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rancidpancakebatter · 1 year

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Love n' Locs | {P.P.}

Pairings: MCU!Peter Parker x Black!Female!Reader

Summary: Peter, your love, helps you with your hair. (Takes place after nwh)

Word Count: 4.4k words

Content Warnings: Minors DNI Smut (female receiving), shower sex, multiple orgasms, swearing, May's death is mentioned briefly but nothing graphic, tooth-rotting fluff that made me cry while writing it

( Masterlist )

A/N: HAPPY BLACK HISTORY MONTH!!! I PROMISE TO BE AS INSUFFERABLE AS POSSIBLE!!! (and also to not write angsty black!reader fics during this time because we have suffered enough. Only Joy <3 )

You had the sweetest boyfriend in the whole world. He was so lovely and entirely devoted. He brought you flowers. He knew your favourite foods. He gave you hoodies and kisses when you were down. He held you close and listened intently. He encouraged you to chase your dreams and held your hand when you got scared.

You had never known love like this before. The kind that steals your breath every day. But that was just who Peter was. You would never get enough of him- but what was even more amazing, you know he feels the same.

He was a white boy, and you loved to tease him about his previous love interests. He always got a rosy blush when you called him a “snow bunny,” but he never got offended, recognising that you were only joking. He would sometimes call you his “melanated queen,” but only when making fun of people who did so sincerely.

He was refreshing in that sense. You had been around more than enough “woke” people who weirdly worshipped your blackness, but not Peter. He celebrated it; he celebrated you.

Race wasn’t something that came up often between you. He would listen to your frustrations as they arose, but he never commented on the fact that you were black.

He never fetishized or tip-toed around you. Peter was a genuine ally, never feeling like he had to make a show of how much he believed your life mattered. He just supported and only acted when you asked him to. He may have a hero complex, but he didn’t suffer from the white saviour complex, and for that, you were grateful.

You woke up this morning feeling almost overwhelmed by that gratitude. Peter was asleep, his curls strewn about the pillow. You had convinced him to grow them out. You promised to play around all day with his hair, finding the right products and creams to use. He agreed because he loves it when you play with his hair.

His lips were slightly parted, plush and pink. A smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose glows in the early morning sun. They were very subtle, almost imperceptible unless you got the opportunity to track them down, inches from his face. You were happy to say you got that opportunity often.

Basked in light and in your arms is where he belonged. Not on the streets, fighting crime. He deserved to rest. He was exhausted last night. His eyes were half closed as he clambered out of his suit, tripping on the feet. He only agreed to a shower when you offered to join. You would have joined regardless, but there was no way in hell this man was climbing in your sheets covered in soot.

“I can feel you staring.” A small smirk pulled at his lips though his eyes remained closed.

You didn’t respond with words, instead deciding to pepper his sweet face with kisses. You felt his smile grow as you went, until it fell into a full-on laugh.

You swear his laughter had a direct line to your heart, the sound filled you, and your heart swelled to adjust. His hands found purchase on your hips and rolled you over until he was on his back and slotted between your thighs. His favourite place to be.

“You’re just so nice to look at, so handsome,” You tease.

You continue in your ministrations, your lips painting a path from his jaw to his cheek, his eyelids and his brows, up his forehead and down the bridge of his nose. All while cradling his face. Holding him like he was your most precious possession. Something deserving of the Louvre or the Tate. You poured out your love, letting it seep into his soft, golden skin.

While Peter was a giver, he struggled to receive. You took any opportunity to remind him how much you loved him, how much you appreciated him. You felt his deft fingers worm their way under your sleepshirt, where they fronted an attack.

“Pete!-”

You collapsed against his chest as your body racked with giggles. He flipped you around again, and you could do nothing as he continued to tickle you.

“Pe-Pete, no!”

His hands stilled but held you firmly. You slowed your breathing and finally opened your eyes. They were met with glowing stars, burning bright and filled with adoration. You tucked your head into the crook of his neck, feeling flustered by his unabashed gaze.

He only chuckles as he pulls you up to sit in his lap. His hands move to your back, painting soothing circles across your skin. You melt into the touch. You get hit with another wave of love, feeling it pulse against your ribcage. You begin leaving kisses across his neck, trailing across his collarbones. Peter takes the time to work his hands up your sides, massaging the muscle as he goes. You truly are putty in this man’s hands.

You find yourself on the other side of his neck, releasing a sweet sigh as his hands worked over your shoulders. His hands move to your neck, focusing on any knot he finds until they’re all gone.

You wrap your arms around his waist, pulling yourself closer and encouraging him to keep going. He removes your bonnet, setting it to the side, and massages your scalp. This was heaven. You moan at the feeling, and Peter chuckles.

“I really should be doing this for you.” Your words are muffled and slurred, but you know Peter hears them.

“Eh,” He shrugs, “it’s black history month.”

You both fall into a fit of laughter. Eventually, his hands disappear from your scalp, reappearing under your chin. You let it guild you, bringing you face-to-face with him. His smile is lazy and warm.

“Do I get any real kisses this morning?” You tilt your head to the side and pretend to ponder it.

You let out a dramatic sigh, though, with your wide smile- you fool no one. “I guess you’ve earned it.”

Kissing Peter was one of your favourite pastimes. In a perfect world, your lips would only feel his skin. Always attached in some way. But these kisses were your favourite. The kind where your smiles get in the way. The slow and steady kind, where there’s all the passion but none of the rush. You simply get to be, enjoy, and love. His are soft and sure.

You feel safe here in his hands, treasured. Your arms rest lazily around his neck, your nails tracing shapes on his back. Peter tilts his head, deepening the kiss. His tongue swipes at your lips, and you don’t hesitate to part them. It dances with yours and makes you dizzy. You get lost in it for a moment before you pull away. Peter whines, and you can’t help but laugh at his little pout.

“Sorry, bub, I got a full day ahead of me, and I need to get started.” He squeezes your waist, and you jump as your nerves alight, sending those familiar giggles to your brain.

“But it’s your day off,” he says through his frown. “And mine…we get the whole day together.”

You lay a quick kiss on his jutted lip, “Yeah, but it’s wash day. And I wanna braid it out. That’s gonna take all day.”

Peter hangs his head in defeat for a moment before it shoots back up. He beams, sitting up straighter as he presents his idea. “I could help.”

Scepticism falls on your brow, “You wanna help…?”

He looks at you as if you’ve issued a challenge. “What? You don’t think I can?”

