#peter parker college au

[waitimcomingtoo]

SLUT!

pairing: Peter Parker x reader

synopsis: if they call you a slut, you know it might be worth it for once

chapter one: and I know you heard about me

chapter two: you must like me for me

chapter three: you and me would be a big conversation

chapter four: they took the crown but it’s all right

chapter five: don’t say I didn’t warn you

chapter six: if a man talks shit then I owe him nothing

chapter seven: if he drops my name then he had it coming

chapter eight: dying to see how this one ends

#peter parker imagine #Peter Parker college au #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x y/n #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x y/n #complete #completed series

[selfcarecap]

Never Have I Ever [p.p]

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Summary: When Peter meets you at college and you two bond over your lack of sexual experience, you quickly become the best friend he’s ever had. But while he falls madly in love with you, he doesn’t know if you feel the same. You hold his hand when you’re out together, talk to him about the vibrator you want to buy and bless him with that beautiful look in your eyes that is reserved only for him… yet he’s not sure if you see more than a friend in him. Little does he know, you’re wondering the same about him, hoping for the same outcome.

Warnings: smut (all first time, oral f + m receiving, dry humping (semi-public? but it’s completely uninterrupted and unseen and in a remote location lol), masturbation (f with a sex toy and m with the reader’s underwear), vaginal sex – the second half of this is basically all smut), a sprinkle of jealous Peter, Professor Garfield lol, a little bit of angst ig bc Peter keeps doubting himself and thinks he’s a pervert but he’s just dumb as shit and oblivious, (all Peter’s pov <3), fic starts off with an awkward and embarrassing story lol, alcohol/drunk!Peter, (btw if first year of college sounds a little young to you you can always imagine they just took a break between hs and college), idk how college works in the usa, also I mention Peter's enhanced senses but it's not a Spiderman fic at all lol

Word Count: 23k omg, the longest thing I’ve ever written (if that’s too long for you i’ve put four ‘dividers’ in total so it’s split into 4 more or less equally long parts (the first is like 4k, second is 7k, then 4k again and the last is 8k) but of course you can ignore that and just read all of it in one go, all 23k are in this post, it’s a one shot)

It's finally here! Thank you for all the love I received for the teaser and just talking about this fic already 💘 This has been on my mind for so so long and I’ve been (sporadically and inconsistently) writing it since like September. I’m so glad it’s finally finished, this was one of my favourite wips I‘ve ever worked on, I really loved writing Peter and the reader and their dynamic and experiences and I hope you love reading it just as much 💖

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ 𝒐𝒏𝒆 ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★ﾟ･:*:･｡

It’s Peter’s first week of college and so far he barely knows anyone. The guys in the rooms next to Peter’s are cool, but he figures it wouldn’t hurt to know a few more people, so he decides to go to this party he’s been hearing about all week.

The party is exactly how he imagined it; loud music, drinking games, a pretty girl sitting next to him. So pretty that he doesn’t dare look at you for too long because he’s worried you’ll catch him staring and think he’s being weird.

The game you’re all playing started as a simple never have I ever, but somehow people are now telling their funniest sex stories. Peter doesn’t realise it’s part of the game that everyone tells a sex story until it’s your turn and he notices how the last few people all told a story, one after the other, going around the circle you’re all sitting in.

His heart starts thumping harder in his chest. He doesn’t have a sex story to tell. But if he gets up now it will be obvious that he’s avoiding his turn, right? 

Fuck.

Besides, he wants to listen to your story. He just has to hope that his usually clever brain will help him come up with something when it’s his turn.

“Most memorable sex experience…” you hum in thought as you lightly drum the bottle in your hands against your lips. “Oh wait, this one’s funny. The guy I was with asked me if I peed myself when he took off my underwear because he didn‘t know that women get wet when they‘re turned on. I explained it to him but he wouldn’t believe me. 

“He was sweet about it and told me it happens to the best of us — and that he sometimes pees himself too. So at that point, I just saw it as a second chance from the universe to show me what this guy was like and I left.” 

The students around you laugh and comment on the story and as you look over at Peter a few seconds later he realises the other people are doing the same. 

They‘re expecting him to tell a sex story now. His mouth goes dry and his brain is empty. Think. Think. Think. Think of something. Anything. 

But he has nothing.

You speak up again, pointing at the guy next to Peter, “Oh my god, Brandon, you remember that story you told me earlier? You need to tell that one, that was the funniest thing I‘ve ever heard.”

A weight is lifted off of Peter‘s shoulders when the attention simply shifts to the guy next to him.

What felt like overthinking for hours when he couldn‘t come up with anything to say was probably only a short moment, less than five seconds, and not a single person noticed that they skipped over Peter. He lets out a breath of relief as other people tell stories and no one demands anything from Peter. 

He keeps glancing at you, trying to figure out if what you did was deliberate or not. 

The only thing he‘s gotten from you so far is a second of eye contact, your face neutral but your eyes holding something positive. The next time you stand up to refill your drink, Peter follows you into the kitchen.

You smile at him when you see him enter, offering some of the diet coke you‘re pouring into your cup to him. “No thanks,” Peter says, watching you fill the rest of your drink with rum. 

“I don‘t know if you did that on purpose or not but uh.. thanks,” he says, clearing his throat after, annoyed at himself for sounding so nervous. You’re gorgeous, but he doesn’t even know you yet. You’re a stranger, yet he finds himself caring about what you think of him.

You muster him for a few seconds before you realise what he’s talking about.

“Oh. You mean during the.. the sex stories? That was no big deal. You just looked a little uncomfortable so I tried my best to get the attention to shift to someone else,” you smile.

“Thanks, that... that was really kind. Although I was kind of hoping it wasn‘t obvious how nervous I was. I just don‘t have any special or funny sex stories to tell... or any sex stories at all,” he avoids eye contact when he says it but you immediately get what he means. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” You say, taking a step forward to stand closer to him, his cheeks heating up. He nods.

“The story I told? That was completely made up. I‘ve never had sex with anyone either. And I‘m not ashamed of that fact, I mean I‘m so young and there‘s nothing wrong with waiting or honestly I‘ve just never... been in that type of situation with a boy…”

“I get it. You don‘t have to explain yourself. Same boat,” he smiles and nudges your shoulder but regrets it instantly.

Nudging your shoulder? He has never nudged anyone‘s shoulder. Especially not the shoulder of a pretty girl he just met. 

You don‘t take any notice of it though, much to Peter‘s relief, and you continue. 

“Even if I personally don‘t care how old anyone is when they have their first time, I just felt nervous saying it in a room full of frat boys. I know this year has barely started but so far all the frat boys I’ve met live up to their reputation and I didn‘t want them making any stupid comments. 

“If I was my ideal, confident self - or just a little tipsier - I probably would have just said that I don’t have any sex stories to tell but... I don‘t know. I was nervous.”

“I get that. That‘s exactly how I felt too. Only I wasn‘t creative enough to think of a story. My mind just blanked, I must have looked crazy when it was my turn to say something. You were calm though, the story seemed as real as all the others... maybe even more real, I mean what you said sounds very realistic to me considering how little most men know about women’s bodies.” 

“Yeah,” you giggle, “But you didn‘t look nervous either. It‘s just that I knew I might not be the only one too nervous to admit that I don‘t have any experience so I was hyper-aware of it, I guess.”

“Okay, I‘m glad. Thanks again.” The conversation is slowly dying but he doesn’t want it to end yet.

He holds his hand in front of him, “I’m Peter by the way. Biochemistry and computer science.”

His fingers tremble for a second. Who introduces himself like that? God, he’s messing this up before it even started.

But you grin, trying not to laugh and tell him your name and introduce yourself in the same way, “Oceanography and computer science.”

He takes a second to release the breath that he was holding in, “Oceanography? Wow, that sounds really interesting. You‘ll have to tell me more about that.” 

“It is. And I will once college starts. I‘m really excited.” 

“Me too. And computer science? That means we‘ll probably have a few classes together right?”

“Probably. Do you have your schedule yet?”

He takes out his phone and shows you the picture he took of it, and you lean in to look at it so closely that he can smell your lovely perfume.

“I don‘t have it on my phone but I recognise that professor’s name,” you point at a name on the screen, “I‘m in that class too, I heard professor Garfield is really good. I have two classes with him.”

And that‘s how you two end up talking all night. Peter walks you home and you realise your dorm rooms are merely minutes away from each other and you make a vow to meet each other again. He really hopes you don’t forget about him, or that you weren’t just being nice.

Peter falls asleep with a smile on his face and you on his mind. 

*

The next day, he realises with disappointment that you didn’t exchange numbers. He would like to text you and meet you in front of the lecture hall so it would be less nerve-wracking to go to his first-ever college lecture.

It would help to have someone he already knows with him and in case you were nervous he’d love to be there to calm you down too; make you feel less alone–you can do this together.

He knows one of his first classes on Tuesday is one that he shares with you. But he hopes he can see you on Monday to be each other’s support, or at least to see you for five minutes between classes.

He looks for you all day, but doesn’t see you again.

He’s giddy all night, knowing he’s definitely going to see you tomorrow. His plan is to get up extra early and casually and totally coincidentally lounge around in the hallway that your room is in, and then you can go to class together.

But one missed alarm later he‘s running through the building, trying to find the lecture hall that was shown to him during freshers week, but he didn’t quite manage to remember each one of the hundreds of rooms.

Time is running out and he has one minute until the lecture starts. He runs around the next corner and finally finds the hall he’s supposed to be in.

There are hundreds of students though, and he seems to be one of the last; he can’t even see if there are any seats left.

While his eyes scan the rows for an empty seat–but more importantly for you–he sees some movement directed at him. A wave.

His eyes travel down the arm that's waving at him and soon he’s making eye contact with you. He’s only met you once but he can’t stop a huge smile from taking over his entire face.

Peter blushes while he’s walking up the steps, on his way to you, but once he’s close he can see your bright smile and he’s immediately reminded of why he likes you so much.

“Hi,” Peter plops down next to you on the first seat of the row. You lean in and Peter’s breath gets caught in his throat when he realises you’re hugging him–just a friendly side hug, but it’s a hug nevertheless.

He takes his water out of his bag, trying to calm himself down by focussing on the cool drink running down his throat. It does clear his mind, the water, but he’s more and more comfortable with every second that he sits next to you. Your aura is so kind and calming, and he finds his shoulders losing the tension as you start talking to him.

“I thought you weren’t going to make it or something. We forgot to exchange numbers so I found your Instagram and was gonna message you there. But you‘re private so I couldn‘t.”

Ever since you said goodbye the night after the party, Peter has been worrying that that was all. That it was just an in-the-moment type of thing and you wouldn’t think it was anything special – or worse, you’d forget about him. But now you’re here, keeping a spot for him, telling him you’ve been thinking about him and wanted to message him. The warmth in his chest spreads when you smile at him.

And sure, just because you remember him doesn’t mean you’re best friends, but it confirms that Peter isn’t the only one who thought you had a connection that was worth remembering.

Peter most definitely also stalked your Instagram. It’s public but he didn’t want you thinking he was weird for spam-liking all your pictures–which he definitely wanted to do but he stopped himself in time. 

He put a timer on Instagram for the app to remind him when it’s been twenty minutes of looking at your pictures. Not that there were enough to be scrolling for twenty minutes straight – he simply enjoyed looking at you.

He takes his phone out and accepts the follow request you sent him and follows you back.

“Put your number in,” you place your phone in front of him, opened on a new contact card that Peter fills out with his number and name. You look at it and add a <3 behind his name and Peter prays he’s not blushing as hard as it feels.

You text him You up? and if his cheeks weren’t red before then they definitely are now. He can tell you’re just teasing but the fact that you’re already comfortable enough to joke around with him makes him grin.

He feels like he can be himself with you and you’re doing the same. You’re not holding back with showing Peter that you like him and it makes him feel good about himself. 

But his smile fades when he hears your next words

“The professor is so hot, I have no idea how I‘ll concentrate. I talked to him before I sat down and he has a really nice voice too. And that accent… But wait till he turns around and you see his face – or you could just stare at his ass.” 

Peter doesn’t know why it feels like someone stabbed him right in the heart. And when he sees you further staring at the man, it’s like that knife is being pulled out of his chest and Peter bleeds out. 

“I-it’s not even that big,” Peter tries.

You look at him and now he feels stupid for having said that. 

“Butts don‘t have to be big to be hot. Little booties matter. And they’re really cute sometimes.”

“W-well yes, of course, but.. he‘s really not that hot,” Peter says, and then Professor Garfield turns around, “...okay he is that hot.”

“Told you,” you sing, a smile on your face, and he can’t be mad at you when you’re looking at him like that. He couldn’t be mad at you no matter what you did. While Professor Garfield, or Andrew–as he tells you all to call him–starts the lecture, Peter tries to figure out what’s got him so mad.

Yes, of course you’re pretty. You’re gorgeous. But that doesn’t mean that he has to have a crush on you immediately. Just because you’re a girl and he’s a guy doesn’t mean that this has to go beyond a friendship. Men and women can be just friends. He can’t just fall in love with the first pretty woman who’s nice to him.

Okay, maybe he already has a crush on you. So what? Who can blame him?

But Peter doesn’t want to rush anything with you. He’ll give you the time to figure out what you feel for him, and he’ll just follow your lead. He may think you already like him as much as he likes you, but it’s still only the second time you’re ever seeing each other. 

That and he just doesn’t want to overthink it all and end up losing the first person at college who genuinely feels like someone he could be friends with.

He tries to ignore how you giggle at every joke the professor makes and tries to focus on the warmth of you next to him instead. Not too much though, he’s already let your teasing get to his head and maybe even to a body part further down.

Even if it means he won’t have to witness you laughing at Professor Garfield’s jokes anymore, Peter is sad when the lecture is over. It’s the only lecture he has today and therefore also the only one he has with you today.

As you pack your things and people swarm out of the lecture hall, you and Peter stay back, taking it slow.

“What’s your next class?” You ask, looking him right in the eyes–like any normal person–but he’ll really have to get used to that. He can’t lose his mind every time you just look at him. But he's so attracted to you.

“I, um, I no. I mean, I don’t have any other classes today.”

You smile unexpectedly, “Cool, me neither. You wanna do something? We could get lunch together.”

You say it with such ease, showing your interest in him like you don’t know how it’s making Peter feel warm and bubbly inside.

Even if Peter still gets nervous around you, simply because he wants to impress you and doesn’t want to fuck this up, he realises quickly that he has no reason to be. 

Your friendship blooms effortlessly and quickly. 

A week later you’re texting like you’ve been best friends for years and he finds himself too happy around you to worry about what he’s saying or how he’s acting. You like him the way he is and he can feel it deeply and confidently. 

Yes, he still stutters a lot around you - but he does that around most people, to be fair - and once you part ways for the day he overanalyses every little thing you’ve said to him, overthinks every little touch of yours for some form of affection that is more than platonic.

And it’s hard, figuring out whether you like him as more than a friend.

But this friendship is so new and so exciting that Peter thinks it makes him just as happy as an average relationship in the honeymoon phase would. So even if he does crave more intimacy with you, it’s hard to complain when he has a friend like you.

*

You show up at Peter’s door at midnight on a Friday. His sleep schedule has been surprisingly healthy for a college freshman so if anyone else disturbed him when he was already in pyjamas, he’d be annoyed.

But with you, he’s ecstatic. He’s awake immediately, grinning from ear to ear at your surprise visit. You never left his mind but he thought he’d have to wait until tomorrow to see you again.

Peter is more than aware of the contrast between your done up state and him in his ratty old pyjamas. You’ve seen him in pyjamas before and he knows better than to think you’d judge him, but he can’t help but to want to at least try and match you when you’re looking as gorgeous as you are.

“Oh sorry, I thought you’d still be up,” is the first thing you say, ready to leave if you’re bothering him in any way.

“No, no, I am, don’t worry. What’s up?” Peter asks, trying to look cool as he leans against his door frame. He ignores how it hurts like hell where his elbow meets a sharp corner.

“Well… I was gonna ask if you wanna go watch a movie with me,” you give him a charming smile not knowing he’d say yes no matter what you asked of him.

“Now?”

“Uh, yes. Now. But it’s fine if not, genuinely I won’t be mad. I can see that you had other plans,” you smile at his pyjamas.

“No. Don’t worry, I’d love to go. Do you have tickets or…?” Jealousy bubbles up inside Peter when he realises you might have been planning to go with someone else. With some other guy. Maybe he bailed on you and Peter is the second option (which he would still be grateful for, but he hates the thought of you with another guy).

“No, but I checked online and they have plenty of tickets left. It’s the last day they’re playing this film. The one I told you about, the horror one.”

“Oh God.” He’s trying to pretend that you still need to convince him when really Peter just needs a second to realise he was just overthinking again. He is your first choice. Not another guy.

“Pleeeease, Peter,” you grab his arm and pout. 

Peter has been convinced since the moment you showed up at his door.

“Give me a second,” he smiles and you grin back, “Really? You’re the best,” you kiss his cheek enthusiastically and he goes back into his room fast enough to hide his blush.

He picks out an outfit, brushes his teeth and puts on deodorant just in case.

You take him to the cinema with your hand in his. Peter knows it’s not a romantic gesture, you’re just treating him like you’d treat a female friend, but his brain doesn’t know the difference. He’s just happy to be touching you.

When you buy the tickets the guy at the movie theatre shows you the available seats on his screen. He points to one of those love seats where two seats are joined together so you can cuddle.

You nod and when the guy gives Peter a congratulatory smile, Peter’s cheeks heat up. The guy probably thinks you and Peter are a couple. It’s not just good for Peter’s ego and the fake scenarios with you that he’ll imagine before bed, but it’s also better for the guy. Peter saw the way he was eyeing you, and Peter doesn’t know what he would have done if the guy had asked for your number.

“We can cuddle,” you grin as you sit down and pat the seat next to you. You’re almost alone in the theatre, you could sit anywhere you want but you want to be close to him.

While you wait for the trailers to start you take Snapchat videos with Peter, asking him if you can send them to your friends at home. His heart swells when you say that you’ve told them about him.

He takes pictures of you looking all pretty and perfect and he wonders if it would be too much to set it as his phone wallpaper. Your head is on his shoulder as you scroll through the pictures that he just took of you and your perfume is hypnotising.

How is every little thing about you so captivating? Peter has never met anyone like you.

He’s fucking scared during the movie, but with his eyes mostly closed he manages to be the guy you can hold on to during the creepy scenes. Your fingers around his bicep squeeze every time there is a jumpscare and at some point he has to force himself to watch the film after all if he doesn’t want to get hard from your touch. He knows it’s pathetic, but he can’t help it.

You look beautiful in the light of the stars as you two walk home, your hand still around his arm, gushing about the film and thanking him for watching it with you despite the spontaneous change of his plans.

You spend some time in the common area by your dorms. It’s late and everyone else seems to be at some party elsewhere or sleeping. You cling on to Peter, still jumpy from the horror film and he nearly asks you if you want to sleep in his bed.

He nearly says it about five times, but he can’t quite get the words out. He doesn’t want to give you the wrong impression, even if you may be about to ask the same thing.

Peter sits there nervously, gulping as he’s about to ask. He really will say it this time. But before he opens his mouth he hears your deep breaths and notices how your body has gone slack against his side.

He kisses the top of your head in content and soon, sleep finds Peter too. He doesn’t have to dream about being close to you because it’s already his reality.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ 𝒕𝒘𝒐 ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★ﾟ･:*:･｡

It’s a few weeks into the semester and it’s become a routine for you two to study together. Whether you’re helping each other with the classes you share, or silently working on other things and enjoying each other’s company, your study sessions have even managed to make studying a rather fun part of college. 

Especially when you’re both sitting on Peter’s bed, and your knees or legs or arms are always touching.

You’re not focussed today, scrolling around on your phone instead of studying. You throw your phone to the bed at some point and you hug your legs to your chest in thought.

“You think Andrew will let me suck his dick? For a better score?”

Peter’s heart stops beating for a second. 

You haven’t kissed, you haven’t said anything that should have led Peter to think that this is more than friendship, but it seemed like there could be something in the future. Apparently, you’re not even considering it.

“Who’s Andrew?” He asks, mouth dry and voice weak.

“Professor Garfield.”

“Oh. Well, I-I think that‘s illegal.”

“Is it though?” You tilt your head and give him a deliberately incredulous look.

“Yes.”

“Not if no one finds out. It’s don’t break the rules or don‘t get caught, Peter.”

He’s distracted by you saying his name for a moment. There’s nothing he loves hearing more.

But he has to stop you from doing… that. He can’t entirely tell how serious you are, but he has to make sure to convince you that it’s a bad idea.

“No offence, but what makes you believe you’ll be good enough for him to give you a better score? If you’ve never… you know, done anything like it.” He remembers your conversation from the first time you met, and if you haven’t given anyone a blowjob since then, he knows it would be your first time. Your first time can’t be with a professor, even if Peter disregards the fact that he wants to be the only guy you have sex with, it really is a bad idea.

“I’m a young and pretty student and he’s a kinda old guy. He’s like 40. So I’m sure that I’ll be enough for him.”

Peter doesn’t say anything for a moment, thrown off by your casual tone.

“Don’t you think so?” you press, teasing in your voice.

“No- of course you’re pretty. You’re beautiful,” he smiles, pressing his lips together. 

“Aww,” you sit up and press a kiss to his cheek, “So are you, Pete.” You hold on to his shoulder as you lower yourself into his lap, your butt right next to his thighs and your upper body resting on his legs, and his breath hitches. 

“Well if you think I need practice, then.. I could practise on you first.”

“Practise w-what on me?” He asks, feeling your hands on his abs.

“Going down on a guy,” you say, looking up at him. Now the feeling in Peter’s belly changes from raging jealousy into something else of equal passion. He’s thought about you doing that before, (and pushed the thought out of his mind as quickly as it appeared) but hearing you suggest it makes a new flame of desire light up in him. 

The first conversation you ever had was about sex. But anytime you mention anything sexual, Peter doesn’t know how to act.

“I- I mean. I’m not- I feel like, maybe that’s not���”

“Don’t worry, I’m joking. I won’t actually suck that guy’s dick. I just don’t wanna do this stuff right now,” you sigh, sitting up and closing your textbook.

“How about we do something to distract you for the night, and then tomorrow I’ll help you with the next assignment,” he suggests, relief still flooding through his body, happy that you don’t actually want to suck your professor’s dick.

“You’d do that?” 

“Of course. I’ll always help you when I can but I especially owe you after you did my homework last week when I fell asleep.”

You sit up, “I told you it was no big deal. It was just multiple choice and all I did was copy my answers.”

“Yeah but if I hadn’t woken up then I would have missed the deadline and failed.”

“I know you’d do the same for me. And besides, you looked so peaceful sleeping. I couldn’t wake you up to do some boring computational linguistics quiz at eleven pm.”

Peter smiles at the memory of last week. When he’s with you, he doesn’t want to sleep, he wants to spend time with you. But he was tired and you were studying something Peter couldn’t help you with anyway, and he’s so comfortable around you that he just drifted off to sleep because he trusts you – he wouldn’t be okay with being unconscious next to just anyone.

“Well, it was still a very kind thing to do.”

Not sure what you’re doing yet, you go to your dorm room so you can change out of your sweats and into something prettier–even though Peter thinks you could wear sweatpants 24/7, and you’d still outshine everyone. He nearly stays outside but with a confused look you ask him what he’s doing outside and he reluctantly comes in.

Picking out an outfit, you pull off your shirt with no warning and even if he can only see your back an “Oh my God” leaves Peter’s mouth immediately, followed by a quiet, “Sorry,” as he turns around.

“Don’t worry. I’m just changing. It’s just my body, you can look.”

Despite your nonchalant words, Peter can hear your heart beating loudly and frantically in your chest. He tries not to let it get to him, it doesn’t have to mean that you like him. Maybe you’re just realising that you don’t want a boy to see you half-naked after all but you don’t want to say it now after confidently assuring him it was okay. 

Peter sits down on your bed, turned away from you even though it takes all the willpower he can muster.

A few moments later you jump onto the bed next to him, “So, what are we doing tonight?”

“Do?” He asks, still dazed from seeing your naked back, “Oh do, yeah. Uh yes, we can do something.” 

You giggle, looking at him expectantly. That’s when Peter remembers he was the one who suggested that you go out tonight.

“Oh-well yeah, I was thinking we could take a walk along the river, I heard they have these carnival booths up every Friday night.”

Going out in the evenings has become your and Peter’s thing. Sure, many people–especially college students–go out in the evening. But with you, it feels different. It feels special.

Illuminated by the streetlights and the LED glow from the booths, you and Peter play a few rounds of ring toss and throwing darts at balloons. You both swear it’s rigged because neither of you win anything.

You eat popcorn while Peter gets cotton candy and once again you hold Peter’s hand throughout most of your trip. It’s become a habit of yours, apparently meaningless as a romantic gesture, but platonically it means everything to Peter. You like him enough to constantly initiate physical touch; plus, he’s never seen you hold hands with any of your other friends.

Still, Peter is forever wishing for more. Sometimes he looks at you and wonders how he’s managed not to kiss you yet. But his fear grows with every day; the closer you get the harder it will be to confess his feelings because the risk of ruining something beautiful keeps getting bigger. 

He’s never been this attracted to anyone but he also thinks he’s never had a friendship as good as yours. He simply can’t risk something good, something beautiful, something that makes him as happy as he’s ever been. Your friendship is strong but he’s scared you wouldn’t be able to come back from Peter confessing his feelings for you and you not feeling the same.

