm sure everyone thought their relationship will sort of tweak a bit when Max and Kelly met each other, but I don't think Max will ever allow that and it's not like Kelly even tried to change their relationship, she was the one who was apartment hunting for all of them while Max was racing and Yn was back in England for her university." 
"Do you think yn is putting in the effort to be there for Max?"
"Oh definitely, I mean studying mechanical engineering along with aerospace engineering at one of the top universities in the world is enough proof. Her whole life revolves around Max and I don't think it's a bad thing. Max had been her everything, he's the one she always goes to cause he is all she knows. When she was deciding what to do right after high-school all she said was that she will choose the majors that'll help her get an internship at formula one so that she'd be there with Max for the rest of his races, however long he wants to be there."
"Do you know what happened between Jos, Max and Yn? Don't you think it's weird that once Max turned 18 he asked Christian Horner to ban his father from the paddock? And to help him have yn with him as much as possible?"
"I'm not really going to go into the details of it, but Jos has done a lot of damage, especially to yn. It's not something I can talk about, not that I even want to, but Jos was a terrible husband and a wose father, I'm insanely glad that yn and max turned out as good and well as they are. Seeing them so close is not something that's surprising me given what Jos did to them, to yn" Sophie's voice broke as a few tears escaped her eyes "sorry, it's just, what she had to go through, it's traumatic and I'm happy that she had Max with her through it all. It fills my heart with joy seeing the little family Max and Yn formed with Kelly and Penelope"
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ch. II
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reesewillow-delrey · 4 months
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Peter Parker x Fem!Reader
Naked
Summary: In which Reader walks in on a naked Peter, Reader laughs, Peter becomes insecure. Reader decides to show herself naked back in the worst moment possible. Based on the episode of New Girl with Jess and Nick lol <3
Warnings: Nudity, slight smut? Like it’s not crazy smutty, Peter fantasizes about reader while with someone else for a hot minute lol
“You are not gonna believe this!” Peter’s voice can be heard from the front door of your shared New York Loft.
You, Mj, Peter and Ned were all living together and sharing rent while you all attended College. It was chaotic at times, but it worked out.
At the end of the day, it was nice to be snuggled up on the couch watching a cheesy horror movie with your friends,
“You finally grew a few inches?” Mj asked, biting into her bagel that you made for her. Peter glared at her before throwing his jacket on the couch,
“No. This girl in my Econ class wants me to come over tonight to hang out” You turned around so quick that the whisk that had egg on it flew off and splashed onto Ned,
“Really?” He groaned and wiped it off,
“A date?” Your eyebrow raised, a smirk plastered on your face, attempting to cover up your jealousy.
You and Peter weren’t dating, or even flirting with each other at that. You guys were just simply friends and roommates.
Peter couldn’t deny that you were cute and blessed in all the right places, and you couldn’t deny that he was hot and awkward in a charming way.
All of the glances at each other and occasional long lasting hugs between the both of you were always cut off with the bug boy poking fun at you and you firing back ten times worse.
So, why were you so jealous that he was gonna get some ass tonight?
“Oh! Peter is getting the hanky panky?” You exclaimed, a grin on your face. He scrunched up his nose and snatched one of Ned’s pieces of bacon,
“Y/n, don’t call it that. But, yes, I will most likely be having sex tonight with a hot, sarcastic blond who’s totally into my muscles” He flexed his arm in your face obnoxiously,
“Gross” Mj snorted. You slapped his bicep with the spatula,
“You know what, good for you, man. What’s her name?” Ned asked, patting Peter on the back,
“Her name is Lauren. She’s into politics and nature, and enjoys taking pictures of big, historical buildings” He stated, nonchalantly shrugging his shoulders and smirking,
“Too bad your building is small” Ned joked. Peter tilted his head to the side in confusion,
“What’s that mean?” Mj cackled and looked over at you as you let out a snort,
“Oh! I was just—um—joking that your uh—penis? Yeah, penis, is small. But, it’s not! It was a joke! You’ve got a great penis, man! I’m not saying it’s small—they laughed, okay?!” Ned began stuttering, scratching the back of his neck and pointing at the two girls who were laughing.
Peter just nodded and squinted his eyes,
“Right, whatever” While his three roommates continued conversation, he remained silent and began overthinking about what Ned said.
Yeah, it was a joke! But, was it, though? Was there truth behind it?
-
“Your dick is huge, Peter. Lauren will love it” Peter said as he stared at himself in the mirror in his room.
‘Blue (Da Ba Dee)’ by Eiffel 65 began playing from Peter’s speaker. He turned the volume up to the max and stepped back to get a better view of himself.
He took off his shirt and began flexing his biceps, then awkwardly dancing, attempting to boost his self-esteem. Aunt May always told him to dance if he was feeling upset as a kid,
“Yo, listen up here’s a story about a little guy that lives in a blue world!” Peter started singing along to the lyrics, unbuckling his belt and pulling his jeans down,
“And a blue corvette and everything is blue for him and himself and everybody around cause he ain’t got nobody to listen!” He ran his hand down abs, continuing to stare at himself in the mirror and singing along to the song.
Meanwhile, you were on your stomach in your bed, studying for your upcoming exam. You were slowly growing frustrated with Peter’s loud music powering over your’s that was playing from your phone,
“Peter! Turn your shit down! I can barely hear Lana Del Rey, right now!”
He slowly pulled down his boxers and sighed, scratching his forehead,
“Well, here’s my dick, Lauren. Hope you like it” He mumbled. The mirror isn’t flattering,
“Yep, it’s definitely the mirror, Peter. I’m beautiful the way I am” He shook his head and cringed at his words, and began dancing again.
“For fuck sake” You slammed your textbook shut and got up, ready to cuss him out. You walked across the hall and swung his bedroom door open,
“Seriously, dude! Some of us are trying to study!” When you looked up, you gasped as you were face to face with a dancing and very naked Peter Parker.
You both froze and stared at each other for a few seconds before you broke it by pointing at his dick and letting out a screech-like laugh, then running out of the room.
The whole situation hit Peter like a wave, and he flopped down on his bed and caged his head in between his arms,
“Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god—no, no, no, no” He kept repeating, the incident replaying in his head.
A notification went off on his phone. He grabbed it and saw it was a message from Lauren.
Laurenfromecon: Hey big boy. My roommate finally left for the night. I hope your on your way ;)
Peter took a deep breath and sent a thumbs up back, too traumatized and distraught to send anything flirty back.
If you laughed at his dick, wouldn’t that mean Lauren would, too?
-
“Hey guys—to make my story short, I walked in on Peter dancing naked to that blue song” Ned spat out his water and Mj’s eyes practically bulged out of her her head,
“Oh! That’s not…” She laughed, setting her mug down on the coffee table,
“Yeah! Like he was dancing naked and like—staring at himself in the mirror while doing it, too! It was so—weird? I don’t know what to say to him now!” You began ranting, playing with your hair nervously.
Ned stood up and placed his hands on your shoulders,
“What did you say to him? Or did you say anything at all?” You looked down at your hands and began fiddling with them,
“Well, I kinda might’ve pointed at his…friend and laughed at it” Ned threw his head back and placed his hands on his face,
“Y/n! You never laugh at a man’s penis! That’s like the worse thing a woman could do!” Mj shook her head and leaned back into the couch,
“And right before his hook up, too? Dude, he’s probably in his room right now crying and throwing up” You grabbed a pillow and screamed into it before flopping down,
“Speak of the devil” She mumbled, flicking your head and then pointing to Peter who was fast walking past you guys with his hoodie covering his face,
“Oh my god! Hey, buddy!” You cringed at your words as you jogged after him to the front door,
“Please, leave me alone, y/n” He mumbled, trying to find where his keys were hanging frantically,
“Peter, we should really talk about this! It was just an accident that won’t happen again, right?” You tried to say nonchalantly, giving an awkward shrug as you guarded the front door,
“We knock on doors in this house. It shouldn’t of happened in the first place” He said through gritted teeth, finally getting ahold of his keys,
“I know! Just, your music was so loud and you wouldn’t of heard my kno—
“Y/n, please move” You sighed and slapped his shoulder,
“Listen, Petey, dancing naked is so normal! I dance naked sometimes, too!” You exclaimed. Your two friends both shook their heads as they watched what was currently going on in front of them,
“Just—move” He gently pushed you out of the way and opened the door, making his way out into the halls,
“I dance naked while listening to Sza and Ethel Cain all the time! Nothing to be ashamed of” You yelled out, your voice and words echoing throughout the halls. Peter shook his head and ran to the elevator. Your neighbour stepped out and gave you a disgusted look,
“Oh, shut the fuck up” You glared at him.
-
“Your so hot, Peter” Lauren moaned out, straddling him on her bed,
“Uh—thanks. Your pretty hot, too” He mumbled in between kisses. He shut his eyes, desperately trying to get himself hard and get you out of his thoughts,
“Fuck, take off your pants” The girl said, her hands going to the zipper of his jeans. Peter felt his heart jump out of his chest in fear,
“Wait! Can you take off yours first?” He pulled her hands away from crotch. She smirked and hopped off the bed and began stripping till she was completely naked.
Peter let out a huff of air and palmed himself,
“Wow, your um- nice” He cringed at his compliment and at how he still wasn’t becoming hard looking at a naked, blond chick who wanted him.
Did y/n break my dick’s ability to function for good? He thought to himself,
“Peter? You alright?” Lauren asked, snapping her fingers in front of his face,
“Huh? Yeah! Oh, yeah! I just need to…” He trailed off, gesturing to his dick. The blond grinned and nodded, going back to straddling him, grinding on him,
“Oh, shit” Peter cursed as her hand reached into his pants, slipping past his boxers, beginning to stroke his length.
As Peter laid his head back against the pillow, he found himself beginning to relax, trying to ease his mind,
If Lauren didn’t like my dick, why is she trying so hard to get it up? Y/n is immature, of course she’d laugh at your penis! Y/n…y/n…y/n…I wonder what y/n is doing right now. She’s probably dressed in her cute pyjama set after having her nightly shower. She’s probably laid on her bed thinking about you, thinking about you naked. Yeah, she for sure is. I wonder what she does in her room when she’s alone. Y/n, y/n, y/n, y/n…
Y/N?!
“Peter?” Lauren cleared her throat and took her hand out of his pants,
“Are you okay?” Peter eyes snapped opened,
“Is there anything I can like—do differently?” She asked awkwardly, chewing on her nail.
The spider boy let out a groan and flopped back down on the pillow, his flushed with embarrassment,
“Sorry. It’s not you, it’s me. It’s just—
“It’s fine, whatever. It’s okay to not be in the mood” She said, rolling off of him and slipping her clothes back on,
“Maybe we can…cuddle?” Peter asked, immediately regretting his words. The blond nodded, hesitantly laying underneath his arm,
“Uh, okay”
What the fuck is wrong with you, Peter? Why were you thinking about Y/n?
-
Peter stayed the night and left first thing in the morning,
“So…how was it?” Ned asked as Peter sat down on the leather couch.
He shook his head,
“Terrible” His friend frowned and paused the football game that was currently playing,
“What happened?”
Peter explained everything to Ned,
“Let me guess, the way y/n laughed at your junk made you so insecure about it that you couldn’t get a hard on?” Bug-boy groaned and and lifted his arms up,
“Exactly! What the fuck am I supposed to do now? What if she ruined my ability to ever become horny?”
Ned shrugged and frowned,
“Listen, y/n feels horrible about the way she acted. She really does feel bad. Go talk to her, trust me. My grandma always says that communication is the bed solution”
-
“Thanks a lot, y/n! Because of you, I can’t get an erection!” Peter yelled as he barged into your room. You slammed your book shut and sat up on your knees in the middle of your bed,
“What?!” He nodded and and pointed his finger in your face,
“I cant get your stupid little screech out of my head! The whole time I was trying to hook up with Lauren, your laugh and reaction to my dick kept replaying in my mind” You placed your face in your hands,
“I’m sorry, okay?! I just panicked, and when I panic I laugh or scream!” He rolled his eyes and leaned against your doorframe,
“Peter…your member is beautiful, okay?” You said, giving him a toothy smile. His face scrunched up,
“Oh my god! Do not call it a member, please. Call it a dick or whatever” You sighed and pushed your hair back,
“Your dick is nice looking, okay? It’s a good—dick. It’s far from small. I just got embarrassed because I invaded your…privacy” You were telling the truth.
He ‘tsked’ at the last part,
“You were embarrassed?” He said, raising an eyebrow,
“We were both embarrassed! I should have knocked. You should have turned down your music” He nodded and remained silent,
“I guess so”
-
The next day, you came up with the best idea.
There had to be some way to ease the tension, to relieve Peter’s embarrassment,
“This should work” You said, standing nude in front of your mirror. You ran your hands up and down your curves and let out a huff.
Your idea was to wait in his room and flash Peter when he came home to make it even between the both of you.
It’s only fair, right?
You wrapped a towel around yourself and made your way to his room.
-
“Fuck, I can’t believe this is happening” Peter and Lauren came stumbling through your shared loft,
“Are you sure your friends are out tonight?” The girl asked against his lips. He moaned when she pushed into his groin,
“Y-Yeah. They should be”
Peter had texted Lauren that morning, asking to hang out.
He really thought about everything that went down and concluded that it was never that serious.
His dick was fine, so was his body, and he wasn’t going to let you stop him from hooking up with pretty girls.
That’s how he ended with Lauren in his car, and then in his apartment,
“My room is down here” She followed him as he led her to his room.
-
You gasped as you heard Peter and a female voice echo throughout the apartment.
Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no!
You scrambled around the room, quickly trying to find where to go. You went to the bedroom door and stopped as you heard them step right outside it.
Fuck! Think fast, y/n.
You stopped, dropped, and rolled to the side of his bed that was facing away from the door.
-
“Take off your clothes” Peter nodded as he stood in front of Lauren who was sitting on the edge of his bed. He took a deep breath and hurriedly took off his shirt.
She grinned and bit her lip, her hands going to unclasp her bra,
“Who the fuck is that?!” She screamed, pointing to the floor before covering her chest. Peter turned around and saw you in a towel, crawling on the floor towards his door,
“Y/n?! Wha—
You stood up and ran to the door, your towel then fell, revealing your nude backside,
“Oh…f-fuck” Peter whimpered as he stared at your body, completely forgetting that the blond was there, sitting frightened and confused as hell on his bed.
His eyes became hazy, his pupils dilating,
“Y/n” You slowly turned around, his gaze now being introduced to your naked front view.
His eyes trailed from your face to your breasts and lower.
A smirk-like grin formed on his lips as he stared at you.
You cleared your throat and ran a hand through your hair,
“Ta-da” You said, giving a weird smile.
Coming to your senses, you picked up the towel and quickly wrapped it around yourself, then practically sprinted out of the room and slamming the door behind you,
“Wow” Peter chuckled under his breath.
You were so fucking beautiful.
She’s so fucking beautiful, holy shit.
Lauren screamed from behind him,
“Um—what the fucking fuck just fucking happened!!”
-:
Part 2!
1K notes · View notes
cherrycheridarling · 10 months
Text
slip up | t.h.
tom holland x famous!reader
warnings: none just fluff
summary: tom slips up on instagram live
wc: 335
a/n: missed u guys sorry abt my absence:(<3
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"That's a wrap for today! Go rest those vocal cords, Y/L/N." Toby, your producer bid you a farewell as you finished in the studio.
You nodded and hugged everyone goodbye before heading to your driver's car. It was at least midnight by the time you got back to your boyfriend's home that he shared with his best mates.
You and Tom had been dating for nearly a year and had done an impressive job of keeping your relationship away from prying eyes. With only a few suspicions here and there, the public saw you two as best friends and nothing more.
In his king sized bed, Tom was on Instagram live chatting with his fans. He needed a way to pass the time as he waited for you to come home from the studio.
"Why am I up so late? Jet lag sucks, guys." Tom lied to his fans.
He hasn't been on a plane in weeks.
"Is anyone in the house awake? Nope. They all sleep at, like, eleven or earlier. Party poopers." he frowned to the camera.
You quietly unlocked the front door, trying your best to not wake anyone in the house. Tiptoeing towards Tom's bedroom, you saw that his light was on, peeking out from under his door. With furrowed eyebrows you opened the door and saw him sitting against the headboard on his phone.
He smiled when he saw you, completely forgetting about his live, "Hi, darling. I missed you," he put his phone down and pecked your lips, "Did you get driven here?" you nodded, "You should've sent me a text," he picked up his phone and glanced at the screen, "I could've—" he froze.
You finished tying your hair up and looked at him with confusion written across your features. You opened your mouth to ask him what was wrong before he slapped a hand over your lips.
He looked at you with wide eyes, "I'm live on Instagram." he whispered.
You had to choke down a laugh because you knew the fans would recognize the sound immediately. You managed to peak at the screen without being in the cameras view and the comments had you struggling to keep your laughter down.
'HE HAS A GF???????'
'i'm gonna kms'
'WHO IS IT'
'no fucking way'
'PLS BE ZENDAYA'
'IM HYPERVENTILATING'
Tom opened and closed his mouth like a fish as he tried to come up with something, anything, to say. "Um, looks like I'll be going now. Thank you for joining and I'll see you all very soon." He had a sheepish grin as he spoke.
You smirked before speaking. "Bye guys." And pressed the button to end the live. Not waiting to see the reactions to your voice or if they would recognize it.
Tom wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you on top of him, "Cheeky one, you are." he placed a kiss on your forehead as you smiled into his chest.