You laugh as you link your hands behind his neck. “I think you can; I just don’t think you understand the commitment you’re making. It takes me upwards of nine hours to do my hair.”

He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer and resting his chin on your chest. Your hands run through his hair as he gazes up at you like you hung every star in the night sky. “Well, I’ll be here, and you’ll be here, so I might as well help.”

You couldn’t argue with that logic.

“Peter, when you said you’d help, I didn’t think you meant like this.”

You were currently in the shower with your boyfriend pressed against you. His hands trailed up and down your stomach as he pressed sweet kisses down your neck. You felt his lips tug at the side, a smirk you knew well.

“Don’t worry about me. You can wash your hair, just pretend I’m not even here.” His lips find the spot that makes you shudder. He holds you closer, knowing your legs weaken when he does that.

“That’s not fair; you’re very distracting,” you retort as your hand reaches up to tangle in his hair.

Pete’s hands find your hips and give them a firm squeeze. He knew you loved it when he showed off how strong he was. He was playing you like a fiddle, but you couldn’t bother to be mad.

“Do you want me to stop?”

Peter knew the answer. He caught the way your pulse quickened when he suggested you shower together. He heard your breath hitch when he took off his pants. He could smell you even as he lathered you with soap. You just liked to tease; you liked to act tough. But your bravado quickly crumbled for him. And he loved that. That your gentleness, your piety, was only for him.

“No”

It left your mouth in a puff of air. So soft and sweet, whispered with the water. Peter wasted no time dipping a hand into your slit. His finger probed around, collecting your slick and teasing you further. His foot found yours and kicked it, spreading you apart farther. You moaned softly as he licked up the collum of your throat.

“All this for me?” He rubbed small circles on your clit, a small taste of what he could do, and you both knew it.

“It’s just the shower.” His other hand reached up, gripping you by the jaw and twisting your face towards him.

“I don’t think it is”

He picked up the pace and swallowed your moans. His pillowy soft lips devour you hungrily, and you can feel his hard-on in the crest of your ass. He rips away from your lips, and his hand goes to your boobs, pinching and pulling on your nipples. He enters you with one of his thick digits. He shows no mercy as he thrusts it into you, finding your g-spot in a matter of seconds. Peter knew your body well and loved reminding you of that.

He adds another finger, and your body involuntarily jerks, chasing Peter in all directions. He hisses as you grind against him. Your toes are curling, and the steam makes it hard to catch your breath. All too soon, he removes himself. You whine as your high is stolen from you.

He waits until your eyes are on him before he brings his fingers to his mouth. He hallows his cheeks around them before pulling them out with a soft pop and a moan. You watch with wide eyes as he runs his tongue across them, collecting every drop of your essence.

“You taste so good, baby.”

He presses his praise into your skin- down your neck and across your shoulders. He continues down a path, following the curve of your spine. He takes quite the bite out of your ass, causing you to yelp, before continuing to nibble on your thighs.

Your hand tries to grip the wall and provide you with balance, just his gentle touches making you shake with anticipation. He notices this and throws your legs over his shoulders, your back pressed gently against the cold tile.

“You okay, baby?” You try to slow your breathing, nails scraping against his scalp, the wet curls wrapping around your fingers.

“Yeah, I'm good.” Peter loved communication; it was important to him. Though often, he would steal your ability to string anything coherent together.

“Good, 'cause I haven’t had breakfast, and I’m hungry." He sent you a wink before disappearing between your thighs.

You let out a cry as he suckles your clit. His grip on your thighs is bruising as he spreads them farther apart, whipping his head furiously between them. You’re seeing stars.

This is a stark difference from the sweet kisses you shared this morning. This was need, hunger, a carnal desire. He was chasing your high as much as you were. He moved his tongue inside you, the pink muscle scraping against your walls. You ground your hips down, and you both moaned.

You, because your clit bumped his nose, a jolt through your nerves that brought you closer and closer to your peak. And Peter, because he loves when you get off to him like this. He loves that he gets to see you like this, on the brink of desperation and lost in desire. He loves that he can make you this way. That he’s the only one who can.

Eating you out is Peter’s favourite pastime. In a perfect world, he would spend every moment between your thighs, drinking from the fountain of you, never satiated.

He grinds his face into you, loving how you flutter around his tongue. He loved every way your body told him you loved this. It was like picking up a new language. He knew the meaning of every twitch, sound, and pulse. He was fluent in you.

He felt the way your thighs were shaking and knew you were right there, you just needed a little push, and he was happy to provide. He cages your leg against his shoulder as he reaches around and presses firmly against your clit.

“Fuck! Pete!”

You cry his name, and he thinks it’s his favourite sound. It spurs him on further. He only wants you to respond like that. He moves his thumb, spelling his name as if your brain would subconsciously pick up on it, and you would say it again. He’s fucking you with his mouth and marking you as his.

Your orgasm crashes through you, a broken moan ripping from your chest, completely overwhelmed by pleasure. Peter continues to fuck you through it, drawing it out for as long as he can. Wanting everything you had to give him. He really was hungry.

Your body convulses, your grip on his curls strong as you try to pull him away. This doesn’t dissuade Peter by any means. He knows you can cum again; he needs you to cum again.

Your pulling on his hair inadvertently brings him closer, and he revels in it. His mouth trades places with his fingers, giving your clit a small break from his brutal beating.

However, you don’t recognise it as a “break”. Your sensitivity sends your brain into overdrive, or underdrive- you weren’t sure. All thoughts were half-baked, and your muscles were moving of their own accord. You were glad Peter was there to hold you because there was no way you would have been able to support yourself.

“Pe-Peter! I-unghhh”

Peter had to fight his grin, knowing that he rendered your brain useless, only able to think of him and your high. There was truly no more beautiful sight. Your jaw slacked, as a cacophony of lewd sounds fell from your open lips. Your brows furrowed as you chase your peak. Your unfocused eyes, half-lidded, looking down, searching for him. Your body quaking around him. He wished he could capture this moment on camera, encapsulate this moment forever.

You pushed your hips forward in a final thrust, taking his fingers deeper and his unholy tongue pressing harder against your sensitive bud. This time you scream, nearly collapsing over. Peter brings a hand to your throat, keeping you upright while he drinks from your fountain.

He gently removes his fingers from your core, and you whine slightly, bringing a spirited smile to his face. He wrapped your legs around his waist, admiring your completely blissed-out face. You were so beautiful. In any way, but especially this way.