It could weird you out, you could take pity on Peter and see him in a different light, or worst of all, you could think he’s been taking advantage of you. He’s never touched you anywhere that would be reserved only for a lover but you two are quite close. You’ve cuddled a few times, or just a few hours ago you were changing in front of him – he doesn’t want you thinking he intentionally got any sexual gratification out of it and for you to view him differently.

He already feels bad enough when nothing but the image of you clouds his thoughts whenever he jerks off. He can’t help it anymore. He used to be able to think of something else or simply watch porn but now that he’s with you so often and you’re so perfect, you’re like an intrusive thought; whenever he’s naked, there’s nothing on his mind but you, just like when a song is stuck in your head – there’s no easy way of getting rid of it.

Peter has never been one to feel shame after masturbating. But if you only liked him as a friend and ever found out what he thinks about when he’s fucking his fist late at night, he doesn’t even want to know what your opinion of him would change into. But the mental image of you alone makes Peter cum so hard, over and over, that he can’t stop, even if guilt plagues him right after as he cleans up the mess he’s made.

He looks down at your intertwined hands while you’re walking home across campus. He wonders what you’d do if you knew that the hand you’re holding right now jerks Peter off every night without fail, thinking precisely of how your hand could replace Peter’s.

On your way home, you walk past a frat house, the vibration of the music reaching Peter’s chest even from the outside.

“Shit, Chloe told me about this party. I forgot I said I’d be there.”

“Who’s that?”

“She’s one of my friends from an Oceanography class. Do you mind if we go in? Just for half an hour.”

It’ll definitely distract Peter from thinking about you in a way that he’s not sure you’d be comfortable with.

You’re dragged away by some of your girlfriends as soon as you enter. They all say something about Peter but you quickly shrug off what they’re saying about you two always being together. He can’t tell if it’s a genuine no or just that feeling of embarrassment that you get when your friends tease you about your crush.

So your friends see it too? The indescribable chemistry between you two? Even with his enhanced hearing, he can’t hear the rest of your conversation because some of his own friends are urging him to go play beer pong with them.

Peter sees you every twenty minutes or so and you wave or smile at him and check up on him every time you walk past. Spending time with your other friends is good for both of you, but it’s also good to know that he’s still on your mind, just like you’re on his.

“Help me find the bathroom,” you tell Peter the next time you see him. He’s getting a little bored at this party so he assumes you also want to escape.

You walk into the bathroom together and Peter doesn’t realise that you actually just need to pee until he sees you contemplating on pulling your underwear down or not, “Can you wait outside?”

“Of course.”

Peter has no interest in being in the bathroom with you while you pee, but the fact that you nearly let him stay in there with you shows him once again how comfortable you are around him. He’s smiling like an idiot, standing by the wall opposite the bathroom until he hears your “You can come in.”

After you’ve washed your hands you sit on the edge of the bathtub and pat the space next to you for Peter to join you and you chat about whatever comes to your mind. So you did want a break from the party too, and Peter is glad to provide that.

“What song is that?” Peter asks. The music is loud enough for you to clearly hear it even upstairs in the bathroom.

“I don’t know, I’ll shazam it. You’re right, it sounds good.”

When you unlock your phone the screen is filled with the picture of a vibrator. You ignore it and go to Shazam the song, but Peter can’t let you off like that.

You always get to tease him so he smirks when he can finally get you back, “Wait wait wait,” he takes your phone from you, lifting it high in case you want to take it from him.

“What is this?” He asks, smiling, teasing you lovingly and in good fun but you look at him as if he’s talking about the most boring thing ever, not embarrassed in the slightest, but once more, that could be a good sign; another sign of your close relationship.

“Oh, it’s this vibrator. But it’s way too expensive for me.”

Peter licks his lips, trying not to freak out. He doesn’t know why he thought talking to you about a vibrator would be a good idea. But he tries to appear as calm as you, “Why is it expensive? What’s so special about it?”

“Well, it basically sucks your clit. But I don’t want to spend over 100 dollars on something like that when I can just go out and find a guy to suck my clit within like five minutes. It’s all those guys on campus think about, I swear. I’m glad you’re not like that, Pete” you smile at him and put your head on his shoulder, completely catching him off guard with your words.

He won’t be able to jerk off without thinking about you for days now; meaning he won’t be able to jerk off for days. Do you mean you’d hate knowing that Peter thinks about you sexually or do you just mean that there’s no pressure with Peter? And that any other male friend would have asked for sex by now?

Peter knows he’s not a perv, but he doesn’t know if you’d say the same if you knew you were the protagonist of his spank bank. 

“Wait, actually, a friend told me they’re way cheaper if you buy them in-store and they’ll have more to choose from... will you go with me?” You ask him with a big fake pout.

“To a.. a sex shop?”

“I don’t want to go alone. And you’re my best friend.”

He can’t say no to you after you call him that, even if having a constant reminder of what you use to masturbate is going to kill him.

“O-okay. But why can’t you just go with your friend?”

“I’m not as comfortable around her as I am around you. Unless you really don’t want to.”

“No no I’ll go,” he nods and you grin.

“I’m sure they’ll have something for you too,” you say with raised eyebrows. And even though his hand and the thoughts about you make him cum hard and fast enough that he doesn’t feel like he needs a sex toy, your words help him feel a little less guilty. You telling him to go buy a sex toy suggests that you’re not grossed out when thinking of him masturbating, so maybe you’d understand that he’s got to do what he’s got to do sometimes, and you actually wouldn’t completely hate him if you found out what goes on in Peter’s mind when he jerks off.

“But we’re not going before we finish our assignment.”

“Deal,” you shake his hand with a laugh and join your friends downstairs to play the last few rounds of drinking games before you go home.

You’re good, but the other team is better. 

You didn’t really want to drink tonight and are only playing for fun but Peter likes following the rules so someone has to have the drinks. You assure him he doesn’t have to but Peter downs all the drinks for you and the ones for himself, relying on his enhanced abilities to drink them like water. He has one drink and then five more and when you two leave the party he realises he’s drunk.

You insist on taking him to your room to make sure he’s okay but Peter is a funny drunk so he doesn’t feel too bad. If he gets to sleep in your bed he could never feel bad, and knowing you you would never offer if you weren’t okay with it.

“I like when you take care of me,” Peter smiles at you when you tuck him into bed and he takes your hand in his, “And I like when we hold hands.”

“I like it too,” you kiss his forehead and Peter practically swoons. You were holding his hand the whole way back home from the party, like one of those people keeping a toddler on a leash and he’ll probably be embarrassed tomorrow morning but right now he’s just grateful for the constant affection.

You seem no bit annoyed that you have to deal with a drunk Peter, you’re just spending time with your best friend (he hasn’t stopped thinking about you calling him that) who happens to be drunk.

“Will you need a bucket?” You ask as you pull down your skirt and leave on your cropped shirt.

“A what?” He asks, heart beating harder as he stares at your half-naked form.

“Do you think you’ll throw up?” You ask.

“No, I’ll be fine.”

When you walk over to the bed Peter sees everything in slow motion. You stand next to the bed for a few seconds, tapping on your phone, and Peter admires your beautiful body while he can.

“You know how much I love your legs? They look so good,” he says, and he can’t tell if he’s embarrassingly drunk right now or not. He just knows that your legs are perfect. You’re perfect. And that’s something his sober self would wholeheartedly agree with.

You smile and turn off the lights, leaving the window open so Peter can get some fresh air but it also leaves enough light for Peter to admire your legs some more.

“Scoot over,” you tell him and get in bed with him.

“No, you don’t understand how incredible your legs are.” He gets one last glance at them before you pull the blanket over your body.

“Thank you, Peter,” you smile, and he sees by the crinkles next to your eyes that it’s genuine and maybe you don’t hate him looking at your body as much as he’s been worrying you would.

You talk a little more but minutes later the conversation consists more of yawning than talking and Peter sobers up when he realises he will be sleeping next to you. It’s his first time sleeping in a woman’s bed, and he’s glad it’s yours.

He’s taken naps next to you and there was that one time you slept next to each other on the sofa, but this is different. You’re alone in your room, right next to each other, in one bed, sharing one blanket. He can feel the warmth of your half-naked body and before he knows it your familiar presence calms him down enough to fall asleep quickly.

*

When Peter wakes up next to you the following morning, it takes a few moments for it to all come back to him.

He knows there’s no way you slept with each other, Peter was kinda drunk, neither of you have even confessed any feelings and you wouldn’t have a one night stand the first time you have sex. 

But when he gently lifts the blanket, making sure he doesn’t wake you up, he’s met with the sight of your lovely belly and heavenly thighs, and Peter thinks from the outside it could look like you had sex. 

Not that anyone is going to see, but two hormonal college students, both half-naked, waking up next to each other.. It screams something obvious and that thing is not that you two are merely friends.

The thought of it alone makes Peter flustered and he shifts uncomfortably. His eyes widen when he realises that his morning wood is pushed right against your ass. He pulls his hips back as quickly as he can, waking you up in the process.

You’re facing away from him, and the first thing you notice is your and Peter’s interlaced hands. His cheeks warm up as he notices them too. His arm is resting above your head on the pillow, fingers next to your face where they’re loosely intertwined with yours.

He doesn’t remember waking up in the night, so you must have somehow ended up holding hands in your sleep, both finding your way to the other even while unconscious.

You squeeze his hand and twist your body to look at Peter’s face. “Hi,” you mumble, smiling sleepily.

“Hi,” Peter says, opening his mouth minimally just in case he has bad morning breath.

Your eyes flit across his face with a look he can’t decipher. “Goodnight,” you say a few seconds later and you lie back down in your tired daze, pushing against Peter and pulling his arm over your waist.

“Wait,” you turn around again, “Are you okay? Got a hangover or anything?”

“I’m good, thanks. Go back to sleep,” he smiles, partially because he knows you still need rest but also because he wants you to go back to sleep so he can take care of himself. It’s becoming painful how hard he is.

“Okay. But stay, you’re warm.”

He most definitely is warm, he knows he’s blushing like crazy.

You pull the blanket further up your body and scoot back against Peter, and the way your ass pushes against his crotch nearly makes him moan. He doesn't know how you're not noticing what's going on.

He scoots his hips back as far as he can and waits a few minutes until you’ve drifted off to sleep again. He carefully removes himself from you and goes to your bathroom. You have a bathtub, big enough for both of you, he thinks, with a showerhead on the wall.

Before he can even bring himself to care about the temperature, Peter turns on the water and pulls his clothes off in a hurry, wrapping a hand around himself before he’s even really in the shower.

He leans a hand against the wall, resting his head against it as his other hand speeds up, jerking himself off while he thinks about you in the other room. You, so pretty, so caring, so sexy in just your underwear and a short shirt. You, not knowing that Peter is about to cum in your shower, so close to you, thinking about you.

The water is only barely louder than the sound his hand makes against his cock, and he bites his lip to stop any moans from coming out.

Peter cums when he hears the squeaking of your bed; you’re getting up, you could walk in any second. While he cums, Peter’s mind wanders to you on your knees, his dick sliding in and out of your mouth as you look up at him with your gorgeous eyes.

He washes his cum off the bathroom tiles on the wall and tries to wash the guilty feeling off himself.

Suddenly the door opens slightly, “Hey can I come in? I won’t look, I just wanna brush my teeth.”

Peter makes sure to slide the shower door to the side so it’s covering him and he tells you to come in.

He peeks out of the shower and you smile at him through the mirror. He catches your eyes drifting lower but you can barely even make out the outline of Peter’s body through the frosted glass. 

Peter casts his own glance at you and how you’re still not wearing anything but panties and that short shirt. You stretch your arms, still trying to shake the tired feeling, and your shirt lifts so that Peter can already see the flesh of your tits. But you stop stretching just before your top lifts over your nipples and he quickly turns to look at the wall in the shower instead.

He quickly washes himself using your shower gel, maybe he’ll smell just like you now.

You hand Peter a towel just at the right moment and he wraps it around himself before stepping out of the shower.

“Wait, leave it on,” you tell him.

In his still horny brain a scenario plays out where you said that a few moments earlier and joined Peter in the shower.

This time you don’t tell him if it’s okay for him to look while you’re changing so he diverts his gaze before you slip out of your clothes.

You squeal when you get in the shower, “Peter, why is it so cold? What’s wrong with you?” 

He must not have realised how cold it was, but once he got into the shower he only cared about coming, and he blocked everything else out. By the time he was washing his body, he must have become used to the temperature already and didn’t notice.

Peter brushes his teeth with his second toothbrush that he’s got in your bathroom and quickly goes into your bedroom so he won’t be in the same room as you while you’re naked and he’s only got a towel wrapped around him.

You come out dressed in the clothes you took into the bathroom with you.

“Sorry that I used your shower,” Peter says, sitting on your bed with nothing but your towel.

“You’re welcome here whenever and welcome to use whatever, you know that. But showering that cold should be a crime,” you smile at him, “Should I get you some clothes?”

You go to Peter’s room to get clothes for him and he changes into them in your bathroom.

“I know it’s the weekend but can we get that assignment done today? I wanna go buy my vibrator soon,” you pout.

Peter forgot all about that. How is he supposed to study with you if he knows you’ll go out together to buy a sex toy after?

But somehow he manages. Well, you realise you can do it mostly by yourself once you properly start and Peter is only there for moral support (even though he’s the one who needs moral support; he doesn’t know how much longer he can pretend that he doesn’t have feelings for you, pretend that he didn’t just jerk off while thinking of you and pretend that it–by far–wasn’t the first time.)

“Hey, are you okay?” You ask Peter as you’re both on your way to buy your stupid vibrator that Peter would love to replace.

He doesn’t know what you’re talking about but your worried look tells him he looks exactly as nervous from the outside as he feels. He’s never been to a sex shop. Are they going to ID you? Are you going to meet someone you know? Is it going to be all dingy?

Normally, you’re like an anchor to Peter, your presence can make him feel comfortable in situations that would usually make him panic. But in this situation, you’re making him even antsier. Not in a way that he would describe as anxious but more like a, he’s scared he’ll get a boner any second. That’s always a risk when he’s with you but that risk quadruples when you’re going to a sex shop to buy a vibrator for yourself.

You stop Peter in his tracks and stand in front of him to wipe his sweaty forehead with your sleeve, his heart beating even faster now. “You know you don’t have to come in if it makes you that nervous. But it’s just a shop.”

“What? Yeah I’m fine, pff, like so fine. I’m just hot,” Peter says, watching your eyes go to the thick winter coat Peter is wearing. You’re wearing one too. Even in his jacket, Peter could do with a bit more warmth.

“Here,” you unzip his jacket, and even if it’s only to assist Peter with his stupid lie, you’re still undressing him. You’re not helping the boner risk decrease at all.

The shop is classy and clean and the employees leave you alone (unlike when you dragged Peter to Lush that one time and he was forced to try out bath bombs and oil that he didn’t know the purpose of).

Now he can tell you’re flustered too, just a little bit. Holding on to Peter’s arm the whole time, you find what you need, pay, and put your gloves on top of the packaged vibrator just in case anyone decides to look in your bag.

Even though it’s a Saturday afternoon, the shops aren’t busy so you go to look for some new clothes. Peter thinks you could wear a potato sack and you’d still look pretty, so he’s not the best judge when you come out of the dressing rooms to ask for his opinion on whatever clothes you’re trying on.

“This is so ugly, oh my god,” he hears you from inside the dressing room, laughing.

You pop your head out behind the curtain to make sure no one sees you as you show Peter a top that, yes–even on you, looks ugly. You still look gorgeous, that’s for sure, but even your perfect face and body can’t save the Shrek-coloured thing that is supposed to be a t-shirt.

“You know, you’re the only one who’s allowed to see me in something as ugly as this,” you say absentmindedly as you go back to try on something else and Peter’s heart beats faster at your words.

It might sound ridiculous to an outsider, but to Peter these little things mean the world.

He might not be able to tell if what you feel for him is platonic or more, but he knows you feel something for him. You feel a lot for him. He feels it every time you so much as look at him. 

With you, Peter feels loved.

The love you give him feels like it’s supposed to be for a lover, supposed to be for that one special person. And the lines between friendship and more are so blurry in your relationship that he can’t tell how much is spilling onto the romantic side already.

Peter contemplates paying for your new jeans but in the end, he’s too awkward (and too broke) in front of the cashier to interrupt when you get out your money. Besides things like cinema tickets, drinks and food, Peter has never paid for anything that you bought and it would feel very boyfriend-y.

You get food on your way home and by the time you’re in Peter’s room, it’s dark outside already. Peter was surprised that you even came to his room and when he keeps noticing you looking at the bag with your new toy in it, his assumption that you’d rather be doing something else now is confirmed.

You’ve been so casual when you talk about things like vibrators and getting off, but Peter has never had the courage to properly contribute anything to the conversation. But he decides to put on his big boy pants and before he can chicken out he nods towards his door and says, “Go on, try out your vibrator. I know you’re dying to.”

You give him a charming and apologetic smile, snatching your bag, ready to go. “I’d love to spend time with you, you know that but–”

“I know. But we have enough time for that tomorrow. Just don’t break your–” Don’t break what? Don’t break your pussy? Your clit? He’s never said any of those words out loud.

“I won’t,” you help him out and climb on the bed again to kiss his cheek, “I’ll see you tomorrow. Pancakes as always?”

“Pancakes as always,” Peter smiles, feeling himself blush, “Text me your review of the toy,” he says before you leave.

“I will,” you smile back at him, wave, and close the door.

Peter waits a few moments until he thinks you’ve arrived at your door. Are you going to throw yourself on your bed as soon as you get in? Shower first? Are you going to slowly take off all your clothes, caress your body to turn yourself on? Seduce yourself? Or are you going to push your pants down just a few inches and shove the vibrator between your legs?

Whatever you’re doing, thinking of any of those scenarios makes Peter hard immediately; that, and the tension from today that he can finally release.

He moves to the side of the bed that you were just lying on, and the sheets still smell like you.

Peter unbuckles his belt and pushes down his jeans, grabbing himself through his boxers and instantly feeling a sense of relief.

He imagines you lying in your bed, right now, two fingers between your legs. You’re so wet from being with Peter, the guy you’re into, all day, that your fingertips easily glide over your skin.

Peter shifts and runs his thumb over the head of his cock, spreading the precum. The warm, familiar pressure is already building up in Peter’s body, and he slides his fist up and down himself faster.

In Peter’s mind, you’re spreading your lips now, holding the vibrator against your clit. You jolt at the first contact and smile, knowing you’re about to feel nothing but bliss.

Your body relaxes and you let the vibration take over completely, chasing your orgasm that’s so close after only a minute. You throw your head back when you cum, your eyebrows scrunched together. Your legs start shaking once you can’t take it anymore, but you press the vibrator to your clit during the last few aftershocks.

Peter cums at the same time as you do in his imagination. He’s spilling over his abs and his hands, eyes screwed shut in pleasure.

He lies in his bed for a few more moments, sighing as he cleans up the mess he just made. He gets a message from you: Had a nice day btw :) Can’t wait to see you again tomorrow <3

He smiles and texts back, too exhausted to feel bad for what he just did.

Tomorrow will be the third day in a row that you’re spending time together and you’re showing no signs of getting tired of him. But at this rate, it seems like Peter will never know what being with you while you orgasm is actually like.

He can be patient, but he doesn’t know if he’s waiting for something that will never happen. 

He doesn’t even care about the sex, he just wants to hold your hand and know what it means, know that it means that you’re in a romantic relationship.

He’ll give you all the time you need, that’s all he can do. He simply can’t confess his feelings, he can plan on doing it and dream about it as much as he wants, but when he’s standing in front of you he can’t risk losing you.

Maybe one day he’ll be brave enough, and who knows, maybe you’re thinking the exact same thing right now, trying to be brave but you just can’t.

Maybe.

*

Peter knocks at your door the next day, ready to get pancakes like you always do on Sundays. There’s a lot of commotion behind the door and you take a while to open it.

“You’re early,” you say, hair messy and overall dishevelled.

“Am I? I don’t mind waiting,” Peter says.

“I’ve just quickly got to shower, you can go back to your room or wait here, whichever you want.”

“No problem, I’ll just wait here.” Peter feels as if that’s the wrong answer because you don’t exactly look thrilled that he’ll be in your room, but you still let him in with a small smile. He knows that you can’t be mad at him and by the time Peter’s on your bed and you're about to go to the bathroom, you’re giving him a genuine smile and say you won’t be long.

Peter gets out his phone as he hears you turning on the water and he drops to his back on your bed.

Just as he’s about to go on Instagram, he hears a quiet, mechanical whirring. He wouldn’t be able to pick up on it without his enhanced hearing.

He hears how you smack your hand over your mouth, but you’re not quick enough. Peter still heard a tiny moan.

So that’s why you didn’t want Peter coming in. You’ve probably been making yourself cum all night and you weren’t finished with the last round.

Peter sits up and tries to stick his fingers in his ears, but even if he can’t hear you anymore he’s still got the vivid image of you in his head, only a wall separating you two.

He stands up and looks for something to distract himself before he gets hard, but to make things even worse, Peter’s eyes land on a pair of panties next to your bed.

He feels like a perv as he picks them up. He can see your arousal still glistening in them, and it’s like they’re calling out Peter’s name.

He’s about to lift them to his face when he hears you turning off the water. Peter stuffs the panties into his jeans pocket quickly and out of reflex. He stiffly sits on your bed, unsure if he still has enough time to pull your underwear out of his pocket again and throw it under your bed. 

He’s too nervous to hear what you’re doing, his ears ringing, and before he can bring himself to quickly put your underwear back, you’re coming out of the bathroom, dressed and ready to go.

With your innocent rambling about college he manages to calm down but you and your stupid vibrator are still on his mind. But it’s a good thing that you two can talk about stuff like that, so maybe he’ll get his mind off it once he asks you about it.

“So, is it good?” He asks you as you slide into the booth at the place you always go to for pancakes.

“Is what good?”

“Your, your vibrator thing? You didn’t send me a review,” he says.

“Oh yeah, sorry,” you laugh, “It’s so good, oh my god. I’m so glad we don’t have roommates here cause I did it like six times last night. I get why people pay so much for it. I mean it’s supposed to simulate oral sex and I can’t imagine that it feels the same but I guess I’ll find out one day.”

“You always have me if you want to find out how it feels.”

He can only gather the courage to say that because of what you once said about sucking his dick for practice so you could suck Andrew’s dick for a better score. The only difference is that you turned out to be joking, but Peter is serious.

He probably sounds too serious too because you give him a questioning, “Huh?”

“Well- well I’m just saying if you wanna compare your toy to oral sex then I... you know... my tongue is available to you,” he says it exactly how it comes to his mind, unsure if he should make it sound more like a joke.

You laugh, declaring it a joke yourself, “Okay, thanks. You’re so cute.”

It’s not ideal but the fact that you’re not running away from him and gagging shows him that at least the thought of Peter going down on you doesn’t disgust you. The fact that you made a joke about going down on him first, even if that was weeks ago, gives Peter a tiny bit of hope that maybe his instinct has been right all this time. Maybe you do like him back and you just need a bit more time.

“Um, I heard that next week there’s going to be loads of shooting stars. I was thinking we could drive out of the city and go stargazing. I already asked James and he said we can take his car–the truck, it’s big enough for us to lie down in while we look at the sky, it’s going to be warmer next week too and–”

“I’d love to,” you grin.

He mirrors your smile immediately because it actually took a lot of convincing for Peter’s friend James to let Peter have his car. And more importantly, looking at the stars sounds very romantic. He wasn't sure if he should invite you to something so obviously romantic.

What if it makes you realise that Peter likes you and you distance yourself from him because you don’t feel the same?

What if you do feel the same, but you need your time and it’s too early for a date-like activity?

But what if... what if it’s just the right thing?

You hold hands, you’ve slept in a bed together, so Peter doubts you will be freaked out by stargazing. But Peter can already feel the butterflies just thinking about lying under the night sky with you, and what if you don’t?

But maybe Peter is ready for the risk after all. He’ll see if you’re enjoying yourself, try to see in your beautiful eyes if you’re as smitten as him. He's realised that he’ll have to try one day and now that you’ve agreed to his plan, it feels like this is the right timing, the right thing. Maybe he’ll even ask you how you feel, or make a comment about how romantic the situation is.

And if you and Peter belong together, then maybe it’s time for you. He certainly feels that he’s ready. He’s not expecting a kiss, he’s not expecting anything except the tiniest hint that a romantic night with Peter doesn’t leave you cold. That would be more than enough to keep him going for so many more months to come.

He can wait if you need time but he’s just one man and his passion for you burns so brightly inside him that he just needs something, no matter how small it is.

You two walk home, your bellies filled with pancakes and warmth from seeing your person. No matter if it’s platonic or romantic, Peter would be blind if he didn’t see that he makes you happy and how much you glow and grin and his presence. 

You hang out on campus for a bit more but you tell him you still need to study and you’ll see him tomorrow (he tries not to think about how you’re probably lying and are simply going to use your vibrator over and over).

Peter changes into sweats once he gets to his room and as he’s putting his jeans away he notices something pink peeking out of the pocket. Your panties. He completely forgot about them.

He carefully pulls them out, holding them like they’re a sacred treasure.

Making himself comfortable on his bed, he takes a deep breath before bringing your underwear up to his face.

He doesn’t know what he was expecting your arousal to smell like, not like this, but it’s even better. 

It smells heavenly, just like everything else about you.

He bunches your panties up in his hand and presses them against his face, inhaling your scent while he reaches a hand under his sweatpants and strokes himself. 