1K notes · View notes
shellshocklove · 1 year
Text
conversation | peter parker
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pairing: college!peter parker x college!female!reader
summary: peter parker is in the friendzone. and it sucks. especially when the girl he’s in love with is dating his best friend. smack dab in the middle of a bad situation peter struggles to keep his feelings at bay when the girl of his dreams comes to him for advice about her failing relationship.
warnings: i guess post!nwh, swearing, cheating, peter pining for reader, everyone being a bad guy, smut 18+ (minors dni!!!), unprotected sex, creampie
word count: 4.1k
a/n: um my first peter fic! it’s based on the song conversation by joni mitchell. listen to it, or don’t, i’m not your mother. i said i was going to stop posting writing, but i have “i must create or i’ll go crazy” disease so... (i’m still not a writer)
main masterlist / ao3
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She comes to him for conversation, for comfort, for consultation. But Peter wished she came to him for something else.
He remembers the first time he saw you. How he’d thought his heart had stopped for a second, forgetting how to do its most basic function. How could someone look so effortlessly beautiful? How could a voice sound so sweet while asking such a mundane question?
“Is this seat taken?”.
“N-n-no!” he’d manage to stutter out, his cheeks flushed red and completely taken aback by the fact that you were talking to him. You’d given him a playful smile before seating yourself next to him.
Did he believe in love at first sight? Yes, after seeing you for the first time, Peter started to think he did.
Meeting you in a chemistry class, Peter thought, must be the universe’s take on a bad joke, because… you two had chemistry. Everything just felt so easy when he hung out with you. His smile always wide, cheeks hurting. Conversation flowing freely, or engulfed in a silence, that was always comfortable. The only thing though, even though you two had chemistry, you weren’t any good at it. Actually, you were barely passing.
And that’s how your time began. Sharing sodas after class, in a rundown diner, over chemistry homework. You’d seen how Peter had gotten straight A’s on all his tests, and one day you’d carefully asked if he would be so kind as to help you. Those were the actual words you’d used. If Peter would be so kind. As if he wouldn’t have done anything you’d ask without a second thought. Okay, maybe not anything. He doesn’t think he’d murder someone if you asked… or maybe… if you were in danger and it was the only way–
“Peter!” you laughed, waving your hand in front of his face, “Are you even listening to me?”.
“Huh!?” he hummed, a familiar warmth spreading through his cheeks as your laugh rang through his ears.
“You zoned out a little,” you said, scrunching up your nose. Oh god he loved when you did that– you looked so cute.
“Oh! S-sorry” he stuttered out, still embarrassed that you’d caught him daydreaming, “What were you saying?”.
“Ehm… just forget it” you looked away, waving your hand, “It was just something Harry did again”.
His name coming from your mouth felt like a bucket of ice-cold water over Peter’s head. Harry Osborn, your boyfriend, and Peter’s roommate.
As much as Peter loved Harry, he didn’t treat you well. This was usually how your conversations during your study dates would go, once it was clear that after a few hours of studying, you were done with chemistry for the day.
You’d usually bring up small things that Harry had done that hurt you or annoyed you. And Peter would be tasked with giving you advice, or comfort, or consolation. You always apologized after, for bringing Harry up in conversation, but Peter always brushed it off telling you it was fine. But it wasn’t. It always reminded him about his own failures. How if he hadn’t been such a pussy at Betty’s party, all those months ago, and told you how he felt, this wouldn’t just be a study date, but a real date. The problem was just that Harry had beat him to it that night. In Harry’s defense, he didn’t know about Peter’s feelings about you. No one did.
You’d disappeared at some point in the night, and Peter figured you’d gone home. Turns out you did go home, but not to your own apartment, but to Peter’s and Harry’s instead. A fact Peter didn’t know until the morning after when he’d bumped into you in the kitchen, his heart dropping to his stomach at the sight of you in nothing but Harry’s shirt.
Peter’s dreams weren’t completely crushed at that moment. He still harbored hope for you. Harry was quite the whore (Harry’s own words by the way, not Peter’s), and this wasn’t the first time Peter ran into one of his hook-ups in the kitchen after a night out. In Peter’s mind this was only a one-night stand. But he couldn’t have been more wrong. Not soon after, you started showing up at the penthouse, not to hang out with Peter, but with Harry instead.
Peter tried his best to not be disappointed when you came over. But the tiny spark of hope he had about one day calling you his, soon fizzled out and died. Every time he saw you and Harry kissing, holding hands; he knew nothing would ever happen between the two of you.
Trying to forget you, he started busying himself with classes and patrol, seeing you less and less. He’d run into you sometimes when you were visiting Harry. Only a short “Hello” leaving Peter’s lips as he’d retire to his room before Harry could see how much Peter wanted you.
Back in his room, Peter would convince himself that you and Harry being together was the best thing for you. If you were with Peter, he’d only end up hurting you. You deserve the very best, and Peter knew he would never be good enough. He was a fucking mess most of the time. He was always late to things, never on time, he couldn’t afford to treat you to nice things like Harry did, and his double life could make you a target, which was the last thing he wanted.
Peter kept his distance the best he could, but as time went on it got harder and harder to convince himself that Harry treated you the way Peter thought you deserved. Peter knew Harry wasn’t being honest with you, and it killed him to keep his mouth shut. The bubbling anger simmering under the surface every time he’d see a girl who wasn’t you, slip out of Harry’s bedroom. Then like a curse, a few moments later, his enhanced hearing enabled him to eavesdrop on yours’ and Harry’s conversations on the phone. Harry would always apologize for being too busy to come over and hang out. And with the softest voice, you’d let Harry off the hook every time. Leaving the penthouse, to go on patrol after nights like that, Peter admitted, his punches hit a little harder.
Your relationship tasted especially bitter in Peter’s mouth whenever Harry would throw parties at the penthouse. A hand over your shoulder or around your waist, never leaving your side, showing you off like you were a prized possession and not a human being. Was this the final straw for Peter? Seeing yet another way Harry didn’t treat you as well as he should; that had made him not want to make up an excuse, like he normally would, when you’d ask him if he wanted to study at the diner.
Peter had kept his distance from you for the last six months. Tried to stay in his lane. To turn the other eye. To fold his feelings for you in on itself like a piece of paper so many times he hoped they’d disappear. But one look at you again, sitting across from him at your regular booth at the diner, and his origami-ed feelings had sprung up again like a blooming flower in spring.
“I just really wanted to see him, you know? I’ve been so stressed about this chemistry exam– that I know I’m gonna fail by the way, and work’s been kicking my ass– and I just wanted to hang out with my boyfriend… but he canceled on me three times this week”.
Or maybe the final straw, for Peter, was the way your whole body deflated in front of him. Peter could feel his heart break in real time watching you turn your head away, hiding the wobble of your bottom lip. And the worst part of it all was that Peter knew why Harry had canceled on you. He’d been over at someone else’s place. But Peter knew he couldn’t tell you that.
Carefully he reached out his hand, brushing it over the back of yours as you rested it on the table. “I’m sure Harry’s just been busy! I know he’s got his exams in a few weeks, and he hasn’t been home as much lately” Peter said, trying his best to make you feel better.
You watched your hands for a moment, how Peter brushed his hand over yours trying to sooth you the best he could. Then you turned your hand, wrapping it around his in a gentle hold. The soft touch of your warm hand, making Peter stop breathing for a second.
“Yeah,” you nodded, “you’re probably right, Peter”. You tried your best to smile, but Peter could see your sorrow written all over your face, breaking Peter’s heart even more.
“You’re a good friend Peter!” you started, “I’m so sorry for always talking about Harry, but it’s just that you know him so well, so it’s easier to talk about him with you– and you always manage to say the right thing to make me feel better” you looked down at your intertwining hands.
“It’s almost scary how easily you can make me feel better Peter– it’s like you have superpowers or something” you said, a chuckle escaping your lips.
“Oh, I didn’t tell you about my superpowers?” Peter quipped, trying his best to cheer you up even more. A smile spread across your face as you shook your head.
“My powers are actually being very good at chemistry– AND knowing how to make my friend who’s failing her chemistry class feel better”.
A giggle left your lips at Peter’s joke as you let out a sarcastic “haha, very funny”, playing along.
If only you knew though. How he wished that this mess could be fixed with his actual superpowers. How he wished he could just put on the suit and save you from Harry. How he wished he could free you.
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Landing safely on the rooftop of Harry’s penthouse, Peter looked around for his backpack he’d hid with his clothes. He’d managed to hide his double life from Harry so far, and he planned on it staying that way, which meant changing in and out of his suit crouched behind a rooftop vent, every day.
He was back earlier than usual, cutting tonight’s patrol short as it had turned out to be a quiet night. He’d stopped a man stealing a lady’s purse, and after he’d helped a man, who he was 90% sure had dementia, find his way back to his apartment. After that he’d just swung around the city for a few hours. At sunset he’d found a good spot at the top of this new skyscraper they were building downtown. His feet dangled off the scaffolding as he watched the sky turn every shade of pink and orange, before the sun dipped below the horizon.
Back home, on the roof, Peter felt the soft touch of the spring night against his naked skin. He quickly changed out of his suit before stuffing it back into his backpack, swinging it over his shoulder before he headed towards the rooftop door. With a light bounce in his step, Peter made his way down the stairs, his head filled with thoughts about all the studying he needed to do before his exam next week. Slipping through the front door he’s so distracted by his own thoughts he almost doesn’t hear it. The sounds of muffled moans accompanied by Harry’s bedpost hitting the wall.
But he does hear it, and images of how sad you’d looked earlier at the diner start flickering through Peter’s head. Before any rational thoughts can stop him, he’s fished his phone from the back pocket of his jeans. He’s had enough. His fingers work on their own accord, pulling up your contact.
Peter hi, um are you at the penthouse right now?
He knew you weren’t, but he figured this was the best way to bring it up. Taking long strides across the floor, he made his way towards his bedroom door. Why did he suddenly feel like he needed to hide?
He passed through his bedroom door while he slipped his backpack off his shoulder. Not even ten seconds later his phone buzzed in his hands with your reply. He sat down quickly on his bed, one leg bouncing in an anxious rhythm, as he read your reply.
You no? i’m at home why?
Peter i think you should come over there’s a girl with harry in his room
Did this make him a bad person Peter asked himself as he watched the three dotted bubble appear and then disappear. Was this just him acting out of his own selfishness? Letting the devil on his shoulder whisper in his ear and guide his hand? Or did it make him a hero? Saving you from a toxic relationship?
You i’m coming over.
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The sound of your footsteps echoed down the streets, mixing with Peter’s calls of your name as he practically jogged behind you trying to catch up to you.
“Peter” you sighed, “just please go back home”.
“No!” he finally caught up to you, grabbing a hold of your wrist, pulling it a little, making you slow down.
“I don’t think you should be alone right now”.
Your face was blank, the only sign of any emotion coming from your restless eyes dancing across his face. He couldn’t decipher what you were thinking. You were angry of course. You were furious only minutes ago when you stormed out the door with both Harry and Peter at your heel.
Harry had spoken his sorry sentences. Telling you it wasn’t what it looked like. Begging for your forgiveness. But he was only kidding himself trying to convince you it wasn’t what it looked like, that he hadn’t cheated on you, when you’d literally caught him with his dick inside another woman.
Harry stayed behind in the lobby, probably thinking it wasn’t worth it to go after you into the spring night, in only his robe. Just as Peter were about to rush after you Harry spoke up,
“If you go after her you’re dead to me!”.
The venomous bite to Harry’s tone stopped Peter dead in his tracks.
“I know you fucking told her” Harry accused, “If you go after her I’m kicking you out– I NEVER want to see you again”.
But standing here, out on the streets of New York at midnight, holding your hand Peter knew he’d made the right decision.
“Ok” you said it so softly Peter didn't think he’d even hear it if his hearing wasn’t enhanced.
“Ok” he repeated.
You pulled your hand away, a knife twisting in Peter’s heart, and started walking. You didn’t say a single word on the way back to your apartment. Peter imagined you were hurt, but you weren’t crying, and Peter didn’t know if that scared him or comforted him.
Safely back inside your apartment you didn’t even acknowledge his presence as you threw your jacket off by the door. Then you walked down the hallway, taking a right at the end, to where he assumed your living room must be. Peter had never actually been in your apartment before.
He followed you down the hallway, after neatly hanging both his and your jacket on your coat rack. He found you on the floor by your couch, your back resting against the front, holding your knees to your chest, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself, as soft sobs escaped you.
“I’m sorry you had to find out like that” Peter apologized, sitting down next to you on your carpet. A feeling like his only purpose in life was to comfort you, overcame him. So, he wrapped a hand around your shoulders, pulling you against his chest. You leaned in closer to his body, your hands shifting from hugging yourself, to hugging Peter tightly.
“No, this was exactly how I needed to find out” you sobbed, “I needed to see it with my own eyes, or I wouldn’t have believed it”.
Peter let you cry until there weren't any tears left to cry, cooing you and whispering all the most reassuring words he could muster up past midnight.
“I don’t know why it hurts so bad… I think deep down I always knew he wasn’t being honest with me– he always kept me guessing” you said. No, Peter thought, he kept you down.
Before Peter could say anything, you lifted your head from his chest, a big wet spot on his t-shirt left in your wake. You looked him right in the eye, and Peter could feel a budding warmth of red covering the apples of his cheeks.
“Please Peter” you pleaded, moving your face closer, the closest it’s ever been to his. Your right hand traveled to cup his hot cheeks, pulling him even closer to your face. So close he felt your breath tickle his skin while you spoke,
“You always make me feel better– it’s your superpower, remember? Please make me feel better”.
Closing his eyes, Peter knew he couldn’t deny you, his heart screamed out for you. This was everything he wanted, was it not? With a shuddering breath and a heart beating out of his chest, he closed the space between you, brushing his lips over yours.
Your other hand cupped his other cheek, pulling him even closer to your body, letting out a small whimper as you kissed him back. Peter felt like his head was spinning. He didn’t know where he ended, and you began.
Then it all became a bit of a blur. His hands found your waist as you climbed onto his lap, brushing your tongue over his bottom lip, deepening the kiss. Your hand left his cheek to toy with his hair, and Peter just about moaned into your mouth. He needed more of you, and with the way you were grinding down on his growing bulge, he knew you did too.
Warmth flooded his body wherever you touched him, and he didn’t think he could ever get enough of you. When your hand left his hair, he just about sighed with disappointment, until he realized how you toyed with the hem of his t-shirt. Raising his hands, he helped you pull it off him. Absentmindedly, you threw it away, before your eyes fell to his chest, quickly scanning over his muscles before they traveled up to his face, where they looked into his soul. Half a second later you pulled him in for another heated kiss.
His hands fell to your ass, helping you grind down on him. Fuck, he was properly hard now, his cock straining against his jeans. With every brush of your core against his cock you whimpered into his mouth, making Peter almost feel lightheaded. You were so pretty. Your lips tasted like raspberries, and under his hands your skin was softer than velvet.
“Take off your pants please” you pleaded against his skin as you started pressing soft kisses down along his jaw and neck.
His hands raced to unbutton his jeans. You pulled away from his neck, staggering to your feet on wobbly legs, making a whine leaving Peter’s lips. Over him you started pulling on your pants, dragging them down your legs along with your panties in one go. Mesmerized by your silhouette, Peter almost forgot what he was doing. You quickly sat down beside him, fingers coming up to hook around the waistband of Peter’s jeans. Then you started pulling them down to his mid-thigh along with his boxers. Peter almost forgot to breathe as you freed his aching cock.
When you climbed onto his lap, Peter’s brain started working again. His hands fell to your ass, steadying you as you got comfortable on his lap.
“D-did you want me to…” Peter trailed off, not knowing how to say what he wanted to say. Instead, he showed you. His right hand rubber over your ass and hip before his fingers brushed over your clit. You mewled at the contact, your eyes closing before you shook your head.
“No, no I just want you– I need you, Peter”.
Fuck, Peter thought. He’d dreamt of hearing you tell him you wanted him, for months. And now it wasn’t a dream anymore.
“O-okay” he stuttered, reaching a hand between your bodies, grabbing at his shaft in a rough hold. With his other hand he helped guide your hips to hover over his tip, sliding it back and forth over your slit, and lining it up with your opening. He could feel how wet and desperate you were, coating his cock in your arousal.
With a hand resting on his shoulder, you slowly sat down on his cock. First slipping the tip in, before your walls swallowed the rest of him, taking him fully inside. A choked moan fell from Peter’s lips as he savored the feeling of your velvet pulsing walls around him. Rocking your hips back and forth, your puffy clit rubbing up against his pelvis, as your mouth fell open in a silent gasp, gaping around words you couldn’t get out.
“Shit” you panted, “You’re so deep”.
“Yeah” Peter breathed out, head falling back against the couch, “You feel me in your tummy?”.
“Fuck,” you lifted your hips, slowly starting to move, “y-yes, I d-do”.
Looking up at you, as you moved over him, Peter thought you looked like an angel. The way your ceiling light lit up the back of your head, Peter was sure you were wearing a halo.
Your rhythm increased and soon you were bouncing in his lap. Your breathy moans falling from your lips, the wet noises coming from where you were connected, and the way you were starting to clench around him, were making the tension in Peter’s stomach grow. Knitting his eyebrows together, Peter didn’t know how much longer he was going to last.
Scared he’d finish before you, his fingers found your clit, pressing down in tight circles. Under the touch of his fingers you almost jumped, while a shuddering breath left your lips. Then Peter felt himself start to get desperate, meeting your bounces with a thrusting of his hip, pushing his throbbing cock even further inside you.