You rested your head in the crook of his neck, not caring that you were panting on your auditorily sensitive, always-way-too-warm, boyfriend. To be fair, he didn’t care either. He would suffer through anything to hold you like this. And it was deserved. He did kinda render you useless.

He laid a kiss to your temple and you hummed, cuddling into him more. “Alright, coach me through the washing.”

He listened intently as you told him how much product to use and where to massage it in. He was careful to try and keep all the shampoo on your scalp, heeding your warnings of drying out your curls. He was so tender and sweet. He was much gentler with your hair than you ever were.

He peppered you with kisses as he coaxed you under the shower head. Despite your recovery and your ability to stand once again, Peter refused to let you down. Keeping you wrapped around him like a koala or sloth. You couldn’t say you minded all that much.

Peter was most excited to brush your hair. He had never really gotten to do that, as you only ever did it in the shower. He felt proud that you trusted him to do it now. It felt intimate, special.

Sometimes he would get to brush May’s hair. It was long and beautiful, and when he was younger, she would let him if he asked. He would have her sit on the floor as he stood tall, bending at the knees to accommodate his short little arms. He missed those moments with her. He missed her. But in you, he found new things to miss, and he was forever grateful for that.

He continues to run the comb through your hair, even when the knots were gone, because he loved how you melted into him. You were practically purring, and it felt nice to take care of you for a change.

He couldn’t count how many times you had patched him up, made him food because he had forgotten to eat, checked up on him, or helped him through an existential crisis. You were always there for him, his rock. He would be lost without you.

The water started to get cold, so you begrudgingly left, feeling a little betrayed by your water heater for ruining such a wonderful moment. Peter only set you down then, but ordered you to stay on the bathmat. You chuckled as you watched him run, butt-ass naked, through the hall. When he returned, he held a few towels and worn shirts in his hand. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to his smile. It will always make your heart stutter.

“Arms up,” He directs and you follow.

He wraps a towel around you, and you can’t stop the satisfied sigh that leaves your mouth. It was warm and fluffy, almost enough to put you to sleep. Once he’s secured it around you, he gently moves your arms back to your sides and places a sacrosanct kiss on your lips. Your only complaint was that it was too short; your body naturally follows him as he pulls away.

He chuckles, “Steady sailor. We still got a lot of work to do. Can’t get distracted now.”

You lovingly swat at him, and he rewards you with a laugh, one that squishes his eyes and crinkles his nose. It takes everything in you not to kiss him silly. But it’s not your fault; he knows better than to look at you like that.

“I brought you these to choose from. I remember you telling me cotton is better for your hair. So, here’s three of my shirts to choose from, and whatever you don’t pick, we get to wear.”

You can’t help but beam at him. You felt absolutely spoiled. You weren’t sure what you did to deserve such royal treatment. Usually, this kind of behaviour was reserved for birthdays and other such occasions. Not a Thursday afternoon.

But you relished in it anyway, telling him which shirt you wanted to wear and which one you wanted to use. He kissed you on the nose as he passed them both to you.

You explain every step you take as you do them, even coaching Pete through some parts as you let him try it. Peter is amazed by all the products and smells. He’s a little embarrassed as he struggles through some steps; you work with such grace and ease. You explain that the steps are a little different because you’re styling your hair today, instead of enhancing your natural curls. Peter tries his best to commit everything to memory.

While you’re blowing out your hair, Peter leaves to make breakfast. You don’t really need his help for it, and honestly, the sound of the fan bouncing around the tiled walls was a bit too grating for him. As he whips up your favourite breakfast meal, he scrolls through google images, trying to get a better idea of what you were wanting to do.

He sees a lot of looks he thinks you would like, but one sticks out the most. He hadn’t really seen it before, but he thinks you would look absolutely stunning. He’s watching a tutorial when you enter the kitchen. He’s so engrossed in the video you startle him as you wrap your arms around him.

His spidey senses work differently around you, and that’s something he’s still figuring out. His best guess is it doesn’t warn him about you because there’s not a single bone in his body that sees you as a threat. You’re the only person since he was fourteen who could sneak up on him. You don’t often do it on purpose, either. And he thinks his body knows that too.

Usually, his “tingle” lays dormant unless there’s a general danger, but now it’s…evolved in a way. If he focuses, he can almost feel you. He can just think of you, and his body will tell him if you’re distressed and where you are. His instincts lead him like a compass- to you, his true north.

There have been more than a few times he rushed home to check on you just to see that you’ve dropped something or were watching a scary movie by yourself...again. He loved it, though. He had never felt so close to anyone before. He loved that there were no defences between you.

“Whatcha watchin'?”

Pete pauses the video before he turns in your arms.

“Have you heard of butterfly locs?” You grin, delightfully surprised.

"Yes, I have,” you say as you peck him on the nose. “Why?”

“Well, it’s your hair, and you can do whatever you want. And I’ll help no matter what you decide. But I think you would look absolutely gorgeous in them. And you can do fun colours or add funky charms. But also, I know you said you were planning on the box braids, and I’m unsure how easy it would be to switch up the plan like that.”

God, could you love this man anymore?

“It’s actually really easy. I still have to make a Sally’s run; I haven’t bought any hair yet. Do you wanna come with?” Peter nods his head fervently, and you can’t help but giggle at his excitement.

Pete is in awe of the selection here. He had no idea there were so many options. He excitedly asks questions, and you’re happy to answer all of them to the best of your understanding. He happily holds everything you pass him and even convince him to get some products for himself, like a hair mask and some mousse.

When you get home, Peter shows you the videos he watched and his strategy. He helps you section your hair and tries not to complain about the sticky gel too much. With his help, it doesn’t take nearly as long. You play around with the length and stylings, and once finished you’re very happy with it.

Peter was right; you look fine as hell. You check yourself out in the mirror and laugh when you catch Peter watching you from his seat on the bed through the reflection. He’s completely in his own world, his eyes ooze raw adulation, and you can’t help but feel a little flustered.

You walk over, slotting yourself between his legs. His hands come to rest on your hips, something he doesn’t even think to do. It’s just so natural. It’s where his hands belong.

“Do you like it?”

His expression never falters, as if he didn’t even hear you.

“Did you know that I am so in love with you? Like do you know? Because I am. So, so, very in love with you.”

You feel your cheeks warm, “Yes, I know.”

His dopey smile stretches, “I don’t think you do. But I’ll be sure to tell you until you’re sick of hearing it.”