He’s been hard since he remembered he had your panties and he doesn’t even think about you making yourself wet, your smell alone has him coming undone within seconds.

He does it again before going to bed, this time wrapping the panties around his hand so he’s jerking himself off with them. He bites his t-shirt in an attempt to muffle his moans as the material slides up and down his cock.

He fucks his fist as hard and as fast as he can, his bed starting to squeak from the intensity of it.

Your wetness on your panties has long dried but the thought of your arousal so close to his dick has him–once again–reaching his orgasm pathetically fast. He sighs after he cums, examining the panties to make sure he pulled them away in time and there’s none of his cum on them.

He wants to save them for another time; as many times as they’ll still have your addicting smell on them.

He cleans the mess off himself, his cum ending up in a tissue that he throws into the trash can with all the other tissues. He’ll empty it before you come over the next time.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆 ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★ﾟ:*:･｡

You’ve been driving for half an hour now, the city nothing but a few lights in the rearview mirror. 

You find a spot next to a field, not a soul to be seen anywhere near you. You get the blankets and snacks to make yourselves comfortable in the back of James’s pickup truck that Peter borrowed.

“Look,” you point towards the sky, but Peter misses the shooting star. He goes back to looking at your beautiful face, only to find your eyes already on him.

He feels your hand on the side of his face, pushing his head to face the sky again, “Look at the stars, not at me,” you say and he can hear the grin in your voice. You’re enjoying yourself, and that’s all that matters. You want him to enjoy himself too, not knowing that your face is so much more interesting to look at.

After a few moments of staring into the brightly lit sky–it never looks like this in the polluted city–he has to admit, the night sky isn’t bad either.

It only takes a few seconds until another shooting star races across the sky and you share an excited look, “Did you see that?” You ask.

“You’re supposed to make a wish,” Peter whispers, eyes closed as he wishes for a relationship with you.

You’re still looking at him when he opens his eyes, your gaze intense, eyes flitting across his face.

“Did you make a wish?” Peter asks. You nod and slowly divert your gaze towards the masterpiece of nature above you again.

He can’t shake the feeling that your wish also had something to do with him. Something romantic. He always overthinks and doubts himself but this is one thing he’s sure about.

But the moment is fleeting and Peter doesn’t find the words to say. You’re back to looking at the stars, and he doesn’t want to have to grab your face to kiss you.

He swallows down the disappointment and tries to enjoy the time with you, his dear friend. Not many people have a friendship like yours and at this moment he just tries to be grateful for that.

“Peter?” Your voice is quiet.

“Mhm?”

“I’m so glad we met,” you turn to your side, your whole body facing him now. He can hear the raw emotion in your voice, he thinks he can even see tears in your eyes. That’s what your shared love does to Peter too. He could cry just thinking about it.

“Me too,” he says, reaching for your hand, trying to bring the monstrosity of his feelings into words to let you know that nothing has made him as happy as meeting you, but the words won’t come out. 

“Our friendship means so much to me,” you say, and it stings. In this romantic moment, cuddled up beneath the stars, is that all Peter will ever be to you? A friend?

You continue, “I‘m sorry if I ruin it with what I‘m about to do.”

“What–”

You lean in and kiss Peter.

The world stops. Nothing matters, nothing but your lips on Peter’s. He always thought he’d be overcome with great excitement when you first kiss, an explosion of fireworks in his mind and his insides, but he feels at peace. It simply feels right.

“Did I just ruin our friendship?” You whisper, and it’s then that Peter realises that he barely kissed you back. He was too stunned to.

He puts his hands on your face and pulls you in, pressing his lips against yours over and over.

“You didn’t ruin our friendship, you turned it into something better, so much better. And you know that our friendship is hard to beat,” Peter says.

You let out a laugh of joy, “It is,” and you kiss him again, slinging your arms around his neck to pull him as close as you can.

Your lips are soft, so so soft, and even in the cold night, Peter feels warm because he has your body against his.

“Could you maybe uh… slap me?” Peter asks.

“Um, what?”

“Just so I know I’m not dreaming. Please.”

You pinch his cheek instead and you both smile. Peter’s not waking up. He’s already awake. It’s not a dream, this is actually happening.

The fireworks come after all, an explosion of happiness shooting through his chest when he realises that this is real.

He hugs you tight, as tight as he can without breaking you.

Peter’s heart drops when you pull away and tears stain your cheeks, “What-what’s wrong?” he asks.

“Nothing, nothing,” you put a hand on his chest, “I’m just so happy.” Your voice breaks as more tears rush down your face but your eyes are full of happiness.

Tonight, Peter was hoping for a hint that maybe in the future you see something more than friendship between you two too. What he got was all of you. A confession of your feelings, a raw exposure of your deepest emotions, vulnerability. But you trust him. And he’s so glad you do. He’ll do anything to make sure you’re happy and safe and comfortable. 

He starts crying too, just a few tears, either because he’s seeing you cry or because it’s the first time in his life that he’s ecstatic enough to experience happy tears—he’s been waiting for this for so long, unsure if it would ever even happen. All the doubt from the last months tumbles away – none of it matters anymore. You kissed him. 

“I really want to blow my nose but I don’t want to leave you,” Peter sniffles.

You look at him, “Go blow your nose, Peter.”

“Okay.”

“I have some tissues in my bag.”

You keep your hand on Peter’s leg while he reaches for your bag and half a minute later you’re reunited again with you lying in Peter’s arms.

You drove all the way to look at the stars but you can’t keep your eyes off each other, never going more than a minute without kissing. It takes a few more minutes for you to pretend that the stars are more interesting than Peter, and you straddle him once you decide you can’t go any longer without being as close to him as possible.

Peter wraps his arms around your waist, enjoying your weight on him. The kisses turn from pecks into something more, but it’s soft and unhurried. You’re taking your time with Peter, savouring the feel of him while Peter takes it all, takes all you give him.

Your wet mouths on each other is the only sound far and wide; even mother nature is quiet as you kiss Peter in the back of this truck, out in the country with no one else around.

You shift, your lips never leaving Peter’s, and start grinding against him, slowly.

He squeezes your waist harder as it becomes difficult to control himself. The only thing stopping him from ruining his pants is the fact that you’re both wearing jeans, so you’re narrowly missing Peter’s hardness, doing what feels good for you.

You stop abruptly with horror in your eyes and Peter strokes your back, “Everything okay? Why’d you stop?”

You look down, a bashful smile on your lips, “I didn’t realise I was doing that.”

Peter stops himself from groaning. He’s getting more turned on with every passing second.

“You don’t have to stop on my behalf.”

After two seconds of contemplation, you kiss Peter again, adjusting your position. You both gasp into each other’s mouths when you’ve perfectly aligned your bodies, and they start moving perfectly in tune with one another.

“I’ve been dreaming of having you on top of me for so long,” Peter says, hands now on your hips, feeling your every movement.

“And I’ve wanted to be on top of you.. for so long,” you’re distracted, pushing yourself up with your hands on Peter’s chest, your voice faltering as you hold in a moan.

Peter feels incredible – everything you do makes him feel incredible. 

So incredible that he doesn’t know how he hasn’t cum yet, but he’s trying so hard not to.

He nearly moans when you grab his hoodie harder and you whimper, “I’m so close.”

One hand is at your jeans, trying to undo the buttons but you can’t, too lost in pleasure.

“Peter, unbutton my jeans,” you say–or rather whimper, “Please.”

And even though he’s on the brink of coming, nothing matters more than your orgasm right now, so he quickly fumbles with the buttons and opens them, your hand disappearing down your pants immediately.

Peter grabs the backs of your thighs as you cum on top of him, your face more gorgeous than he could have ever imagined, so pretty and so vulnerable just for him. He cums at the same time as you, trying to hide it but his hips push up against yours nevertheless.

You let yourself fall to Peter’s side, hiking your leg up over his lap. Peter puts his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close.

“Did you uh..” you look up at him, half teasing him, half unsure if it even happened.

Peter drags a hand over his face, “Yeah… I.. came in my pants.”

“Oh,” you try not to laugh, “Sorry.”

He looks at you, “No, don’t apologise, that was one of the best moments of my life.”

You give him baby wipes from your bag while you pack the stuff and wait for him in the car. He reluctantly hands you the baby wipes when he gets in next to you, looking at your lap.

“What?” You ask.

“I’ve known how you smell for nearly a week now and I don’t know how much longer I can go without having a taste of you.” He’s thinking about your panties, safely stored in his room but they’ve lost even the last traces of your smell.

You follow Peter’s eyes towards your crotch and figure out what he’s talking about, “How… how do you know how I smell?” 

Shit. 

He forgot that you’re not supposed to know that. 

But maybe, subconsciously, he said it on purpose so he can get any secrets out before you two get serious. Or maybe he’s just a dumbass, but he’s trying to look at the bright side. He’s not capable of any negative feelings when you just kissed him.

“Peter?” You ask. You don’t sound mad, you’re just curious.

“I uh, I took a pair of underwear from your room,” he starts.

“The pink ones? I’ve been looking for them.”

“Yeah, they’re pink. And it was the day after you got that clit sucking toy thing so I kept imagining you using it and then the smell made it so much more real…” he says, head hanging low in shame. You still don’t sound mad or grossed out but you haven’t heard all of it yet.

“Go on.”

“I used your underwear to um… jerk off,” he doesn’t meet your eyes until he hears your next words.

“That’s kind of hot,” you bury a hand in his hair, looking at him like you want to eat him up.

“R-really? You’re not mad?”

You shake your head and lean over to kiss him and Peter feels his blush up to his ears.

“I do want my panties back though.”

He tells you you’ll get them back and starts the engine to drive back.

“Wait,” you say, “Didn’t you want a taste?”

He immediately stops the car and leans over. 

“I- well, I didn’t get a chance to get that wet but..”

“I’ll take anything,” Peter pleads.

You kiss his nose and unbutton your jeans, your fingers disappearing beneath them. He hears the wetness and is hard at once. And that’s when you didn’t have a chance to get that wet? You pull two glistening fingers out and bring them in front of his lips.

His cheeks heat up when he leans forward to take them into his mouth. 

He moans at the taste. Sweet yet tangy. He wants to bury his face in you immediately; but you seem tired and he’ll have plenty of opportunities to do that another time.

Peter pulls you close and kisses you, he’s not that good with words so he hopes his tongue in your mouth tells him how much he wants you. It doesn’t have to be now, he just wants you to know.

“I like you.” It slips out of Peter’s mouth when you pull away from the kiss but his words make you connect your lips to his again.

“I like you too,” you smile, nearly laughing because it should probably have been obvious to Peter as soon as you kissed him. Leaning back in your seat in content, you look at Peter with those beautiful eyes of yours. 

Those four little words could make him cry happy tears again but he pulls himself together when you turn on one of your favourite songs and he turns away when you use the baby wipes. 

Before he drives you two home, a thought pops into Peter’s head; a thought that he’s had time and time again and he has to make sure that you know exactly how he likes you.

“But I um… I want you to know that I really do like you, as a person, romantically. I– of course I enjoyed what just happened–you have no idea just how much–”

“I think it was obvious how much you enjoyed it, Peter,” you interrupt him with a teasing smile that makes him blush and stutter for a few seconds before he continues.

“So, while, of course, I’m into you sexually, the emotional and romantic part is so much more important to me, and I need you to know that. But I’ve had so many sexual thoughts about you and, now that I’ve told you that I had your underwear and everything–”

“So you feel bad that you’ve had sexual thoughts about me?” You sum it up and Peter closes his mouth and nods.

“Well, don’t. Peter, in the last month I’ve spent every minute away from you with my fingers between my legs, imagining–wishing they were yours. I’m glad I was not the only one, it’s nice to hear that you’ve been as affected as I’ve been.”

“Are you sure? Because I remember that time when you said how all guys on campus just think with their dicks and how I’m different from them but I’m really not that different. If I’m not thinking about hugging you or thinking about your smile, then I’m always thinking about getting in your pants. And that is a lot of the time. And I’m sure that, even if you’ve thought about me in that way too, I’ve thought about you way more and I just need to know if you think I’m a perv or something.”

“Peter, hey,” you cup his cheek, “I don’t think that. And you don’t think with your dick. You just said you’ve wanted me for months and you didn’t even kiss me. You’re the opposite of those guys that have nothing but sex on their minds so that they can’t even think straight and ruin friendships with girls. You didn’t do that. You thought about my and your feelings and about our connection rather than getting in my pants.”

“But I did think a lot about getting into your pants,” he sighs.

“I thought about you getting into my pants too. That’s fine. That’s the beauty of liking someone, there’s not just the romantic side but also the sexual side. But you didn’t let the sexual side control you and you cared about my feelings first and foremost. Don’t feel bad for thinking about having sex with me, I’m glad you do. But you do so much more than that. You’re nothing like those guys.”

“I’m not like the other guys?” Peter laughs and then kisses you. (He still can’t believe he’s been kissing you all night). You shake your head, reassuring him.

Hearing you say that helps him immensely. He never felt bad about imagining what having sex with you would be like. It was the fact that it was without your knowledge and he had no idea if you’d be grossed and creeped out if you knew about it because you only saw him as a friend. He was scared of making you uncomfortable if you ever found out.

But you’ve found out now and you’re not just saying that it’s okay for him to think about that, but that you have thoughts about it too. (And now his thoughts are going to be even better, knowing that you might be thinking the same thing as him and his fantasies might turn into more than just fantasies).

The journey back has both of you smiling; what just happened still seems unreal, but every shared grin reminds Peter that it really did happen.

It breaks Peter’s heart when he delivers you back to your room, but he can tell you need sleep and he’s not exactly wide awake either. You kiss him like you mean it and you don’t pull away until you’re breathless.

When he gets to his room, Peter quickly puts your panties in his laundry basket so he won’t forget, and then he throws himself onto his bed and squeals loudly. He doesn’t care if anyone hears, he’s happy and he doesn’t mind if people know.

He gets a message from his next-door neighbour Brian:

Bro, you okay?

I heard a weird noise

He texts back: Y/n kissed me :)))))

Brian: About time, happy for you!

Peter considers going over to talk to his friend and tell him all about tonight. He’s tired but there’s no way he’ll sleep now anyway.

He then gets a phone call from you, and he picks up immediately.

“Peter?”

His face drops at your unsure voice. Did you change your mind?

“Yeah?”

“Did… did that really happen?” He thinks he can hear something positive in your voice but it’s hard to tell over the phone.

“It did.”

“Oh,” you say, “Good. I’m having a hard time believing it actually happened. I’ve been waiting for so long.”

He smiles again immediately, “Trust me, it hasn’t fully sunken in yet for me either.”

“Do you maybe wanna come over?” You ask, “I know it’s late but it’s the weekend so..”

He jumps to his feet and sets off instantly, “I don’t know why we didn’t think of that before.”

You giggle, “Me neither. I guess I was tired, but I’ll just be thinking about you all night anyway.”

You stay on the phone with him until he’s at your door, pulling him in for a kiss before he’s even in your room.

You push Peter onto the bed, lie on top of him, and hug him so tight that he can barely breathe. This would be the best way to go.

You’re both exhausted yet excited and interrupt each other with a kiss every few minutes while you’re talking about anything that comes to your mind.

“How long have you liked me?” You ask.

Peter smiles as he thinks back to the first time you met, “You made me nervous from the start because you’re so pretty, and then we talked about such personal things the first time we met. But I didn’t realise just how attracted to you I was until class a few days later when you were laughing about Professor Garfield’s jokes and talking about his ass.”

You pout and cup Peter’s cheek, “And then later I even made that joke about sucking his dick for a better score. Aw no, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he shrugs, “You just came on top of me and not him.”

You hide your face in his neck at the reminder that you just nearly had sex with Peter outside. His hand rubs over your back as if he’s not blushing at the thought of it.

“When did you start liking me?” He asks and you lift your head again.

“I thought you were cute the first time I saw you and then when we talked in the kitchen I knew I’d have to keep you because I immediately felt comfortable around you. And then… I don’t know. You just did your thing. And then my heart did its thing too.”

“I’m glad my charm worked on you.”

“It worked wonders,” you push yourself up on your hands and kiss Peter again, staying on top of him for a while until his lips feel sore.

“But regardless of this romantic… and sexual side,” you shyly smile at each other, “I meant what I said. Our friendship means a lot to me. And I’m glad we became friends before anything else.”

“Me too.”

He knows what you mean. Being friends allowed you two to get comfortable around each other first without any pressure to do things to make you attractive to the other person. Now you have a solid base of trust and you know each other; you don’t have to worry about only showing your best sides like other couples do in the beginning stages. You know each other inside out, (except for the fact that you’ve liked each other for a while — but that’s different), the good, the bad, the ugly – yet you’re still choosing each other. Happily so. 

You both lie on your sides, Peter’s hand reaching over to rest on your hip. He can’t help but smile the whole time.

“Were you planning to kiss me? Or was it spontaneous?”

“I’ve been thinking about how it would feel to kiss you for months now, but for some reason it never occurred to me to make the first move. I was pretty sure you like me but the time went on and you didn’t make a move and I got scared that I’d ruin our friendship if I totally misinterpreted everything and you didn’t like me back. 

“And I would have never forgiven myself for that. But when we were lying in the back of that truck, underneath the stars, I don’t know, it was so romantic and you were looking at me with so much adoration that there’s no way I wouldn’t have kissed you. My heart was leading me, I only gathered the courage because my body did what it knew I had to do, I was not in control at that moment, but I guess sometimes it’s good to give up control. But it was definitely spontaneous.”

Peter leans down so his face is right in front of your chest and he whispers, “Thank you, heart,” to which he hears your gorgeous laugh. Your whole body moves with your giggles, pushing your chest even closer to his face. It takes a second for him to get the willpower to pull his face away again.

You connect your lips to his a few more times, Peter’s heart fluttering with every passing second.

“Just so you know, I have liked you all this time, you were right. But I felt the same as you and you’re the most important person to me so I didn’t want to take even the slightest risk when it came to us. There were times when I thought our friendship would even survive me confessing my feelings and you not feeling the same, but by not telling you there was always the hope that you did like me. 

“But if I told you and you didn’t feel the same, even if our friendship survived, it wouldn’t have mattered because it would have broken my heart into a million pieces. And I couldn’t put myself through that-”

“I’d never do that. I’ll take good care of your heart, Peter.”

“I know you will.”

You share a small kiss, Peter intertwining your hands.

“Okay, looking back, I probably should have known that you like me as more than a friend. Your love for my legs gave it away, but at the time I didn’t realise-”

“How do you know that I love your legs?” Peter asks as he turns red, looking at your thighs and resisting the urge to put his hand on one of them.

“When you were drunk, you told me how much you love them. You were basically drooling because of them.”

“Oh.. I don’t remember that. But I do love them.”

“I know,” you smile as you place one of his hands on your thigh and he squeezes the flesh.

You lie next to each other for a while, breath evening out and Peter thinks you’ve fallen asleep until he hears your voice, “Peter?”

“Yeah?”

“I still can‘t believe that this is actually happening. It‘s like when you‘re at a concert and you don‘t realise that you‘re seeing your favourite artist live and in person, and afterwards you still haven’t realised, and you never really get how lucky you were.”

Peter turns to his side to face you, his tired brain taking a while to answer, but he’s satisfied with what he says, “But a concert only happens once, and we‘ll be together forev— a long time. And longterm. We have plenty of time to realise that it‘s real. Maybe we‘ll realise if you kiss me again.”

You grin immediately and lean in to connect your mouth to Peter’s.

He understands what you’re saying, he can’t quite believe it either. It’s been too long for it to be a dream, he knows that it’s real, but it’ll take a few days for him to realise that he really is the luckiest person on earth. 

He’s grateful that you two have something so beautiful that it nearly feels impossible.

You touch each other for a bit, not sexually, you’re just touching each other’s skin, realising more and more that this is reality.

You lazily make out for a few more minutes until Peter drifts off into the most peaceful sleep he’s ever had, with you in his arms.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫 ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★ﾟ:*:･｡ 

It’s been a few weeks since that one eventful night and you’re spending even more time with each other than before. Making out with you has become Peter’s new hobby.

He loves that you’re experiencing all your sexual firsts together. You haven’t actually done anything more than kiss since the night under the stars, and he’s more than happy to be patient if you need it but he’s looking forward to more.

“Is it okay if we don’t go all the way yet?” You ask him while you’re both hydrating and eating fruit between makeout sessions, “I definitely want to soon, but maybe not… not yet.”

Peter pulls you on top of his lap and holds you, “We established that the very first time we met, didn’t we? Of course it’s okay if we wait.”

“Okay,” you kiss him, “I don’t mean that we can’t do anything though.”

Peter licks his lips when he realises you’re planning something. You push Peter’s chest so he lies on his back and you slot your hips over his. His eyes flutter shut when he feels your mouth on the special spot on his neck and you slowly start grinding on him.

He grabs your hips and opens his eyes again when you stop kissing him to focus on that sweet place between your legs rubbing against Peter.

You stop when your eyes meet, “You have to close your eyes.”

“I wanna see you though.”

“It’s different from the first time, we’re not out during the night. And the position’s uncomfortable.”

“Then let’s change it.”

He’s already hard and if you continue like that he won’t take much longer; but your pleasure is more important to him so he pulls his sweat shorts further up his leg and lifts you onto his thigh. 

Your eyes go down and you realise what he wants you to do, “But you–”

“Shh, this is about you right now, okay? And I’ll cum as soon as you do anyway so don’t worry about me. This okay?”

He sees how his words give you confidence and you nod, letting yourself fully sit down on his thigh. Peter knew he liked your pretty skirt for more than aesthetic reasons because the only thing between your warm pussy and Peter’s skin is your underwear. He could cum from the feeling of your wet heat through your panties alone, but he tries to focus on making you breathless with his kisses once you wrap your arms around his neck and pull his face close.

He holds you as you rock yourself on his thigh, becoming surer in your movements after a while, finding what feels best for you. Peter instinctively flexes the muscles in his thigh when you change your position slightly, and your little gasp tells him to continue doing it.

Your wetness slowly but surely drenches your panties and reaches Peter’s skin. You grab his shirt hard and bury your other hand in his hair, pulling. Peter tries bouncing his leg up and down and is rewarded with the sweetest moan coming from your mouth, followed by a gasp and a whispered: “I’m gonna cum.”

Your legs get weaker while you’re coming but, through his own approaching orgasm, Peter pushes your hips in whatever direction you want them to go and together you try to savour your highs for as long as possible. 

Out of breath, you’re still holding onto Peter tightly. As your hand in his hair slowly lets go, you press a kiss to his head, your hand on his shirt easing too as you smooth down the material.

“Sorry, did I hurt you?” You ask carefully but Peter shakes his head and purses his lips for you to give him a kiss, and you smile when you do.

“Oh, wait did you really cum?” You’re glancing down at the wet spot on his pants but your eyes widen when you get off him and realise how much you leaked onto his thigh yourself.

“I don’t know how I couldn’t cum when I have the prettiest, sexiest woman in the world having an orgasm on my lap.”

You lean your head against his shoulder, hiding your face from him while your cheeks heat up. You get off him and he goes to the bathroom to clean up.

You’re absentmindedly biting your lip when Peter comes back and he pulls you out of your daydream with a kiss.

“Do you wanna eat my pussy?”

Peter freezes for a second and then jumps onto the bed. You laugh, “Wait, I need a break first.”

“Okay,” he sits down next to you and swallows. He’s hard already just from the thought of going down on you. He couldn’t be happier that you want him to do it, he’s had daydreams (well, he’s mostly thought about it during nighttime) about it so many times.

“Do you want me to give you a massage?” He asks. It’s something you’ve done for him countless times and he doesn’t return the favour as often as he’d want to because your massages are heavenly and he can barely get up after.

“Yes please,” you lie down on your stomach, “But don’t stand on me.” You both chuckle.

Your massages consist of kneeling or standing on Peter’s back. It sounds painful but to him it’s the best thing he’s ever felt. He doesn’t just like your weight on his lap, he likes you on top of him in various scenarios.

He’s kneading your shoulders for about a minute when you suddenly sit up, “Okay, the break is over, can you eat me out now?”

A smile spreads over Peter’s face and you kiss him, a similar expression on your lips.

You get comfortable on your back and pull your shirt over your head and slip out of your skirt.

Peter sits between your legs, speechless, thumb rubbing over the large wet spot on your panties. You gasp when he touches you there but Peter can’t continue before showing you how much he loves your tits first. They're perfect.

He kisses his way up your stomach, inching further up until your nipple is in his mouth and your hand goes into his hair. He gets lost in the feeling of one of your boobs in his hand and the other one against his tongue until you push his head away.

He worries he’s hurt you but you whimper and spread your legs, pulling them up against your chest, “Please,” is all you can manage to say. Peter’s hands wander down your sides and between your legs, his fingers gliding over your panties.

Peter drags your underwear down your legs slowly, a string of your arousal staying connected to your panties momentarily. He licks his lips and kneels in front of the bed, pulling you to the edge of the mattress.

With your legs on his shoulders, Peter kisses your clit once, watching as your eyes flutter shut. He’s forgetting that this is your first time too, so your expectations probably aren’t too high. And you’re wet from your earlier orgasm and it seems to be doing wonders for you; you already start arching your back when Peter licks up and down your clit a few times.

He savours the taste of you on his tongue, sweeter than anything he’s ever tasted, and knowing that he’s tasting you because you’re wet for him makes things even better.

As he plays with your clit, his tongue in your pussy, he puts a hand on your stomach. It’s just because he doesn’t know where else to put his hand, but you grab some of his fingers, holding his hand and Peter’s convinced his eyes must be shaped like hearts right now. He’s always loved holding hands with you.