Every brush of his fingers over your clit, coincided with a thrust of his hips, and soon he felt your wall flutter around him. He could feel how your wetness ran down his shaft and down his balls, and he knew you were as close to the edge of ecstasy as he was. His fingers never let up on your clit, and soon you clenched around him so hard he couldn’t hold it back anymore.
“Fuck,” Peter spat, “I’m gonna cum”.
“I–Inside” you moaned, “You can come inside– it’s okay”.
Your words pushed him over the edge, making him come hard inside you with a grunt. He didn’t slow down his fingers on your clit, and the feeling of him filling you up and the brush of his fingers, must’ve pushed you over the edge. Half a second later your hips stilled as Peter felt the frantic pulses of your orgasm milking his cock.
The feeling of you riding out your orgasm on his sensitive cock, clenching down on him as your body shook with aftershocks, it was almost too much, too intense for Peter. His breath came out in hard pants, and his body felt hot to the touch.
Peter didn’t know how much time passed as you both came down from your highs. It could have been three seconds or three hours. All Peter knew was that with you, he lost all sense of time. But this moment of bliss must come to an end. Everything is temporary, and someone must be the first to pull away.
On wobbling legs, you slid off his lap, sitting down next to him on the floor. You leaned back, grabbing your panties off the couch. Peter averted his eyes. The act was somehow too intimate to watch, even after what you two had just done. Instead, he busied himself with pulling his pants back over his ass, and tucking himself away, as a silence fell over the both of you. It felt heavy, loaded with questions he didn’t know if he wanted an answer too. After a few minutes a whisper left Peter’s lips, breaking the silence,
“I think I might be homeless”.
You didn’t answer right away, but Peter could hear your breathing change multiple times, like you were going to say something,
“I’m sorry”.
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tagging some mutuals (this is so embarrassing): @hollandweather​, @luciwritesstuff​, @userholland​, @t-lostinworlds​, @silkscream​, @sparklingsin​, @logangarfield​, @justapurrcat​, @tomdutch​, @devotion​, @lnmp89​, @mayal0pez​, @melodicheauxxo-writes​,
...
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2K notes · View notes
stylesharrys · 1 year
Note
hii so ik ur not rlly answering requests bc ur still getting back into writing, but if u do could u could experienced!peter parker x virgin!reader him being rlly sweet and cute and stuff
A/N: Hiiiiii, this has been in my inbox for so long, but here you go, just a little blurb for all the Peter girlies x SMUT AHEAD! (this is more dirty than cute, I had the wrong playlist on LOL)
//
She asked for the lights off, didn't want him to see her just yet. But even in the dim lighting, Peter can tell her lips are plump and swollen.
Her hot breath fans across his mouth as she palms at her breasts through her bra, just as he instructed.
Such a good girl, he thinks.
"You're doing so well, petal."
Her hum vibrates against his tongue as he catches her lips in another searing kiss. Peter can feel Y/N's hips rolling up against his, and for a virgin, he reckons she's as eager as any experienced person.
"Tell me what to do, Pete." She whispers breathlessly, the rasp in her voice eliciting goosebumps to the surface of Peters skin.
He bites back a grunt, gnawing on his bottom lip to keep him from taking her there and then.
"Put your hand in your panties, sweetheart."
Peter doesn't miss the whimper that croaks past her lips. Can feel her trembling hand make its way to the hem of her soaking panties.
He quickly grabs her wrist, halting her movements just before her fingers can slip past the band.
"I want you to rub your clit-" he begins, replacing her hand with his as the tips of his fingers rub small circles on her nub, "-rub it exactly as I do."
A heavy sigh breaks the silence, her mind clouded by the pleasure of his touch. Another sigh is quick to follow when he removes his hand and pulls away completely from her.
"Now," he lays back, "you're going to touch yourself just like that."
Slowly, he tugs his hard cock free from his boxers, wrapping a hand around his shaft and letting out a hiss.
"And you're gonna let me watch."
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shayyprasad · 18 hours
Note
hello!! can you please do one with mcu peter parker where reader survived a bad mass sh00ting, and they're somewhere in the city, someone pops fireworks and reader gets scared cuz it kinda resembles gunshots and peter comforts her? thanks 🫶
promise | peter parker
hi, darling! thanks for requesting, i hope i did it justice! (this took a little longer than anticipated to get out, sorry!)
summary: the pain of the past is a tricky thing, even more so when it's traumatic.
warnings: mass sh00ting, themes of vi0lence,mentions of bl00d, g#ns/g#nshots, panic attack, ptsd
pairing: comfort!peter parker x hurt!reader
word count: 2.3k+ words
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the festival is big, it's bustling with life. happy couples, children, and families roam the area, food in hand, smiles on faces.
lights stream from booth-to-booth, which there are row and rows of. you're walking hand in hand with peter, giggling about something he said.
after a long couple weeks, this is exactly what the two of you need. alone time (well, not really alone). just something to bring spirits up.
you pass by another couple, where a girl is holding the cutest teddy-bear. it's a soft beige, with darker laced bow around it's neck. he sees you eyeing it, grin on his face.
peter is thinking exactly this; "i'm winning that for her."
he drop your hand, to which you complain, and strides up to the couple. "hey, man. what booth did you get that from?"
the man looks up at peter, smile on his face, "all the way in the back, it's red, last row, i think."
peter nods, thanking the guy. he walks back over to you, grabbing your hand again. by the look on your face, he can tell you didn't hear.
he kisses your cheek, then pecks your lips. "wanna come find out?"
you nod like it's obvious, but peter likes teasing.
he's always liked teasing you- no, loved. he fell in love with the way your cheeks turned pink when he did so, all that power in his hands. somewhere along the line, he fell in love with you too.
if someone were to ask him when, he wouldn't know. he's always had that feeling for you, since the day you met. it just got stronger as time went on.
peter pulls you to the back of the large park where the festival is set up, all the way to the back. "peter!" you laugh, "slow down!"
you bump into many people along the way, apologizing to each one. but after a while, you give up.
he takes you to where the guy said it would be, and sure enough, there's a red booth, a row of teddy-bears in the prize cabinet. "i," peter declared to you, "am winning you that."
you squeal; you've got no doubt he can. "really?"
"yep."
you're already thinking of where to put it. the nightstand by your bed would look nice, or maybe the bookshelf. finally, you decide you'll keep it in bed with you.
peter steps up to the booth, and it's one of those ping-pong-in-the-cup ones. his spidey senses won't even make him break a sweat. he pays and the lady gives him three small balls. he weighs them in his hand, calculating how much force he'll need to use.
you're clearing excited, making him equally giddy. "ready, baby?" he asks, stealing a kiss for good luck.
"yeah!" you exclaim, with a clap of your hands.
peter glances at the cups, then back at the balls. he squints, aims, and makes the shot.
that's one.
"go, peter!" you cheer.
aims, and then makes the shot. it's almost too easy.
that's two.
he makes the shot.
that's three.
it's over so quickly, that the lady is suprised. nevertheless, she takes the bear out of the cabinet and hands it to peter, who in turn, hands it to you.
"aww!" you gush, "it's so cute!" throwing your arms arounf him, "thanks, petey," you nuzzle your nose to his.
"anything for my angel."
you kiss him, and hold the bear close to you. there's a small group of patio chairs and tables, and for the most part, it's empty. "can we sit down for a bit?" you asked, and then smiling, "not everyone has spider-man stamina."
he laughs, and you're sure it's the prettiest noise you've ever heard. you and peter move over there, and he pulls of your chair. "god," you half-swoon, "may really did raise you right."
"didn't she? i'm so charming. and chivalrous. and-"
"good in bed," you say, it's off-handedly, he can't help but blush. met by his silence, you over at him from across the table. "oh, sorry. i though we were listing things. you can't forget the most important one, can you?"
peter rolls his eyes, still flustered, "so you wouldn't be with me if it weren't for that?"
"hmm," you joke, drawing this out. it's fun, it's a distraction; you love it, and you love him. "well, it's cool you know tony stark."
"then go date him," peter says, playing along.
"maybe i will," you pull the bear to your chest.
peter makes a face, kicking you gently from under the table. "he's, like, 50!"
"well, maybe i like that. he can be my sugar-"
"okay, yeah, we're done. no- we're done."
"you sound jealousss..."
"no, i'm throughly concerned. mr. starks' about 30 years older than you!"
you sigh, "what about captain america?"
"that's worse! wait, you know he's a hundred-something, right?"
"even better. and he doesn't even look it."
"y/n. no."
"fine, fine- oh, wait! have you seen bucky? god, i just want him to bend me-"
"i don't wanna hear the rest of that sentence."
"i suppose i'll settle for spider-man," you say. "too bad he's not super-old and rich."
he kicks you again, and you giggle, falling into silence. you're having something of a staring contest with him, but you lost ages ago. your eyes trace his facial feature, and he's so pretty. you open your mouth-
"you're so pretty," peter says, leaning against his hand.
"aw. you stole my compliment. i was gonna tell you that."
"well, y'know, you still can."
"okay. you're more prettier."
"seriously? 'more prettier?' aren't you literally majoring in creative writing?"
"it's my off-day. now take the compliment."
"thank you. but you're the prettiest."
"you're max pretty times infinity. so... take that."
"and that's why you aren't a math major."
"boo-hoo. i win."
he sighs, long and exaggerated, "i can't argue with the basic, ever-true fundamentals of math."
"no, you can't."
you bicker back and forth, before you know it, it's gotten dark. peter scoots his chair next to you, arm slung around you. "isn't it nice?"
"what?" you asked, looking up at him through your lashes.
"spending some nice time together."
"oh. yeah. it is. it's been some time since we've had this much fun."
"mm. after this, do you-"
and it's so quick and unprecedented, you don't even notice it. it's a short pop, and instantly you've broken into a cool sweat.
because, god, it sounds so much like-
there's screaming. so much of it. it's never-ending, buring into your ears. it's everywhere, coming from everyone, and now it just sounds like a one big siren-y noise.
it feels like you're back there in a blink, feet glued to one spot as people run away.
"pe-peter," you choke, "you said- you said there wouldn't be fireworks!"
he looked around, almost frantic. "no, hey, breathe. the website said there wouldn't, and i double checked with the staff. it might be some kids-" he thinks that was the only one, but just a second later, loud pops and crackles go off - a whole series of them.
peter figures that it's some stupid teenagers down by the dock, which isn't far from here, but that's not his main priority right now.
his main priority is you.
you tune it out, the rest of his sentence because suddenly, it's not fireworks anymore.
you can see the bodies from where you're standing, darky, inky, red liquid spilling. they aren't bodies, not really, but lumps of clothing, a corpse inside.
you think you might be sick, but you can't feel anything.
or maybe you're feeling everything, but it's too much, so it doesn't feel like anything.
peter's holding you tight, you're aware of that, but you can't breathe. it's like your stomach twists itself into knots, like a rubberband being stretched and pulled.
your hands are clammy, your heart rate is speeding up, and your breath is getting shallow. you feel like you're going to burst.
honestly, it's not a great sensation. it's sickening.
you want to focus on what peter's saying to you - something along the lines of breathe - but you can't. you're sucked up into the past. but it doesn't feel like the past. it feels like the present.
someone knocks into you, and you fall onto your shoulder. you're wearing a sleeveless shirt, and your shoulder is rubbed up against the hard granite of the ground. you can faintly feel the blood that's there. though, you can't get it out of your mind that it's nothing like the body just 50 feet away.
you should move, probably, get up.
you can't.
you're frozen, all but for you're trembling breath, just as you were then.
peter grabs your chin, making you look at him. "y/n - can -" it's choppy, not enough to ground you.
and just like that he's gone again.
you never looked at any news reports, but you're sure that there were hundreds killed.
why weren't you one of them? it wasn't that you wanted to die that day, but it didn't seem fair.
children, parents, significant others, grandparents, babies...
they told you that you were lucky.
you don't feel lucky.
he squeezes your shoulders, "hey, hey, can you tell me three things you hear?"
you knows he's trying to help, but you want him to shut up. he seems to know this, but presses on, "three things you hear, angel,"
you're hyperventilating, "music," you choke out, it's the cheesy tunes, "the- the-" you're trying to think, "laughing, there's laughing. i h-i hear you."
"brave darling," he says, "can you do another on for me? two things you smell?"
"um," is it working? you can't tell. "food- food?"
"that's right," peter coos. "one more."
"your cologne."
"last thing, last one, lovie. one thing you taste."
"blood." it's short, you bite it out.
wait- blood?
"blood?" peter asks. he's concerned.
you swipe your tongue over your teeth, there's that distinct metallic taste. you bit your tongue, and you didn't even realize how hard.
he gently grabs your jaw, "no- hey, don't do that, my love."
you press your tougue against the roof of your mouth, trying to will the blood away.
peter wipes away a hot tear you didn't even know was there, "my love, breathe. you're safe, you're okay."
you bury your face into his chest, clutching his shirt. your hands are sweaty, but your lungs are doing there job better.
your breathing slows, and you're left sobbing. he tells you that it's okay, he tells you that you're safe. you know that in spider-man's arms you are, but it doesn't slow the cries.
his heart aches, seeing you like this. you've been getting help, but the hurt doesn't go away all at once.
peter knows this better than most.
he also knows that sometimes there isn't anything anyone can do to help (even though this is all he wants to do).
all he can do is sit there and hold you, let you know you'll be okay.
your crying stops, leaving you with hiccups. you're beyond glad that there isn't really anyone here, expect for an eldery pair. out of the corner of your eye, you can see they're concerned.
you feel like you can sense the dried blood on your shoulder, and you want nothing more than to scratch it away. you feel so filthy.
on impluse, you pull away from peter slightly, brushing that shoulder off. you can see the scar that it left, making you want to throw up. there's a patch of warm saliva that coats your toungue, and you can feel the burn in your throat, but barfing in public is the last thing you want to do, so you swallow it, gagging.
your head hurts, and suddenly, the festival isn't fun.
"oh, pretty girl, i'm so sorry," your tucked back into the safety of his hold, silent. "'s some dumb kids. i promise you, i had-"
"i know," you sniff. you're tried, exhausted.
"do you wanna go home?"
he reads you well, you think.
in response, you nod meekly. "okay, honey, we can go home. do you want a second?"
you shake your head; you wanna get outta here.
he helps you up, arm wrapped around your waist.
his main priority is to get you home, where you'll be content tangled in sheets. it's a quiet ride home, his hand is on your thigh, you're holding on tight.
you're asleep by the time he gets home, so he gently scoops you up, making his way inside.
peter sets you on the bed, going to the bathroom to get makeup wipes. he's sure you don't want to sleep in that.
it's the cool wipe that wakes you up, your eyelids fluttering open.
"petey?"
"hm? you're okay. we're home. 'm taking off your makeup." he pulls one of his shirts out from his drawer, moving back over to you.
"help me take this off?" he askes, tugging on the hem of your shirt.
you comply, and he takes it off, replacing it with one of his. you shimmy out of your shorts, and he tosses them somewhere, along with his own shirt. he quickly changes into something comfier, sliding into bed with you.
"feeling better?"
"yeah. i'm sorry- i-"
"don't you dare apologize," peter lightly scolds you, there's a soft type of stern in his voice.
you let your mouth fall shit, you aren't winning this. instead, you tuck yourself into his side, shielded from all your pain. when your so close to peter, all you can focus on is his scent, his love, leaving no room for everything else.
you sigh into his touch, and he holds you softly. "do you feel better?"
you're quiet, you don't have to put up a wall with him, because it's easy around peter. "yeah," you reply after a moment. "i feel better. 'm just tired now."
"okay," peter kisses your forehead, "then we can go to sleep, pretty girl."
to you it's a simple thing to say, it's sensible. to him? no.
to peter, it's a promise.
it's a promise that he'll always be by your side, that he's gonna be here to work it out, to put a smile on your face.
yeah, it's a promise.
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loverwebs · 1 year
Text
It's Supposed to be Fun, Turning 21
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Pairing: Peter Parker x Fem!Reader
Synopsis: Your boyfriend, Peter, doesn't make it to your birthday dinner. So you walk home alone, only to run into the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.
Warnings: Slight angst & mentions of alcohol
Word count: 1,700
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A very tired Y/n stumbled over the bumpy sidewalk of New York, cursing under her breath whenever she nearly stepped in a puddle. Her purse was crossed along her body and a bottle of wine swung from her hand.
She made her way home quickly and in annoyance, not wanting to be out any longer than she had to. With that in mind, she took a shortcut through an alleyway.
"Ma'am, stop right there!" A voice behind her shouted. She hesitantly turned, about to blow the person off, before she saw the city's masked hero within a few feet's distance.
"Holy shit! Oh, fuck did I do something? If it's the wine— I'm legally allowed to own it! And I have my ID, so please don't arrest me. I'm not even drunk!” a startled Y/n shouted.
"No, no! It’s okay," The vigilante approached her.
"Oh, okay," She said, touching her heart and sighing in relief. "Sorry for getting all jumpy there. It’s been a long day."
"No, you're fine! I didn't mean to scare you. I was just gonna say, you really shouldn't be walking home by yourself. It's not exactly safe, especially at night," He explained through an overly deepened voice.
"I know it's not," Sighed the girl. "My friends tried to get me to walk home with them, but my place isn't that far. And I'm really not in the mood to talk to anyone."
She continued her path, glancing back at him to add a quick, "No offense."
"None taken," He replied through a jog, catching up to her. "Did you just happen to be carrying around a bottle of wine with you, though?" He softly laughed at her antics.
"Uhh, yeah, just tonight." She returned a weak one.
"What's the occasion?" He asked, though he already knew the answer.