Your heart is doing summersaults, “I don’t think that’s possible.”

He places a kiss to your sternum, “Well, I’ll do my very best.”

Suddenly you’re being pulled forward. You land directly on Pete, and if you weren’t aware of all his body was capable of, you might have worried about hurting him. Instead, you giggle at his antics and let him hold you tight.

Your new locs fall around his face, and he doesn’t think he’s ever felt so lucky. Here, hidden behind the curtain of your hair, it’s just you and him. You lay there for a while like that, just drinking the other in. It’s the perfect respite from all the chaos in the world. Your hearts beating together, your love flowing between you.

“I got you something,” Peter whispers.

There’s no need for anything louder in this proximity. “What?”

His hand leaves your waist, and you hear a familiar thwip, then the crinkling of a bag.

Peter opens his palm to you, and a small gasp leaves your lips. There rested a little charm; hung on a small ring. You picked it up and admired how it twinkled in the evening sun. A little spider, from your man. You sat up, looking in the mirror as you strung it through a loc.

“Petey, it’s perfect!”

“Not as perfect as you.”

Taglist: @barbecuetiddy, @heejinw0rld, @purple-amaranthe, @raajali3, @rudy-the-winged-wolf, @secretaccountlol, @scorpiolystoned, @thatblackravenclaw, @wannapizzamymindposts, @whoreforklitz,

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i83andrew · 2 years

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ok I need you guys to stop being horndogs and start writing some angst to fluff

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spring-picnics · 2 years

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𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐦𝐧 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐈

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drunken posts by @honeymunson

simping over your boyfriend while drunk. tasm!peter parker x reader

candlelight dinner by @/thehalfbloodedwitch

watching harry cook dinner. harry potter x reader

substitute by @/shespeaksinsongs

substituting for your partner's class. draco malfoy x reader

this is who i love by @/velvetcloxds

remus showing you that he loves all of you. remus lupin x reader

zippers by @youlightmeupfinn

best friends to lovers. mcu!peter parker x reader

peter parker headcanons by @parkersmaterialgirl

peter parker headcanons. mcu!peter parker x reader

morning by @/thehalfbloodedwitch

having a nice morning with your boyfriend. ron weasley x reader

be my girl by @/peterbenjiparker

you're peter's girl. mcu!peter parker x reader

lips sealed by @mendesxruel

you find out peter's secret. tasm!peter parker x reader

whole world is gonna know you love me by @/desireav

she doesn't love you. lily evans x reader

looped by @softlybarnes

bucky loses memory of the past few years. bucky barnes x reader

rooftop date with peter parker by @/mendesxruel

a rooftop date with your boyfriend. mcu!peter parker x reader

scripts thrown into the fire by @indouloureux

enemies to lovers with peter. mcu!peter parker x reader

blurb by @/desireav

telling the avengers you're pregnant. avengers x reader

debauched angels (and brazen escapades) by @/indouloureux

a deep and intricate enemies to lovers angsty mini series. mcu!peter parker x reader

my reverie's affinity remains to be you by @indouloureux

you see 10 seconds of your soulmate's life every night. mcu!peter parker x reader

dear mr right by @rednights

getting an anonymous love letter from someone whose handwriting looks similar. mcu!peter parker x reader

@spring-picnics

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saber-monet · 3 months

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🥰🥰🥰

Now Available as vinyl stickers on my Etsy ($2.30-$4, multiple sizes):

Sticker 1

Sticker 2

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bjtch-craft · 7 months

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"Can I make it up to you, please?"

Peter Parker x Black! Male reader

✩ Summary: Peter gets into an argument with the reader but makes it up to him...

✩ Word count: 2k

✩ Genre: Angst to Smut

✩ Request: Yes or No

✩ Warnings: Smut, crying, over stimulation (if you squint you'll see it), and (LIGHT) choking!!

✩Authors note: Sorry for disappearing for a while. School started again, and I wanna d!e already!!! Anyways this is my first attempt at writing smut, and it's so totally not proofread! So if there's any mistakes, please comment them so I can correct them.

"I don’t understand why you’re so mad at me!"

"Peter, I’m not fucking mad at you!"

Peter takes a deep breath and rubs his eyes with his wrist before placing them on either side of him, softly gripping at the sheets.

"Then why are you yelling at me?"

"I’m not-!" [Name] cuts himself off after hearing his tone. "I’m not yelling at you; I'm just... worried. Okay? Worried that one day you’ll meet your match or run into some crazy obsessed fan." He finishes his sentence with a softer tone.

"Well, you don’t have to be! Okay?"

"I know, but..."

"Is this about MJ?:

[Name’s] worried look is wiped away by Peter’s accusation and a look of shock forms.

"W-what? No!"

"Because it feels like it is! Is that why you meant by an obsessed fan?" Peter says, putting up air quotes while saying "obsessed fan. "

"That’s not what I meant!"

"Then what did you mean? Because to me, it seems like you’re upset; I’ve been hanging out with her more often. Jealous even."

"Oh my God, Peter, you’re un-fucking-believable! This isn’t about her or anything else; this is about me! And my concerns! You don’t even know how many times I’ve seen you go up against some big and how terrified I've been! Terrified that you’ll get seriously hurt or worse."

Peter lets out a scoff.

"So you’re just being overprotective now?"

[Name's] jaw dropped at the sentence that left Peter’s lips. He wasn’t sure how to react.

Peter and [Name] never argued, and even if they did, they’d get over it within a minute or two, but for some god-forsaken reason, Peter was being an absolute dick.

The energy in the room increased by ten as both of them (mostly [Name], of course) could feel the anger begin to sink in even deeper.

"Peter. What. The. Fuck! Is wrong with you today? I don’t know why you’re being like this!"

"Like what?"

"Like a dick! I don’t even know why you’re arguing with me; I’m just telling you my fucking concerns, and you have the fucking gall to call me jealous and overprotective."[Name] says, dragging out the word "Gall".

"And I’m just telling you how I feel too!"

[Name] didn’t know how to react; he felt hurt and could feel a sob begin to make its way up his throat. He gulped it down (that didn’t work; he ended up still crying later, but that’s later) he began to pull at the bottom of his shirt while looking at the floor.

"Peter… Can you leave?" [Name] said quietly.

"W-what?"

"I said," Can you leave," please?"

"Okay. Fine."