He makes out with your pussy, your juices all over his mouth, and he starts sucking your clit.

“Peter..” your voice comes out as a whimper and you grip his hand harder. You arch further into him and your eyes squeeze shut, and Peter can tell you’re coming – on his tongue, with his face between your legs, just like he’s imagined so many times but it’s so much better than what he ever could have wished for.

He only pulls his mouth away from you slowly, not wanting the moment to end. You don’t let go of his hand, instead using your intertwined fingers to pull him up so Peter can kiss you. 

You hug him like you never want to let him go again and Peter gladly complies. He wraps his arms around you and lies on top of you for as long as you’ll have him.

“I’m too tired to return the favour,” you say after a while.

“That’s okay. I just wanted to make you feel good.” 

He’s glad you said it because then you won’t need to find out that he came in his pants ages ago, yet again, and you don’t need to be reminded of what a loser your boyfriend can be and how you’re the opposite.

Peter lifts his head so you’re looking at each other, and you cup his cheeks to kiss him on the lips a few times.

“I’m getting cold,” you say.

“I’ll keep you warm.”

You smile and kiss his forehead, “I should get dressed. And I need to pee. But you can cuddle me again after.” Peter gets up and scoops you up in his arms, earning a squeal from you.

He carries you to the bathroom and even though he’s completely dressed and you’re naked and vulnerable, he can tell you’re content and comfortable by the way you drop your head to his shoulder and let him hold you.

You’re in the bathroom while gets the clothes you asked him to get from your room, but he changes first so he’s not walking around the student accommodation with a mess in his pants.

You’re sitting on the bed in all your naked glory when he gets back. He stares for a second, smiling softly as he realises how lucky he is to get to see you like this, that he’s the only one in the world who does and that you want him to see you like this.

It’s later in the night and you’re in bed, you sitting on top of Peter, kissing him. It’s not sexual; you’re enjoying each other’s company, touching each other, locking lips over and over and over. Peter couldn’t be happier. There’s a smile on his face the whole time.

“I like kissing you. Like a lot,” you say.

“I love kissing you.”

“Peter?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you wanna be my boy—”

“Girlfriend? Do you wanna be my girlfriend?” He interrupts you, somewhat surprised.

You grin and throw your arms around him, “Yes.”

“Sorry, I wanted to say it. After you made the first move I wanted to do this.”

“Everything okay?” You ask, realising he’s not telling you everything simply by looking at him.

“Well I don’t know, I kind of thought we were together already,” he says and your face softens.

“Oh. I mean we may as well have been. But we never properly talked about it. And just now I realised how sad I was that I couldn't officially call you my boyfriend, so I wanted to make sure that I could.”

“You’re right, now we have talked about it. And now it’s official. The most beautiful woman in the world is officially my girlfriend,” he beams as he cups your cheek and kisses you again. 

You lie down next to him, his arm around you as you cuddle into his side.

After a few moments of looking at Peter, you start giggling, as if you just remembered something funny or embarrassing about him.

“What?” He asks.

“Nothing just, I’m so into you, and you really weren’t sure if I liked you? I know we‘ve talked about how we were both too scared to ruin the friendship but we were both idiots. 

“I mean, I tried to give you the boldest, most obvious signs. I kept holding your hand, talked about me getting off. I changed in front of you, slept next to you half-naked? Peter, I said I’d suck your dick.”

“Yeah but it was only in relation to you sucking professor Garfield’s dick for a better mark.”

“Knowing me, do you think I’d really suck a professor’s dick to get a better score?”

He shrugs, “Well, not when you say it like that, no. But we didn’t know each other that well yet. And hearing the girl you like say she’ll suck another guy’s dick isn’t nice regardless of if she’s being serious or not.”

You pout and cup his face, kissing him a few times, “I only want your dick, promise.”

“And my dick only wants you,” he says, earning a small laugh from you.

“But seriously, I contemplated peeing while you were in the bathroom with me at that party. If there was an obvious sign that I liked you, it would be that,” you joke.

“Just so you know, you can pee in front of me. And as long as you’re okay with that, I’d also feel comfortable peeing in front of you.”

You scrunch up your face, “We’ll avoid it if we can.” You both laugh but you know it would be no big deal and you’d be comfortable with it. It sounds like a weird thing to bond over, but Peter thinks it’s sweet.

“Anyway, I know I brought it up but can we stop talking about peeing so you can go down on me again?”

Peter’s eyes light up, “Yes, yesyesyes,” and he starts kissing down your body.

*

“So,” Peter asks you a few days later, “You know how you said your sex toy is supposed to feel like oral sex? So who’s better? Me or the vibrator?”

You give him an exaggerated pout and scoot closer to him on the bed, ”Don’t make me hurt your feelings.”

You’ve just come back from a date Peter planned. You got take-out from your favourite restaurant and ate it next to the river that goes through the city. You walked for hours, holding hands, talking, getting ice cream and just being with each other.

While Peter loves going out with you, he’s not sure if anything can beat spending time alone with you, in your bed, utterly comfortable and being nothing but yourself. Not to mention that you two can have sex whenever you want to.

“I don’t mind if you say it’s the vibrator, I mean it’s made for making you feel good and I’m just some guy,” Peter says, “It’s literally called a clit-sucker.”

“Sex with you is better but if you’re comparing the toy with you sucking my clit, then the vibrator is better, yes,” you move to his lap and put your arms on his shoulders, linking your hands behind his head.

“Can I use it on you?”

You bite your lip when he says it, “There’s not much you can do, you just hold it against my clit.”

“I’d love to do that.”

You grin and start kissing him.

He flips you around so you’re under him. He slowly takes off all your clothes and you pull off his shirt. He can’t resist getting a taste of you before he starts, humming as he begins eating you out, tongue in your pussy and his thumb on your clit.

You whine when he stops but you both remember that you wanted to use your toy. He kisses his way up your body, your arousal on his lips.

“You’re so hot, I don’t know if I deserve you,” he whispers into your skin as he’s kissing your belly. You tug him up to you to kiss him with such intensity that tells him he deserves you, all of you. You’re made for each other. And you feel it too.

You reach into your bedside drawer and pull out your vibrator. Peter smiles as he spreads your legs and lies down between them.

“Like this?” He turns it on and you adjust the setting, lying back when Peter presses a kiss on your clit and places the toy on your pussy.

You put your hand over his, shifting it so it’s in the perfect place. He lifts one of your legs over his shoulder and rests his cheek against your other thigh, occasionally kissing the skin there. He brings his arm over your body, smoothing his hand over your tummy and grabbing one of your tits, playing with your nipple.

Your hands absentmindedly find his hair, burying your fingers in it as he tells you how pretty you are and how he wants you to cum.

You glance at Peter between your legs, smiling and laying your head back down on the pillow. A few moments later he notices your breathing changing and how your hips slightly buck up.

“I’m gonna cum,” you moan, your back arching, and Peter puts his hand over your lower belly to keep you down. Your hand tightens in his hair as frantic breaths and strangled sounds leave your mouth, not able to form any coherent sentence.

After a few seconds, Peter wants to pull the toy away, thinking you’re done, but you hold his hand in place until your legs shake and he feels your belly convulsing under his hand. You’re coming until your head drops to the side and you let go of both his hair and his hand so he pulls away the vibrator.

“Oh–God. That was the best orgasm I’ve ever had. Sorry if I hurt you,” your hand goes through his hair once more but he kisses your hand instead, “Don’t worry.”

You let your head fall back, your eyes not leaving Peter. The way you’re looking at him is nearly enough to make him cum right then and there, but he takes your hand and kisses you instead.

You wrap your legs around Peter’s waist and pull him as close as you can, “Can we go all the way? I feel so empty, I need you inside of me.”

Peter gulps at your words, pulling his hips away from yours so he doesn’t finish before you’ve even started. “Are you sure? Last week you said you wanted to wait.”

“Yeah, I am. I thought it would take me longer to be comfortable around you when I’m naked but I feel so good, and I like being naked in front of you. I like how you look at me and how it makes me feel,” you smile softly and kiss him.

“I like having you naked in front of me too.”

“I know, that’s why I’m so comfortable. And the fact that I want this so quickly shows me that it’s the right thing and also I just really really need you inside of me.”

“Oh my god,” he whispers, closing his eyes to refocus, “I have to get the condoms.”

“Make sure to hide this first,” your hands go to the front of his sweatpants and he playfully narrows his eyes at you because you know exactly that what you’re doing is not helping his situation.

After another kiss from you, he manages to pull himself away from you and hides his hardness as well as he can. He slips back into his shirt and runs to his room to get the condoms you two bought the other week just so you’d have them.

When he comes back you already have your fingers between your legs, “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself.”

“Don’t apologise, baby,” Peter says before taking off his clothes in record time and joining you on the bed. 

You make out for a few minutes, forgetting everything else. His fingers wander to your pussy, playing with your clit until you can’t keep kissing him anymore, distracted by the pleasure.

He slips one finger into your pussy first, then two.

“Peter, it’s not enough,” you moan with a desperation in your voice that makes him even harder which, up to this point, felt impossible.

“‘M just checking you can take it, get you used to having something inside of you.”

You sigh into his mouth and give him the dirtiest kiss you ever have. “Just so you know.. I don’t know how long I’m gonna last,” he warns you, afraid of disappointing you.

“I don’t care, I just need you right now.”

“What if I cum immediately once I’m in you?”

You hold his face in your hands, “Fuck, Pete, that’s so hot. I want you to cum inside of me.”

“Don’t say that because I will.”

“Please, please, I’m ready,” you whisper.

“Wait, you mean with a condom right?”

You laugh and nod, kissing him on the nose.

“Okay, just checking,” he says, putting on the condom. 

You hold on to his neck as he lines himself up with you, feeling how wet you are. He pushes into you slowly, making sure you’re okay once he’s inside of you completely, “You okay?”

“Yeah, it feels even bigger inside of me.”

He blushes at you calling his dick big and runs a hand down your cheek, “Should I pull out?”

“No, no. Just give me a second.” 

You both take deep breaths once Peter starts rubbing your clit – you because you’re relaxing, Peter because he’s about to cum if he doesn’t focus.

He has you coming around his dick quickly. You press your chest against Peter’s when your back arches from the pleasure and you kiss the side of his face when you’re coming down from the high.

“Lift me up,” you tell him and you end up pushing Peter down on the bed, straddling his lap.

You place your hands on either side of Peter’s head, leaving him with your tits right in his face. You tell him to fuck you and with his hands on your hips, Peter slowly thrusts into you from below.

Your pussy squeezes him so tight, and you’re so warm, “Fuck, you feel so so good,” he groans. 

You start bouncing on him, meeting his thrusts halfway, now more used to him inside of you.

He closes his eyes, trying to think of something else but your quiet moans and your earlier words about wanting him to cum in you make him orgasm after a few more seconds.

He fucks you until he’s too exhausted to move and you grin down at him, both of you lying down to cuddle. 

You don’t say anything for a few minutes, both exhausted and content, only grinning at each other and occasionally giving the other a lazy kiss before you sit up on him again, your nipples right in front of his mouth.

He takes the opportunity to run his tongue around one, but you lean back, dazed, “No, no, you’ll make me horny again,” you smile, “And I don’t think I can take another orgasm right now.”

He kisses your sternum instead and picks you up in his arms so you can take a shower together.

Peter washes your body for you, taking his time to massage every part of you for a few seconds. He wants to spoil and pamper you and take as much work off your hands as he can. He knows you’d do the same for him.

Once you’re both clean, you stand under the water for a while, Peter’s arms around your waist, your back pulled to his chest. Your breathing is calm and your eyes are closed, completely relaxed against Peter.

“I came in here once,” Peter interrupts the silence.

You slowly open your eyes and turn around to face him, a smile making its way onto your face before it turns into a laugh, “What?”

“It was after that night when I got really drunk. I woke up with this perfect ass right against my crotch,” he squeezes one of your ass cheeks for emphasis. 

“You mean back when we were just friends?” You ask, pulling his arms around your body again, “That feels so long ago.”

“And at the same time like it was yesterday.” “Yeah,” you smile, “I probably would have helped you out if you’d asked.”

“Really?”

“I was already into you then and there’s no way I would have been able to–or wanted to–resist if I found out you were horny because of me. I was coming on my vibrator three times a day wishing it was you instead.”

Peter runs a hand over his face, remembering how scared he was that you’d never like him back, “I was wishing it was me too. I heard you that one time, when you were masturbating while I was waiting for you in there,” he nods his head towards the door to your room.

“You can’t blame me, you saw how that thing makes me cum,” you lean your head on his shoulder, hiding your embarrassment.

The moment you look down and see that Peter’s hard again, he stiffens even more.

“You’re getting harder from me looking at your dick?” You ask, licking your lips.

He nods, putting a hand around the back of your neck and gently pulling you towards him, kissing you to distract you from the blush creeping onto his cheeks.

While your teeth tug at Peter’s bottom lip, your hands smooth down his chest, over his faint happy trail and eventually you wrap your hand around his cock. He gasps at the first contact and opens his eyes, meeting your lust-filled gaze, “I can’t believe I haven’t done this before,” you say, starting to jerk him off with a slightly unsure look on your face.

“Is this okay?” You ask and Peter nods, “Show me how you do it,” you urge, lifting Peter’s hand to wrap it around your own.

With a firm grip, Peter guides your hand, “F-fuck,” is all he can manage to get out apart from a shaky breath. Your free hand runs across his chest, occasionally rubbing over his nipples, making him gasp. 

“I really need you to cum for me right now,” you whisper, looking down at your hand sliding up and down his dick. Your words make him groan and before he can prepare, waves of pleasure flow through him, his cum splashing all over your tummy. He can’t stop coming, especially not when you angle his cock further towards you, your belly now covered in him.

“Fuck,” you both moan at the same time and then you smile at each other. You step away from the spray of the shower, sliding a finger across your skin and sucking it into your mouth.

If he hadn’t already cum three times today, Peter would be hard in half a second. He shakes his head in disbelief, not sure what he did to ever deserve a girlfriend as sexy as you. He runs his thumb over your belly, picking up the rest of his cum on you and you open your mouth before he even asks you to.

He pushes it into your mouth slowly and you hum as he does it. Grabbing your face right after, he kisses you until neither of you can breathe. “Can I eat you out again now?”

You grin immediately, “Yes, but I’m tired.”

After you’ve dried off, he carries you to your bed, making sure you’re comfortable on it before his mouth disappears between your legs. He’s proud of how you grip his hair, grinding your pussy against his face and how you cum on his tongue.

He gets a notification on his phone just as he’s done kissing you after he made you cum. He ordered some food before you two went in the shower and it’s about to arrive.

“Go and get it, I can wait,” you tell him, but he makes sure to kiss your forehead and give you water and baby wipes before pulling on some clothes and rushing downstairs to get the food.

You eat it on your bed with a towel laid down to make sure nothing gets dirty. Peter likes how you randomly grab his hand while you’re eating or asking him to pass you your drink.

With some quiet music playing, you make yourselves comfortable in your bed, cuddling.

“Thank you,” you say, looking at him like he’s responsible for all good in the world.

“For what?”

“For everything. For taking care of me. For being you,” you slide your fingers between his. He picks up your intertwined hands and kisses yours, “It’s my pleasure. Thank you for being you, and for being with me.”

“There’s no one in the world I’d rather be with,” you lean over to kiss him, leaving your lips on his for a few seconds. “This white shirt looks so good on you, it’s my favourite,” you tell him, smoothing down the material and then resting your head on his chest.

“Thank you,” he wraps an arm around your shoulder, holding you tight, “You know what looks even better on me?”

“Me?” You ask, already knowing what Peter is going to say and he adores you for it.

“Yes,” he smiles, “You.”

“I like this position, I like hearing your heart beating so clearly,” you say, nuzzling up against him.

“And I like that I can feel a heartbeat as soon as I put my hand here,” Peter smirks, sliding a hand between your legs and immediately feeling the pulsating warmth, even through your panties.

“Don’t blame me for getting turned on when the man I love touches my pussy,” you say, grabbing Peter’s hand into yours and away from your underwear to stop you from getting horny.

It takes both of you a second to realise that you just said that you love him. Probably because you’ve both felt it for a while; first as friends, then as lovers. Even if no one’s said it yet, it was obvious.

“I love you too,” he says softly and that’s when you realise what you just said. You turn towards him and start grinning, meeting Peter’s own wide smile. You start littering his face with kisses until he holds your face in place to kiss your lips. It’s like you melt right into his mouth once your lips touch his.

You spend the rest of the night telling each other that you love the other, giggling and cuddling and kissing until the early morning hours.

  *

Peter wants to sit through this lecture with you on his lap when you get to the lecture hall one minute before the lesson starts and there are no two seats free next to each other.

But you two promised yourselves that you weren’t going to be that annoying couple that has to be together at all times, so you two sit at opposite sides of the room.

Peter’s stomach tingles with jealousy when he sees that you’re sitting next to a guy you know. Brandon. Peter remembers him from the day you and Peter met. When it was Peter’s turn to tell an embarrassing sex story and he had nothing to say, you told Brandon to tell his story instead, distracting everyone and saving Peter.

He smiles when he thinks back to it; who knew that you two would end up in love?

But he hears your giggle through the entire lecture hall, over all the over murmuring, and Peter frowns. He knows it’s stupid if not wrong to be jealous about something so trivial. He’s more than okay with you having a male friend as long as he’s a good person; Peter’s happy about every nice friend you have.

But he’s spent the last few months getting to know you inside and out and you never mentioned Brandon. Now you’re talking to him like you’re best friends. Okay, the thing that bothers Peter the most is that you apparently knew Brandon’s sex story before he told it to the whole party.

Why were you talking to Brandon about sex? And why did you never mention it to Peter?

He knows you’ve done nothing wrong, and it’s ridiculous that he feels like this over a story and you laughing at another man’s jokes. If he was sitting next to you, he’s sure he’d be fine, but it doesn’t help that you’re out of reach.

He’s more curious than jealous, or that’s what he’s trying to tell himself, knowing he has no right to feel this way about such a little thing.

He tries to accept the feeling, tries to focus on what Professor Garfield is saying but throughout the whole lecture Brandon is in the back of Peter’s mind.

By the end of the lesson, he’s more mad than anything else – mad at himself for being jealous. He doesn't want to turn into one of those possessive, toxic and controlling boyfriends. He trusts you and he should be okay with you having dozens of male friends.

He waits for you by the door when the lecture is over, and in the sea of students you and Brandon leave the room separately. Peter’s so focussed on Brandon that he only notices you standing next to him once you hold his hand.

“What’s wrong?” You ask immediately. Peter didn’t know he was being that obvious.

He doesn’t want to drag you into his unnecessary jealousy and insecurity. “No-nothing,” he presses his lips together in a smile and you walk him into a quiet corner.

“What is it?” You sit down and pat the seat next to you for Peter to sit down.

“Well. I don’t know. It’s just, we usually sit together in this class and then we didn’t get to sit together and then you ended up next to a guy you know and I just…” It’s the shortened and less embarrassing version.

You smile, half with pity and half out of amusement, but he knows you’re not trying to make fun of him. “You were jealous? Of Brandon?”

“I don’t know. Kinda. I‘d honestly rather have you look at Andrew’s ass than have you talk to Brandon and giggle at everything he says and–like, I don’t even know him and I just felt insecure because I didn’t feel like I was a part of it,” he looks down, taking a deep breath, “Sorry, of course I don’t mean it like that. Obviously it’s fine if you have male friends. I was just wondering why you haven’t told me about him, because I remember him from the party the first time we met and I realised you never brought him up. And then I got so into my head about being jealous that I felt even worse and now I can’t even tell the jealousy from the being-mad-at-myself apart.”

“Okay, take my hand,” you say, “I love you. And-”

“I love you too,” Peter grins instantly, leaning over to kiss you.

“So, I didn’t tell you about Brandon because I wasn’t thinking about him. If he was important to me I would have introduced you two ages ago. I didn't even realise I was in this class until today. I met him the same night I met you and I was talking to a group of people before we played that game where he told that sex story. But wait.. Peter,” you furrow your eyebrows, “So you remember the story Brandon told?”

“I remember that he told a story, but I was too busy looking at you and being grateful that you helped me out of the situation.”

“Well, his story was about the first time he had sex with his boyfriend. And they’re still together.”

“Oh,” Peter says, dumbfounded, “Now I feel even worse. Why was I so jealous about a guy who has a boyfriend?”

“Don’t beat yourself up about it. We’ve been attached at the hip lately, so of course we're not used to being apart. I’m sure we’ll get used to it in a few days. But you’re jealous for the first time and we’re already talking about it, I’m sure we’ll sort it out. I promise we’ll work it out together.”

He pecks your lips again, “Thank you. I think I was way more surprised about my jealousy than actually being jealous. I trust you and I love you and I do that more and more every day. It’s just that I want you so much that I assume every guy feels the same, because why wouldn’t they? Forgive me if I project that onto them and don’t trust them. But I trust you and that’s what matters and what I’ll try to rely on. I’m sorry for making such a big deal out of something small.”

“Don’t apologise, I’m glad you told me how you feel. You’re already not jealous anymore and you’re talking about it and working it out. That’s what matters. You recognise that it’s unreasonable but jealousy is a normal emotion.”

He gives you a small smile, already understanding himself better thanks to you. You’re right, jealousy is something everyone feels from time to time. He’ll learn how to deal with it, and now that he’s with you, feeling loved and appreciated, he can’t even imagine ever being jealous again. He can tell his love is reciprocated. He trusts you, and that’s all he needs.

You sit together for another while, smiling and saying goodbye when Professor Garfield walks past you. You wait until he’s turned around the corner to say, “Wait, what did you say about his ass earlier?”

Peter chuckles, “Oh, it’s nothing. Just the first time we had this lesson you said something about how nice his ass is.”

“Oh, now I remember. But your ass is the only ass I wanna look at now, you know that?” 

“Really?”

“Really. I wouldn’t have asked you to be my boyfriend if I was interested in anyone else’s ass.”

There’s a comfortable warmth in Peter’s chest at you calling him his boyfriend. He’ll always be happy to be that.

“Well,” he thinks out loud, “There are some guys with nice asses, I can’t deny that. But then we can both admire them, okay? Together.”

You laugh, “You’re so cute. Okay, I’ll let you know when I see a nice ass and we’ll appreciate it together.”

“Good,” Peter smiles, okay with you liking other people’s asses because, after all, those asses don’t have this great connection with you like he does. He’s so much to you than a person with a cute ass.

“But your ass is the nicest,” he adds.

“Thank you," you laugh and kiss his cheek.

You lean back on your hands and tilt your head towards your shoulder. This time Peter feels warmth rushing elsewhere.

“You wanna know what I was thinking about during the whole lesson?”

He nods.

“I was thinking,” you look around to make sure no one else is close enough to hear, “about how I can’t wait to have your dick in my mouth.”

Peter’s heart starts beating twice as fast as it usually does, “My-my- my dick? In your- why would— do you want it to be in your mouth?”

“I do. I had a dream about it last night. And I was gonna wait until tonight to do it but maybe we should do it now to relax you.”

“I.. don’t know if relax is the right word,” he says.

“I’ll do it to show you that I only like you then. And because I really need you.”

Peter’s face falls, “No, shit, I have this class now… no, nevermind, let’s go to my room–”

“No, we said our education and college come first, and that we wouldn’t let our academic performance fall off because of each other.”

“Yeah but I didn’t know that that meant saying no to you…” he looks at his lap and back at you again. 

“To me sucking your dick?” You’re teasing him on purpose now but despite the uncomfortable strain in his pants he’s enjoying it.

“Y-yeah..”

“Go to your class now and I’ll see you tonight,” you kiss him and get up.

“No wait–”

“Bye, baby,” you call out and walk away.

A class has never lasted as long as Peter’s next class. He leaves his bunched up hoodie on his lap the whole time even though he’s cold in just the shirt he’s wearing.

After class, he runs home, going to his dorm room first but you’re not there so he rushes to your room instead. You open the door as if Peter hasn’t been suffering for the past two hours, giving him a quick kiss and sitting back down to read a book.

He gets on his knees in front of you, putting his hands on your thighs, “Please. You can’t be serious right now. I need you.”

You pat the bed next to you and he lies down with a sigh, hoping to get your attention but you keep reading; maybe he can take a nap to make the time pass quicker. You pretend to read for another minute or two and then grin at Peter and straddle him, starting to kiss him. 

“Sorry, I thought it would be fun to tease you but I don’t know what I was thinking. I really want you.”

He’s panting into your mouth after a few moments, already feeling relief as you pull at his belt, taking off Peter’s pants and your and his shirt.

“Let me know uh, how I’m doing,” you say as you get down on your knees in front of the bed.

Your words clear Peter’s mind for a second and he leans down to give you a kiss, “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, by the way.”

You shake your head, “No, I really want to. I just don’t know what to do, so, be patient with me.”

“Always,” he reaches for your hand to kiss it, “So I guess you just– oh my god.” He moans as your mouth wraps around him, all wet and warm.

He makes the mistake of looking at you, the head of his cock in your mouth, your pretty lips against his skin, eyes big and gorgeous and so innocent. He’s close so quickly and motions for you to stop.

“Everything okay?” You ask, already knowing what’s going on though. Peter’s eyes go to your chest, perfect tits pushed together by a pretty bra. If you take that off he doesn’t want to know how fast he’ll cum.

“Yes, more than okay. I love you so much, you know that?”