"It's my birthday. I'm 21 now and I wanna have my first drink with my boyfriend. He couldn't make it to my party and the restaurant let me bring one home with me."
She smiled sadly, lifting the bottle up so he could see the written For the birthday girl, enjoy! that a waitress had signed in permanent marker.
Peter felt guilty hearing this. Not only because he didn't make it to her birthday, but because she still waited for him. Wanting to share the special moment— despite him having missed it entirely.
"Happy birthday, then." The masked boy spoke, voice cracking as he said it. "I hope you spent it well."
"It was... eh. But thank you."
"Why was it 'eh'?" He asked, holding his breath.
"It's just, I don't know." She shrugged, not wanting to get into it.
She pondered for a moment, then, "I'm not trying to be rude or like, ungrateful, but don't you have actual Spider-Man stuff to do?"
He shook his head, "Making sure you get home safely is just as important as any other mission to me... plus, I wanted to make sure you were okay."
"That's nice, but I wouldn't want you to stop helping someone who actually needs it because of me."
"It's fine," He waved a hand in dismissal. "Don't even worry about it. I was pretty much done for the night anyway."
All she did was nod, not entirely convinced, then he spoke again.
"Sooo.. your birthday," He started.
"Right, yeah. It was fine, I guess."
"How come?"
"You're already walking me home, the last thing I want is for you to be my therapist too." She joked.
"Well, maybe I could help cheer you up... I like to help people. It's what I do."
"My friends already tried.. and failed. What makes you think you can?"
"I'd try my luck," He suggested. "Or we could walk in awkward silence."
She laughed at that, to which he said, "So what's got you down?"
"Okay, I mean.. like I said, my boyfriend didn't show up at the restaurant, soo I kinda spent the whole night staring at the door in case he did."
"Oh." He mumbled. "Sounds like a shitty boyfriend," He whispered, a little more to himself.
"He isn't," She shook her head a few too many times.
"He's naturally late to things, yeah. And he can't always make it to stuff. But when he is there.. His presence makes everything so much better." She said truthfully.
Peter hummed in understanding, his heart feeling heavy at her defending words. Here he was in a Spider-Man suit, meanwhile she wore her best party outfit. Not even cursing at the boy for his absence.
He didn't deserve her, he thought.
"Did he at least call? You know, saying he couldn't make it?"
Silence filled the air momentarily, which was enough of an answer. Still, she said, "He usually does..."
"Yeah?" He swallowed the forming lump in his throat.
"He— he always lets me know if he can't. And he did wish me a Happy Birthday! It's just— he's— I don't know what's going on with him anymore." She gave a teary laugh.
"Sometimes, it just feels like he's gonna break up with me. I feel like he wants to do it, but he's waiting around for the perfect opportunity, y'know?" She quickly wiped her now forming tears. "Sorry, I sound really pathetic."
"What?! No. No... You don't." He paused. "You— you really think he's gonna break up with you?" He dreadfully asked.
"I don't know," She gave a weak shrug. "He's like, distant lately."
"Have you.. Have you tried talking to him about it?"
"I've tried, yeah." She chewed on her lip nervously, thinking of the many instances where he canceled at the last minute when she intended on speaking with him.
"Like just this week, I asked to meet up after his afternoon class because I wanted to know if something was wrong, but..." She trailed off, holding back more tears.
"He canceled," He finished her sentence, wincing at her confirming nod.
"Right, and it's like, what am I doing wrong?" She added helplessly.
"Nothing! You're not doing anything wrong," He said through an interior panic.
"Doesn't feel like it."
They continued walking as Peter thought of the correct words to say. She'd laid her thoughts right there at his feet and he didn't know what the right move was.
He gave a desperate sigh, then proceeded to say, "I don't think he wants to break up with you."
"Seriously? That's what you're gonna tell me? You don't know that—"
"Hear me out... It's just, you know. Maybe he has a lot going on and.." He started, feeling overwhelmed.
"And maybe he hasn't been able to really tell you everything he wants you to know because he's scared. Scared to lose you. Or scared that you're already slipping away from him." He rambled on.
She slowed down her pace, tilting her head at him as a sense of familiarity within his words settled in.
He wasn't faking his tone anymore, and she wasn't as in her head as she was when he first found her.
"But you're not doing anything wrong, okay, Y/n?" He continued, voice breaking as he stepped closer to her. "I can promise you that."
She looked around to make sure the streets were empty before abruptly stopping in her tracks, eyeing him, when it finally clicked for her. She inched closer to him, while her shaky fingers tentatively reached towards the bottom of his mask.
She did so slowly, making sure he had time to stop her if he wanted to.
"Wait," He put his hand over hers. "It's not really.. It's not safe to do that here."
She understood and immediately withdrew her hand, taking a few steps back.
"Do you trust me?" He walked towards her, carefully placing his hands on her hips. With a nod, she wrapped her arms around his neck.
Just like that, he aimed at a nearby building and shot a web, swinging with her in his arms. Her body tightly hugged him as they made their way to the rooftop of Peter's old apartment building. The same place they had their first date.
A sloppy "Happy Birthday" was webbed above the projector that was setup, along with blankets on an old couch that they’d made out on several times.. A few of her favorite drinks and snacks placed there as well. She noticed them as he gently put her down.
She once again turned to look at him, but his mask was already off.
"I'm sorry I missed your birthday, Princess."
"Oh, Peter," She frowned and went to cup his face. "Who did this to you?"
"It doesn't matter," He said softly, leaning into her hands.
"I'm so sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I really wanted to... But I never knew when or how to do it. And tonight, I wanted to be there." His lips trembled.
"You have no idea how much I wanted to be there. But some guy had this really wonderful idea to rob a bank on your day, which caused a lockdown and eventually it led to a car pileup—"
She placed a kiss on his lips, shutting him up while holding onto the back of his neck in order to keep him close.
"I saw the news, Pete." She said once they parted and hugged him tightly, body shaking as she did so.
"Are you crying?" He asked through furrowed brows. "I'm so sorry I upset you, I—"
"I'm not upset with you. You don't have to apologize."
"You're not?"
"I mean, I was upset when I thought you were preparing some 'it's not you, it's me' speech on my birthday. And the thought of that hurts a lot more than knowing you kept this from me."
"I shouldn't have ever made you feel like we were gonna breakup, I'm sorry. I really didn't mean to give you that impression. You have every right to be upset at me for it." He hung his head low in shame.
"Thank you for owning up to it, but it's okay now, love. I'm okay now that you're here," She reassured him. "And I'm really glad you trusted me enough to share this with me."
"Of course I trust you. I had it all planned out.. We were supposed to go to dinner first and then come here. I was gonna explain everything up here, but things just got all messy, as always."
"I just said it's okay," She giggled, tracing the spider on his chest. "Besides, I can't complain when you look this good in your suit."
She smiled at his forming blush and messed up hair, then leaned in to kiss him once again.
"I love you," He whispered against her lips.
"I love you too, Spider-Man."
2K notes · View notes
waitimcomingtoo · 6 months
Text
Wasn’t Me
Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!reader
Synopsis: when Vision accidentally phases through your wall and catches you and Peter in the act, you try to stop it from spreading to everyone in the tower before Tony gets home
Masterlist
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“Wait, this isn’t the kitchen.” Vision said as he accidentally phased through the bedroom wall. You and Peter froze at the sound of a third voice and slowly looked up. Every time you snuck off to have some private time with each other, you made sure to lock the door. But despite all your best efforts to keep your relationship a secret, neither of you accounted for Vision coming through the wall. Especially not when you were right in the middle of….something.
“Oh. Hello.” Vision said and gave you and Peter a polite wave. The act he had caught you did not seem to phase him at all while you and Peter were horrified.
“AHHHH.” You and Peter screamed at the same time. You rolled off of Peter and landed right on the floor while Peter grabbed a pillow and placed it over his lap.
“Forgive me for intruding, but I am looking for the kitchen.” She said to meet her in the kitchen.” Vision asked politely.
“Well you’re not gonna find it here!” You exclaimed as you threw your shirt back on.
“Dude! Get out! ” Peter shouted as he hastily tried to zip his pants.
“Oh, sorry, am I interrupting something?” Vision genuinely asked.
“YES!” You screamed like it was obvious.
“My apologies. I bid you both a good day.” Vision nodded curtly and disappeared back the way he came. You and Peter stayed in silence for a while as you processed what had happened.
“Do you think he saw us?” Peter asked to break the silence. You sat up from under him and gave him a look.
“Do I think he saw us?” You repeated slowly.
“Well do you?” Peter asked as you climbed back onto the bed.
“Are you kidding me? Of course he saw! The straw was already in the coconut. There’s no way he didn’t realize what was going on.”
“Maybe he thought we were just wrestling?” Peter shrugged weakly.
“Uh huh. Wresting with your dick out. Just like WWE.” You said sarcastically.
“Damn it. He definitely saw us. Do you think he’ll tell anyone?” Peter worried.
“He better not. My dad will kill you. And then vaporize your corpse. And then set the ashes on fire. And then blow them into a shrimp cocktail.”
“But I’m allergic to shellfish.”
“Exactly.” You whispered.
“Oh shit.” Peter gulped. “We need to go find Vision and make sure he doesn’t tell anyone.”
“Let’s go. He’s probably charging or in a bowl of rice or something.” You said and lead Peter out of the room. You went into the kitchen and found Vision at the breakfast table.
“Hey Vision.” Peter smiled awkwardly as you stood beside him.
“Hello, Peter.” Vision said politely.
“So, about the little snafu from before. We just want to make sure you don’t tell anybody about what you saw.”
“Yeah. Because it wasn’t what it looked like.” You added.
“Oh, no? It looked like the two do you were engaging in sexually explicit activity.” Vision replied. You and Peter exchanged a panicked look and tried to think of a way out of this.
“It looked like that, yes, but that’s not what we were doing.” Peter lied as you nodded along.
“Hm. That’s funny. I can detect heart rates and both of you appear to be lying.” Vision said with genuine curiosity.
“We’re not lying, silly.” You forced a laugh. “My heart is racing because I haven’t had any food yet but I drank a bunch of coffee.”
“You know women and their pumpkin spice lattes.” Peter added, earning himself a jab in the side.
“Watch it.” You said through a smile.
“And my heart just beats fast because I have the heart rate of a spider.” Peter added. “No lying here.”
“Oh, I see. But if you two weren’t engaging in sexual activity, what were you doing?” Vision questioned.
“Uhhh…” Peter scratched his head and tried to think of something.
“Peter was just choking on a pretzel and I was getting it out of his throat.” You jumped in.
“With your tongue?” Vision asked.
“Yes?” Peter said weakly.
“With your shirts off?”
“It’s a new technique.” You deadpanned.
“I’m not aware of this technique. Can you demonstrate on me?” Vision asked you.
“Absolutely not.” Peter snapped and stepped between you and Vision. Vision looked at Peter in confusion and you had to jump in again.
“Because it didn’t work.” You explained. “He still choked.”
“He seems fine to me. Although, I am detecting some slight discomfort in the abdomen.” Vision said as he looked Peter up and down.
“I have a tummy ache.” Peter admitted and patted his stomach.
“Would you like me to conduct a physical exam?” Vision asked and held up both his hands.
“No. I probably just have to fart.”
“Oh my God.” You groaned and rubbed your eyes.
“So are we cool? You’re not gonna tell anyone what you saw?” Peter asked Vision.
“We are cool. I will not be telling anyone what I didn’t see.” Vision confirmed.
“Okay. Good.” You sighed in relief.
“Except for Wanda.” He added. “Because I already told her. I tell her everything. I love her quite dearly.”
“Oh my God.” You groaned even louder.
“What did you tell her you saw?” Peter asked him.
“Just you were engaging in-“
“It wasn’t sexual activity!” You exclaimed. “He was choking and I was saving his life.”
“Then why was his penis out?” Vision asked Peter.
“Because…it…was… cold.” Peter said slowly, hating himself with every word.
“Oh my God. Both of you need to stop.” You stated. “Do you think Wanda going to tell anyone about what you thought you saw but didn’t actually see?”
“I’m not sure.” Vision replied. “You’ll have to ask her.”
“Fine. We can ask her.” You sighed and pulled Peter by the hand and brought him to where Wanda was reading on the balcony.
“I don’t want to. She’s scary.” Peter whispered to you.
“We have to talk to her and find out what she knows before she tells my dad.” You whispered back.
“I can whisper too.” Wanda whispered as she suddenly appeared behind the two of you. You both screamed and jumped apart as she laughed. You grabbed Peters hand and ran away, brushing past Natasha as you went.
“They’re a little odd, aren’t they?” Natasha chuckled as she watched you run by.
“They are.” Wanda agreed. “You know, Vision caught them doing it before.”
“What? No way.”
“Yeah. He said he accidentally phased through Peters bedroom wall and caught them.”
“Oh God. Yuck. New fear unlocked. That’s hilarious though.” Natasha laughed at the thought.
“What’s hilarious?” Steve asked as he came into the room.
“Vision caught Y/n and Peter doing it.” Natasha told him.
“What?” Steve laughed. “No way.”
“That’s what I said!” Natasha laughed.
“Honestly, I kinda figured they were doing it. They are the only two in the tower around that age. And lord knows Peter is hornier than an…animal with horns.” Steve said weakly when he couldn’t think of an animal.
“Rhino?” Wanda asked.
“I was thinking Triceratops.” Steve admitted.
“Wait, isn’t there a rule again dating on the team?” Nat asked. “At least, that’s what Tony tells me and Bruce every time we make eye contact.”
“If he had a problem with that, he’s definitely gonna have a rule against one of us dating his daughter. Especially Peter.”
“I thought Peter was a nice boy, no?” Wanda asked.
“He is.” Steve nodded. “But all Tony will see is that he’s a boy who Vision caught with his daughter. He’s gonna blow Peter into a million pieces.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s what Vision walked in on.” Wanda mumbled. From across the room, you and Peter were peeking out from behind a wall to watch them all talk.
“This is bad. They’re all laughing and saying our names.” Peter whispered to you.
“Do you think Wanda told?”
“I don’t know. What if she made them all see it with her mind powers?”
“Why would she do that?”
“Because she’s evil and not to be trusted!” Peter whispered harshly.
“We just need to talk to her and find out what she knows. Maybe she didn’t even believe Vision.”
“Do we have to?” Peter whined. “What if she enters my mind palace?”
“She wouldn’t find much.” You mumbled.
“What was that?”
“Nothing, sweetie.” You patted his cheek and pulled him out from behind the wall. Natasha and Steve had left at that point and Wanda had gone back to her book.
“Hey, Wanda.” You said with an awkward wave.
“Oh. Hello. I haven’t seen you two in forever. What have you been up to?” Wanda said sarcastically.
“Not much. Same soup, just reheated. You know the vibes. So, uh, we just wanted to talk to you about something. Something Vision might have said.” You began.
“Oh. You mean you two swallowing each other alive in Peters room?” Wanda asked. You and Peter exchanged a look and Peter let out a loud gulp.
“Vision doesn’t know what he saw.” You told her.
“Vision is made from the highest form of artificial intelligence. He knows everything.”
“Okay.” You said mockingly. “But he doesn’t know in this specific situation.”
“He’s programmed to access a situation down to every last detail in case there is a threat of danger. And it seemed the only threat of danger in Peters room that day was running out of oxygen. Or maybe a broken pelvis.”
“I’m flattered but I’m not that good.” Peter said humbly.
“He’s right. He isn’t.” You nodded in agreement.
“What was that?” Peter asked you.
“We just want to make sure whatever Vision told you about what he thinks he saw isn’t going to be told to anyone else.” You said to Wanda.
“Now hold on.” Peter tried to go back to what he had heard.
“Secrets safe with me.” Wanda smiled and zipped her lips.
“And me.” Bruce said from behind you. You and Peter whipped around and saw Bruce staring at you while eating a bowl of cereal.
“What?! Were you in here the whole time?” Peter asked.
“Yeah. Wanda, you are funny. How come I never noticed that?” Bruce chuckled.
“I’m not sure.” Wanda shrugged. “You tell me.”
“God damn it. Are either of you going to tell anyone what Vision saw?” You asked and pointed at Wanda and Bruce.
“I thought Vision didn’t see anything?” Wanda smirked.
“Right. Is anyone going to tell my dad about what Vision thinks he saw but definitely didn’t see?” You asked with a hopeful smile.
“Maybe? I don’t understand the question. Can you reword it? Or maybe write it down so I can see it?” Bruce asked.
“Oh my God.” You groaned. “I thought you were the smart one.”
“Ouch. Can you tell your girlfriend to stop being mean to me?” Bruce asked Peter.
“I’m not his girlfriend because we weren’t engaging in sexual activity because we’re not dating. Everyone got that?” You asked angrily.
“Got it.” Wanda nodded.
“No, sorry. Still confused. So you are dating but Vision didn’t catch you guys doing it?” Bruce asked so genuinely that you wanted to scream.
“No, he definitely did.” Wanda snorted. You looked at her in betrayal and she smiled apologetically.
“Oh. Now I get it. You guys are dating and Vision did catch you having sex.” Bruch realized. “But what are we not telling Tony?”
“No one is telling Mr. Stark anything. Everyone just keep your mouth shut about the activities, which may or may not have been sexual in nature, that Vision allegedly walked in on. Okay?” Peter exclaimed.
“My lips are sealed.” Wanda assured you. “Well, now they are. Because I already told Steve and Nat. But that was before you asked me not to tell anyone.”
“Oh my God. Find. Can we trust you?” You asked Bruce.