And with that, Peter stood up and made his way out the door, leaving [Name] standing there in silence, a tear threatening to fall from his eye. It wasn't an empty threat, and the tear fell. And fell. And fell. And fell.

Soon the sun set behind the tall buildings of New York, and the moon rose, casting a small bit of light into [Name's] room. [Name] sunk into his bed as he stared up at the ceiling, a million thoughts rushing through his brain.

Are we over?

Why was he mad at me?

Should I say sorry?

Should he say sorry?

Is it my fault?

No, it's his fault.

For sure.

Tap tap tap. [Name] sat up softly and looked towards his window, expecting to see the source of the sound. But there was nothing…

"Am I hallucinating? Can you even hallucinate sounds?" [Name] thought aloud.

Now, you can actually hallucinate sounds, but this wasn't a hallucination. Tap. Tap. Tap. [Name] got up from his bed, crept towards the window, and slid it open.

"Hello…? Why'd I say hello? That's basically a death wish if this was a horror movie. "

"Hi!"

[Name] jumped back from the window with a yelp. Before creeping back towards it and looking out it once again, but this time staring down to see a familiar blue and red suit.

Peter stood on the building's brick wall, looking up at [name], his arms crossed around.

"Can I come in?"

"Yeah…"

[Name] backed up from the wall as Peter climbed inside with a smile on his face.

"Do you have anything I can change into, babe?"

[Name] let out a scoff.

"Babe! Don't babe me, dude. Are you seriously going to pretend that our argument didn't happen?

"Sorry! I thought you'd be a little calmer. But do you?"

[Name] walked to his closet, pulled out a sweater, made his way toward his dresser, grabbed a pair of sweats, and threw them at Peter.

Peter changed and threw the suit in a corner before sitting down on the mattress. And a somewhat awkward energy filled the room.

"I'm sorry… I am. I don't know why I was being such a dick! But I'm sorry for what I said." Peter looked down at the floor, unable to look at his boyfriend.

"Peter…"

[Name] wasn't sure what to say, and in situations like this (awkward, scared, and nervous), he often coiled his already-curled hair around his finger.

"I feel like such a shitty boyfriend."

[Name] placed his hand on Peter's cheek. "You're not a shitty boyfriend, though... You admit when you're wrong and understand why 6 wrong. That's legit one of the many reasons why I love you!"

Peter looked up at [name], nuzzled his face into his palm, and planted a soft kiss on his palm. [Name] ran his thumb over his pale cheek. It was a sweet moment that didn't last very long.

[Name] softly ran his thumb over the corner of Peter's soft lips. Peter adjusted his head and planted a kiss on the darker-skinned boy's thumb. [Name] smiled down at Peter.

"I love you, Peter..."

"I love you too."

[Name] pressed his finger against Peter's lip. He got the hint and opened his mouth, letting his boyfriend's thumb in. He looked up at [name] with innocent eyes as he bobbed his head up and down on his thumb.

"Jesus..." [Name] whispered out.

Peter came off his finger with a pop, his face turning a light pink.

"Can I make it up to you, please?"

[Name] nodded his head softly and backed up as Peter got up off the bed and kneeled in front of him.

"You can say no at any time, and I'll stop," Peter said with a smile.

"Same to you."

Peter reached up and pulled down [Name's] basketball shorts, dropping them to his ankles. Peter reached up and gently groped at the bulge in the other boy's boxers. Peter pulled them down with ease.

Peter stroked it gently, causing a soft whimper to release from [Name's] mouth as Peter's soft hands glided over his cock. Peter grabbed the base of [Name's] cock and gently licked the tip before taking it into his mouth. Peter looked up at [Name] as he slowly took more into his mouth, gagging a bit as he made his way towards the base.

[Name] reached down and placed his hand in Peter's hair, holding his head in place, making Peter gag as drool pooled out of the corner of his lips.

"Fuckkk! Peter, your mouth feels so good."[Name] moaned out.

Peter let out another gagging sound and tapped the side of [Name's] thigh, signaling for him to let go. And [Name] did Peter come off his cock with a pop and look up at him with a smile, a rope of drool connecting [Name's] tip to his lips.

"Are you okay, Peter?"

"Yeah. Fine." Peter said as he began to slowly stroke [Name's] dick.

He placed it back in his mouth and began to go back down on it. He bobbed his head up and down in a repeating motion as he reached into his sweats and pulled out his own cock and began jerking himself off.

Peter came off his dick and kitten, licked the tip, and placed it back into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it.

"Agh, Jesus Peter" [name] whimpered out.

[Name] placed his hands on either side of his head and slowly began pulling his head further down on his shaft.

"I'm going to go a little rough. Is that okay with you?"

"Mmmm," Peter hummed in response, causing a soft vibration on [Names] dick, making him let out another moan.

[Name] gripped a handful of Peter's hair and began to pull his cock out of his mouth before slamming it back down his throat. Peter, still stroking his own cock, reached out and grabbed at [names] thighs for support.

[Name] strengthened his grip on Peter's head and began slamming his cock down Peter's throat harshly, causing drool to pool out of the corners of his lips.

"Ohhh God! F-fuck!"

Peter whimpered and whined around the length as tears filled his eyes, threatening to spill.

"MM~ MMM~" Peter whined out.

Peter jerked himself off at an even faster rate, chasing his climax. And he chased it, cumming all over his hands and floor.

"Aww, Pete...."

[Name] pulled his dick out of Peter's mouth, leaving him gasping for air.

"F-fuck~" Peter said in between breaths.

"Are you okay, Pete?"

"Mhm."

"You came... kind of fast."

Peter's pale face turned a soft pink as he ran a hand through his hair, looking down at the floor.

"Do you want to, like, you know, go all the way? You don't have to say yes." [Name] said, reaching down and lifting Peter's chin up to look at him.

"Yes, I want to do it."

[Name] reached down and pulled Peter up by his arm, smashing his lips against his. [Name] kicked off his shorts and boxers and began walking them toward the bed, lightly pushing Peter down. Peter reached out and gripped the collar of [Names] shirt, pulling him down with his lips, never breaking contact.

[Name] broke the kiss, placed a soft kiss on Peter's cheek, and started making his way towards his neck. Kissing down his jawline before softly biting his neck.

"Fuck~" Peter moaned out.

[Name] began sucking on the flesh and biting at it before licking over the bite. The warmth of [Names] tongue made Peter blush even more, making his already pink skin turn a deep scarlet. [Name's] hands traveled down Peter's body, slipping them up his shirt and feeling him up.