“I do, but Peter, this is torture for me,” you say seriously.

“What?” He sits up straighter.

“I wanna make you cum so so bad, please just let me, I don’t care how long you last.” You sound so horny that it makes Peter’s cock just that much harder in the way only happens when he’s with you, never when he’s alone.

“Okay. But try to go slow, I wanna enjoy it as long as I can.”

You smirk and he already knows you’ll give it your all, but while he wants to enjoy it as long as possible, he also really wants to cum.

You wrap a hand around him, slapping his dick against your tongue a few times, putting on a show for him. But once you wrap your lips around him, there’s no stopping you.

Peter’s skin glistens with a mixture of your spit and his precum and you keep taking him deeper and deeper until all of him disappears in your mouth. “Fuuuck,” he groans, huffing with a smile, accepting that he’s about to cum.

You start going faster, your wet mouth making a loud, obscene sound against his skin. Peter lies down on his back, barely able to keep his noises in.

“God– oh my god. This is the best thing I’ve ever felt,” his mouth falls open as he cranes his neck to look at you taking his dick. He puts a hand on your head, feeling your every movement up and down his cock.

He cums right down your throat as soon you start moaning, mouth stuffed full of Peter’s dick. You taste the first few drops and then jerk him off so his cum lands on your cheek and the sight is so dirty yet so beautiful.

You’re both panting when Peter is finished and you’re smiling at each other, in silent agreement that that was one of the hottest things you two have ever experienced. Your smile has something shy to it too, unsure how you look with Peter’s cum on your face.

But he’s looking at you with pure admiration, not believing how lucky he is for a bit before pulling you up to kiss you.

“Wait, Pete, you’ll get cu–”

“I don’t care.”

He kisses your mouth, and tasting himself on you is the sexiest thing in the world. He kisses his cum off your skin, connecting your lips afterwards, his tongue in your mouth until the cum is gone.

He wipes his mouth, asking something he’s been thinking about for a while, and he can’t go a second longer without it. “Do you wanna sit on my face?”

You’re taking off your clothes before the question even fully leaves his mouth and he takes in the sight of the prettiest woman alive getting undressed in front of him, for him.

He licks his lips when you slip out of your panties, the holy place between your legs shiny with arousal that’s started running down your thighs.

“You’re so wet.. from going down on me?” He asks, grabbing your thighs as you come closer, straddling him.

You simply nod and while you’re making your way up Peter’s body there’s a moment where your eyes meet for more than a few seconds. You don’t say anything, there’s just mutual appreciation and adoration for one another.

This is something good. Maybe it’s the best thing in the world. It is the best thing in the world.

“I love you,” he says, feeling so much more than those three simple words.

“I love you,” you say, your eyes holding such intensity that he doesn’t think there’s a single person in the world who has ever been as loved as Peter is by you.

He hopes he’s making you feel like the Goddess he sees you as, he adores every inch of you, all the things you’ve ever said to him and every second he’s spent with you.

The moment feels like it goes on forever, and at some point, you both move your heads towards each other, lips meeting in a kiss.

He grabs your ass, ready to drown in your pussy and to make you cum as many times as you want.

“Can I…?” You ask as you lower yourself. 

Peter pulls you towards his face and makes love to you all night. 

You spend the rest of the weekend in each other’s arms, feeling like the luckiest people on earth and you probably are.

☆.｡.:*support a writer and reblog if you enjoyed, it helps out a lot.｡.:*☆

#peter parker x reader #peter parker smut #Peter Parker x you #Peter Parker x y/n #Spiderman x reader #Spiderman smut #peter parker fluff #fem!reader #college!Peter Parker #Peter Parker fanfiction #spider man: no way home #peter parker #tom holland #Peter Parker college au #peter parker friends to lovers

[lovelettersforthedamned]

ugh I love the way you write frat Peter <3333 am thinking of how he would react when his frat brothers flirt with his girl jus to rile him up - ❄️❄️

A Little Reminder

--genre: fluff, slight smut, MINORS DNI.

--pairing: frat!tasm!peter parker x f!reader

--word count: 1.4k

--warnings: language, kisses, slight smut, mention of hickeys, fluff!!!

love this request! i have something similar (more angsty) if you want more, "Let Me Be There, Let Me Be Yours".

You were drained, to say the least. Your last lecture wiped you out, followed by a tutoring session to bring up your plummeting English Literature grade. Peter’s the one to blame for that one. Sure, you scheduled an early morning class knowing that it would be hard to get there, but Peter keeping you hostage in bed also didn’t help. 

As you walk back to your apartment, you’re mentally cursing him knowing that you’ll realistically not do anything about it. With your headphones blocking out the world around you, your only goal was to get home and to Peter. Your bed calls out for you. 

Switching songs, an arm is suddenly wrapped around your shoulders, making you jump out of your skin. Pulling off one side of your headphones, you look towards the person whose arm is around you, finding one of Peter’s frat brothers grinning widely at you. You barely have time to deal with whatever is going on, but still decide to play along not to seem rude, “Bryce, what the fuck is going on?”

“Oh nothing,” he replied nonchalantly, his arm still on your shoulders, “ just walking you home, that’s all.” His tone still holds one of a joke, but now that you’re approaching your apartment he still doesn’t give up.

You can’t help but laugh and scoff, you wonder how long he’ll keep this up. Ducking out of his hold, you stand in front of him, “I didn’t ask you to do that, but thank you so much for your generosity, Bryce. Your heart must be so so big!” You bring a hand up to his shoulder and pat it a few times, “I’ll make sure to tell Pete about this. Just to let him know how caring you are.”

“You do that, (Y/N)! I cannot wait to hear back from him,” his smile is wide still, but sarcasm drips off of his tongue. 

You start to walk up the stairs to your building, waving Bryce goodbye as you giggle to yourself. He’s going to get an earful the next time he sees Peter. 

****

“Hi, Pete! I’m home,” you call out as you close and lock the door behind you. It doesn’t take long before you hear heavy footsteps approach you from the bedroom, Peter’s disheveled state greeting you. He’s shirtless, his boxers the only thing on his body, but you’re not complaining. Peter’s even wearing his glasses, which is a rarity recently. You’ve noticed he only wears them around you. 

As he approaches you, he takes your school bag and your headphones, placing them on the couch before he envelopes you in a bone-crushing hug. You breathe in his scent, the natural musk combined with his body wash makes you melt. Your ear is placed directly on his heart, the rhythmic beat acting as a lullaby. You look up at him again, craving to see him in his glasses again to see that he’s already looking at you. You stand on your toes to reach his lips, catching him off guard in a kiss that he quickly gets accustomed to. His lips are slightly chapped. 

Pulling away he sighs, giving your lips one more quick peck, “How was class, bug?” Brushing a piece of hair that fell into your eyes away, he holds the side of your face. 

“It was long and boring,” you close your eyes, the mere thought of it reeling in another wave of exhaustion, “but guess who I ran into on the way home?” You pull away from his hold to walk over to the kitchen, Peter following loosely behind you. There are a few beats of silence as he goes through the list of who it could be, but he soon gives up with a sigh. “Bryce fucking Quinn,” you reveal.

He leans against the cabinet as you reach into the fridge for a bottle of water, his eyes widening, “I haven’t seen him in a while. How is he?” 

“He’s good,” you open the cap and take a sip, before dropping the bomb on him, “he’s very nice.”

This sparks Peter’s interest, his head cocking to the side as his brows furrowed in confusion, “Oh really?” Your impression of him shocks him. He knows Bryce Quinn to be a jokester, he’s never taken anything seriously, and if he did, it was always because it was part of a running bit that he carried. 

You smirk as you take another sip, trying not to reveal how amused you are, “Yeah, he even walked me home! He even threw his arm over me to make sure I got here safe.” You leave Peter to go into the bathroom, the sudden urge to pee coming over you.

Peter’s once relaxed demeanor was now one of rigid shock, he once again followed you. “What do you mean ‘threw his arm over you’?” You’re sitting on the toilet when Peter opens the door and stands directly in front of you, looking for answers. 

“You need me to answer that right now?”

“Well,” he doesn’t see anything wrong with asking right now, “when else am I gonna ask you?” He’s dead serious too. 

Reaching for the toilet paper, you gather a few pieces, “Maybe when I’m not actively on the toilet?” 

He finally comes to his senses as he turns around, facing the wall, and leaving you to do your business. “It’s not like I haven’t seen every part of you before,” he adds, before turning back around when he hears the toilet flush and the sink run as you wash your hands. 

Washing your hands, you look into the mirror only to see Peter behind you, giving you a scare. “If you’re really worried about this babe, you know you shouldn’t,” you dry your hands off on the towel next to the sink. Turning around to face your worried and slightly angry boyfriend, you reach up to hold his face, his head slightly flinching away from your cold hands, you giggle, “Shit, sorry!” 

Pulling down his face, you kiss his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck as his hands find their home on your waist. The kiss slowly gets needier, causing Peter’s hands to lower down to under your thighs, hoisting you onto the counter, his arms caging you in as he places both of his hands on either side of your head. Your fingers are weaving themselves in his hair, slightly tugging on it, causing a soft moan to escape his lips. You pull away, his lips chasing yours as you back away. “Peter,” you whine. 

He’s not listening, his only objective was connecting your lips again. He’s panting as he responds, his voice breathy, “Yeah, baby?” You can’t help but smirk at his current state. It seems like he forgot all about your previous conversation. 

As you tilt your head back and forth to look into his eyes, he follows. His lips are desperate for your touch, and it shows. You grab his chin, forcing him to look into your eyes, “Don’t be too hard on Bryce when you see him next.” 

Peter groans as he tilts his head back away from your touch, a breathy chuckle leaving him, “Why are we still talking about Bryce when I’m so close to taking you back to bed?” 

You blush at his response, “I’m just saying…I don’t need to be the damsel in distress when it comes to you, Petey.” Peter brings his hands down to scoop under your thighs once again, pulling you up to his chest, making you wrap both your arms and legs around him to not fall, a big smile on your face.

“Oh, bug,” he starts to walk to your bedroom, “you’re never the damsel in distress. But sometimes they need a little reminder that you aren’t theirs to play with, are you?” You shake your head in response, the heat in your cheeks starting to pool lower on your body. “And sometimes they forget that,” he places you gently on the bed. 

Peter can’t help but admire you as you lay in front of him. Pulling off his glasses and tossing them to the side, he kneels on the bed to kiss you again, leaving a few marks on your neck to serve as a physical reminder to those around you. Bryce is so fucked. 

--author's note: I LOVE FRAT!PETER AND I'M SO HAPPY YOU LOVE HIM TOO ❄️ ANON!!!!!! this got a little spicy at the end and i'm so sorry i have no idea what happened LMAOO. don't forget to like, comment, and reblog. my 300 follower celebration is happening now, so don't forget to send things in!! rules are pinned to my blog!!! ok, ily bye <333

#tasm!peter x reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker #fluff #marvel #andrew garfield peter parker #tasm!peter parker #spiderman #college au #frat!peter parker x f!reader #frat!peter parker #frat!peter #tasm!peter parker smut #frat!peter smut

[frankoceanluvrr]

𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐊𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄 — 𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐑

pairing : fem!reader x peter parker, reunited childhood friends to lovers 😫, college!au

warnings : english isn’t my first language, so there could be a couple of grammatical mistakes! plz lmk if u see them! This is so long btw I’m sorry 😭

summary : before he moved away, he gave her a necklace to remember him by. she hasn’t taken it off since.

a/n : you can imagine any peter for this, not specifically tasm i just like the gif -> mj will be included, u can imagine mary or michelle it’s up to you😊 also tysm for 19 followers!!!!!!!!

“Take this,” the young boy sighed, passing the necklace, “it’ll be a reminder of me or whatever. I know I’m not dying or anything but I don’t think we’ll see each other again in person.”

“You really think so?” You sniffled.

“Hey, don’t start crying now you big baby, we can still email and call each other” Peter smiled, nudging your arm.

“You’re the baby, not me, I just had something in my eye.”

“Yeah right [Name], you’re like totally miserable I’m going.”

“You’re the one who got me the necklace! It’s really pretty by the way, I love it,” You said, “I can’t believe you’re leaving me before high school though”

“Look, just promise me we’ll keep in touch?” He asked, eyes meeting yours, “and even if we don’t, take care of the necklace for me?”

“Promise.”

And you hadn’t seen him since that day. It wasn’t like you didn’t try to keep in touch though, it was just a matter of life getting in the way. You had been good friends ever since you were little kids, you had always felt it was a shame you never got to see each other grow up properly. He never forgot you either.

But let’s not dwell on the past. First day of college and you were a wreck. You had always hated change, and you were nervous going somewhere and not knowing anyone except your extremely antisocial roommate, Mj.

You fiddled with your necklace as you struggled to find the room you were in.

“Um, sorry to bother you, but do you know where Professor Browne would be?” You asked, tapping the tall boy on the shoulder.

He turned around, soft eyes looking down at yours, then to your necklace. He smiled, waiting to see your reaction after seeing your childhood friend after years, only to be met with your polite smile. In your defence, he looked completely different. Being bit by a radioactive spider changes a person, including their physique, but it especially changes them while they’re still growing into their bodies. When you knew Peter, he was around about the same height as you and a little chubby. He was now tall and lean, the only thing that hadn’t changed were his brown eyes.

“It’s just down the hall.” He pointed, directing you toward where you were meant to be.

In reality, he was slightly hurt you didn’t recognise him.

“I’m Peter, by the way.” He said, in hopes you’d remember him by his name.

“I’m [Name], thank you for helping me! It was really nice to meet you, but I really need to get going. Thank you again!” You smiled as you walked off.

He felt the urge to call after you, then it dawned on him you probably forgot about your friendship with him. Which obviously wasn’t true, you just didn’t recognise him, but he kept convincing himself it was because you forgot.

“Wait, Peter?” You turned around, “like the Peter from middle school?”

“Took you long enough to realise.” He laughed.

“Shut up no way! You’re kidding right? You look so different! We really need to catch up, what’s your number?” You said, eyes bright and wide.

“Oh, hitting on me already [Name]?” He smirked playfully.

He ended up giving his number as you hurriedly walked to your class, even though you were barely late.

After your class, you decided to meet up with Peter at a nearby cafe. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t nervous, but you were excited regardless.

“Hey,” you smiled sheepishly, “what are the chances, right?”

“Your necklace,” he said, completely ignoring what you said, “you kept it?”

“I promised, remember? It’s beautiful.”

He could only blush at what you said, the fact you kept it after all these years meant so much to him. He remembers the day he picked the necklace for you so vividly, because it was the day he was going to confess his feelings for you. He never did, but he doesn’t regret it since it wouldn’t have worked out anyway, you were both young and he was moving away. Relationship set up for failure.

“How did you even recognise me?” He asked, looking at you with curiosity.

“Your eyes.” you smiled warmly.

“Stop flirting with me, [Name]. I know I’m incredibly handsome and all-”

“You’re still a major geek, by the way.” You cut him off, “biophysics, really? I knew you had a thing for science but wow.”

“Hey! No need for that honestly, we both used to like science” He raised his hands in defence.

“Yeah, used to. Past tense.” You rolled your eyes playfully.

The conversation flowed so easily. It was as if he never left, you talked till cafe closed which was around 10pm.

“Hey, let me walk you to your dorm. I’m sure mine nearby anyway.” He shrugged.

“So chivalrous, Parker. Really, I’m impressed.” You teased, walking beside him, “oh, that totally reminds me, you know spiderman right?”

“Uh, I’ve heard of him before”

“Yeah okay right, you’ve never seen me and him in the same room before,” you started, “I’m definitely him, this is me telling you.”

“Wow, thank you so much [Name] for telling me this massive secret of yours, no idea how you could keep it to yourself honestly.”

“It’s about time I let the whole world know, don’t you think?”

You honestly didn’t mean anything by these comments, you were just joking around, but Peter could feel his heart tighten a bit. He felt like you knew he was Spiderman, which was impossible, but it still worried him.

“Anyways, thanks for dropping me off,” you smiled, “it was really sweet of you.”

He blushed, but you could barely see because it was so dark.

“Before you go,” He said, grabbing your hand as you turned around, “I just wanted to tell you I really missed you.”

You could feel yourself melt a little, “I missed you too.”

He waited for you to go into your dorm as you waved goodbye. His dorm was actually on the other side of campus, he just wanted to walk you.

He spent the whole night thinking about you, how pretty you’d become, how you were still kind. He could feel himself falling for you again already, your energy was just so attractive to him.

Chapter (?) 2 : Late Night Calls

It had been months since you guys had reunited, and you had grown closer than before. It was about 2am and you were still studying. You could feel yourself drowning in what felt like millions of topics, constantly feeling the need to check your phone. You had texted Peter and he hadn’t replied, so throwing yourself into your work was apparently the best option. You liked him so much. It felt silly to have such a big crush on him, but he treated you so well.

While you were studying, Peter was out on night patrol. Balancing education and heroism was always difficult, it left him feeling so overwhelmed he’d shut people out. During night patrol, he’d gotten into a pretty bad fight. He found himself swinging to campus, more specifically your dorm.

Your phone buzzed.

Incoming call..

You answered, squinting at the bright light coming from the device, “Hello?”

“[Name]? I’m so sorry to bother you, but can I come over?” His voice rushed and breathless.

You sat up, feeling way more awake, “Is everything okay? What’s happened? Are you out?”

Your questions were interrupted by a soft knock on the window.

Peter had gotten used to the quick clothes changing by now. He left his suit nearby outside, he was 99% sure no one would take it.

You walked to your window to see Peter, but he had several cuts and bruises across his face.

“Oh my God” you gasped under your breath, trying to stay quiet as you opened the window.

He came through the window as you sat him on your bed.

“Just stay here,” you whispered, “there’s a first aid kit in the other room.”

You came back with the first aid kit and began to help him, no questions asked yet.

“Thank you,” his voice inaudible, “I mean it, you’re so sweet [Name].”

“How did you get to the window?” You asked, placing a bandage on his head.

“Uh, adrenaline?”

You furrowed your eyebrows, “what happened?”

He sighed, avoiding eye contact with you. Was he really about to tell you his secret?

“I’m Spiderman.”

“What?” You said, forgetting all about mj sleeping in the other room.

You quickly brought a hand to your mouth, eyes still wide.

“I’m sorry, I know it’s a shock, I just haven’t told anyone before.” He started, “but um, I have something else to tell you.”

He reached for your hands, squeezing them slightly, “I really like you, [Name].”

Your eyes were practically about to pop out your head.

“You’re joking right?” You chuckled sheepishly.

“No, Im serious [Name]. I love everything about you. I love your smile, your laugh. God I love your laugh.”

Your brain was trying to process all of this without making too much of a scene.

Your hands reached for his cheek, “Can I?”

He answered your question by planting a soft kiss on your lips, smiling into it.

You pulled away, “I really like you too, Parker.”

All he could do was blush.

“I cant believe you’re Spiderman, though. I have a million questions.” You laughed.

“Shoot.”

a/n : so sorry this is so rushed 😭 i just wanted to finish it idk why this has taken me SO long to write

#marvel x reader #spiderman x reader #fanfic #marvel x you #peter parker #peter parker x reader #spiderman x you #fluff #friends to lovers #peter parker fluff #tasm peter parker #tasm!peter fic #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter fanfiction #tasm!peter imagine #college au #college!peter parker

[thewriterg]

𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫

pairing(s); peter parker x fem!reader, nerd!peter x player!reader

summary; There was nothing personal you thought the guy was adorable him hence why you keep him around but at the end you had a reputation to keep —angstober day; 17–

word count; 700+

warning(s); toxic reader, naiveish peter, college AU, mention of sex, and language

playlist; maneater by nelly furtado

A/n:—GIFs; @mcufam & @marvelgifs—

I’m ready. delivered 8:47

Okay! On my way read 8:48

Peter grabbed his keys from off the key hook leaving his dorm in a silent rush his roommate having been absent at the time he was leaving the reminder to shoot him a text disingestes in the back of his mind as he flys down the stairs of his dorm building ignoring the questioning stare he gets from one of the campus security officers as he speeds through the lobby out of the doors and into the parking lot resisting the urge to get to his car with a web from his wrist it’s slightly sprinkling a little cloudy making it cooler with the fall breeze roaming the streets stray leaves that had fallen off the trees drag along the streets when the wind blows on them he starts up his Lexus crossover truck payed in the full by Tony Stark as a graduation gift before pulling out of his parking spot and out of the lot the drive not long to your Sorority house

Before the brunette could pick up his phone to alert you he was there you were already coming out the door after one of your sisters yelled into the house from their position on the swinging seat from the front porch and when you stepped foot out the door he watched you two hug the dirty blonde girl whispering something in your ear before slipping through the door shutting it closed behind her before you trot down the stairs making a way to his car

“Hey you look, you look…” The pale skinned boy couldn’t seem to find words up fitting enough to describe your appearance his chocolate colored eyes raking over your figure as you took a seat next to him your face holding a smirk as you playfully flipped your hair over your shoulder

“You should close your mouth you’ll catch flies” You hummed pulling your perfume from your purse spraying it all over your body as Peter began to drive off from the front of your house after swallowing the thick nothingness in his throat is Adams’s apple bobbing

“Make sure to keep it like that” You demanded turning on your side to watch the brunette lying a hand on his arm that he let you take control of his opposite sat against the steering wheel driving you through traffic

“Keep what?” Your perfume was clouding his senses you skin cells transferring onto his while he occasionally glanced at your features taking them all in one at a time

“Your hair I like the curls stop gelling it down” You spoke softly probably the most soft he’s heard you speak in the time knowing you Peter would be lying if he said he didn’t hear or get told things about you, you were someone he should’ve stayed far away from, should’ve had his guard up around, yet he let you collect his heart and put it in your collection for you to toy with anytime you wanted and he let you do so without any protest

“Yeah, yeah okay” He whispered a small smile on his face as you pulled up to the restaurant you were dining at you unbuckled your seatbelt opening the truck door a slamming it shut while Peter rolled down the window the once genuine beam on his face now dimmed and a lie

“You swear this is your last one?” The brunette mumbled his doe chestnut eyes sad and puppy dog like

“See you later bug boy” You hummed before stepping up on the curb your heeled boots clicking against the pavement as you entered the winery restaurant Peter knew he should’ve drove off prevent his own feeling from being hurt and not invade your privacy but he couldn’t help himself especially when he viewed you hugging Brad Davis out of all people

©2023 thewriterg spooktober do not copy, translate, or modify.

#🦇𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑;𝐆 #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x fem!reader #mcu peter parker #peter parker imagine #college au #the avengers #avengers x reader #the avengers imagine #spooktober #flufftober #angstober #kinktober #fem!reader #romance #angst #marvel angst #peter parker angst #i love you #thewriterg #2023

[shellshocklove]

crush | peter parker

pairing/au: college au – frat!peter parker x female!reader

summary: you accidently learn peter parker's secret

warnings: swearing, fwb relationship

word count: 1.2k

a/n: trying my hand at frat!peter parker since it’s the new craze with a little ficlet lmao. i don’t know what i’m doing and i had no plot or plan for this. i’ve set the pairing as female!reader, but it can be read as gn!reader. i’ve only done it like that in case i would want to write more for this later. anyways happy reading <3

main masterlist / ao3

Peter’s bedroom window moaned and complained as Peter pushed it open. He was tempting fate, but what else was new. The music coming from downstairs vibrated through the brick underneath his hand. Climbing through the window, he hit the floor with a soft thump!

The summer had been long, dank and sweaty, but now the evenings had started to bite. Living at the frat throughout the summer had made Peter lonely. His frat brothers all jetted away – scattered like dice across the world – while Peter stayed put in the old brick house.

The frat house was made for noise, not silence, he’d realized after a few weeks. Every noise he made amplified somehow, like the house fed on the sounds. He’d never noticed how loud his footsteps was; or how the clicking of the metal spoon against his coffee mug bounced against the wall, until he was alone. It was unsettling, and wrong. The music that now moved under the floorboard, and the sounds of people over it, put Peter at ease. With the start of the new fall semester, and his brothers finally back, the house was fed again.

Peter never saw himself in a fraternity. He was working on a degree in biophysics trying to balance classes with his late-night vigilantism ­– he didn’t exactly have much free time. But he’d kinda just fell into it. One night when he’d missed Uncle Ben too much, he’d fallen down a baseball rabbit hole on Youtube. He watched pitcher reels, and top ten craziest moments, and had gotten a ridiculous idea. He tried out for the baseball team at ESU – careful to not to run too fast or hit the baseball out the park – but still they’d wanted him. Peter Parker, a recovering nerd, played college baseball. One thing had led to another, and soon enough he’d been accepted into Zeta Kappa – the captain of the baseball team’s fraternity.

With a sigh Peter pulled off his mask, he was dead tired. He’d had to cut tonight’s patrol short after running out of webs. Everything had been just a little too much lately and he’d forgotten to make new web fluid for his web shooters. After a failed attempt at swinging down a crowded street, he’d fallen face down on a busy street.

He’d played it off as smoothly as possible, hiding the bruise to his ego as he’d instead interacted with some of the passers-by. Spider-Man had handed out lots of high fives tonight. Climbing the wall of some building he’d had to run across the roofs of New York city to get back home. He was exhausted to say the least, dying to feel the softness of his bedsheets against his skin.

Waltzing over to his desk, he rummaged through one of the drawers for his emergency stash of web fluid. Occupied with refilling his web shooters, he missed the creak of the floorboard behind him.

“Holy shit!”