“I’m not gonna rat. Don’t worry.”
“Thank you.” Peter nodded. “You’re dismissed.”
“I don’t take orders from you.” Bruce snapped and walked away.
“Jesus Christ.” Peter whispered and felt genuinely offended by the tone. You took his hand and brought him away from Wanda to regroup.
“We need to get ahead of this before anyone else finds out we’re secretly dating.” You told him.
“You guys are secretly dating?” Sam asked as he came into the hallway, making you both jump.
“Damn it!” Peter shouted and hit the wall.
“Oh great. Captain fucking America knows now.” You grumbled.
“Since when are you two a thing?” Sam laughed and looked between you and Peter.
“Two months.” You admitted.
“Two months? And Tony still doesn’t know?”
“Do you think Peter would be alive right now if my dad knew?” You asked and gestured to Peter.
“That’s a joke, right?” Peter laughed nervously.
“I guess not.” Sam shrugged.
“Are you gonna tell my dad?” You asked him.
“No.” Sam replied.
“Cool. Thanks.” You sighed in relief.
“But only if-“
“Mother fucker.” You exclaimed now that there was a new obstacle.
“Only if you promise to never bring up that one time with the TV.” Sam continued.
“You mean when you got caught-“
“Zip it.” Sam cut you off. “Or I’ll tell Daddy Warbucks about your affair with Little Orphan Annie here.”
“This whole conversation has been wildly emasculating.” Peter mumbled.
“I never saw anything.” You told Sam.
“Good.” He nodded. “Then we have a deal.”
You went to shake hands when your phone started to ring. You looked at Peter curiously and pulled it out of your pocket.
“Hang on. Hello?”
“Hey short stack. I’m landing in 20 minutes. I can see that most of the team is in the tower today so I thought we could all have a nice, family dinner in the dining room. How does that sound?” Tony asked you through the phone.
“The entire team? In the dinning room? For dinner? Tonight?” You asked as panic grew in your chest.
“Are you playing a one man game of Clue? Just let everyone know, will you?” Tony asked.
“Sure, daddy. No problem.” You laughed nervously and looked at Peter with wide eyes.
“Thanks, peach. See you soon.” Tony said before having up.
“Shit balls.” You whispered once you were off the phone.
“Was that super good news?” Peter asked hopefully.
“My dad wants the whole team in the dinning room for family dinner.” You said and held your breath for his reaction.
“Son of a…” Peter started to shout and then quieted down, “shart mama.”
“I know. It’s bad.”
“This has gotten so out of hand. I’ve never taken this many L’s in a row. I don’t know if I can take anymore. My body is shutting down. I haven’t peed all day.” Peter said as he paced back and forth.
“Keep it together.” You said as you gripped his shoulders.
“Oh no. This is going to be so awkward.” Sam laughed at your misfortune.
“Why? Because everyone knows we’re secretly dating except for Mr. Stark and they also know Mr. Stark will kill them for knowing and not telling him right away so tonight will be a long, uncomfortable game of who tells him first?” Peter asked all in one breath.
“Yes, that’s exactly why.” Sam nodded and looked at Peter strangely.
“I don’t want to go.” Peter whispered and turned to you.
“We all have to go.” You told him. “He’ll get sus if we’re not all there.”
“But what if your dad kills me?” Peter whined.
“Then I’ll wait at least three months before getting a new boyfriend.” You smiled sweetly and patted his chest.
“You can do that but I’ll just haunt him and kill him in his sleep.” Peter smiled back.
“Oh my God. Come on. We have to go get ready for dinner.” You said and pulled Peter to your room.
30 minutes later, everyone was seated in the dining room with Tony at the head of the table. You and Peter nervously peered through the doorway to see what the set up was.
“What’s our plan?” Peter asked you.
“Sit far away from each other and diverge the conversation every time my dad gets close to happening upon the truth.”
“Okay. How hard can that be? We never get together for family dinner. They’ll all be talking so much that you and I won’t even come up.”
You and Peter took your seats at the table with you next to your dad and Peter further away. You made eye contact with Peter and nodded to let him know that you were in this together. Everyone stayed dead silent as the food was passed around and Tony was quick to notice.
“Why is everyone so quiet? Did Sam leave porn on the big TV again?” Tony asked as he chewed his food. You gulped and looked at Peter in a panic. You had been wrong about everyone talking and keeping the attention away from you. Instead, everyone was silent and tense since they didn’t want to be the one to let Tony know what Vision had seen.
“That was one time.” Sam defended.
“But how could we ever forget?” Tony teased him.
“I just wanted to watch Mama Mia. My eyes were burned.” Bucky said as he shut his eyes to keep out the memory.
“Let it go.” Sam said flatly.
“I don’t remember that.” You said robotically. Sam gave you a discreet thumbs up across the table.
“What? You were the one that found it.” Tony reminded you.
“Doesn’t ring a bell. I think you’re all remembering incorrectly.” You said with no much stiffness it sounded like you were reading from a prompter. Tony looked around the table and everyone avoided eye contact with him. They mindlessly pushed their food around their plates to look busy so that Tony wouldn’t ask them anything.
“Why is everyone acting weird?” Tony asked.
“What? We’re not. You’re being weird, dad.” You forced a laugh and patted Tony’s arm.
“Right.” Tony said skeptically. “So, Pete the treat. Any romantic interests at school?”
Everyone turned to stare at Peter, who was in the middle of taking a sip from his glass. Peter started choking on his water for a long time. No one made any effort to help Peter so he just sat there choking for an uncomfortably long period of time. Everyone stayed silent as he Peter coughed, turned red, and clapped his chest to try and get the water out. When he was finally done, he was crying and bright red.
“What?” Peter asked horsely.
“Peter doesn’t want to talk about girls, dad.” You laughed nervously. Everyone exchanged looks while also sneaking glances at you and Peter.
“He does with me. Come on. My dad never bothered with this stuff and I want to break the cycle. Tell me about your love life.” Tony insisted and playfully patted the table. You shot daggers at Peter and everyone turned to look at him. Peter felt sweat dripping down his forehead and smiled nervously.
“There’s no one, Mr. Stark. No girls.”
“I don’t buy that for a second. I can see the hormones brewing in your eyes. You’re sweating just at the thought of her. I know there’s a girl.”
“Maybe.” Peter squeaked out.
“See? I knew it. Tell me about her. She cute?” Tony asked. Peter looked at you for a brief second and quickly looked away.
“Yeah, yeah. She’s gorgeous. Really pretty.”
“She’s all right.” Sam shrugged, making everyone stifle a laugh as your jaw dropped.
“Fuck did you just say?” Peter snapped.
“I was kidding. Damn.” Sam held up his hands in defense.
“Damn, indeed.” Tony laughed. “Way to stand up for your girl, kid. She’s a lucky lady.”
“Thank you, sir.” Peter said and hoped that was the end of the conversation.
“You really are a good kid, Peter. I don’t tell you enough. I was just saying this to Pepper the other day, but if anyone is ever brave enough to try and date my daughter, I hope they’re like you.” Tony said sincerely. This time, you started choking as everyone murmured with amusement.
“Really?” Peter asked hopefully. He looked at you but you didn’t dare make eye contact.
“Yeah. Sure, you’re pretty annoying and way too eager at times, but you’re a good kid. You’re responsible, you care about other people, and you know how to get a decent haircut.” Tony continued.
“So you’d give Peter your blessing? If he and I ever wanted to date?” You asked skeptically.
“Absolutely not.” Tom said immediately.
“What?” Your face dropped. “But you just said-“
“I said I hope the person you date is like Peter.” Tony specified. “But Peter would never be allowed to date you.”
“Why not?” Peter asked and you shot him a look. Everyone else kept their heads down and turned away from Tony so he wouldn’t suspect anything.
“Not that I care. Psh. Peter is lame. I would never date Peter. Haha. But yeah, why not?” You asked your dad.
“Because he’s a superhero. And no daughter of mine is dating a superhero.”
“But you’re a superhero.” You pointed out. “And mom married you.”
“I know. That’s why I’d never allow you to go down the same path. I’ve missed hundreds dates, thousands of calls, and a million important moments because I was off being a superhero. I was saving the world but I was hurting the person I love most in the process. I don’t want that life for you. If Peter was an average guy off the street, I’d be thrilled to know you were dating him. But Peter isn’t average.”
“I know that.” You replied, starting to get annoyed now that your dad was trying to tell you that you couldn’t do something. You were already doing it, but he didn’t need to know that. He needed to know that he couldn’t make your choices for you.
“Ayo. Yeah she does.” Sam snorted. Everyone gasped and looked at him, making him freeze. You and Peter stared daggers at Sam who smiled sheepishly.
“Oops?”
“You little bitch.” You mouthed across the table at him. Tom noticed the way everyone reacted and grew suspicious. He looked at you and noticed you weren’t making eye contact. He then looked at Peter, who looked like he was about to pass out.
“What was that?” Tony asked Sam.
“Nothing.” Sam scoffed and went back to eating.
“Samuel. Tell me what you just said.” Tony said with an eerily calm smile.
“I don’t want to.” Sam whispered.
“Tell me or I will shove your wings so far up your ass-“
“I said she knows Peter isn’t average.” Sam admitted before Tony could finish his sentence. You buried your face in your hands while Peter chewed off all of his fingernails.
“What does that mean?” Tony asked and turned to you.
“I can confirm that as well.” Vision raised his finger as he spoke up. You and Peter looked at Vision in betrayal while everyone else stayed silent.
“Oh my God.” You whispered and rubbed your face.
“What? What’s the big red giant talking about?” Tony asked you again, sounding angry this time. Before you had a chance to think of something, Vision spoke up.
“I’m talking about how I accidentally caught them fornicating earlier today, sir. Also, am I required to be here? I can’t actually eat food.” Vision said politely. Everyone was dead silent as Tony processed what he was hearing. No one dared to look up from their plates or even move a muscle.
“You know what? Vision is right. We should actually all leave. And never return. Bye!” You said and got up from the table. Tony grabbed the back of your shirt and made you sit back down.
“Nobody move.” He said in a low voice. Silence fell over the table again as Tony slowly looked to Peter. That’s when he noticed that Peter had passed out and had his limp head in his dinner plate.
“Wake the son of a bitch up.” Tony ordered. Wanda lifted Peters head by his hair and a green bean stuck to his cheek and forehead.
“Peter?” Tony asked, but Peter didn’t wake up. Wanda shook him, then took his pulse to see if he was even alive.
“He’s unresponsive.” She reported.
“Jesus Christ.” You groaned to yourself as you watched Wanda and Steve try to wake Peter up.
“He peed his pants.” Steve announced, making you groan even louder.
“PETER!” Tony shouted as he banged on the table. Peter woke up and looked around in confusion. Tony slowly stood up and leaned over the table while staring daggers at Peter.
“Somebody tell me what’s going on.” Tony demanded. No one said anything, so you bit the bullet and stood up as well.
“Dad, Peter and I are dating. Vision caught us before and the whole team found out about it. That’s what’s going on, okay? Please, don’t kill my boyfriend.”
“What?” Tony asked as he slumped back in his seat. You couldn’t tell if he was angry or upset, but it was definitely not good.
“Sam was watching porn on the big screen!” You blurted and pointed to Sam.
“You said you didn’t see anything!” Sam pointed back at you.
“That was before you didn’t hold up your end of the deal!” You shouted.
“Shut up, both of you. Are you kidding me right now? You’re dating Peter Parker?” Tony asked in a calmer voice.
“Yes, daddy. I am. I have been for two months. We didn’t tell you because we knew you’d be mad and we just wanted some time together before you forced us apart. I wouldn’t normally lie to you like this but I knew you’d never allow us to be together and I love him. I just needed to love him for as long as I could before the world knew. I’m sorry. Please, don’t be mad at me.” You said as you took your dads hands. Tony stared at you for a long time and finally, put his hand on your cheek.
“I could never be mad at you, princess.” Tony said kindly. You smiled in surprise as Peter let out a sigh of relief.
“I’m gonna turn Peter inside out, though.” Tony said sweetly before lunging at Peter. He punched Peter right in the throat, making Peter collapse to the ground. You rushed to Peters side as Tony shook out his hand.
“Dad! You can’t hit him that hard. He’s only 5’8. He could’ve died.” You yelled at Tony as you pulled Peters head into your lap.
“That didn’t even hurt.” Peter wheezed out as he clutched his throat. Tony wound up to hit Peter again, but stopped when he saw something that surprised him. He watched Peter reached up and touch your face as he whispered to you that everything was going to be all right. He thought he had just been punched in the throat and was awaiting the punishment of a lifetime, his priority was to comfort you when you were upset. Tony then knelt down beside Peter and helped him sit up.
“I’m sorry, kid. I should not have hit you. It was a slight overreaction.” Tony sincerely apologized.
“Slight?” Peter croaked out.
“I just wasn’t expecting to come home to this news. But if it’s been two months and my daughter says she’s this in love, maybe I was wrong. Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as I thought.”
“Mr. Stark, I know it’s probably hard to think about your daughter dating someone with a life as unpredictable as ours, but I don’t put anything above her. If I’m out on patrol, chances are, she’s hanging out on a rooftop with a walkie talkie telling me where to go. If I have to miss a date to take care of something, I take her with me. She’s my partner in all of this. I don’t leave her waiting around for a text back all night. She comes first.”
“Actually, “Vision began, “when I entered your room, it seemed as though Peter was going-“
“Do not finish that sentence, jumbo tampon.” You cut him off.
“You can trust me, Mr. Stark. You can trust us.” Peter said as he wrapped an arm around you. Tony looked between the two of you for a while but didn’t say anything.
“Please, daddy.” You whispered. Tony finally caved and smiled softly.
“Okay. You’ve convinced me. I’m not gonna kill Peter. You have my blessing, underoos.” Tony said as he helped Peter off the floor.
“Really? You’re not gonna force us apart?” You asked hopefully as you wrapped your arm around Peters.
“I’m not.” Tony confirmed. “You’re old enough to make your own decisions. But if he breaks your heart, he’s getting turned inside out. At least for a day. I cannot compromise on that.”
“Deal!” You clapped your hands before hugging your dad.
“Hold up, do I get a say in that deal?” Peter questioned.
“Don’t push your luck, kid. After what Vision walked in on you doing with Tony’s kid, you’re lucky to be alive right now.” Bruce said as he patted Peter on the back. Tony frowned as he pulled out of the hug.
“Hold on, what exactly did Vision walk in on?” Tony asked. Peter motioned for everyone to keep their mouths shut as Tony looked around the room. When no one answered him, he looked at you expectingly.
“So.” You laughed nervously. “Dessert, anyone?”
Tag List 🏷️
@thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling
@tom-hollands-wifey
@whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings
@imyourliquor-youremypoison @andreasworlsboring101
@peterparkoure
@justcallmehitgirl @jackiehollanderr
@emmamarshmellow @unbelievableholland
@sovereignparker @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @eridanuswave​ ​
@solarxmoonchild @canyouevencauseicant
@quaksonhehe @lovelessdagger
@thesuitelifeofafangirl @marshxx @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie
@maybemona
@alexxcorona113 @lethal-wisdom
@pandaxnienke
 @officialsimppage @peterbenjiparker @itsemohours
@freakofmusic25 @tomholland85
@olixerwxxd @leilanixx
@whereismytelephone @so-very-asleep @white-wolf1940
@spideyspeaches @hihiweezing
@mathletemadison  
@dhtomholland @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @prancerrparkerr @loudthoughts-softspoken
@hallecarey1 @adayasgeorgia @blackwidowisthebest @imawhoreforu
@ciarahollands
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shawnxstyles · 9 months
Text
panty stealer 2
DATE: JULY 12, 2023
summary: after the forbidden and surprising night of the ‘break-in’, you couldn’t get your mind off of peter. luckily, he couldn’t either, and finds his way back into your bedroom to invite you to a party.
requested: so many times yes!
words: 11.2k!! woah
warnings: SMUT (f- receiving [fingering, slight oral, masturbation, vibrator], praise kink, degrading kink, slight exhibitionism, dirty talk, and protected sex), language, mentions of marjuana/alcohol, and fluff
note: this was the most anticipated and loved of all my writings! i’m so thankful for everyone who liked part 1, i just had to write a part 2. enjoy!!! sorry if the gif is all weird again
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so many thoughts flew through peter’s mind as he swung through the streets of massachusetts: what homework or projects he might have, you, class, praying flash doesn’t do anything stupid while he’s gone, you, hoping ned doesn’t have a panic attack from flash’s idiocy, and you you you.
he thought of your body and the way it felt underneath him while he pushed himself deep inside of you. and the whimpers you let out as you came. and the sound of your laughter through the palm of your hand. and the smile on your face as he kissed your forehead. he wished he had kissed you longer. he wished he had stayed longer. forever.
was that dramatic? maybe.
you were a recurring thought that never seemed to cease from his brain.
peter sees you around school sometimes—only on the days you two have class together. neither of you made an effort to approach the other, almost as if you expected the other person to do it first. you both sat far apart from each other, too afraid to move seats around and make it obvious. but peter’s gaze fell heavily over your shoulder too many times for you to not feel it.
every time you shifted around to face the back of the room, you watched him avert his wandering eyes to anywhere but you. it made you smile and giggle quietly behind your hand, and of course peter’s hearing picked up on the angelic sounds, causing his heart to skip against his ribs.
and then class would begin and you’d have to wait until next class to see him again.
peter wanted to go see you—talk to you. he really did. but he was so busy with school work and being spider-man that he didn’t have a night off. mid-terms were coming up, but that also meant thanksgiving break was in the rear view mirror. after halloween of course.