[Name] reaches out from under Peter's shirt and takes his cock in his hand, gently tugging at it. Peter let out a soft whimper at the feeling of [name's] warm hand.

"Is this okay?" [Name] says speeding up the pace.

Peter bites down on his bottom lip and nods his head.

With his other hand, [Name] begins to pull Peter's shirt up and begins placing soft kisses on his torso, making his way toward Peter's cock. Peter pulled his shirt off, making [Name] let go of his cock.

[Name] delicately kissed Peter's tip, spat in his hand, and began jerking him off once more. The sound of wet noses and whimpers filled the room.

"Does that feel good, Peter?"

"Mhm-ahh~ Fuck~!" Was all he could whine out as [Name] ran his thumb over his tip in a particularly hard motion.

[Name] let's go of Peter's cock and steadied himself on his knees, grabs the bottom of his shirt and pulls it off.

"Let me know if it hurts or if I'm going to be rough, okay?"

"Okay."

[Name] placed Peter's legs on his shoulders and steadied himself on the mattress before lining himself up with Peter's hole. Peter reached out and felt around on his boyfriend's bedside table until he felt a familiar wrapping.

"Here."

Peter handed him a condom. [Name] opened it and slid it over his dick and pushed into Peter slowly, wanting him to adjust to his size before moving.

Peter gripped the sheets and twisted them in his hands as he let out a soft moan.

"F-fuck~"

[Name] reached out and grabbed Peter by the waist and pulled him down on his cock. [Name] bottoming inside of Peter as he looked down at him to see his arm covering his face, his face somehow even pinker.

"Does this feel okay?"

"Mhm."

"Can you uncover your face? I want to see all the pretty little faces you make, Pete."

Peter's cock twitched at this, and a drip of precum made its way down his cock. Peter did as he was told, took his arm off, and looked up at the curly-haired boy.

"I'm going to start moving, okay? Let me know if it's too much or if you want to stop. I won't be mad, I promise!"

"Okay, I will."

[Name] began to roll his hips in and out of the pale boy, starting off with a slow pace to ensure he didn't hurt him. [Name] decided to test the limits and pulled out of Peter, making him let out a breathy gasp at the loss of friction before slamming back into him and producing another loud moan from him.

His face contorted into a mixture of pleasure and pain as his hands shot out and grabbed at [Names] shoulders as he rocked his hips into Peter.

"Aghh~ C- Can you go a little harder?'

[Name] listened to his question and sped up the pace, filling the room with the sound of a headboard banging and the sound of skin against skin. [Names] hands roamed down Peter's thighs until they reached his cock, took it in his hand, and began once again jerking him off at an irritatingly slow pace.

[Name] placed his other hand on the back of Peter's head and leaned in their lips inches apart. [Names] thrust slowed for a second before stopping all together.

"Why did you stop?" Peter said, his voice barely above a whisper.

[Name] closed the gap between them. Peter kissed back almost instantly and placed his hand on the back of [Names] head, tangling his fingers in his curls. [Name] began to thrust into him slowly and more gentle as the kiss deepened.

[Name] grabbed Peter's hands and placed them above his head, holding them in place and breaking the kiss in the process. His thrust quickened, and once again, the sound of skin against skin filled the room.

"Fu-fuck~ ugh!" [Name] moaned out.

His thurst became even harder as he chased his high. Peter could feel tears starting to fall from his eyes, not from pain but from pleasure. It was all too much. His ccok standing up straight twitched and shot ropes of cum all over his abdomen, painting that area of his body glossy white.

"I'm not too far behind," [Name] grunted out.

His thrust became sloppy, losing the rhythm as he tightened his grip on Peter's wrist.

"F-fuuck~"!

He let go of Peter's wrist, pulled out of him, and made his way to the floor. Peter got the idea quickly and knelt before sticking his tongue out as [Name] jerked himself off.

After one or two strokes, he came, shooting his load over Peter's face. Blotches of white landed on his lashes, chin, nose, forehead, tongue, and hair.

Peter swallowed the cum that had landed in his mouth and smiled looking up at [name] innocently.

"Jesus Christ, Peter, you're so pretty."

Authors note part 2!!!:

Okay so y'all I'm thinking of doing an Olivia Rodrigo type of story with Bad Idea, right? Should I do this???

Link to the song in case y'all haven't heard it yet!!!

#lgbtq #gay #peter parker x male reader #spiderman x male reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x male reader #smut #peter parker smut #peter parker x black!reader #Peter parker x Black male reader #idk man #Is this even good #Spotify

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lnfours · 11 months

Note

Welcome back! Can I get a blurb for college!peter x black cat!reader post nwh? Lots of fluff. Maybe a tiny steamy. I have no idea on plot I’m sorry 😅

OOOOOOH I LOVE BLACK CAT!READER (i’m kinda putting mcu peter into the ps4 spider-man universe idk??)

i like ur thinking, i rlly do 🫶🏻 also thank u for the warm welcome! it’s good to be home 🙂

blurb night!

the crime in the city was unusually quiet for peter. nonetheless, he swung through the city as he did his rounds.

“and that folks is why spider-man is a menace! he’s an abomination to this city! we should all believe mysterio.” jameson practically yelled in his ear. peter laughed to himself quietly, switching to a different podcast on his phone.

“good to know i’m still hated by someone.”

his thoughts were interrupted by an incoming call. he answered it almost immediately, desperate for something to do.

“captain,” he answered.

“spider-man,” yuri said back, “there was a call about a disturbance down in hell’s kitchen. do you think you can check it out for me? let me know what’s up?”

“sure,” he said, “i’ll give you a call once i check it out.”

“sounds good,” he could hear her relieved smile on the other end, “thanks.”

“no problem.”

he started swinging towards hell’s kitchen, making his way towards the building yuri sent him the address to. once he landed on the rooftop, he let out a sigh as he stood in front of the woman in front of him.

“cat…”

“hey, spider,” she smiled, “long time no see.”

“yeah, i know.”

“i missed you,” she made her way closer to him, the claws from her gloves dragging across the nylon of his suit, “new suit? i like it.”

he moved her hands from her chest, “cat, let’s not do this right now.”

“why not, spider?” she asked, her head tilting to the side.

peter sighed, knowing he couldn’t say no to her, “what’re you doing, y/n?”

you backed up, giving him a little shrug, “talking to my favorite crime fighting spider. what’re you doing?”

he sighed louder this time, “i meant here, y/n. what’re you doing here? at the auction house?”