Frozen dead in his tracks, fear sank to his stomach. He didn’t know what to do; if he turned around, he’d be busted, but he couldn’t turn his back forever – he couldn’t do that to you, could he?

His eyes flicked to the corkboard over his desk, to the polaroid he’d taken of you only a few weeks ago after you’d convinced him to go take you swimming. You’d begged and whined, “Peter! Please, please, pretty please!” and he’d folded. It had been the last real day of summer, and together you’d snuck into one of those fancy hotels with a rooftop pool. As soon as you’d dipped your feet in the water, a big smile spread across your face, a smile that, to Peter’s horrifying realization, had tugged on his heartstrings.

It was supposed to be casual, the thing between the two of you, just something so you both could fill that void inside screaming out for intimacy. Peter didn’t have time for a relationship. This was perfect, almost.

“Peter?”

Your voice was barely a whisper, almost cautious, like he was a shaking bunny you were afraid of scaring. His head fell, eyes scanning over the worn wood of his desk. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He’d told himself he was gonna keep you at arm’s length, not in the crook.  

“Don’t tell anyone, please.” The words fell from his lips, a coldness coating them.

He could feel you move behind him, light feet shuffling with nervousness. “I won’t, Peter, I won’t– I swear!”

With a sigh, Peter turned around. He looked you up and down. You were dressed nicely – dressed for the party howling downstairs. He tried to ignore the way you looked at him. It always hit him too hard, made him want to crush your lips with his own, wrap himself up in you and never untangle. You were dangerous.

“I’m sorry… I looked for you at the party but couldn’t find you– so then I figured I’d wait for you in your room, and…” you trailed off, the rest was self-explanatory.

With a huff Peter started moving about his room. He pulled some sweats from his closet and vanished through the door to the bathroom. It was like he needed to get rid of the evidence. He couldn’t talk to you before it was gone. Back inside his bedroom, he ignored the way you sat at the edge of his bed, hands folded in your lap. He put his suit away, hiding it in the back of his closet.

“Let’s forget about this,” he turned around to look at you, a mistake. He watched the way your body sank into the mattress, mirroring the way his heart sank in his chest as he uttered his next words, “and maybe we should just forget about everything else.”

Your face was hard to decipher, it shuffled through an arrangement of emotions: confusion, hurt, anger. All the same emotions Peter tried to hold back.

“I…” you tried to say, “a-are you sure, I mean–”

“I’m sure,” Peter stressed, “this didn’t mean anything right? It was just sex…”,

“Right,” you nodded slowly, like you were still processing, “it was just sex.”

“It didn’t mean anything.” The words felt like they were stuck in the back of his throat.

The look you gave him, cut him across his chest, sliced away at his skin until it reached his heart. “Let’s not pretend it did…”

“No, let’s not,” you glared at him, and Peter could feel a pressure behind his eyes.

“And don’t say anything about me and…” he cocked his head in the direction of his closet, “If anyone knew you knew– it would put you in danger and I don’t want to put you in danger.” It was probably the most honest thing he’d said to you all night.

You rolled your eyes at him, and quickly stood to your feet. He watched how you clenched and unclenched your fist, keeping your quiet rage under control. You shook your head in disbelief, probably wondering why you’d wasted so many months of your life on a loser like him.

Peter hated to do this to you. He wanted only your love. To live with it inside and give his love to you. But that was a selfish thought. He couldn’t do that to you, he couldn’t love you the way you deserved.

One lonely tear escaped you, and it broke Peter’s heart.

“You know what,” you tried to hiss but the sadness in your voice dimmed the bite, “Fuck you, Peter!”

Gathering yourself, you gave him one last look before you slammed the door in his face.

i hope you liked this! <3 please let me know what you thought of this little story. i would love to hear them in the tags, or a comment or through my ask box! <3

tags: @hollandweather

#peter parker #tom holland #andrew garfield #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfic #peter parker angst #frat!peter parker #college au #university au #tom holland x reader #andrew garfield x reader #*writing

[luvmarigold]

keep it hush (college!peter parker x fem!reader)

Summary: You find yourself crossing a line with Peter that you never intended to cross.

Pairings: fwb!peter x reader

WC: 1,086

WARNINGS: fluff, two idiots in love, mutual pining, slight angst (?)

important note: this fic has NOT been stolen! i, the original writer, am reposting this on my new blog as my previous blog (spiderl0rd) was wrongfully deleted. as always, reblogs and comments are appreciated! this is a part of @mermaidxatxheart ‘s Hot Writer Summer Challenge! this fic is based off of the song “Toothbrush” by DNCE. divider by @firefly-graphics

You were in heaven. At least it felt like you were.

Lying there with your head on Peter’s chest, his hand rubbing gentle circles on your back, legs tangled up in the warm sheets, you were the most comfortable you’ve ever been. Perhaps too comfortable.

You and Peter met during your freshman year. He and his friend, Ned, lived in the dorm directly across the hall from you. After learning that you were both from Queens, you became instant friends. It wasn’t until the Spring semester that you noticed something between you. A spark.

A lingering glance here. A flirty comment there. You both finally decided to give in to temptation and try your hand at being friends with benefits.

That was six months ago and against your better judgment, you felt yourself falling for him. Hard. You swore to yourself that for the sake of your friendship, you wouldn’t let yourself get attached. However, your heart had other plans.

You glance out of the window to see the sun setting, realizing your time with Peter has come to an end. You let out a sigh before moving to climb out of bed. Before your feet are able to touch the ground, you feel a gentle hand wrap around your wrist.

“Wait, you’re leaving already? It’s barely even 8 o’clock.” He says with a nearly imperceptible pout on his lips.

You let out a light chuckle, “I just figured I’d start heading back. I’ve been here all day. You’re probably getting sick of me by now.”

“Don’t say that. I could never get sick of you. I love every minute I spend with you.” He says with a slight frown.

You pause and look at him – really look at him. He’s dead serious. You attempt to laugh it off, ignoring the feeling building in the pit of your stomach. You ruffle his already messy curls before finally climbing out of bed, “Aw, thanks, Parker. I love spending time with you too.”

There is a moment of silence as he takes you in. Eyes follow you around the room as you free yourself from his t-shirt, changing back into your own clothes. 

“Hey, Y/N?”

You hum, urging him to continue.

“Y’know you’re always welcome to stay over if you’d like…right?”

You stop in your tracks and look at him, searching his eyes for any indication that he’s joking. Your search turns up empty. 

You just sigh and shake your head. “C’mon Pete, we’ve talked about this. You know the rules.”

“It’s just…you’re always in such a rush to leave after we hook up. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do that, that’s all.”

“I appreciate that. Trust me, I do. I just don’t think it’s appropriate.”

“What do you mean? You’ve slept over dozens of times. What’s one more?” He says crawling over to the edge of the bed to be closer to you.

“Yeah but that was before we started doing this.” You say gesturing between the two of you. 

“It’s just one night. It’s not a big deal.”

You frown, “Maybe not to you, but it is to me.”

A look of confusion flashes across his features. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that cuddling and spending time together after sex crosses a boundary that we both agreed we wouldn’t cross. We both agreed that we need to give each other space in order for this to work. Otherwise, it’ll start to feel like we’re more than just benefitting if you know what I mean.”

A long, uncomfortable silence hangs in the air as you go back to gathering your belongings. You almost forgot that Peter was in the room before he quietly spoke up again.

“…But would that be so bad, though?”

“Peter-” “Please. Let me finish.”

You nod sitting back down next to him on the mattress.

“I’m sorry, okay? I know it’s against the rules or whatever but I can’t help the fact that every time I see you walk out that door, you take a little piece of my heart with you. Every night we spend together just plays on repeat in my head, over and over, until I get the chance to see you again. Being around you is all I want to do, Y/N.”

You feel your heart rate pick up and your breath quicken. This is the moment you’ve been dreaming of since you first came to terms with the fact that you had feelings for Peter. So, why are you not over the moon about his confession?

Avoiding his gaze, you turn away from him, shaking your head. “We’re friends Pete. I would never jeopardize that.”

“Well can’t we at least try? Look at me, sweetheart.” You reluctantly let your eyes meet his as he grabs your hands, sandwiching them between his own. “I say to hell with the rules. I’d break every rule in the book if it meant we got to be together. I’m not saying we have to end up in a relationship if that’s not what you want. All I’m asking is that we have a proper go at it and see if we can make things work. I’m tired of moving around in secrecy. I want to take you out on a real date. I want to fall asleep next to you. I want to be able to show you off because that’s what you deserve, Y/N. Let me be the one to give that to you.”

Your brain is screaming at you to say “no, absolutely not” but your heart is screaming louder and it’s telling you that this may be worth the risk.

“If I agree to this, keyword: if, would you agree to take things slow?”

“Of course, whatever you want! Maybe you can start leaving a change of clothes here? I can empty out one of my drawers for you if you’d like. I can even get you an extra toothbrush or something that you can keep in my bathroom. That way, you don’t have to leave super early to go back to your place. Oh! How about we-” You cut off his rambling by grabbing his face between your hands.

“Parker!”

A deep red washes over his features, throwing you a sheepish grin. “…Yeah?”

“I’d be honored to leave a toothbrush at your place, you goof.”

Those are the last words you’re able to say before he pounces on you, smothering your face with kisses. “You won’t regret this, Y/N. I promise.”

#peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #hotwritersummerchallenge #peter parker #college au #college!peter parker #peter parker fluff #song fic #tom holland #fwb!peter parker #tom holland fluff #spiderman #peter parker fic #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #marvel #marvel fanfiction #writing challenge #marvel imagine

[helloheyhihowdyheya]

Misattribution of Arousal

Fratboy!Peter Parker x gn!reader

Words: ~2k

Masterlist

This was just a some headcannons of working on a project with blonde!fratboy!Peter Parker, not super proofread. Inspired by this post with @reidslovely (thank you for the thirst). This one doesn't get too suggestive, but if there's enough want for another part to this, I could make another part that includes that

Thanks as always for reading!! Love to hear your thoughts (and thots) <3

You’d get paired up together for some project in the psych class you both have

You had only heard of Peter Parker from others: the other guys in his frat or on his basketball team

…Occasionally whispers between girls that had your face heating up

And so when your professor calls your name and Peter’s in the same breath and he turns around to flash you a smile and swishing blonde hair, you’re not sure whether you’re nervous about him possibly dropping all the work onto you or about being so close him in general

He’d be like 5 minutes late to meeting up with you at the library in a loose sweatshirt, huffing and apologizing about practice running long

Though you were a bit skeptical of working with him, you tell him “no worries” and mean it

While flipping through your notebook for project ideas, which involved doing a small presentation on a certain psychological theory and studies supporting it, he mutters something about it being warm in there

And removes his sweatshirt while you’re listing out ideas. “Internal/external attribution, different learning theories, misattribution of arousal, cognitive dissonance–”

“Misattribution of arousal?” he asks, his head released from the sweatshirt as his arms worked their way from the fabric

You keep your eyes purposely on your notebook, saying, “Yeah, when someone feels emotional arousal and–”

“And they mistake what exactly caused that arousal, yeah,” he finishes, sitting back down in a tight black shirt that beg your eyes to look at, and you suddenly internally agree about how warm it felt in here

Swallowing, you say, “Yeah, I can try to find some studies online for us to read” and pull out your laptop

“Oh, I know one. I read it the other week. May I?” he asks, motioning to your laptop 

You nod and start to turn it around to him to look up the study. When he reaches for it, his fingers brush against yours and are so warm. Your gaze drops down to where they touched just for a brief moment, watching the way they flex before they hide behind the screen

Rather than looking at the laptop, your eyes jump to his to find him already staring at you, a cheeky grin on his face

And then he runs his hands through his hair, the blonde strands flopping across his forehead in the softest way. You swear he did it on purpose

Looking away, you turn back to your notebook and don’t stray from it, not even when he says, “How cute…”

It takes everything in you, but all you mutter is “Hmm?”

“Your screensaver. It’s cute.”

“Oh, yeah. That’s my dog, Callie,” you explain, always loving that selfie of you two

He hums low in the back of his throat before saying the words that finally make you look up. “Yeah, she’s cute too.”

You aren’t quite sure how to respond, wondering whether he’s just being nice or if this is some playboy tactic he’s pulling

But the way he looks, his eyes glued to the screen as if he didn’t just make your cheeks hot (though his amused look betrays any innocence) – it all makes you care a little less about which one it is

And he definitely proves himself. Yeah, Peter parties and does great on the basketball team, but he knows his stuff

(It makes you feel a little bad for assuming otherwise, but he just seems happy to prove you wrong if it means it makes you like him more)

He turns the screen back to you, showing you the study someone did to test the theory of misattribution of arousal

An interviewer asks questions to random people on a low, stable bridge vs. a high, swaying one and gives them their phone number to call them after. Those on the high one called back at a higher rate, thinking the arousal they felt from the scary bridge was actually arousal/attraction for the interviewer

And you feel his eyes on you while reading, all too aware of how close his hands are to yours

“Yeah, that one looks great,” you breathe out, keeping your voice steady. You start a presentation and fill in little bits here and there

Peter has his feet up on the table, rocking his chair back as he explains ideas the two of you could include, and it’s the easiest (and most fun) time you’ve had on a group project

You aren’t sure when the topic switched, but you learn about his major that sounds mind-boggling difficult, his friends, his wonderful Aunt May, while you tell him about your life, both here at college and back home

And it’s only when the sun begins the dip lower, sending streaking rays of sunlight through the library windows, do you realize how much time has passed

You apologize, telling him you promised to have dinner with your roommate so you have to run, but he tells you not to worry. He looks up at you while you pack, his elbows on the table, staring up at you with soft eyes and that smile

For just a second, you debate canceling 

But you don’t. You two instead schedule a time to meet up again next week to keep working on it, and you find yourself excited. And surprised about being excited

And most of dinner involves your roommate excitedly asking questions about this study date with Peter Parker

Which you tell them it is absolutely not a date, obviously. You had only given him your number for the project. It’s just studying, even if he did set it up at the campus’s cafe

On your way there, he texts you, making your heart jolt when looking at his message 

“Hey study partner ;) what’s your drink order?”

You text him back your order, promising to pay him back when you get there 

To which he responds with: “no <3”

You try to insist again when you find him in the cafe, taking your things out while your drink and Peter are waiting at the table, but he doesn’t give you a chance. Instead, he just launches into conversation about a story of a chemistry mishap he had in lab the other day, leaving both of you in breathless laughter

But you internally promise to pay him back next time once your drink is empty and your smile wide. And you do, bringing his favorite drink to his fraternity.

Knocking at the door, you’re answered by a guy with dirty blond hair 

He directs you to Peter’s room, introducing himself as his roommate, Harry. And you find yourself feeling a little less nervous walking into a house of all these men

“He might be in the bathroom, you can just wait at the desk or on his bed for him,” he tells you when you find the room empty 

You thank him and set your backpack down on the desk. There isn’t much in there that surprised you, the place having few decorations and typical college kid things, except for a nice family picture of Peter with two older people, one of them you guessed to be his aunt 

He looks so much younger in it, same messy hair except it’s brown here. Same toothy smile though

You automatically turn around when the door opens wider, finding Peter walking in with a towel. Wearing only a towel

Your eyes catch his damp hair and water across his body, the planes of muscle you can’t tear your gaze away from until he lets out a surprised “Oh”

That makes you spin around, your hands coming up to your increasingly hot face, the image of his chest and arms unrelenting behind your eyelids

You rush out your words. “I’m sorry, Harry let me in. To study. For our study…thing. I didn’t mean to, uh–”

And he laughs, apparently finding pleasure in the situation

“It’s fine. But shit, is it that late already? Lost track of time, I’m sorry. I can just get changed quick and then we can start.”

You nod before letting out a meek, “okay.” And you tried, you really did, to not think about him as the sound of the towel hitting the ground hit your ears, but you weren’t successful

“Kay, all good to turn around,” he said, “you and your blushing cheeks”

You turn around and do your best to roll your eyes at his comment, to some success, but you see with his tight shirt is a pair of gray sweatpants hanging low on his hips

You’re supposed to focus on doing a project with this?? No way 

By this point, the project is nearly done, and the nagging thought of not having an excuse to talk to him after it’s all over is also present on your mind

So with all of this going through you while you sit down next to him on his bed, handing him his drink and taking out your laptop, your whole body feels on edge, your heart in your throat

You’re both working on a rough outline for what to say during the presentation, and Peter has to know what’s going on with you when he asks, “How are you feeling about all this?”

Your weak nod and meek, “Good” don’t convince either of you, and you’re secretly grateful when he asks, “Do you want to go over it together? Just practice once before?”

Glancing to his honeyed eyes for the first time since sitting down, you give a small smile and pull up the presentation to practice

Partway through, though, you stumble over a sentence, releasing a frustrated huff at the complex study you had to explain

And there Peter is, resting his warm palm against the back of your hand. “Hey, no worries. I can take that slide if you want, but I know you understand this one better than I ever could.”

His praise and soft look on his face bring your emotions back down, and you mouth a quiet “thank you” before trying the slide again without issue. Peter flashes you smile (nearly making you trip over your words again, but for a different reason this time)

You’re a bit jealous of the nonchalance he has, leaning back onto his elbow when effortlessly presenting his slides

He carries this calming energy to class, standing on one side of the screen in his ridiculously soft-looking flannel with you on the other side. Beforehand, your leg had been bouncing, your fingers fidgeting. But there he was, giving your hand under the table a squeeze before walking up with you for your turn to present

And all you have to do is glance toward him, and he’s already looking at you with a reassuring smile. It’s probably the smoothest presentation you’ve done, and your face is beaming by the time you end (and one of the better scores you get on a project)

The irony of the project topic isn’t quite lost on you, but you can’t say you’re too focused on it when Peter’s right there

After, though, you’re weighed down by the realization that it’s over and you’ll return to only hearing of Peter Parker through other people That is, until you’re walking out of the classroom when you hear his addicting voice say your name, a sound you weren’t sure you’d ever get used to

“Running away from me so soon?” he asks, grinning at you in a way that leaves your throat dry

You laugh through it and say, “No, uh, just going to get lunch before the line gets too long.”

And he’s leaning toward you, the warmth of his body rolling onto you in soft waves. “Well, would there be room for one more at your table? I could pay you back for the drink you got me.”

You can’t help the way your whole being lights up at his words, smiling through your sentence. “That was to pay you back for getting me a drink, Peter.”

For a second, you swear the moment you say his name, his demeanor changes before flashing back to his cool self. “Well, then I guess you’ll just have to pay me back again.”

--

Thanks again for reading! I’d love to hear your thoughts on another part if there’s enough interest <3

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #tasm!peter #tasm peter parker x reader #college!peter parker #college au #andrew garfield x reader #andrew garfield

[justapurrcat]

Things That Look Like Nothing | p.b.p.

Pairing: college!Peter Parker x fem!reader

Synopsys: As if getting caught up into the cliché trap of falling in love with your best friend and having to watch as he falls for someone else wasn’t enough, the universe has decided to take a step further in punishing you, turning your existence in a not-so-figurative life or death situation. Your closest confident is now the reason behind your pain, your anchor the very thing that’s dragging you down...

Word Count: 5.960k

Warnings: English not being my first language, angst, hanahaki disease, so unrequited love and blood, a bit of fluff, a hint of smut... the usual you should expect from me I guess~

Peter Parker Masterlist

General Masterlist

A/n: ... after the absolute filthiness of my last vampire!Tom blurb, I needed something to cleanse my soul, so here is an angsty Peter fic with my attempt at Hanahaki!au (aka watch me writing anything but Unscripted because I emotionally scarred myself with it well done Lia well done)~ hope you enjoy it 💜

“Peter?”

You blinked repeatedly, as if you couldn’t believe your own eyes.

The sight of your best friend perched on the windowsill of your college dorm, without his suit, taking the foolish risk of being seen and discovered, was something you were convinced you would never get to see again.

Peter waved awkwardly, his big puppy eyes betraying a certain insecurity, something he was certain he’d never get to experience when talking to you. You were his safe harbour, the person whose presence he felt comfortable enough with to let all his masks dissolve.

He could let go of Spider-Man, of the orphan, of the young man who carried so much onto his shoulders, of the brave, cheerful façade he sometimes forced himself to put on not to worry his aunt and friends… until all that was left was Peter Parker sound asleep in your arms.

Now though, that same Peter Parker was scared. Scared that you would turn your back to him just like you had stopped talking to him all at once, through a dry text on how you needed to spend some time alone, isolated from everything and everyone.

He had jokingly pointed out that it would’ve been kinda hard while bouncing between classes and your part-time job. No answer had come from you.

So, after an entire week of complete radio silence from your part, Peter had decided to take matters into his own hands.

“Mind if I come in?”, he finally found the courage to ask.

You knew you should’ve told him to go away, that now that he was trying to get a girlfriend, sneaking into your room at night wasn’t exactly the best way to proceed about it, but your stupid body unconsciously betrayed you, stepping aside and nodding like you had done so many times before, effectively inviting him inside.

Force of habit, you told yourself, and you were also doing it to protect his secret identity. Wallowing in that stupid lie was way more reassuring and less scary than admitting that Peter’s absence affected you as if a vital organ had been brutally ripped away from under your flesh.

Not that you really needed to admit that, to be honest, considering that you were not so metaphorically dying because of unrequited love… but still, it was one last stubborn fight to preserve what little was left of your dignity.

“W-what are you doing here?”, you babbled, unable to keep your hands from fidgeting and already starting to feel a strange movement in your chest, the threatening, delicate caress of a soft petal unfolding in your left lung. Right next to your heart, how pathetically cliché.

“Just checking on my best friend.” Peter deadpanned, allowing his gaze to wander around your room, looking for any sign that could tell him what was going on with you. But it all looked the same and his spider sense kept buzzing in the back of his mind without any alteration, a white noise he had reluctantly gotten used to it when it came to you.

“Who’s been avoiding me for some reason”, he added when his eyes landed on the picture frame lying face down on your desk.

“I haven’t”, you objected weakly, caught in your lie like a deer in headlights.

His lips pressed into a hard line, in a frown that tasted likr both anger and pain, and he took a step closer, picking the frame up to examine it. He didn’t really need any other clue, but your bright, smiley childish faces staring back at him felt like a stab through his heart.

It was the first pic the two of you had taken together, something you had always described as your most prized possession. And now you didn’t want to see it, just like you didn’t want to see him.

“You have”, Peter insisted, starting to feel tears burning in his throat. He clenched his jaw, trying to hold them back and – before he could break it – put the pic back in its place.

“Fine, I can’t stand you. Happy now?”, you scoffed, hoping this coldness could pacify the sensation in your chest. In a desperate attempt to save yourself that wouldn’t involve a surgery and a definitive memory loss. You wanted to trick the invisible monster, so that it would eventually lead your heart to believe that there was not an ounce of love left in you that could be given to your best friend.

Better to keep him in your life shielded behind a veil of denial and poorly fabricated indifference, than to lose him to darkness forever.

Of course, it didn’t work in the slightest: you simply couldn’t lie to yourself. And that love was no longer yours to give: it belonged to Peter and Peter alone, whether he wanted it or not.

Clearly not amused by your joke, Peter turned around, actually taking you in for the first time after so many days. And it felt like a punch in his gut.

You shrunk under his incandescent gaze, crossing your arms over your chest. “What?”, you spat defensively.

“You look…”, he trailed off, at complete loss for words.

“Like shit, you can say it.”

And felt like it, too. Isolating yourself and being away from him had turned out to be useless because, even while basically having entered your Rapunzel era, Peter was still all you could think about.

Even now that he was standing in the middle of your tiny bedroom, physically within reach yet miles away from you, you couldn’t bring yourself to believe his presence there was wrong, that that wasn’t where he was supposed to be.

Which didn’t exactly help with the whole Hanahaki situation going on.

“… annihilated.”

“That’s a big word, did MJ teach you that?”, you sneered, trying to move past him to go and sit on your bed. Your legs were starting to feel like jelly, you couldn’t collapse right in front of him or you wouldn’t have heard the end of it.

“Don’t change the subject”, Peter hissed, grabbing your elbow, not harshly enough to hurt you, but firmly enough to stop you and keep you in place. “You’re sick.”

You froze, the sudden proximity and contact spreading fire under your skin and at the same time constricting your lungs. “It’s nothing”, you forced out as naturally as you could.

“Doesn’t look like nothing to me”, he pointed out, an unusual and new scent of flowers coming from your body not going unnoticed by him. He couldn’t explain it to himself: it wasn’t bad, but it didn't smell like any of the perfumes you would use on a daily basis… and yet, it was so… you.

“You’d be surprised how many things can look like nothing”, you instinctively retorted, pulling your arm from his grip, and you had to bite your tongue not to add a couple more words that you were aware would’ve ruined everything beyond repair.

To you.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”, Peter inquired, narrowing his eyes at you.

“Dunno”, you shrugged, dismissing the whole thing. “It sounded like a cool thing to say.”

“y/n…”, he sighed tiredly, trying to resonate with you. “What is going on?”

No response came from you and he gulped when he heard your heartbeat slow down almost imperceptibly. Almost, because Peter had made that rhythm his own, and he had come to know it like the back of his hand. He had regulated his life onto it, his peace nestled in those brief little fragments of seconds inside your ribcage.

“I missed you…”, he confessed. “I miss my y/n.” And he missed the way your heart spoke to him, that sweet, comforting sound that never failed to let him know that everything was okay. But now it spoke a foreign language, so alien that he couldn’t even try to learn it, let alone comprehend it.

“I missed you, too”, you admitted in a thin voice.

“Then why are you avoiding me? What happened?”