in college, halloween was like any other day. you didn’t get a day off to trick-or-treat and hang out with your friends. instead, you were given a pile of tests the week before.
not much of a treat, huh?
outside of college, however, people threw the best parties that night. one of those people obviously being peter. luckily, halloween was on a saturday, so everyone would be done with mid-terms and ready to party their asses off.
flash needed everyone and their mom to come for him to be satisfied (well, maybe not their moms). he’s going to blow up everyone’s phone telling them to invite every person they know. peter didn’t care who showed up. he knows that halloween is one of the biggest parties of the year (besides fourth of july). peter only wanted—no needed—one person to be there.
knowing it’s been weeks since he’s seen you and the party was only in a few days, peter had to come and see you. he had to make sure you got the invite. it was difficult to fit visiting you into his schedule, but like always, he made it work.
you were becoming important to him, a priority.
he would only be in and out because who knows what would happen if peter was caught in there? last time, flash got his car hit with a baseball bat. flash was so mad that he completely forgot about peter’s dare, even though it was the whole point of sneaking into the house. it was deserved, but peter didn’t want any of that happening to him. so, peter promised himself no funny business unless you were in his room.
ugh, but peter really didn’t want you around the frat boys. they were way too much.
the sky was pitch black besides the hint of stars that were sprinkled in the sky. it was a chilly, fall night that made peter want to cozy up and pass out in his bed. but he had more important things to do first.
after a boring night of patrol, peter sneaks into his room through his opened window. without making too much noise (unlike flash), he quietly changes out of his suit and packs it into his closet in a box labeled books. peter is certain that no one, especially flash, would ever open that box. so he fixes his appearance by adjusting his shirt in the mirror, checking his teeth, and messing with his wild hair. on impulse, he throws on a cap to better hide himself. with that, he jumps out his window once again, shutting it closed on his way down with his sticky fingers.
like he’s done once before, peter sneaks across the street to the forbidden sorority house. he stares at the windows; all darkened bedrooms, except for one. peter wasn’t one hundred percent sure that that single lit bedroom was yours, but he was willing to test his luck.
for you.
peering at his surroundings, peter flips his hat backwards and slowly crawls up the side of the house. his fingers latch onto the windowsill as he very slowly lifts his head over it. he notices that it’s slightly cracked open before his gaze is seering through the glass.
you have got to be fucking joking.
your body lays sprawled across your bed as a delicate hand wanders between your parted legs and slides your infamous panties to the side. your torso is covered in the same mit t-shirt from that night, draped over your lavish figure tantalizingly. a laptop plays a pornographic scene of some sort, headphones plugged in one ear.
god, he wanted to touch you so bad.
he wondered if you were thinking of him. recalling how his fingers caressed down your body and how they touched every inch of your skin. but you couldn’t be, right? it’s been weeks and peter hasn’t made a move. you’ve probably moved on from that night like nothing happened. peter should probably go, leave you alone during such an intimate time—
“mm, peter,” your angelic voice hums a quiet moan that was only loud enough for peter’s hearing. peter feels his cock twitch needily at your noises, hissing to himself as you whimper his name. “feels so good.”
well, that’s just like a goddamn invite.
using every skill he has learned from being spider-man, peter yanks open the window and creeps inside. you were too emerged in your fantasies; eyes screwed closed as you listened attentively to the ongoing video. you failed to notice peter’s looming presence over your bed, even with only one headphone in. your noises continued, spurring peter’s next actions on.
without saying a word, peter lays his hand over yours, which is rubbing cute circles over your clit. your movements freeze and your eyes fly open. your mind doesn’t register the sight before you, so your breathing stops and your lungs get ready to scream out every millimeter of oxygen in you. but peter slips his other hand over your mouth before you could alert the entire neighborhood of his presence.
peter could sense the erratic beating of your heart as your tense muscles very gradually soften once you realize it’s him. once you’ve calmed down enough to not scream, you take your free hand and lower peter’s from your mouth.
he came back.
“p-peter, i didn't know you were coming,” you weren't sure what to say. your mind was still spinning like a top toy and your heart was beating like a galloping horse. your skin was burning underneath him, full of embarrassment and immense desire. “a head’s up would have been nice…”
“i’m sorry for the interruption…” peter says, eyes dragging down your body. his hand moves above yours gradually. you inhale sharply as peter guides your hand.
“you don’t seem sorry,” you retaliate as the friction from your hand with the help of peter’s begins to rile your body up again. you feel the wetness seep from your cunt, aching and needy for more. for more of him.
“how come you’re so wet?” peter completely ignores you, and removes your hand from your pussy with a gentle toss. peter didn’t expect anything tonight, but he especially didn’t expect to find his little angel with her hands between her legs. you gasp when his fingers are directly touching you, instantly clenching around nothing. his fingers are a bit chilly, in contrast to your flamy skin. “is it from the video?”
“n-no,” you stutter between needy pants as his fingers threaten to sink into your pulsing hole. your legs spread wider for him, inviting him closer to you. you slam the laptop down with shaky fingers to show him that you no longer need it.
“then what’s got you so wet?” two fingers dip into your cunt to persuade you to talk, but it’s doing the opposite. you bite your lip to hide the traitorous moan that threatens to escape. heavy arousal coats your labia while he pumps in and out of you easily, waiting for an answer.
“i was thinking of you,” you admit, hips rolling into his touch greedily. “wondering if you’d ever come back.”
peter’s heart saddens at the thought of you waiting for him. this whole time peter assumed you forgot about him, when in reality, it was the exact opposite. and there was sticky evidence to prove it.
“i’m right here, angel. what were you thinking about?” his body leans down hovering over yours, causing your body to sink into the mattress.
“thought about you climbing through the window, just like you did. imagined you’d fuck me, like you promised,” you moan quietly between words, trying to sound cohesive. hearing you say such vulgar words has peter’s cock twitching in his pants. with peter, you weren’t afraid to be straight to the point and tell him what you want. peter admired that, and would probably do anything you asked him to.
“with time, i’m a man of my word, baby.”
close and personal, peter interlocks his lips with yours. your frolicking hands drift to his warm neck, caressing the nape as you melt into him. peter inserts a third finger into you, eliciting a muffled moan against his lips. the action opens up your mouth and allows peter to effortlessly glide his tongue inside.
his fingers ram into you at a deliriously fast pace, causing your mind to haze into a euphoric state. it was impressive how peter could be kissing you unforgettably, but also skillfully pleasuring you with his hands. peter seemed like a man full of secrets and skills that you were dying to know.
who is peter parker?
fogging up your mind, your muscles tense and your back continues to arch until your stomach is touching his. your legs threaten to close from the overwhelming pleasure from his fingers, but you battle to keep them wide. his mouth trails down your neck and attacks the sensitive skin below your ear. teeth digging into your lip, you withhold all of your noises that peter so desperately wants to hear.
“if we were alone, you wouldn’t be allowed to be quiet,” he husks in your ear before trailing further down your neck. his voice was every level of attractive, pushing you closer to the edge. peter continued to check off all of your invisible boxes of turn ons.
“i know,” your voice was delicate and strained, and peter could tell you were close.
your walls gripped his fingers eagerly, and your stomach tightened up. it was embarrassing that you were so close so fast, but you couldn’t hold it any longer. once his fingers curled one last time inside of you, you were a goner.
“come for me, baby,” he demanded quietly, so you did.
your orgasm washed over you like a tsunami, drenched in blissful euphoria. peter worked you through your high by softly rubbing your legs and coaxing every last drop out of you until you were sensitive to the touch.
without having to ask, peter lowers himself to your mound and yanks your panties down and off your legs. he then cleans up your mess with his skillful tongue, licking and slurping all of your juices. your sensitivity causes you to be squirmy, but he’s done before you know it and then you’re left reminiscing.
although he was right in front of you, you missed his touch already. you missed him inside of you because it made you feel connected, intertwined. you didn’t want him to leave you again for weeks and come back on a random week day. or even worse, never again at all. you hoped that it didn’t become a pattern because you were getting attached to him, whether you liked it or not (you did), and that wasn’t a healthy pattern to be attached to.
peter’s body hovers over yours once again, held up by his muscular arms. your eyes attach to every detail on his face, admiring and memorizing his features in fear that he’ll leave again. he gazes at you like a living daydream, ethereal underneath him. one of his hands caresses your supple cheek, lightly swiping away your frisky hair. you practically purr into his touch, melting at his gentleness.
“peter,” you start, voice as fragile as thin glass.
“y/n.”
“please, don’t leave,” you insist in a whisper, hoping he’d stay. but you know he can’t.
“you know i can’t,” he says as you begin to sit up. see?
“when will i see you again? you can’t just… show up at any time,” you huff, sitting up straight as peter takes a seat beside you.
“i know i know…” peter thinks for a moment before reaching into his pocket. “here. you can put your number in my phone.”
your heart skips a simple beat. you extend your arm to snatch your phone on your nightstand before hesitatingly grabbing peter’s. you switch devices and enter your numbers. you label your name as ‘y/n :)’ and then you trade back phones, but don’t look at them.
“c’mere,” peter says and you curl your body into his. his warmth was addicting and cozy, and could easily make a great pillow for the future. “i’m sorry for not coming back sooner. i’ve been pretty busy with… everything i guess. i should’ve told you.” with your head cradled in his chest, he kisses your rumpled hair genuinely.
a sweet apology. could he get any better? is he just a figment of my imagination?
you lift up your head so you could see him looking down on you. “apology accepted, parker. but i feel like i’m being manipulated with your kisses.”
“how was i supposed to know you’re a sucker for forehead kisses?”
“everyone is a sucker for forehead kisses!” you whisper yell causing him to laugh wholeheartedly as quiet as possible. he kisses your head a few more times, making your heart full of affection and care.
how did you get lucky enough for peter parker to fall into your life? or more specifically, break into your house on two accounts?
“you never fulfilled your promise,” you said, referring to him having sex with you. don’t misunderstand, you were very grateful for what he gave you, but to be direct… you were greedy, needy, and missed his dick.
no time for beating around the bush.
“like i said, with time, i’m a man of my word,” which, in other words, means he’s not having sex with you. tonight, at least. you can’t help the small frown that appears on your lips.
“how much time? a girl has needs, you know,” you rose your eyebrows and pointed towards the closed laptop. peter puffed under his breath, causing you to smirk.
“there is a party this saturday… at my place. you should come,” peter informs.
“should i come or do you want me to come?” it was a test.
“if this is some sexual innuendo, yes—”
“jeez, get your mind out of the gutter, peter!” you roll your eyes and softly shove his chest, but a smile never ceases from your face. that only causes him to wrap his arms around you and squeeze you harder against his firm body.
he must live at the gym.
“you started talking about sex first!”
he’s not wrong.
“of course, i want you to come to the party, y/n,” peter smiles as his eyes wandering over every inch of your face. in any other scenario, gorging eyes would’ve made you feel insecure, but peter’s made you feel all flushed and tingly. “you’re the only person i want to be there.”
your smile enlarges even more and a rush of heat crawls up your neck. instead of kissing his lips for being such a romantic goofball, you decide to pull off his backward cap and kiss his forehead. the rosy blush that cascades his pale cheeks doesn’t go unnoticed.
“see! everyone likes forehead kisses!”
just as you say those words, peter hears footsteps padding across the hallway. he really didn’t want to leave you again, but he also really didn’t want to get caught. he sighs and you notice his change of demeanor, causing another frown to arise on your lips.
“you have to go, don’t you?”
“i’m sorry—”
“it’s okay. i’m glad you came. i’ll see you on saturday,” you smile genuinely and kiss his forehead again. he smiles, but catches your luscious lips instead. peter almost forgot about the footsteps, always lost in the moment with you.
he is obsessed with kissing you.
however, the moment is too short for both of your liking. peter struggles to pull himself away from you, but does because each footstep in the hallway is like a warning. with a finally kiss to your forehead, peter smiles endearingly before approaching your window, ready to jump out.
“oh, and peter?” as his hands are on the window, he turns around to look at you. “don’t forget these.”
you fling your panties at him and his quick reflexes have no problem catching them. you take his hat that he left on your bed and lay it on top of your head. peter cannot describe the fond feeling that bubbles up in his chest at the sight of you in his apparel. he’s sure he would die seeing you in his clothes if he’s starstruck from you in his cap.
a familiar heated flush blossoms on his cheeks as he lightly shakes his head with a few chuckles.
“you’re ridiculously cute,” is the last thing he says before he slides out the window and jumps down onto the ground.
ridiculously cute. you’ve never been called that before. are you surprised that you like it a lot? nope.
you still don’t understand how he doesn’t break a few limbs from jumping out of a two-story house, but again, that’s just one of the many things he’s skillful at. you wondered what else he was capable of. like you said, he seemed like a man full of secrets. some people thought of curiosity as a curse, but you saw it as a pathway to unknown opportunities.
not even a minute after peter left, there’s a knock at your bedroom door. you answer, skeptical, and one of your friends walks in.
“i know we’re not allowed to have any guys here, so you get kind of lonely, but when you’re watching porn at midnight can you please turn it down? i could hear it at the end of the hall,” she rubs her eyes and elicits a yawn. your eyes widen and you swallow thickly at the idea of the entire house hearing you.
you really thought you did a good job at being quiet…
“uh, yeah, sure thing,” you half smile as you apologize and wish her a better goodnight. you flick your lamp off and shift comfortably on your bed.
you gaze at the ceiling and imagine peter’s face above yours. you envisioned his lips, his cute nose, and each precious beauty mark on his face. it was easier to fall asleep knowing what his phone number was, and that saturday was only three days away.
those three days could not have been longer. the party was your motivation to wake up every day and go to class, eager as ever. you only saw peter once at school and that was not enough to satisfy the yearning you had inside of you. that yearning was also like an alarm clock that sprung you out of bed at eight a.m. on saturday.
you knew you had hours to waste, so you did all the things you had been procrastinating on: laundry, tidying up, few assignments due next week, and you even dusted parts of the house. yeah, you were that bored.
you weren’t sure what time the party started, but you would probably be able to tell from your window. you had no idea what you were going to wear even though you were thinking about it since wednesday. you believed you had a good sense of style, at least to your liking, but you don’t have all the clothes that you wish you had. living on a college budget wasn’t easy, but you made do.
at this point, it was only two in the afternoon, and you were about to run into the wall until your head was bleeding just to waste more time. this was the downside to having a ridiculously big crush on someone; the inescapable waiting. when crushing, time seems prolonged when you’re without them. but when you’re with them, the world seems to stop completely. it’s like nothing matters but just you two.
you remembered back to wednesday when peter was sitting on your bed and holding you snug against his body while you talked about such a mundane thing like a party invite. you could never erase the feeling of his kiss, his lips forever etched onto yours. the kiss felt like hours, but it was merely a minute before he had to pull away. you imagined what it would be like to just be with him without worrying about anything else. these daydreams cause the yearning in your chest to expand like a balloon, which is never going to satisfyingly explode until you’re in his arms again.
without making a big deal out of it, you needed a good outfit. so, you knocked on one of your “sister’s” doors. you weren’t a fan of the term “sorority sisters,” especially because none of these girls felt like sisters to you. yes, you were all decent friends who went to parties and went out to eat once a month together. but you weren’t as close to them as you were with your friends back at home. you missed them, but you’ve all moved on with your lives.
violet answers with a cheery come in and you walk into her room. you hint that you’re looking for a nice dress for the party tonight.
“i’m glad you came to me first,” she smiles as she stands up from her bed. she heads toward her closet, which is practically pouring out clothes that would laugh at yours. she had so many colors and choices, it was almost overwhelming and you weren’t even the one really choosing. “so. who’s the guy?”
“what? who said anything about a guy?”
“the fact that you want a nice dress for a frat party. you’ve never cared before, so it has to be a guy. so who is it?”
“it’s no one in particular,” you lie easily as you sit on her bed. she sifts through each dress in deep thought.
“so, you want a nice dress to catch any guy’s attention? i don’t buy it,” violet shakes her head, causing her long, black hair to wave.
not that you really care if she believes you, but what’s a believable lie? you know she’ll probably nag you about it the entire night if you don’t give her a valid excuse.
“if i’m being honest, i’m trying to, you know,” you raise your eyebrows high, motioning your hands as she whips around to face you. she nods as a knowing smirk grows on her lips. you weren’t technically lying–you did want to get laid, but you only had one person in mind that could do the job.
“i see. that’s all you needed to say,” she flips through more dresses before pulling out a short red one that makes your eyes widen. it looked nice, too nice, and you didn’t want to ruin anything she had because you’d probably spend the next few months paying to replace it. “let’s get you ready.”