“getting my father’s painting back,” she said, flinging the tube of artwork over her shoulder, “what else?”

“c’mon, i can’t just let you break in and steal something-“

“steal something that belongs to me. something that was taken from me without my consent.”

she kinda did have a point…

“c’mon,” she sighed, walking up to him again, “can’t you just pretend that this never happened? just like old times. spider-man and the black cat. we could be the duo we used to be.”

she leaned up and lifted the bottom of his mask. he almost hesitated, scared of letting her see his face, until she stopped after revealing his lips. she leaned closer, her lips brushing up against his. he froze, uncertain on her intentions. and she knew she had him right where she wanted him.

“so long, spider.”

he gulped as she walked away, jumping off the edge of the. building as she made her way towards center city. he pulled his mask down, his phone ringing again. he answered.

“hello?”

“hey, any updates on that disturbance?” captain watanabe’s voice echoed.

“yeah, it was nothing,” he said, “all clear, captain.”

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x black cat!reader #tom holland x reader #mail time #blurb night 5/16/23 #tom holland blurb #peter parker blurb #spider-man

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godlessandwrecked · 2 years

Text

good bad luck | p. parker

the black cat — a master burglar who has come swinging into peter’s life like a fist, to snap him out of it with witty comments and breath-taking punches. even when he thinks he hates her, he absolutely adores her, and unfortunately for him, he’s failed to realize he’s falling until he’s inches off the ground…

PAIRING: peter parker (mcu) x blackcat! fem reader

WORD COUNT: 6k

CONTENTS: post nwh, peter’s pov, pining and blushy messy peter, some suggestive stuff but mostly sfw, a lot of cute banter and a heist? also, i mention the cat has white hair like once, but she’s completely self-insertable, just like the rest of my fics!

A/N: tried to be as loyal to the black cat as I could because I adore her in the comics, but I totally made her my own here for the sake of having a version that would make sense with a younger Peter :) first time writing for Tom’s Peter and I’m: scared. ok enjoy <3

Peter’s number one, most hated, vilest enemy he’s fighting nowadays is… biochemistry. And he’s losing, by a lot. Not because he doesn't possess the capabilities to defeat said enemy, but because New York City doesn’t give him a damn rest, and he’s exhausted.

In the few months he’s been in college, to no one’s surprise, he’s already managed to be late on a pile of assignments. He doesn’t have the time to work on them, and even when he does and sits down to get on with it, it’s like his brain won’t stop running.

It should be easy for him—he’s good at it and he’s passionate about it, after all—but he can’t focus on the task at hand. His brain keeps shifting back to the city, to the rooftops, to the people who need his help, to her, and suddenly his cheeks start heating up and he’s back to thinking of how good it would feel to swing around the city, with the sun behind him and the wind whizzing by, clearing his mind of everything.

Peter huffs, clicking the delete key on his run-down laptop until the two lines he’s managed to write in the last half an hour disappear from the document, leaving it blank once more. His suit stares back at him from the other side of the room, laying on a chair, the goggles on his mask ogling at him, as if begging him to please put it on and take it out for a stroll.

For a few seconds he thinks he’s actually going to give in, but then he shakes his head, reprimanding himself and murmuring a No. No, Peter. No. He can’t keep avoiding his responsibilities, he needs to get the assignment done. College is far too expensive for him to throw it all away just to swing around like a monkey. He’ll have plenty of time to do that later.

He accommodates back on his chair, cracks his knuckles, and is about to begin typing away when–

Tap tap tap.

His head shoots to his right, facing the window where the sound has come from, to be met with nothing but that—the window. Chastising himself for getting distracted once more, he returns to his work, thinking it must have been the wind, or a knocking next-door.

But as soon as he looks away, there it is again, tap tap tap on the glass.

He turns on his chair once more, expecting nothing again, but gives a little jump at what he sees, surprisingly startled.

A head hangs upside down from the top of his window, wide eyes staring at him through even bigger spectacles, hair the color of snow flowing in the breeze.

He furrows, “Again?”

She waves happily, still upside down, and points at the lock on the window, asking him to let her in. She could bust it open easily—she is the best cat burglar ever, after all—but she doesn’t want to get him in trouble with his landlord. Not again.

“What are you doing?” he asks, slightly annoyed as she jumps over the windowsill and into his one-room apartment.

“Aren’t you happy to see me?” she asks with that playfulness that comes naturally to her, even in the worst of situations.

“I told you not to come around here, Cat. Someone could see you.”

“So what? No one’s gonna think you,” a sharp fingernail pokes at his chest, “Of all people, are Spider-Man.”

“Wow, thank you. A lot. That’s really kind.”

“I’m joking, Spider. Who’s gonna see me hanging out of your window on a 4th story, anyway?”

“My neighbors? I don’t know. Don’t do it again.”

“Relax, Spider-Boy. I won’t,” she rolls her eyes, and he knows reprimanding her is of no use. She’ll do it again whenever she pleases.

Peter’s eyes follow her as she moves around his apartment comfortably, opening up cabinets in search of food, running her fingers over the notes on biophysical chemistry on his kitchen counter, straightening up items here and there. He watches with narrow eyes as she finds a pack of cookies and pops one into her mouth, sitting down on his bed.

How has this become his life? Two months ago they were kicking each other’s asses out in the cold, and now she’s laying on his pillow. He’s not sure if he likes it or it unnerves him, how naturally it comes to her to invade his personal space.

“What are you up to? Wanna go out for a stroll?” she asks, still chewing.

“No. I’m doing school work.”

“Okay.”

They sit in silence while he waits for her to get the hint and leave, but she doesn’t, just stares at him. So he stares back, blinking awkwardly, arms crossed, and then cocks his head toward the window.

“Oh, you want me to leave?” she realizes.

“Well, yeah, I have things to do.”

“I’ll be really quiet,” she shakes her head, a grin on her face. “You won’t even notice I’m here.”

Sure.

He’s probably going to regret this, but how can he tell her no? She’s not going to leave either way, and the more he presses, the more she’ll do the exact opposite. He knows her well by now.

For a few minutes, as he stares at the blinking cursor on his screen, he actually believes he’s going to get some work done, but he can hear the tapping of her fingers on the leather of her suit, the steady up and down of her breathing, and if he concentrates hard enough, even the fluttering of her lashes. It’s driving him nuts.