“Nothing, Peter”, you repeated softly, with a light shake of your head, letting your lips indulge on the beloved syllables of his name. “I promise it’s nothing.”

“Stop lying to me!”, Peter yelled, the unexpected change in his tone making you jump in surprise. Not in fear. Never in fear.

He immediately regretted raising his voice – and especially raising it at you – but he was mad, worried, and hurt, and your lack of answer did nothing to ease his feelings. If anything, it drove him even madder.

What he had told you was the truth: he did miss you. He missed you like air, he understood he had done something wrong, and he wanted to make it better, he wanted you to feel better… but you weren’t giving him the chance to do that – whatever that was.

For fuck’s sake, he would’ve given you a litre of his own blood, had you told him it was the solution you needed, but you were denying yourself to be helped… and he couldn’t have it that way. He wouldn’t.

“I’m sorry”, he added quickly, reaching out for your hands and taking them in his. He winced at how cold they were.

You let him do that, not putting up any resistance when he took another step in your direction. You just wanted him to hold you tight and never let go of you, was it too much to ask?

Apparently it was, because your name wasn’t MJ Watson.

“It’s okay”, you breathed out, and your voice was so thin that, hadn’t it been for his enhanced hearing, your best friend wouldn’t have heard it.

God every part of you was beginning to hurt so much from his proximity… but it was so nice to have him that close and touching you so tenderly… you would’ve gladly prolonged that pain for eternity. You would’ve died for it.

You realised how stupid you had been to avoid him, all the time you could’ve spent next to him was now lost forever and it was a blasphemy of the worst kind.

Peter placed your palms onto his chest and kept them there in hope his super-human warmth would bring you any comfort, then let go of them and cupped your cheeks, gently tilting your face up so that you would look at him.

He saw your eyes glistening with tears, and it tore him apart to notice how similar they looked to when they were filled with joy. It dawned upon him now, how sad your happiness truly was, like something obscure wouldn’t allow you to experience anything good ever again.

He couldn’t exactly pinpoint when, but the light in your smile had gradually begun to fade, consumed by a slow, but inexorable melancholy that was weakening not only your soul, but your body as well.

“You’re… you’re…”, Peter stuttered, then went quiet, his voice failing him. He couldn’t bring himself to vocalise them, but the words loomed above your heads like a menacing dark fog. What he wanted to say was cruelly obvious and the fact that you didn’t deny it did nothing but prove his theory right.

It wasn’t a simple illness… you were dying.

“No…”

The ground crumbled under his feet, the air turning to dust in his lungs. How could you have hidden that from him? How could he have been so blind not to see it?

“No, it can’t be.”

Your figure became blurred in his eyes, getting reduced to a splash of colours that barely resembled you on the other side of a thick barrier of tears. But he was too scared to wipe them away, filled with the horrible suspicion that you would vanish from his sight if he only dared to try.

“L-let me help you”, he begged with a broken voice. “Please, y/n, let me help you.”

“Peter…”

“Please…”

You shook your head, taking a deep breath despite the piercing pain spreading in your torso. “There’s nothing you can do.”

Frustration bubbled up in his stomach at those words, a mess of emotions clashing in his mind and heart. No, he refused to believe it. “Don’t say it.”

“It’s true.”

“Shut up”, Peter hissed, clenching his jaw. How could you be so stubbornly calm and almost resigned about it?

He was your best friend, you were one of the most important people in his life, he cared about you more than he cared about anyone else, more that he cared about himself, he couldn’t imagine his existence without you… there was no way in the World he couldn’t do anything to help you.

“Peter, there’s no point–”

“I said shut up.”

Like there was some kind of specific correlation between what he was doing and showing you that he could do something to help you, Peter yanked you forward, crashing his lips onto yours as your chests collided with an audible thud.

He kissed you with the ferocious passion of a desperate man, his arms wrapping themselves around you like ivy, caging you in a suffocating, yet freeing embrace, his hands exploring the mysteries of a body he had criminally taken for granted for too long.

Your incredulity didn’t have a long life, the pain long forgotten as your fingers got lost in his hair, wearing the soft locks like the most precious jewellery. You kissed him back as if you were engaging in the fight of your life, effortlessly following his lead like you had been created to do just that in your existence.

Never breaking the contact, Peter hastily backed you up towards your small bed and unceremoniously pushed you down onto the mattress, wasting no time in covering your body with his and getting between your thighs, immediately starting to grind his core against yours.

Just as eagerly, you wrapped your legs around his hips and gripped his shoulders pulling him in and breathlessly whimpering his name as soon as your hungry mouths parted, like that could’ve drawn him even closer.

You had dreamed of this moment for so long, you weren’t going to complain, no matter how unexpected all of it was.

“Peter…”

“That’s…” Peter threw his head back, licking his lips, still savouring your taste, an obscenely blissed out expression on his face as his grunts mixed with your soft moans. “That’s the only thing I wanna hear from you.”

The sight was nothing short of divine. Almost as divine as the feeling of knowing that, hadn’t it been for the layers of clothing separating your bodies, he would’ve been making you his, ruining you for anyone else… after all, he had already done that to your heart.

You gasped when, without warning, he grabbed the collar of your shirt and pulled, tearing it down the middle, his eyes going round and shining bright when your bare breasts came into view.

“Beautiful…”, he purred in contemplation, letting his thumb circle one of your nipples. The whine that simple touch elicited from you emboldened him and, with a devilish grin, he attached his mouth to your skin.

“Peter!”, you yelped, a hand tangling itself through his soft messy curls and the other one fisting his shirt and yanking the fabric. You needed the damn thing off, you wanted to touch him. Feel him.

“Shh”, he cooed, kissing your sternum as a particularly sharp thrust dragged another moan out of your lips. “I got you, petal”

Petal.

It was just a word, yet it was all it took you to remember how things really were, to understand what was truly going on in that precise moment.

And what was going on was that your best friend – whom you loved more than words could convey – was trying to fuck you and that you were letting him. And what was worse, was that he probably – no, he definitely – just wanted to practice, so that he could be ready for when he would do those things with his true love. MJ.

That was all you had become to him, you painfully realised. What remained of his best friend, was now nothing more than a chance to test himself and his abilities.

“P-Peter…”

Your fingers wrapped themselves around his wrist, barely encircling it, and the original intention was to remove his hand from you, but you only ended up keeping it there, even arching your back to give him better access to your body.

“No.”

Yes.

It was so fucking wrong it almost became right. Almost.

“Stop…”

He didn’t hear you, too absorbed by how amazingly right you felt in his arms, on his lips, against him…

Peter discovered that the more he took from you, the more he wanted to give you. He discovered that he needed to be inside of you, that he longed to have you under him, praising how good he was making you feel, telling him how much you cared about him, repeating his name until it would no longer make sense to his ears.

That night, Peter discovered that he wanted to make love to you. Not MJ, you. His y/nn.

“Stop…”

No, he didn’t just want to make love to you.

He wanted to hold your hand, tickle you so much you would cry-laugh, then kiss those tears away as his lips traced every inch of your face. He wanted to fall asleep with his head in your lap and your fingers in his hair as you read for him, he wanted to wake up next to you, whisper cute silly compliments in your ear, he wanted to make you smile and pinch your cheeks.

He wanted to yell to the whole World how lucky he was to have you by his side. And that would’ve meant murmuring in your ear while you were cuddled up against each other, because he wanted you to be his World.

Peter Benjamin Parker discovered that he was in love with you.

“I SAID STOP!”, you screamed with what little remained of your breath, the strangled shattered sound that left your throat dragging him out of that inexplicable delight and turning his blood to ice.

He had heard you this time.

Panic washed over him, the suspect that he might have made you uncomfortable, or worse, hurt you, slithering up his spine and sinking its fangs into the back of his neck, poisoning the ecstasy that had descended upon him. “y/n, what–”

He didn’t get to finish the sentence because you shoved him off of you – more like, he let you – and turned to your side, hunching over yourself as you coughed uncontrollably, blood and petals spilling between the fingers covering your mouth.

Peter smelled it before he saw it, but there was something unusual about it, a note to that scent that shouldn’t have been there.

Hyacinths.

It made no sense, but you were coughing hyacinths.

The dreadful discovery, and all that followed in its wake, hit him like a fucking high-speed train.

No…

What had he done?

When he touched your shoulder, you tried to get away from that bed, from him, and you didn’t know if that was helping you or just hurting you more. It was all pointless, tough, because as soon as your feet touched the floor, you fell like a marionette that’d just got its strings cut off.

“Y/N!!!”

Peter rushed crawled off the bed in a hurry, not giving a damn about his hands touching the bloody sheets, and took you in his arms as he sat on the floor, scorching tears once again clouding his eyes, terror and guilt doing the same to his brain, the spider sense going off like crazy.

You were dying. And now it was because he was killing you.

“Nonononono…”

Red and purple were filling his vision. They were painting your mouth, your throat, your chest, and now his own clothes. But he couldn’t let go of you. He couldn’t let go of his love.

“y/n!”

“Y-your shirt…”, you shivered, coughing more blood and petals “I’m sorr–”

“No, love, no”, Peter shushed you, caressing your face in hope that could bring you some relief. He began to stand up, but you winced at the slightest movement, so he was forced to stop and resume his previous position, cradling you like he was afraid to break you. “There’s nothing to be sorry about, you’re gonna be okay, you hear me? Y-you’re gonna be okay because we have to go on a date.”

He was rambling now, imprisoned in a merciless fight against time, death and all sorts of regrets he never thought he would get up until that moment.

He regretted every single time he looked at you without seeing you and every single time he did see you, but decided not to.

“We have to, get it? A-and we have to because I have to kiss you, because I have to spend the entire time telling you how much I love you, okay? Did you hear that? I love you, I love you, I love you…”

You pressed the side of your face against his chest, trying to focus on the beating of his heart so that it would block everything out. Everything that wasn’t the two of you in that moment.

If that was going to be your end, you wanted it to be with Peter.

“I love you, too”, you exhaled, as all your strength slowly started to abandon you. So that was it, then. Only a few instants of love for a life spent wishing it from afar. But that love came from Peter, your Peter, and that made it worth it.

You looked up and a pained smile appeared on your lips as Peter cupped your cheek. You reached out to push his hair out of his face, only sparing the rebel lock you adored so much.

Peter sniffed, crying uncontrollably, the tiny little drops falling onto your skin, mixing with your own.

“I’d love to go on that date.”

“W-we will…”

You were about to nod when your body stiffened all at once, then went inert in his arms, your hand falling limp by your side as you fell into the dark.

“y/n!!!”

Waking up felt like a fist colliding with your chest, forcing air back into your lungs as a striking white light blinded you. Out of pure instinct, you threw an arm over your eyes to protect them.

“Oh, you’re awake”, someone stated, causing you to look to your left and raise your arm, focusing on the silhouette of a female figure. A doctor was standing next to your bed, hands tucked in the pockets of her immaculate coat and an indecipherable expression on her face. “How are you feeling?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but then you realised what you were about to say. Good. You were feeling good.

More puzzled than ever, you pushed yourself up on your elbows until you were in a sitting position, the fatigue and ache you were expecting to feel while doing so, were nowhere to be found in that hospital room.

You pressed a hand against your sternum and felt nothing but a regular, perfectly healthy pulse. “W-what happened?”, you wondered, looking back at the doctor, who was still observing you in silence.

“Hanahaki disease”, the woman explained, not that you really needed to know. “And in a pretty advanced stage, too, judging by the quantity of blood and fully grown flowers”, she added. “But don’t worry: you’re good now, everything’s okay.”

Judging from her face, maybe she was expecting some sort of reaction, but you just stared at her in complete silence, pure confusion written all over your features.

“Spider-Man found you and brought you here.”

Your jaw dropped, your eyebrows shooting up to your hairline and your confusion transitioning to disbelief. “He has… are you serious?”

So that meant everything that happened wasn’t just a dream…

The doctor nodded, looking a bit perplexed by your question. That didn’t last long, though. “You must’ve scared the life out of him”, she went on, smiling to herself as she got lost in the memory of meeting a superhero. Not the most professional behaviour to adopt with a patient who had just dodged death lying right there… but you couldn’t really blame her, after all.

“I’ve spent like half an hour reassuring him that you were fine”, she recalled, tucking her hair behind her ear, and you had to fight the urge to roll your eyes.

But as it usually happened, your little brain needed to be triggered by words and that was exactly how things went, making you come to the realisation that all that talk about Peter bringing you to the hospital had taken your attention away from a quite important topic.

In all fairness, you weren’t always this slow – your constant anxiety and overthinking wouldn’t allow it –, but you had nearly died: you figured you could cut yourself some slack for needing a bit more time to put two and two together.

At first the doctor had told you that you were good, now that you were fine. Subtle variations to communicate the same message.

“But to be honest, I understand where he came from: you were covered in blood… one of the interns actually fainted as soon as he saw you. We all thought there was nothing that could be done to–”

“Wait, what did you just say?”, you interrupted her, and that startled her a little. Maybe you were coming off as rude, too, but you didn’t really have time to worry about that.

“That you made an intern faint?”, she repeated, arching an eyebrow. “It was his first round, poor guy–”

“No, the ‘me being fine’ part”, you specified, cutting her off again. It was urgent, manners could wait. “What do you mean?”

“You healed”, the doctor said as if it was the most obvious thing ever. “You’re safe now.”

You were not quite sure why she would feel the need to repeat it, and the suspect that she probably thought your confusion was nothing but mere dumbness did cross your mind, but you chose not to question it.

“In fact, you were already safe when you got here. All we had to do was remove the last flowers you couldn’t spit out when you fainted.”

Your jaw dropped dramatically, your eyes nearly popping out of their sockets, the loudest “What?” blocked in your throat, between your vocal cords, without a chance of getting out.

When it became clear that you wouldn’t be able to emit another sound, your gaze fell into your lap, focusing entirely on your folded hands, on the skin you had relentlessly tormented during those last three months and a half. It was a habit you had made yours really quickly, the cuts and scratches on your fingers requiring the excuse of a new cooking course to cover their origin.

Peter had been the hardest to convince, and part of you wanted to believe that it was because of some sort of special connection the two of you shared, a bond that made it impossible for one to lie to the other, or some hopelessly romantic shit like that.

And as you stared at what you had done to yourself in the name of your unrequited love for him you couldn’t force things to make sense for the life of you.

The previous doctor you had talked to had been clear about it, stating that you had only two options to save yourself: an extremely dangerous surgery with very little chance of success, or doing your best to fall out of love with Peter.

But you still remembered Peter. You still loved him… and yet somehow you were no longer ill. So how…

“I feel like I gave you too much information altogether…”, the doctor commented, giving you a weird look you didn’t even notice. “I’m gonna leave you now, so you can rest a bit more, okay? You’re still weak.”

With that, she left the room, without bothering to wait for an answer that wasn’t going to come anyway.

You didn’t move a muscle, staring into the void with your head hung low, the terrifying, sublime sensation of something both worse and better than despair weighting on your shoulders. It was the faintest spark of hope, and you would’ve gladly let it flare up and burn you to the ground.

A little noise dragged you out of your thoughts, and it took you nothing to recognize it: it was the sound of scratching on glass, and that could only mean one thing.

You turned towards the window, finding Spider-Man cautiously peaking his head in. “Peter?”, you exhaled, releasing a breath you had no idea you were holding.

“Uhm… hey…” You could perceive the insecurity in his voice, and even with his face being completely covered, you just knew that a soft baby pink was dusting his cheeks and ears. “I know it’s past visit-time, but… mind if I come in?”

For a few seconds, seeing him there, hearing him asking you that brought you back to your room, with flowers growing in your lungs, a shirt he hadn’t torn, lips he hadn’t claimed and a body he hadn’t touched nor tried to make his. A love he hadn’t poured on you.

“Y-yes…”

Peter carefully stepped inside the room, shutting the window behind him and taking off his mask – him being so comfortable doing it had to have something to do with Karen hacking the security cameras, you were more than positive about that.

“H-hey”, he waved nervously, taking a look around, the thought of you having to stay there on your own making him uncomfortable. Yes, he knew you were no longer in danger, but how could they leave you alone like that after what just happened?

“Hey.”

“Uhm…” He scratched the nape of his neck, chewing on his lips. “I wanted to bring you flowers”, he finally managed to say something coherent, immediately cursing himself for it. “B-but then I thought… you know…”

“It’s okay.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes”, you confirmed, patting the mattress and scooting over a bit in a silent invitation. “They say I’m good now.”

“And what do you say?”, Peter insisted, sitting right next to you, maybe closer than needed. “Are you feeling good?”

You nodded, letting him take your hands in his, your past lies blatantly clear in every small wound his eyes were able to find. Guilt washed over him as he gently brushed his fingertips over them, wishing he could kiss the pain away, wishing that you would let him.

“I should’ve known”, he muttered.

“I’m a better liar than you think”, you joked, lightly bumping your forehead against his, causing him to let out a bitter chuckle. “I’m sorry if I scared you.”

“You’re sorry?”, Peter echoed you in shock, barely dropping your hands. “You are apologising to me?”

“… for scaring you”, you repeated quietly, hanging your head low. “And lying to you.”

“You’re…” Frustrated and at loss for words, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Come here, you idiot” , he said then, opening his arms in resignation.

The simple gesture felt like a miraculous ointment on your soul and you let yourself fall into his tight embrace, nostalgia washing over you like a tsunami. Hiding your face into the crook of his neck, you inhaled the fresh scent of his soap, discovering that even the coarse material of his suit rubbing onto your cheek and irritating your skin was something that you had deeply missed.

“You’re incredible, I swear”, Peter broke the silence, caressing your back in an improvised massage. “You’re lucky that I’m in love with you, or I would swing out of this room right after a sentence like that.”

You tensed up and he perceived that, but he didn’t let go of you.

“I don’t love MJ.”

“What?”, you hummed, keeping your face buried in his chest. It seemed so real, but you weren’t sure you could actually believe it. It would mean having to be vulnerable, coming out of your emotional trenches end exposing yourself to the wonderfully frightening possibility of being worthy of love.

Of Peter Parker’s love.

“I do not love her. I thought I did. I don’t.” He was speaking about it so calmly, like she truly represented nothing but a simple friend in his eyes.

It sounded to good to be true.

“Peter, you’re just saying this because–”

“Oh no, don’t you dare”, Peter stopped you with the most adorable pout. This time, it was him who squeezed your shoulders and pushed you back just enough to look into your eyes, forcing you to listen to him.

“I love you”, he declared firmly, leaving no space for misinterpretation.

Part of you wanted to look away in shame, but you didn’t. Appealing to all your courage, you held his golden-brown gaze, the mesmerizing warmth hitting you like it was the first time. Could you accept that light in your life?

“I've been an idiot not to realise it sooner”, Peter reprimanded his stupid past self. “And I know I showed it in a terrible way – probably the worst way possible –, a-and I hate that I almost had to lose you to understand it, but, I love you. I’m in love with you. You and only you, y/n.”

His eyebrows knit together, determination dripping from his tone. “And I don’t care what you say, I’m gonna repeat it to exhaustion if that’s what it takes to get it in that head of yours.”

He chocked on his own breath, his heart skipping a beat at the thought of you considering him an asshole. “Wait, no, I do care about what you have to say”, he tried to clarify. “Please do tell me what you have to say, that was just me being dramatic, please don’t think I don’t care, because I do, I care so much–”

“Peter.” You calling his name, combined with your fingertips touching his lips, effectively silenced him, and the poor guy stared back at you like a lost puppy, waiting for your verdict.

His hands descended onto your waist, toying with the hem of your shirt. You melted into his touch, dragging the pads your fingers along his chapped bottom lip. He mindlessly kissed them, making warmth spread along your cheeks and ears.

“… if it’s not you saying that you love me, I don’t wanna hear it.”

It took Peter a while to fully process what you just told him, the rejection he was expecting only worsening his discomfort, but when he did… oh Lord, his smile would’ve put the sun to shame.

There was nothing more beautiful in the whole universe than Peter’s joy, a mesmerizing spectacle you were incredibly grateful to be witnessing. It was like welcoming an entire sunrise in your being, a thousand little sparks blooming inside of your chest. What was once filled with deadly petals carrying your sorrow, was now blessed with the light of his love.

And there was no need to accept that light: it was already filling your heart and you had no intention of letting it go.

“Not even if it’s me saying how much I love you?”, he teased you, his breath tickling your fingertips, the hypnotizing movement of his mouth when those three last words left it a sight that would forever be engraved in your memory.

You pretended to ponder it. “I guess we can make an exception.”

Usually, words tended to lose their meaning when pronounced one too many times. But that didn’t happen to Peter Parker.

Because there could never be one too many times when the topic was his love for you.

A/n: Thank you so much for reading this! Let me know what you think, if you feel like it, I’d love to hear your thoughts 💜

Taglist: @thollandsdarling @hunnybunimdun @namoreno @nocturnalms @vendettaparker @wildxwidow @mn-jun @thisisparadisemylove @belovedholland @blankspaceblankday @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @mrparkerwillseeyounow @indouloureux @hemlockhearts @obsessed-with-a-fictional-man @melodicheauxxo @seolaseoul @peteprker @peetahpahkah @marajillana @yeetzel @brooklynscherry-z @liltimmys @jahayla-parker @moniffazictress11 @spideysbae @vibesdontlie @raajali3 @lnmp89 @sherlockstrangewolf

Peter Parker taglist: @omegadumb42069 @spideyspeaches

(Let me know if you wanna be added or removed, add yourself to my taglist or follow me on my writing side-blog @lia-s-liabrary and turn the notifications on)

#peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #tom!peter parker #tom!peter #tshwritersnet #spiderman #tom!spiderman #tom holland #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker angst #peter parker fluff #peter parker smut #aged up!peter parker #college!peter parker #hanahaki!au #things that look like nothing

[ddejavvu]

thinking about Peter Parker catching you as you stumble down the stairs..

You’re coming down the steps from your last college class of the day, a lecture that you’re glad is finally over with, because you weren’t sure if you could handle another second of the professor’s voice. Then you take a wrong step on the stone steps, eyes widening and chest heaving with panic as you try catching yourself before you can fall. All you gain is momentum, not your footing, and you stumble down the rest of the stairs hard and fast. Peter, who’s been standing by the stairs waiting for his next class to begin, hears your little squeak and turns, right in time for you to tumble into his chest. If you thought your eyes were wide when you were falling, his are practically exploding out of his head, soft and panicked and earthy.

“Thank you!” You breathe, all air having escaped your lungs during your tumble, “Oh my god, thank you, I thought I was gonna fall.”

“Yeah,” He nods, rendered speechless by the way he’s holding you so naturally, arms around your waist as your hands press against his chest, and you haven’t broken away yet, “Yeah, no problem.”

The intimacy of the moment seems to hit you like a brick, and yet you can’t bring yourself to move. Instead you stand there gazing into his pretty brown eyes for a few seconds too long, then you’re laughing bashfully and untangling yourself from his grip.

“I’ll, um,” You smooth out your shirt, the fabric wrinkled from your fall, “I’ll try not to trip next time.”

“That would be good,” Peter laughs, the sound breathless as he nods, “But if you do I’ll be here to catch you.”

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker oneshot #peter parker headcanons #peter parker imagine #peter parker scenario #peter parker fluff #peter parker au #college au #college!peter

[harumscarumcos]

so like I have this whole little canon in my head of like “what if the clone saga happened early enough that suddenly aunt may is now raising three boys on her own and peter has two brothers that have somehow out cool’d him in different ways at school” but also I wanna throw teresa Parker (the recently introduced possible long lost sister) in the mix cause I think I need to see them all be really protective big brothers???.

#if I wasn’t at work right now #I would write out the entire framework for this idea #from high school to college to whatever else #there’s a lot on my mind #I call the au ‘something about those parker boys’ #peter parker #aunt may #may reilly-parker #ben reilly #kaine #kaine parker #teresa parker

[waitimcomingtoo]

SLUT!

chapter one: and I know you heard about me

pairing: peter parker x reader

series masterlist

“Sign the attendance sheet, please.”

An attendance sheet on a piece of loose leaf paper was sent around the classroom to mark the start of a new school year. Peter signed his name and then passed the paper along to the girl next to him. He could see you looking for a pen out of the corner of his eye and wordlessly handed over his own.

“Oh, thanks Peter.” You smiled at him and took the pen from him.

“No problem. Wait, how’d you know my name?” Peter wondered as you signed your name in the sheet.

“Because it’s on the attendance sheet you just handed me.” You laughed awkwardly.

“Oh. Right.” Peter blushed and strained his eyes to try and see what name you had written on the sheet.

“Y/n.” You told him when you saw him looking.

“What?” He asked and looked back up at you.

“You were looking to see what my name was. Its Y/n.” You replied and held up the sheet to show him.

“Oh.” He smiled timidly. “Yeah, I was. That’s a nice name. I wish I had it.”

“Thanks?” You laughed at his strange joke as he squeezed his eyes shut in embarrassment.

“Oh, and thanks for this too.” You said and went to hand him his pen back.

“That’s okay. You can keep it. I have millions. Actually, just 45.” Peter said and pulled a box of 45 blue Bic pens out of his backpack. You laughed at how serious he was, making him relax a little. He had just transferred to the college that year and was worried about being the only new kid in junior year, but you were making him feel comfortable already with the prospect of a new friend. And it didn’t hurt that you were the prettiest girl he’d ever seen.

“44 now.” You smiled and held up the pen.