“but the party is in–”
“nuh uh, we’re getting ready now. also, we’re making it into a costume.”
for once, you’re glad you listened to violet about getting ready early because it was already six o’clock by the time you guys were both finished. you somehow gave in to the idea of her dolling you up into some kind of sexy spider woman? you didn’t really know. she thought the red and blue accented your skin nicely. violet did what she wanted. you didn’t even plan on wearing a costume in the first place, so you didn’t really mind.
your hair was down and wavy. you had her short red dress on and white fishnet tights. she also gave you royal blue heels. she painted black webs on your eyes with eyeliner while you wore a matching red lipstick. it was a lot more than you expected to see on yourself when you looked in her vanity mirror. hopefully, the look is as attractive and alluring as violet says it is. meanwhile, violet dressed as “slutty catwoman” (her words, not yours).
and yes, violet was going. everyone at mit would be going. it was one of those annual parties that's been going on for years, even before your class was there.
you enjoyed that; traditions and routines. they created memories and showed the change through each generation. thinking back, you bet your ancestors would die of a heart attack if they saw the way you were dressed and the things people did at these parties. but none of those thoughts stopped you from leaving the sorority house and walking across the street to the frat party.
you hadn’t even walked in yet, and the music was booming throughout the neighborhood. through the blinds that failed to close, you could see the technicolor lights flashing in redirection. cars of every shade were parked for probably miles down the street, and you knew as the night went on the number of people would only increase.
violet walked in front of you, strutting through the door like she owned the place. you followed behind her almost cowardly, but you weren’t really looking for everyone’s attention anyway. just one.
however, you forgot that the whole reason violet believed you were wearing this dress in the first place was for that exact reason. so, when she realized your shyness, she turned around and shook all your nerves out of you. literally. she shook your shoulders until you were woozy and nearly stumbling over your heels (you are now wishing you wore sneakers). it was like you were already tipsy by the time she was done.
she dragged you towards the kitchen without any words, seeming as though you wouldn’t be able to hear them over the blaring music and loud chatter. bottles of liquor decorated the marble countertop along with blue and red solo cups, trashed like a 90’s high school movie. violet grabbed the first bottle she saw, pouring the dark liquid into a cup she somehow snagged.
“your turn,” she shoves the bottle and cup towards your body as a stranger bumps into you from the back. the place was getting packed, making it hard to find anywhere to breathe. “some liquid courage.”
“i’m okay. i will later, though,” you rejected, not liking the idea of being drunk when you had a goal in mind. by the end of the night, you really wanted to be in peter’s bed. but you hated the idea of being drunk while having sex, especially when you wanted to enjoy it. you only indulged in drunk sex when you really needed to get off and one; didn’t want to remember what happened, or second; didn’t want it to last longer than that night. mostly the latter.
you know what it feels like to be with peter, and you craved to feel like that again. just thinking about him made you feel a thousand different kinds of wonderful; heart racing, stomach swirling, core burning. you knew the second you found him it would be hard to keep your hands away.
peter finally decides to shuffle down his stairs for the first time tonight. when the roaring music began an hour ago, he knew the party had, too, but he didn’t feel like going down yet. he couldn’t help but peek out his blinds in his bedroom, waiting to see you crossing the street.
he swears he was in his bedroom for at least an hour, occasionally peeking out the window, impatiently waiting for your arrival. with a slight frown on his face, he realizes that you might not be coming.
why would you?
peter assumed that you just now noticed how creepy it was for him to sneak into your bedroom. twice. maybe all your smiles and kisses were just silent pleads to make him leave the room faster. but your laugh seemed so genuine, and the sweet, little noises that you muffled under your palms were from real pleasure. right?
you were moaning his name.
he imagined you strutting across the street in a jaw-dropping dress, one that would send him into a frenzy. but you would be too humble and would shrug it off like you were the most average person on earth. peter would scoff and take you into his arms and drag you up into his room. then he would admire you until you believed you were the most gorgeous girl he’s ever seen.
open mouth kisses etched on your naked body. bites and pinches of tease. your sweet hums and delicately broken moans. nails clawing into his tough skin greedily. his voice guiding and praising you while yours is disheveled in pleasure.
god, he’s so in his head. he’s so far gone. and he barely knows you.
like a daydreaming idiot, he slaps the side of his head a few times to get his brain back into reality. he stares at his appearance in the mirror, silently motivating himself to have a good night whether or not you show up.
taking a deep breath, he finally exits his bedroom. of course, the music is booming and the place is already as crowded as a concert. peter trails down the stairs, but stops midway when he sees the top of your head.
is that you? how did he miss you?
moving swiftly down the steps, he weaves his way through the crowd, his fake glasses nearly slipping down his face. multiple people try to stop and chat with him, but he doesn’t indulge for long, having a clear destination in mind.
but, just when he reaches the kitchen, you’re gone.
he swears he just saw you. maybe he’s going crazy.
releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding, peter pushes through a few more bodies before reaching the sliding glass door. he squeezed himself outside and inhales. when you’re in a house full of sweaty, drunk people smoking weed, you become more grateful for the fresh air.
he removes his glasses and tucks them into his neckline. his eyes gaze at the backyard’s minuscule decorations, and then to the sky. he stares at the stars as they wink at him, reassuring that everything will be alright. he wishes that the town won’t need saving tonight and that everyone will be on their best behavior. he hopes that you’ll come to the party, even if it doesn’t end with you in his arms.
even though that’s all he really wants.
“peter?” a voice speaks, and the sound was so elegant and soft that he thought the stars themselves were talking to him. he forces himself to blink a few times before spinning around to face you.
he nearly faints when he sees your costume.
short red dress, white tights, blue heels, black webs. you were dressed as spider-man, or spider girl, and you looked absolutely fucking stunning. you would be the death of peter. seriously, he thinks he might pass out from lust and admiration looking at you. you were just so drop-dead gorgeous, he couldn’t believe it.
maybe the stars were on his side tonight. unless they wanted to kill him…
“are you okay?” your soft voice of concern walks straight up to him, delicate hand resting on his shoulder.
“y-yeah,” peter stutters before coughing. is it surprising that he’s already half hard? a small blush cascades his pale cheeks. “you look… really fucking good.”
there’s no dancing around it.
now, familiar heat warms your neck, cheeks, and ears at his compliment. his voice was low, so only you could hear it over the screaming music, and it was laced with a small growl that had your stomach flipping. your hand fell from his shoulder.
“thanks,” you couldn’t think of what else to say, but then you looked at his outfit, which was little to none. actually, he was wearing normal clothes. peter was probably the only person at the party without a costume. “i guess i had to go all out since you decided not to wear anything. it’s your party and you didn’t think to dress up?”
peter laughs, breaking any invisible tension that might have been there. god, you loved his laugh. it was so childlike and full of joy, that you couldn’t help but smile.
“i have a costume. hold on,” peter puts on his glasses.
“if you say you’re a hot nerd—”
“nuh uh, i’m a super hot nerd,” he then rips the buttons off half of his flannel, presenting the superman symbol on his chest. rolling your eyes, it was your turn to laugh. your hand covers your face at his silliness as you lean against the nearby wall for support.
“you’re such an idiot.”
“i can’t be a nerd and an idiot, angel.”
“somehow, you make it work,” you both chuckle with huge smiles on your faces, unable to look away from each other.
“hey, dickwad,” flash abruptly appears from the sliding glass door that you two were standing by. he was dressed as spider-man, which nearly made peter cry laughing out of irony when he first found out this morning, but he kept that to himself. “—oh, hey, y/n. nice costume! at least someone has taste.”
“superman is a great superhero—”
“whatever, dude. at least spiderman is real!” flash shouts before parading away, repeating the statement to his next victims that will hear him.
“what do you have against spider-man?” you ask, leaning against the rough wall by just your arm. you were too afraid to have the dress touch it, in fear of ripping or ruining it.
“nothing,” peter shrugs.
“oh, c’mon,” you shove at his shoulder playfully. “just say you don’t believe in him. it’s okay.”
“what! of course, i believe in him, he’s not santa claus.”
“oh my god, santa isn’t real?!” you pretend to be shocked, hands slapping your cheeks. peter lightly chuckles and rolls his eyes before nonchalantly grabbing your hand. your heart speeds up in your chest at his simple movement while your breathing halters.
and just like that he’s in control.
“do you want to get a drink?” peter’s thumb plays with the skin of your knuckles while he waits for your answer. but you can’t think of anything right now besides the soft caress being tattooed onto you.
“no, i’m not in the mood to drink tonight,” you replied, hoping that gave peter a hint at how you wanted the night to go. peter wasn’t as stupid as most guys, so you have high hopes that he understood the foreshadow.
“well, what are you in the mood for?” his voice was low again, speckles of lust wavering in it. he takes a step closer to you, and you can’t help but lay flat against the wall. you weren’t even thinking about the condition of the dress anymore. you swallowed as your stomach burned in anticipation.
“somewhere quiet,” your eyes flickered between his darkening eyes and his pink lips.
“it won’t stay quiet as long as you’re there,” a cheeky smile rises up on his lips as heat floods through your body. you hit his shoulder lightly, embarrassment flushing your cheeks.
following him and his contagious smile, peter drags you through the crowds of people. there were more people in the house than when you arrived, but you’re not surprised. the upstairs section of the frat was basically off-limits to most people, unless you really had to go to the bathroom and the downstairs one was taken. you’ve been to the house a few times, but you’ve never stayed long enough to go upstairs.
but tonight everything is different.
unlike your wooden floors, peter’s are carpeted, so you’re walking very carefully on your heels. when you reach the top step, your calves are slightly burning from the exercise.
looking both ways, peter leads you towards his bedroom at the end of the hallway, hands intertwined. it felt secretive, and a part of you liked it. he closes the door right when you got inside, locking it quickly. but while he’s doing so, your hands release from his to explore his room. he rushes to clean his messes books.
peter had a gray and black color scheme that was alluring. his dark gray sheets looked soft and plush, and you could imagine yourself sleeping in them every night. were you getting ahead of yourself? maybe. you barely knew him, but you felt like you’ve known him forever. you glance around his room some more, trying to get to know him.
he had two band posters; led zeppelin and guns n’ roses. you didn’t expect the second one, but it impressed you. his desk was scattered with textbooks and papers like he had just been studying. turning around you see his two-mirror closet. it was slightly ajar, letting you see a few boxes.
“what’s in the boxes?” you ask, slowly creeping your way towards them. you don’t miss peter’s eyes widening slightly and his cheeks heating up. now you have to know.
“n-nothing important,” peter scratches the back of his neck, and if he’s trying to hide something, he’s doing a horrible job at it. on the sides of each box were black handwriting.
“trophies and medals,” you read aloud, inching your way towards the door, “books—”
“y/n, don’t!” peter exclaimed nervously with a hand reaching out to stop you, causing you to turn around and eye his expression. he swallowed thickly, praying you didn’t open the box. his anxiety was at an all time high. “there’s… personal stuff in there.”
“okay, okay. you don’t want anyone to know you have sexy magazines,” you rolled your eyes and huffed out a chuckle. “i get it. i’m not jealous.”
“yeah…” peter’s cheeks don’t cool down, still red and warm. for some reason, he senses the awkward tension arising in the atmosphere around you both, and he doesn’t know how to tame it. you both know what you want now, but it’s hard to bring it up without being so forward.
“did i tell you that you look good in glasses?” you speak after the few seconds of silence. you get yourself comfortable on the edge of his bed, unstrapping your heels from your already sore feet. you groan. “feels so much better.”
“thanks,” peter joins with a never-ending blush, sitting next to you. he’s itching to touch you.
why was it so much easier when he broke in?
he turns to face you and stares at your eye makeup. you had little black webs on the corner of your eyes. for some strange reason, the idea of you dressing up as him really turned him on. even if you didn’t know it was him.
“peter,” you said a bit breathlessly. your heart was racing with anticipation and lust. he hadn’t even noticed you were staring right back at him. you could look at each other for hours, but you really wanted more. needed it. subconsciously, you were both leaning forward towards your lips.
“yeah?” peter’s gaze never faltered. his honey brown eyes darkened to black.
“i brought something for you,” his eyes shifted from your lips to your eyes, curious.
“it’s not even christmas yet,” he smiles, “and what’s that?” you leaned closer to him, your lips hovering over his ear.
“it’s a surprise,” you whispered seductively, grabbing his hand and placing it on your thigh. he doesn’t hesitate to rub the supple skin covered by fishnet, warm and smooth.
when you pull away just the slightest, peter crashes his lips to yours. the kiss was as passionate as your feelings for him, erupting your anticipation and nerves in small gasps. he shifts you over to his lap, so you’re straddling him. instantly, you buck your hips into his crotch, desperate for more than a heated kiss.
your heart is thrashing in your chest and there’s a familiar burn in the lower part of your stomach. your hands roam his brown hair, exploring his locks like it’s new territory. except it’s not. you’ve never felt like you’ve known someone so well without even knowing them that well. the chasing, the waiting, the wanting, the needing, the wondering—it was the strangest feeling, and you were addicted to it.
you pop your lips off of peter, puffy and pink. you both take a second to breathe before you start kissing down his neck. you’re not shy with your teeth, leaving marks on his tough skin that’s shielding layers of muscle.
when you get to his collarbone, you nearly whine because he still has his flannel and shirt on. you swear you’ve never been more horny or desperate in your life.
“relax, sweet girl,” peter reassures, petting your hair while you look up at him. “we have all night.”
just tonight? you thought. what about the other nights? and days?
after a soft sigh, you nod and begin unbuttoning his flannel. your hands are a bit shaky from all the anticipation and the rapid beat of your heart. of course peter notices.
“are you alright?” he questions softly, being the caring guy he is.
“yeah, just nervous, i guess,” you answer honestly because he makes it easy to. he’s comforting and he cares.
so why are you nervous?
but instead of asking you why, he says, “me too.”
after you undo the last button and gently remove his flannel, you delicately smile at him. it was so pretty, peter couldn’t help but smile too. you tug on the end of his superman t-shirt, and he yanks it off. and you don’t think you’ll ever get used to his immaculate figure. it was sculpted to perfection, as if he was given his body from some drug. or maybe even the gods.
his hand raises to caress your supple cheek, causing you to stare at his face before he’s kissing you again. it started off sweet and gentle, like how peter saw you. but it didn’t take long for it to be rougher and full of lust. peter could feel his jeans tightening underneath you, and he wasn’t stupid enough to confuse the scent of your arousal with perfume or something.
trying again, your lips go to trail down peter’s neck again. his breath is wavering our sighs of pleasure as you lick and nibble his skin.
“gonna tell me that surprise?” peter asks, hands crawling up to the back of your dress. he’s sure to be careful as he drapes the straps down, the top slowly sliding down as you make out with his chest. you push peter’s body down so he’s laying flat on the bed, not answering him. “not gonna answer?”
you weren’t. you didn’t have time for all the things you wanted to do with him. all the things you wanted him to do to you. maybe you were too far gone to think it would take more than a night to be fulfilled by peter. more than two. more than a week? maybe a month. you’d keep going until you’re sick and tired, but you don’t think you could ever get sick or tired of peter parker.
lost within the feeling of his body, you barely comprehend when he flips you dramatically over. his hard body hovers above yours, your dress barely hiding your peaked nipples.
“i ask you a question, baby,” he husks, breath fanning over your skin and traveling toward your ear. a shiver scatters up your spine and a spark of lust fires in your clit.
“you have to wait and see,” you answered breathlessly, a smirk rising on your face.
a dark color covers his eyes. peter doesn’t like not knowing something, so he’s desperate to figure out your little “surprise.”
with little to no effort, violet’s dress is tugged all the way down your body. he tosses it gracefully onto his bedroom floor, but doesn’t pay any mind to it as he gazes over your body. he hasn’t seen you since wednesday and he was craving you like crazy. he thought he was going to go insane. but as he stares down at your figure adorning white fishnets sexily, he finally knows what it’s like to go crazy.
“is this my surprise? because, fuck, you look like a prize.”
you giggle as his rough fingertips trail down your torso. your nipples ache from neglect and the chilly october air that somehow breezes through the room. your body arches up into his touch, needing him badly. maybe you should just tell him the surprise.
but wouldn’t it be so much better if he just found it himself?
“can i unwrap my present?” peter teases with a cheeky smile, nudging at the waistline of your fishnets. you know that the second you open your legs he’s going to see your wetness leaking from the fabric.
“yes, peter,” you can’t help but laugh.
“do you care if i rip them?”
“what?”
“can i rip them?”
“i don’t—” the quiet sound of stretching and ripping cuts you off. he tore your fishnets. well, violet’s fishnets. “peter!”
“too late. i’ve never been good at unwrapping gifts,” he quickly kisses your cheek in a sweet apology, “luckily, i’m pretty good at taking care of them.”
you roll your eyes at his cheesiness, but can’t help but smile like a little kid. as he makes his way down your body again, he widens your legs and sees his surprise. your heart throbs just like your aching cunt.
“ah, so that’s my surprise,” he grumbles. it’s hard for him to keep it together right now.
peter stares darkly at the small purple toy peeking out from your bare pussy. you had no panties on, which in peter’s eyes, seemed ironic. from the top of his eyes, he sees the tiny smirk creeping up onto your lips.
his hand crawls up your leg until it reaches the soaking folds of your throbbing cunt. he pets your slit delicately, like you’d break if he fully touched you. you might. even from that simple touch, you were squirming underneath him, silently begging for more.
“how long has this been keeping you full?” he questions, curious, “is this what you’ve been using while i was gone?”
“mhm,” you hum when his fingers find your puffy clit, throbbing with desire. you leaked all around the purple toy, wetness gushing from you.
“look at you. fucking soaked. what made you this wet? was it the toy?” peter circles your clit faster, making your breath falter. you try to keep your eyes strained on him, but the feeling is just too incredible to focus on anything else. “answer me.”
“n-not the toy,” you stutter with breathlessness. a wavering moan elicits from you.
“then why are you so wet?” he taunts, and the low level of his voice floods over your body just right. you clench needily around the toy right in front of him, causing him to growl.
“you! nothing makes me wet like you do,” you admit head falling back on the pillow as his rough pace gives in. he’s satisfied with your answer, so he goes to a full, fast rhythm.
you’re so dazed with your orgasmic chase that your body rumbles as it nears. to make matters more intense, peter testingly pushes the small button on the bottom of the toy. it springs to life, vibrating your entire insides electrifingly. a broken moan escapes your swollen lips, and you just pray it’s hidden behind the heavy beat of the party music.
your legs shake in his hands as his head lowers. you’re so close to your high and then he does even more? you swear you were going to explode.
his challenging mouth sucks harshly on your clit, devouring you like you were his last meal on earth. instead of the bed sheets, your hands find their way to his soft hair, tucking the roots with triumph.
you’re breathless and you’re close. so, so close. you can see your orgasm in front of you like a sunset and you’re riding straight into it on a horse.
“peter!” you cry when he nibbles on your clit, a smirk pressed against you. it was nice to release your moans without having to muffle them down. your core tenses like never before, overwhelmed by the extreme pleasure. “i’m coming—oh, fuck, please let me come!”
“go ahead, sweet girl,” he pops off of you and replaces his mouth with his thick fingers. “give it all to me.”
so you do. you release every tension within you that was holding you back. with eyes screwed closed, your back arches from the high. the wetness squeezes out of you while peter eases you through it. he switches off the vibrator and puts it somewhere besides you on the bed.
he lowers his head to clean up the mess with delight. when he comes back up, the grin on his face is toothy and contagious. you reflect it back, wondering how you got so lucky. how were you lucky enough for your intruder to be peter parker?
“you okay, angel?” peter asks, thumb caressing your heated cheek bone with concern. you’re melting into his touch, hoping to be a part of him forever. you wouldn’t mind.
“yeah, just… thinking.”
“good or bad?”
“i’ll tell you later,” you smile as you recall all the small thoughts you have of peter. peter rolls his eyes dramatically as your hands rub down his chest.
“but… i was wondering if i could be on top? just wanna try it. i need it,” you stare into his eyes and patiently wait for an answer. you’ve never been on top before, but with peter it seems like it would be really fun.
“i don’t know. do you want me to die?”
you laugh, forcing you to look away from his brown eyes. you push peter off the bed until he’s standing and ask him to take off his pants. when he’s completely naked, he goes to lean against his headboard, ready for you to sit on him. you crawl over to him as he puts on a condom from his bedside table.
“ready, baby?” he massages your upper arms.
“you’re being too nice, peter,” you note as you throw your legs over his hips. you didn’t actually know what you were doing, but confidence is key. if you just pretended like you knew, it would look like it, right?
“what? do you want me to be mean, baby? ‘cause i can be mean.”
“don’t think you’re really capable.”
“we’ll see then, doll,” peter says deeply as his hand grips your hip tightly.
as you slowly lower your body with peter’s guidance, you feel his tip enter you. it was a different feeling than being on the bottom. you had more control, but you had to do more work. you’re not sure if you cared to have so much free reign. you kind of preferred when peter took the wheel.
you rocked your hips forward, feeling his hard cock fully inside of you. it was stretching you completely out. you couldn’t get up if you tried. there was a pain mixed with pleasure that filled you up so good.
“c’mon, y/n. fuck yourself on my cock,” he growled in encouragement as you attempted to lift your hips up. you barely move because you’re squeezing around his cock so tight, like if you let go you’ll die. peter lightly moans as you squeeze him, wondering if he’ll die right here inside of you.
“i-i can’t,” you whine.
“you can’t? thought you needed it?” he taunts. peter can be mean if he really wanted to,
“it’s too hard.”
“you’re not even trying. good girls at least try. don’t you want to be a good girl?”
peter thrusts up into you once to make you moan, which works successfully. you spit out your broken moan with your hands clawing his biceps.
“barely moved and you’re already moaning. pathetic, really. you asked me to be on top and you can’t even take it.”
you clench around his prick at his degrading words. you didn’t think he could be mean, but you were wrong. his words were just the right amount of degrading that made you weak and so, so wet.
“look at that. my girl’s getting off on words like pathetic,” my girl. the two words nearly cause you to come right then and there. then peter thrusts up into you with purpose in each movement. as one hand grips your hip, the other floats up to your breast and fingers your nipple. he flicks and tweaks at it, causing you to arch into his touch. “what about slut? do like when i call you my slut?”
“fuck, peter,” you groan at his dirty talking. with each pump, you would feel every inch of him inside of you, filling you up completely. although you’re so full, you needed it harder and faster, and it was going to be difficult to get it from this angle when you’re not being much help.
before the begging words even slip from your mouth, peter is flipping you both over with ease. he doesn’t waste a second to slide back into you, causing your body to erupt in flames.
he begins with hard pumps, slowly gaining speed. but once he’s going fast, you could barely focus on your senses. you swear you could hear colors.
the sounds of your moans, shrieks, and screams echo throughout his bedroom. you don’t care if people could hear you. you hoped they could. you hoped they knew how good peter was destroying you, so they knew you were his.
peter hoped the same thing.
“so, so good, peter,” your eyes rolled to the back of your head in ecstasy.
“yeah? such a slut for my cock, huh?” he teases, voice low and lustful. “so cockdumb that you couldn’t even ride me.”
“i-i can do it,” a breathless moan escaped you, but you were too floaty to understand what you were really saying.
“oh, now you can do it? well, it’s too late, sweetheart.”
peter’s pace doesn’t falter. he makes sure to make every thrust count as he hits every angle. you cry out in bliss, chasing your orgasm like your life depends on it.
“i’m close,” the whine that elicits from you is groggy and strained from how sore it feels. you can’t even imagine how raw it would be from taking him down your throat…
for another time.
his rough hand trails down between you until he’s pressing his hand down on your stomach. with every shift of his cock he can feel himself moving through you. as he puts more pressure, you both collectively moan at the feeling.
“can you feel me? can you feel me deep inside of your little cunt? do you feel me right here?” peter drags your trembling hand to place it on your lower torso, right where he’s nonstop thrusting into you.
“yes, peter! fuck, you’re so big. i feel you in my tummy,” you clamp around his cock, your orgasm right around the corner. “please, please let me come. i’ve been good.”
“have you? you couldn’t even ride me even when i let you.”
“i’m sorry, peter–please. need to so bad,” your eyes are squeezed shut as you beg peter. his hand that was on top of yours drifts down to your clit. he stimulates it by rubbing in tight circles that have you seeing stars. every muscle is in your body is screaming and pleading for release while he overstimulates you more. “want to be good!”
“yeah? want to be a good girl?” a needy moan elicits from you. “then come for me. right now while you’re squeezing me.”
the air surrounding you turned wistful and cloudy. your body rumbled and erupted as you orgasmed, shaking with desire as it poured out of you. you thought the first time that you and peter fucked was the best sex you’ve ever had, but after tonight, you’ve never been more wrong. maybe it’s because you two are a little more comfortable with each other. maybe it’s because you told him to be a little mean. whatever it was, it was the best fucking sex you’ve ever had. because it was more than sex. it felt like more.
peter’s orgasm trails yours, making sure that you come first. his thrusts were slowier and sloppier as he pants out heavy breaths. before exiting you, his hand reaches up to caress your face.
“okay?” his voice was a bit raspy as he came down from his high. his arms were on either side of your head, and you felt safe and protected.
“more than,” you smiled dopily at peter, whose eyes were twinkling. reflecting a smile, peter begins to pull out of you. “do we have to?”
“have to what?” he stops his movements, half-way out of you. you hated the empty feeling that started to flood over you because you knew he’d leave soon. well, you would leave soon.
“leave. can’t we just stay in here all night?” you question. a part inside of you was scared for his rejection, that he was going to kick you out and then that was it. but the other half of you had the courage to ask because you knew it would all be fine.
“i would–”
“oh, there’s a but coming.”
“but i need to eat. and so do you,” he pulls out of you and rids out the condom within a few seconds. you don’t move from your flat position on the bed, feeling the cold waves of loneliness flooding over you already. peter had a tingle that you wanted more. you wanted to stay, but you were too nervous to ask. you were good at giving him big hints, though.
he loves the idea of you staying. laying with you and hearing your soft breaths as you sleep. cuddling close to be warm from the cold air. peter’s heart lurches at the wonderful thought.
peter reaches for his clothes and dresses. you bend over and slip on the dress, without the fishnets. your hair was probably a mess, but you didn’t care because the only person you cared about seeing tonight was peter.
once you’re dressed with shaky hands, peter stands in front of you and rests his hands on your shoulders. delicately, he caresses your neck as you practically pur into his warm touch. you felt your heart rate pick up, even though he was just inside of you.
“and then, if you’d like, we can come back up here,” he presses his chest against yours as his voice softens, “and we can lay in bed, watch a movie, and not worry about being caught because we don’t have rules like you do.”
although your heart was beating fast already, you’ve never felt more comfortable. he made you feel reassured, and you couldn’t ask for more. with a smile rising to your lips, peter’s heart skips a beat at the wistfulness cascading throughout his body. your lips were soft and kissable, your skin was glowing with an orgasmic shine, and your makeup was a bit smudged, but you still looked like peter’s perfect girl.
his girl.
“wait, before we eat, i have to get some stuff at the sorority.”
“okay,” he says, “put this on. it’s freezing and your wearing practically nothing.”
he throws a hoodie at you and you catch it with blinking eyes. it as a small gesture, but your heart was melting. you slip it over your head without any question. and then he’s dragging you out of the extremely loud and crowded house. no one says or questions anything, and you’ve never been more glad to be so invisible.
“what are you doing? come on!”
“what if they see me?”
“there’s no one home!” you whisper-shouted at peter as you walked through the door. there was a key under the flower pot that worked great when you forgot your key.
it’s kind of ironic that you are both sneaking into your sorority. it’s a full circle moment.
you both tiptoe through the clean, white house. peter nearly takes his shoes off because he’s scared he’ll leave dirt footprints in his trail. he really does not want to be seen in this house knowing what happened to flash the last time they snuck in. but it’s peter’s job to be stealthy, so he hopes he could keep up the good work.
you make it up the stairs and head straight for your room. peter remembered exactly which one was yours, now that he’s been in it two times somehow. once you’re both inside, he shuts the door behind him quietly like someone would hear him.
“why did we just tiptoe all the way up here? there’s no one even here!” you say in a normal level voice as a chuckle follows after. peter laughs with you as you search your drawers for some clothes.
“i feel it’s only right to bring the mit one, right?”
“definitely.”
“wait, did you leave the vibrator on your bed?”
“uh… yeah. sorry.”
“peter!” your skin grows warm with the idea that someone might stumble into his bedroom and find it just lying there. you cringe at yourself.
you pack a small overnight bag with your most needed essentials. peter sits patiently on your bed, practically swinging his feet as he analyzes your bedroom. it was simple with a few picture frames of family and friends. your room was basically plain white with a few pink and blue items scattered around the place. in all, it was you. he couldn’t think of a better sorority room to fit your vibe, your personality better than this room. it was naturally gorgeous, like you.
even though peter was looking around your room, he was still watching you pack. he observed when you folded a pair of night shorts with the mit t-shirt and even threw in an outfit for the next day just in case you two went out. but you were missing something.
“okay, let me grab my toothbrush,” you quickly left the room and in no-time were back. “let’s go. i’m hungry now.”
“but you’re forgetting something,” peter says. you blink, wondering what you might be forgetting.
“but i grabbed everything–” you watch as peter glides towards your dresser drawers. he opens the top left and immediately finds your colorful panties and underwear. your eyes widen in embarrassment, even though he’s seen you naked multiple times. something about him staring at your undergarments was just a little more… vulnerable?
peter snatches two different colors, a royal blue one and a vibrant red one, similar to the first one he saw you in. of course, he picked these colors purposely.
“which one? i’m thinking the blu–”
“what are you doing! that’s my underwear!” you tried to reach for them dangling in his hands, but he was way quicker than you. it’s like he knew before you even moved.
“well, i think at this point it’s kind of a tradition for me to take one, no? i couldn’t take them earlier because you weren’t wearing any!”
your neck and cheeks flush with embarrassment. yeah, you may have been confident when in the moment, but talking about it just made your face hot. peter always knew how to get you going. to get quickly out of this situation, you grumble, “blue.”
and with that, you were on your way back to the frat house. the party was still going strong and surprisingly, no one asked where either of you were. when you and peter walked through the door, people just acted like you’ve been there the whole time. but they were also drunk and high, so was it really that shocking?
within the first few minutes of you and peter being in the congested house, you both look at each other with a knowing look. there was no way you two could eat in this populous, mess of a place.
“diner?” peter shouts over the blaring music. he swore flash turned it up to full volume, even when peter told him specifically not to do that.
“exactly what i was thinking,” you reply loudly as you squeeze your bodies through the crowd. peter slides his hand into yours as you shift through everybody. a spark of electricity nearly shocks you.
when you approach his car, you throw your bag at the bottom of your feet before dropping into his passenger seat. you both inhale and exhale the refreshing night time air. the house smelt like marjuana and sweat, but his car was scented with pine and fresh leather.
as he started the car, you two didn’t say anything. and it was perfect. it was comfortable. it was safe. you turn your head to look at peter, whose eyes were fighting between the road and you. your heart skips a beat that’s getting familiar as you smile softly. gently, your hands intertwine as you ride on to the diner.
your journey with peter started… differently than most. but you liked the idea of having a tradition with peter. sure, it may not be traditional, but it was yours. you would both have to create a fundraiser for all these panties he will be stealing because they’re not cheap!
is it really stealing if you know he’s taking them? whatever.
when people ask how you guys met, it’s going to be a funny story. how many people break into someone’s house as a dare and then fall in love with them? not many.
wait… love?
THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU. i could not be more grateful for the love on panty stealer. i never thought any of my writing would get this much notice, so thank you (times three) for all the likes, comments, and reblogs.
note: i won’t be making anymore full parts, however, i will do blurbs/drabbles of these two if requested!
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ptergwen · 2 years
Note
peter parker in glasses owns my heart. can you write something about him in glasses and reader is all over him. (doesn’t have to be smut but can it be a little spicy?)
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w/c: 699
warnings: 18+, a lil angst, explicit language, suggestive, and implied smut
a/n: oh absolutely! i had to use tom as my reference because his peter never wears glasses :/ also not to sound like a broken record but pls join my new taglist besties
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peter’s lips twitch into a frown as he opens up his new glasses case. he picks the glasses up by their bridge and looks them over, debating whether or not to put them on.
he used to need glasses before he got his powers. the spider bite gave him perfect vision, so he stopped wearing them and hasn’t since. now that he’s older, though, his vision isn’t what it once was. he’s been straining his eyes all these years, squinting through the eyes of his spider-man mask and staring at computer screens for college assignments. it’s back to glasses he goes.
he’s not too upset that he has to wear them again. what he’s worried about is what you’ll think.
the thick, black frames peter wore as a kid were dorky and often got him teased. they were all he could afford, and it’s not like he’s rolling in the dough now either. the new pair he purchased is hardly an upgrade.
you didn’t know peter before he was spider-man. the two of you met and began dating in college, well after he got ripped, taller, and lost the glasses. if he starts wearing glasses again, what if you’re not attracted to him anymore? what if you see him as the nerd everyone else did?
there’s a knock at peter’s dorm door. it must be you. you two have a date later. peter inhales, a deep breath, and opens the door.
“hey, pete.”
“hi, baby. come in.”
you set a hand on peter’s cheek and greet him with a quick kiss, smiling. he smiles back and shuts the door behind you. you take a seat on his bed.
“are those your glasses?”
you point to the pair in peter’s hand.
he’d told you he needed them, but he didn’t tell you they were ready. he was hoping to avoid you seeing him in them for as long as he could.
“uh, yeah. i just picked them up.”
“put them on, i wanna see.”
“i dunno, y/n. i don’t know how they look on me. i haven’t tried them yet.”
“well, then now’s a good a time as any. put them on!”
peter’s face scrunches up, mouth opening to protest. you jut out your bottom lip.
“please? for me?”
as much as he wants to, he can’t say no to that.
“okay, but i warned you.”
peter unfolds the glasses by their hinges and slips them on, adjusting them so they’re behind his ears. he pushes them up on his nose by the bridge. he finally meets your eyes from across the room, teeth clenched nervously. you ogle him for a solid amount of time without blinking, mouth hanging open.
“are they that bad?”
peter starts to take his glasses off.
“no, leave them!”
“but i thought you didn’t like them.”
“are you kidding? i love them!”
you get up from peter’s bed and walk back over to him. peter’s features hold shock. your hands come to either side of his face, lips forming a grin.
“they look so good, pete. they really suit you. and they’re actually super sexy, too.”
“you think they’re sexy?”
“uh huh. they make you look all mature. feel like i should call you sir or something.”
“sir is good. but be honest, do you actually like them? because i think they’re kind of embarrassing.”
you leave a kiss on peter’s nose, just under his glasses.
“i like you with or without glasses, peter. there’s nothing to be embarrassed about, okay? not with me.”
peter cracks a smile and loops his arms around your middle.
“thank you. that made me feel way better.”
“of course.”
one of your hands moves down peter’s body, two fingers inching their way up to his chest.
“seriously, though. the glasses are turning me on. what time does your roommate get back?”
“not til late, why?”
“because.”
you beckon peter closer. he turns his head so you can whisper in his ear. his brows raise, grip on you tightening.
“oh… oh, shit. but i thought we were going out?”
“not anymore. we’re staying in.”
peter lowers his glasses. you push them back up.
“the glasses stay on when we fuck.”
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tags: @mystic-writings @just-lost-inbetween-worlds @lnmp89 @jenoslov @crvshnburnn @yourlocalomlette @starlight-starks @belovasheart @liltimmyst @eviewriites @hollandsangel @parkerctrl @eichenhouseproperty @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @varshhyy @ellebutnotwoods @magicalxdaydream @tayyx @parkerdadda
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