“Right. 44.” Peter blushed. A silence settled between you but class had not started yet. The attendance sheet was still going around and the professor was busy on the computer. Peter felt awkward and didn’t know if he should continue the conversation or leave you alone now that you’ve spoken to each other. You were wondering the same exact thing and raked your braid for something you could say to restart the conversation. You and Peter turned to face each other and spoke at the same time.

“So what’s your major?” You asked at the same time Peter said “Do you play?”

“Oh, sorry. You first.” Peter laughed in embarrassment.

“I asked what your major was. I haven’t seen you around before so I was curious.” You repeated now that you were the only one talking.

“Bioengineering. And you haven’t seen me because I just transferred here. What about you?”

“Undeclared still but my advisor said this class will fulfill my math and science gen Ed’s. That’s the only reason I’m here.”

“So you’re not taking organic chemistry for fun?” Peter tried his hand at a joke. Luckily, you laughed even though his delivery wasn’t his best work.

“I am not. I’m only here so I can graduate. What was your question?”

“Oh, right. I wanted to know if you play.” Peter asked and pointed to the soccer ball sticker on your closed laptop.

“Yeah. I’m here on a varsity scholarship. There was no way I was getting into this school otherwise. I’m not very smart.” You said with a nervous laugh.

“I’m here on a scholarship too.” Peter smiled at having something in common.

“Oh, cool. For a sport?”

“No. For being poor but smart.” Peter said seriously, but you laughed again as if it were a joke. Peter felt himself relax around you and settled into the conversation. You chatted for a little longer until your professor finally started class. When class ended, Peter hung back in his seat and waited to say goody bye to you once you finished packing up.

“Could I get your number? I like to have at least one person number in the class in case I miss a day.” You asked Peter and handed him your phone.

“My number? Oh. Yeah, sure.” Peter tried to sound calm as he took your phone in his hands. He put in his name and number and smiled to himself for finally giving his number to a girl.

“And cause I think you’re cute.” You added as Peter typed, making him freeze. He looked up at you in shock as he added his contact to your phone.

“What?”

“See you later, Peter.” You laughed and took your phone back before walking away. Peter stood there frozen for a while before heading back to his dorm. Ned was already inside, working on something on the computer.

“I’ve fallen in love.” Peter said as he shut the door behind him. Ned immediately closed his laptop and wagged his finger.

“No. Cut it out. None of that. Absolutely not.”

“You don’t even know with whom I’ve fallen in love with.” Peter pointed out as he plopped down on his dorm bed.

“Fine. With who?” Ned asked him.

“Her name is Y/n. She’s on the soccer team and in my organic chemistry class.” Peter said proudly.

“Wait, Y/n from the soccer team?” Ned asked. “Oh no, Peter. Thats never going to happen. I heard she’s really popular, but for the wrong reasons.”

“What reasons?” Peter asked. “And can people really be popular in college? Is that still a thing?”

“She’s a different kind of popular than what you’re thinking of. I heard she’s very popular with the guys at this school. And that’s all I’ll say.”

“Well can you say more? Because I don’t know what that means.”

“Oh my God. Do I really have to spell it out for you? I’m saying that I heard she’s kinda a slut. Like, big one.”

“A slut?” Peter laughed in surprise. “Do people really still use that word? I thought shaming women for their sexuality went out of style.”

“Nope. People still say it. Especially about her. I heard she sleeps with guys to get them to do her school work for her and then breaks their hearts. And I heard she even slept with the son of the President of the school to get in.”

“What? Come on.” Peter rolled his eyes. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. I don’t think she’s like that.”

“How would you know? You’ve only had one interaction with her.”

“And you’ve had 0 interactions with her.” Peter pointed out. “I’m hearing a lot of “I heard” and yet none of those things were told to you by her. So I don’t think it’s fair to judge her based on some crazy rumor before you even talk to her.”

“I’m just saying.” Ned shrugged. “She has a bad reputation. And that has to come from somewhere.”

“Well it doesn’t matter to me if she’s slept with a bunch of guys. If that’s even true. That doesn’t make her a bad person. She was nice and funny and I want to see her again. No matter how many guys she has allegedly slept with.” Peter replied with a slight roll of his eyes.

“Let me ask you this then; does she know how smart you are?” Ned questioned.

“Yeah. I told her I was here on a scholarship. Why?”

“Come on, Peter. Don’t you think it’s a little suspicious that the campus slut befriended you after finding out you were smart? She’s just gonna use you like she used all those other guys. I’m trying to look out for you, dude. I don’t want her breaking your heart, okay?”

“She’s not gonna do that.” Peter insisted. “And she’s not gonna try to sleep with me either. You’ll see. She just wants to be friends.”

Peter put his headphones on to end the conversation but Neds words didn’t leave his mind. He couldn’t help but wonder if there was any truth to those rumors. You did ask for Peters number after finding out he was smart, but that didn’t necessarily mean you were gonna use him, did it? One the one hand, Peter would he sad if it turned out that all you wanted from him was homework help. On the other hand, he felt slightly excited that a pretty girl wanted to use him. He knew his friendship with you probably wouldn’t end well, but he knew the middle would be fun.

The next day, Peter was walking across campus when he found himself having to pass through the club fair. He squeezed by a few tables and avoided any flyers when he suddenly spotted you. You were sitting alone at a table with a sign for the girls soccer team. You looked rather lonely and Peter noticed no one was going to your table. You suddenly made eye contact with each other and your face lit up.

“Hey, Peter!”

“Hey.” Peter greeted you as he walked up to your table.

“Can I interest you in signing your name next to one of our game dates? If you show up on that date, you get a free water bottle. Water not included.” You said and held up a clipboard.

“Oh, I’m very interested.” Peter joked and wrote his name down next to every upcoming game you had on the clipboard. You took the clipboard back and smiled when you saw how many he had signed up for.

“Are you sure? You’ll have to see me a lot if you come to all of these.”

“Sounds horrible. I’m in.” Peter replied, making your smile grow. He immediately pushed everything Ned had said about you out of his mind and let you speak for yourself.

“So where’s the rest of your team?” He wondered.

“Oh, I don’t know. They said they were coming but they haven’t showed up yet.” You said with a sad smile. Peter looked at the two empty chairs beside you and felt bad that your team mates hadn’t showed up. You noticed him staring and smiled in embarrassment.

“Hey, uh, what are you doing now?” You asked him.

“Nothing. I have a gap between classes so I was gonna go get some work done.”

“I have work too. You going to the library?”

“I might be.”

“I’ll join you.” You smiled and got up from the table. You took your clipboard with you and walked in stride beside Peter towards the library. You passed by a group of boys on the basketball team and Peter heard you let out a sigh. One of the boys, Brad Davis, whistled loudly at you as you passed by. You stepped closer to Peter and quickened your pace, but Brad just stepped in front of you.

“Well look who it is.” Brad grinned. “I haven’t seen you on campus yet this semester. But I figured you were, you know, busy.”

You kept walking and Peter stayed beside you as he gave Brad a strange look. Brad didn’t even acknowledge Peter and only kept his eyes on you.

“What? I don’t get a hello now? I thought we were friends.” Brad asked you as he slung an arm around you. You forcefully threw his arm off of you, sending him stumbling back a few steps.

“That’s fine.” He scoffed. “I see how it is. And I’d be careful around her, Peter. She’s a homie hopper.”

“I thought you played defense?” Peter asked you. Brad was so confused that he immediately stood still and stopped harassing you. You couldn’t help but smile at the way Peter unintentionally diffused the situation and linked your arm through his.

“I do. Let’s keep walking.” You whispered and quickly made it to the library.

“I hate that guy.” You mumbled once you sat down at a table together.

“You do? I mean, same, but why?” Peter wondered.

“Why don’t you tell me why you hate him first?” You laughed and leaned on your hand to look at Peter.

“It’s simple, really. Brad and I went to high school together so I’ve have a long time to build this resentment. But it stems from that fact that he’s rich and popular and into sports and I’m the other kind of boy you can be.”

“Ah, I see. The quiet, non-sports boy? Those are real? I thought they only existed in movies.” You teased him.

“Many would assume so, but we’re very real. And very jealous of big handsome jocks who drive cars that look like Hotwheels.” Peter replied, making you laugh again.

“Hey, let’s not pretend you don’t have some heat under those clothes. I felt your arm before. It’s harder than a steering wheel.”

“Thank you?” Peter blushed and scratched the back of his head.

“You’re welcome. And you’re plenty handsome so you don’t have any reason to be jealous of those boys. Especially not butt-wads like Brad Davis.”

“Oh. Well, thanks. You’re handsome too.” Peter said and then immediately regretted it. You gave him a look and he sighed.

“I meant-“

“It’s okay. I knew what you meant.” You chuckled.

“Oh, good. So what are you working on?” He asked to change the subject.

“Homework for our chemistry lecture. But I don���t understand any of it.” You sighed and flipped back and forth between your notes.

“Can I see your notes?” Peter asked and you slid your notebook over to him. Your notes were very unorganized and sentences often went unfinished. He assumed it was because of how fast the teacher spoke and you not having time to write it all down before the class moved on. Peter looked up at you and could tell you were embarrassed by them. He gave your notebook back to you and took his out of his backpack.

“Here. We can use mine instead.”

“Wow. You have girl handwriting.” You smiled in surprise and touched his perfectly organized page of notes.

“I appreciate that.” Peter said sincerely.

“How do you even know what to write down? I have no idea what’s going on in that class. I try to pay attention but the teacher goes way to fast so when she asks if we have any questions, I don’t even know what I’m confused about yet.“

“I was pretty good at chemistry back in high school. If you want, I could tutor you?” Peter offered.

“Really?” You lit up. “You’d do that?”

“Yeah. I’d be happy to.” Peter nodded. You smiled brightly, but then your smile faded as you realized something. You looked out the window at where Brad Davis was before looking at Peter again.

“Can I ask you a vague question and then not elaborate?” You asked him.

“Um, sure.”

“Have you heard anything about me?” You asked, and Peter immediately thought back to what Ned had told him.

“About you? No.” Peter lied.

“So you’re offering to tutor me out of the kindness of your heart? Not because of what you think will happen if you do?” You questioned skeptically.

“What’s gonna happen?” Peter laughed awkwardly. He knew exactly what you meant; you were asking if he only wanted to tutor you because he thought you would sleep with him. But Peter wasn’t about to tell his new friend that he heard she was known for that.

“Nothing.” You smiled in relief. “Do you want to get together tomorrow after lecture for our first session?”

“Sure. I’d love to.”

“Cool.” You smirked. “See you then.”

Tag list 💋

@breadglasses @hollandweather @cashtons-wife @scenesofobx

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#peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #peter parker x y/n #peter parker college au

[winterspiderpurrs]

It was well known that Tony and Bucky were together. Tony even made Bucky a specialized motorcycle jacket. On the collar of it had hand stitched 'STARK' on it. So anyone who got close to Bucky would know who he belonged to.

So it came as a surprise when quiet nerdy Peter Parker started walking around with a letterman jacket with the names 'BARNES' and 'STARK' on the arms.

#writing prompt #someone needs to expand on this and write it #winterironspider #ironwinter #winteriron #winterspider #starker #peter parker x bucky barnes #peter x tony #starker prompt #tony stark x peter parker #bucky x tony #bucky x peter x tony #winterspiderpurrs #could be highschool or college au #could be anything

[lovelettersforthedamned]

Pleading Through The Bathroom Door

--genre + trope: hurt/comfort, college!au, angst, slight fluff.

--pairing: college!tasm!peter parker x college!f!reader

--word count: 1.9k

--summary: after ignoring Peter's suggestion not to go out tonight, you run into a situation that makes you wish you heard him out.

--warnings: alcohol, language, throwing up, violence, creepy drunk guy, descriptions of a minor injury, reader wears makeup, angst, a little bit of fluff at the end, peter just wants to help:((.

--gif credits: @marlosrph

As you make your way back home through the brisk air of New York City in the fall, you pray to whoever was up there that Peter won’t be home when you get there. You loved him so much, but the thought of him seeing you in this ruffled state made you want to turn around and head back to the dinghy club you came from. Even though that was the last place you wanted to be, coming face-to-face with your boyfriend seemed worse. 

He begged you not to go out tonight, and you ignored him. One of your friends, Mariah, was having a hard time with her now ex-boyfriend, and what kind of friend would you be if you didn’t help her take her mind off of things? 

The night started well, after a few tears shed by your friend, she was ready to party. It was her night to call the shots, you were just the moral support in the background. Because it was just the two of you, she never left your sight, especially in the state she was in. Her body was moving so carelessly. With her messy dancing and a drink in her hand, the last thing on her mind was the shitty breakup she endured. You were happy for her, for letting go and enjoying herself. 

As the night progressed, her body language was clearly betraying her words. She told you over and over again that she was fine, and that she swore she was okay. Just a few moments after those slurring sentences, she was pushing her way through the crowd to hunch over and empty her stomach into the nearest trash can. Making your way next to her, you bunch her hair into a ponytail and rub her back as she continues to hurl. She turns her face to look at you, tears spilling out of her eyes, “I’m so sor-sorry, (Y/N).”

“Hey babe,” slowly lifting her back up, “It’s okay, it happens to the best of us. C’mon, let’s go home.” 

Her apartment was not even three blocks away, so you decided to walk there. She seemed to have sobered up quite a bit after she threw up, and the water from the corner market you stopped by helped as well. The walk home was uneventful, you two were mostly silent but picked up conversation when you were getting closer to her apartment. As you make it to the front steps, you watch her walk in and close the door behind her. A sigh of relief leaves your mouth, knowing that she made it home safe was enough to lift a slight weight off your shoulders.

That moment of peace is quickly stolen from you when you realize you have to get yourself home safe too. It’s only a few blocks away, so it should be fine. Moving your feet towards the direction of your apartment, you suddenly feel a presence behind you. Picking up the pace and turning a corner, you realize that there is someone behind you. A taller man, definitely bigger than you, makes direct eye contact with you as you look over your shoulder, an ugly grin rising to his face. Your entire body went rigid as you picked up the pace. Reaching a hand towards your purse, you pull out your phone, hoping to call Peter. What you’re met with is a black screen, it’s completely dead. Placing your phone back into your purse, you start to make unnecessary turns, hoping that the man tailing behind you was just some sick coincidence, you hoped that he was just headed home as well. 

The footsteps behind you become louder, and before you can comprehend the distance between you and him, a calloused hand grabs your arm and pulls you to the ground. Stalking his way towards you, you quickly get back on your feet and walk backward as quickly as you can. “C’mon sugar,” his words slurring, “come with me back to my place…you’ll have a good time, I promise.” He’s evidently wasted, so wasted to the point where he’s swaying where he stands. He reaches out to you again, trying to grab you by the arm again to drag you to God knows where. This was all you needed for you to reach for the pepper spray Peter got you a few months ago. At the moment, it seemed silly. Your boyfriend, Spider-Man, was giving you an obnoxious-colored can of pepper spray to defend yourself. Now standing in front of a drunken idiot about to lunge at you, it didn’t seem silly anymore. 

He was more than close enough for you to spray the liquid at him, and as soon as you did, he hunched over, doubling in pain as he shouted profanities towards you. You took this as your opportunity to run as fast as you could, and you did. The overwhelming fear of being handled again coursing through your veins remained as a motivation to keep moving.

 You’re still a little drunk as the feeling of paranoia heightens every time you look back behind you. One more glance over your shoulder was all it took when a piece of uneven pavement caught your toe, and you came face to face with the concrete once again. There’s a burning pain on the palms of your hands, along with a pulsing feeling spreading its way from the open wound on your knee. 

Trying to recollect how you got into this situation in the first place plagues your mind and keeps you occupied until you’re met with the front door of your apartment. As you make your way up the stairs, the possibility of Peter being home ignites a wave of anxiety through your bones. There’s a slight hesitation when you come face to face with your front door, you take a deep breath in before you grab your keys and unlock the door. 

Peering in, there are no signs of Peter, a breath of relief and a wave of sadness overcome you. A part of you wishes he was here to help you, his mere presence was always enough to make the worries of the day leave your system. 

Turning on the harsh light of the bathroom, your eyes strain at the sudden burst of cool light. You try not to make eye contact with yourself in the mirror as you reach down for the medical supplies box under the sink. After you have placed everything on the small bathroom counter, you set yourself down on the lid of the toilet. With shaky hands, you open the container and pick out some things you need to fix yourself. As you reach for the box, you notice a discoloration on your arm, roughly the same size as the man’s hand. 

As if right on cue, you hear the god-awful sound of the creaky window open, followed by a soft thud of Peter hopping down to the floor. “Fuck,” you curse to yourself as you run to the door and lock it quickly. 

Walking towards the kitchen, Peter can see the light in the bathroom is on, signifying that you made it home before him. “Hey baby, you’re back early,” he reaches for the handle to find that it’s locked. His brows furrowed in confusion.

You clear your throat, “Ye-yeah, Mariah wasn’t feeling too good, so we left early.” You shake your head in defeat, even after clearing your throat, your voice still shaking. 

Peter’s senses picked up on your unease and he reached for the handle for the second time, twisting it this time, “You alright, (Y/N)?”

A spark of panic, he knows something’s up. You ditch patching yourself up, messily putting the supplies back into the box. There’s no grace while you put everything away, you just need to clean up as fast as possible. While reaching for the gauze, you knock over the bottle of rubbing alcohol, “Shit, no I-I’m good. I’ll be out in a second!”

After hearing more clatter, Peter starts to worry, “Bug? Open the door.”

You’re overwhelmed, understandably, after everything that happened tonight along with the pressure to come outside, you break down in tears. “Peter, I swear I’m fine,” a broken sob escaping your shaking form, “I got it.”

“Please open the door, baby,” he pleads, in the softest voice imaginable. 

Finally giving in, you unlock the door and pull it open. The first thing Peter sees is the state you’re in. You’re hunched over on the floor on all fours, trying to clean up the mess you made. The makeup he watched you apply, is now smeared across your face as fat tears run down your cheeks. The second thing he notices is the bruise forming on your arm, a silent worry lost in his throat. He very slowly makes his way to you, not wanting to panic you any further, and gently lifts you from the floor, grabbing the supplies as well. Guiding you to sit on the bed, he places himself crouched in front of you, still in his suit. Not saying a word. 

Your breath is labored, and your shoulders are slumped. Not daring to make eye contact with him. Taking a look at your knees first, he grabs a cloth to start cleaning the angry raw skin. What scares you the most is that Peter is not speaking. Breaking the silence, you mumble, “I’m sorry.” 

Peter’s head snaps up to look at your face, still looking down at your hands, “Hey…What are you apologizing for?”

“You told me not to go out,” you take a wavering inhale, “and then I ignored you. Then this happened!” Your voice raises, and you’re getting upset with yourself. 

“I don’t know what happened, and you don’t have to tell me right now, but whatever happened tonight was not your fault. I only told you not to go because it’s way too cold outside to go out, bug. And never ever am I going to play the ‘I told you so game’ with you.”

You didn’t know what else to say, or even if you were able to say anything. What you knew was that you needed to be around Peter. Before another second passes, you lunge into Peter’s arms, wrapping your own around his neck. The sheer force of your hug would have sent both of you to the ground, but Peter balanced himself before you ever touched the ground. 

You both stay there for a while, eventually, Peter’s hand reaches up to rub up and down on your back, calming you into a relaxed state. “Can we go shower,” you ask, “I have that gross club smell on me.”

A relieved laugh leaves Peter, “Of course we can, smelly.”

You playfully hit his shoulder, as he lifts the both of you off the ground. As you make your way to the same bathroom you were crying in just a few minutes prior, you know that everything’s going to be alright, as long as Peter is by your side.  

You fell asleep that night to the warm comforter surrounding your figure, along with Peter’s heartbeat fluttering in your ears. The thoughts surrounding tonight could wait, at least until morning. 

--author's note: hi guys!! needed a little hurt/comfort because the weather is getting chilly, and it's getting darker outside:I...im currently working on the asks you guys have been sending me, and they're smutty as hell. you guys are horny asf, DAMN. don't forget to support your writers by liking, commenting, and reblogging!! my asks/inobx is open, so send me anything!!! ok, bye ily<33.

#andrew garfield peter parker #peter parker #peter parker x reader #marvel #fluff #spiderman #tasm!peter x reader #college au #tasm!peter parker #peter parker hurt/comfort #peter parker angst #tasm!peter x you #tasm! peter parker x reader

[frankoceanluvrr]

𝐒𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 - 𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐑

pairing : college!peter, fem!reader, college!au

warnings : topics of cheating and being intoxicated is included ! Angst (?)

summary : [name] and Peter are going through a rough patch in their relationship. With exams upcoming and all the stress with being spiderman Peter becomes distant and doesn’t communicate.

a/n : first post !!!

“[Name], this is so unlike you, you okay?” Your friend said, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“I just need a distraction from studying, no big deal, ” You said trying your hardest to convince them, “a drink would do me some good.”

A look of doubt was plastered all over their expression. In reality, you needed more than a simple “distraction” from studying, but you couldn’t tell them it wasn’t just studying. You wanted to, but you were worried they would tell him.

“Him” being Peter Peter. Your everything. More specifically your boyfriend of 6 months, but you had been friends since high school. Everything about him even now gave you butterflies. The way he says your name, the way his nose scrunches up when he laughs, the way he remembers every detail. Everything felt so easy when you were with him. Until now.

From conversations into arguments. Staying over late into leaving early. Reasonable jealousy into possessive behaviour. Yet the thing that got you the most was the lying. It felt as if he was lying over every little thing. Every situation he’d make up an excuse to leave. Obviously, you did not know he was spiderman. He hadn’t told you out of fear you might leave him. Or you could potentially end up hurt, as many have been in the past.

“You sure it’s just studying? I can tell something’s up [Name].” Your friend sighed, persisting on knowing.

“Yes I’m sure, let’s leave now” you smiled, taking their arm.

***

“Should I have another?” Your words slurring out your mouth before you got a glance at your friend leave with some guy.

You sighed looking at the time. It was 2 in the morning, you must’ve lost track of time. Your heart suddenly felt heavy as you remembered why you even came. You gathered your things and left the bar, paying for both you and your friends drinks, even though they left you.

You began to walk back to your student flat. Your city wasn’t the safest at night, so you attempted to look sober and alert.

“Uh, miss?” A voice from above you said.

You had got to be hallucinating. You took a deep breath and just kept walking.

“Miss?” The voice got closer, until it was directly behind you, “is everything okay?”

You turned around to see the one and only masked vigilante, spiderman. Definitely hallucinating.

He took in your puzzled expression, “sorry, it’s just very late at night and you’re all alone.”

“Are you real?” Your eyes squinting.

“What?”

You reached your hand out, pointing and touching the spider on his chest.

“Why are you here?” You mumbled.

“It’s just not safe out here, let me walk you home at least? Or wherever you’re going. And also I promise you it’s not because you’re a girl or anything you can most definitely protect yourself but it looks as if you’re drunk and it’s just this area is dangerous and-” He rambled.

You stared at him blankly, trying to process a word he just said, “uh, sure? You can walk me home, it’s just down here.”

You began walking, not much space in between you as you kept bumping into him.

“So, if you don’t mind me asking, what brings you out drinking on a Tuesday night? Anything to celebrate?”

“My boyfriend.” You stopped walking.

“Oh? Where is he?” His voice low and almost embarrassed.

“I don’t know, probably with another girl.” You said, “and if he isn’t, why has he been acting this way with me the past few months?”

You didn’t care letting it all out now, you didn’t even know this guy so what’s the worst that could happen right?

“What do you mean?” Spiderman said, his tone staying the same.

“It’s just, I know he’s lying to me about where he goes. He barely talks to me now. I feel like such a burden all of a sudden, like, what did I do? I wish he would just tell me. And I wish I was just, better.” You ended up slurring out, “it must be my fault, right?”

An insane wave of guilt washed over the boy.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” He said looking down, “anyway, sorry for prying. Let’s keep walking, yeah?”

You took a deep breath and kept walking. I guess alcohol is really truth serum.

#spiderman x reader #Peter Parker x reader #x reader #x you #spiderman #marvel x you #marvel x reader #marvel comics x you #superhero #fanfic #fan fiction #college au #comics

[starker-sorbet]

When, during a lecture, students noticed a ring on Professor Stark's hand naturally the campus gossip mill started churning. The mechanical engineering professor had always been incredibly private and quite sharp with people who asked questions about his home life, which was a world away from his friendly nature when talking about anything to do with his class or anything else a student needed help with. This obviously made everyone even more interested as to the man's private life. But to no avail, nobody knew anything about him other than what pertained to his class. Until now. It was just a simple gold ring but to those who wanted to know more about the man (not just the students were interested as several of Stark's fellow professors had bets on the man's home life) it was so much more. It was a thread for them to follow, a lead to their much desired answers. But most importantly it was a link. A link to the new biochemistry professor. Someone who, while no one had seen him interact much with Professor Stark on campus, wore an incredibly similar ring. A matching ring even. Could it be that the most mysterious professor on campus was married to another professor? Nobody quite knew but it was an intriguing thought. One that if true would be an incredible addition to the discord server dedicated to unraveling the mystery of Professor Stark. All they needed now was more evidence. The hunt was on.

@tstarksbingospectacular fill : O1 - College au bingo card below

#tstarksbingospectacular #starker #peter parker is over 18 here #college au #married starker #yes tony and peter are married and have been for a while #and yes tony knows about the discord server #why after so many years being secretive does he wear his wedding ring #simple his husband finally got a job at the college he works at and they thought it would be funny #mess with the student a bit #and the staff #just generally be little shits together and fan the flames of conspiracy #moodboard #my moodboard