His brain is foggy, and he’s itching for that freedom only the free-falling can provide him with. And he’s thinking of last week, when they played tag over Queens, swinging and chasing each other around narrow alleys and crowded streets. It’s just what he needs, exactly what the doctor ordered.

Peter gets up from his chair abruptly, closing his laptop and already reaching for his suit, “Okay, let’s go.”

And they’re stumbling back onto a rooftop, giggling and out of breath. This in particular is the one they favor, one that overlooks Central Park, and a little further away, the Empire State, peeking its pointy head over the less impressive skyscrapers.

They sit at the edge, legs dangling off the ledge, watching as the sun sets and hides behind the buildings in the distance, recalling the amazing stunt she’d pulled by swinging off his web and landing flawlessly on her feet.

It’s funny how things work. She found out about his identity completely by accident two months ago, catching him half naked in an alley, all bloody, with his suit torn and no mask on. “I knew you were cute, Spider,” was all she said as she offered him a hand to help him back home, and ever since then, they’d grown closer.

Now that she’s on his side–at least, most of the time–he finds himself enjoying his patrolling nights. Their nights together. Sometimes he even catches himself looking forward to the sun setting, running back home from class, dying to get into his suit just to do this. And he likes doing it with her. He’d spent so much time alone, he’d forgotten how good it felt to just be around somebody, no matter how bothersome they are.

It really does mess with his head, because technically, he’s not supposed to like her. She’s been trouble from the start, and she’s made things more complicated for him countless times, but he has so much fun with her. And sure, if he doesn’t think about the morality of her profession, she’s the best partner he could ask for.

“These are really good,” he points out, scrolling through the pictures she’d taken of him mid-air on his second-hand camera.

He’s been selling pictures of Spider-Man to The Bugle for a couple months now. It’s a job he’d rather not do—after all, they do literally hate his guts over there—but it’s one he has to do if he wants to keep a roof over his head. At least, now he doesn’t have to tape his camera to a wall to take his pictures. She does the job for him.

“I have many talents.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” he says absentmindedly.

Her brow shoots up, “Can you, now?”

His slow brain doesn’t realize she’s messing with him until a few seconds later, when he sees through the teasing smirk on her face and her comment downs on him. “I mean, thank you.”

“You’re so easy,” she laughs in a bright smile that reminds Peter a little too much of pure sunshine, pointing out his reddening cheeks. “Anyway, wanna make out?”

“Wh- what?” he chokes out. Did he hear correctly?

“I said: do you wanna get takeout?”

“I don’t think that’s what you said.”

“I’m pretty sure it is.”

He’s sure his face is bright red at this point. Now he’s really wishing he hadn’t taken his mask off. She’s messing with him again, and he’s fallen for it, again. How embarrassing. “Why are you like this?”

“Like what?”

“Do you have a thing for me blushing or…?”

“You are just so damn cute, Spider,” she bumps his shoulder, leaning into him slightly.

She blinks slowly, her lashes fluttering softly, and Peter starts shaking.

Maybe not literally, but on the inside, it feels like every cell on his body is vibrating, shaking away, like turbulence on an airplane, and he feels like he’s about to crash. It’s too late to worry about a bad landing, because he’s already trying to shove his wildly beating heart back into his ribcage before it spills out through his mouth.

Fortunately for him, just as he feels himself shifting forward the slightest bit, before he dares do something stupid, she stands up in a gush of energy and leaps onto the ledge of the roof.

She walks along the dangerously narrow path, putting one foot in front of the other with cat-like grace, her arms spread out. He knows her balance is quite literally perfect, knows she would never fall, and if she did, she would land on her feet, and yet, he can’t help it, it comes out of his mouth, easy as breathing, “Be careful.”

She turns around to face him, a smile on her face that is as sweet as is dangerous; a double edged sword. “Would you catch me? If I fell?”

“Always.”

And he means it, of course he does. She’s the closest thing he’s had to a friend the past few months, the only person who has been around, getting to know Spider-Man, and now Peter Parker alike.

After losing everything he’d ever had, he felt lost, angry and lonely. And that’s when she came around, swinging into his life like a fist, to slap him back into the world of the living and fill him with something other than grief.

Those first few months, when he chased her around the city, hoping to catch her with her hands on the smoking gun, he felt alive again. And then everything changed between them, and she went from foe to friend.

Now he can’t think about patrolling without thinking of her. He can’t picture the night without an image of her popping into his head, with her bratty attitude and wolfish grin, about to make a comment that will turn his ears pink. But he enjoys it, how she fills up the silence, how warm he feels next to her. Sometimes that warmth is anger and annoyance, sometimes it’s other things. Things he doesn’t dare admit, at least not yet.

She doesn’t say anything at his answer, even though he’s well aware that it sounds more like a confession than an offhand comment. If it has affected her in any way that isn’t prideful, she doesn’t let it show, just smiles triumphantly.

She’s got him wrapped around her finger, and she knows it. And maybe he’s in deeper than he thought he was. Maybe.

•••

A week of absolutely no distractions and assignment after assignment has given Peter a lot of time to think about various things. He’s come to a few realizations:

He should probably not take off his mask when he’s around the Cat, just so he won’t give her the satisfaction of seeing him blush anymore.

College really is just not worth it.

He can’t live off of cheese strings and coffee.

College is not worth it again.

There’s a criminal organization in New York he needs to take down sooner than later.

Maybe he should’ve gone grocery shopping first, but he’s already barging into their shared rooftop, letting go of the web that swung him there to walk up to the Cat, already waiting for him and picking at her long nails.

“We’re gonna steal something!”

“Hello to you, too. Did you say “We”?” she grins, instantly intrigued. “That’s very immoral of you, Spidey.”

Normally, yes, he would find it immoral, but this is an exception. He’s been thinking about it for over a month now, and every time he runs it over in his head, it becomes more and more clear that he needs her expert hand if he wants it to be successful.

“It’s for the greater good.”

“Okay. What are we stealing?

“Just some records. Numbers. Proof.”

“Records,” her brow shoots up. “From whom?”

Peter kisses his cheek, dreading this moment, and whispers the answer through his teeth, almost inaudibly as he scratches at the nape of his neck. She gets a little closer to him, her inquisitive look piercing right through him, “Huh? You’re gonna have to speak a little louder. I don’t have your abilities, Spidey.”

“The Maggia.”

Her eyes widen. “The Maggia? Yeah, no, thank you,” she turns away from him and starts to walk in the opposite direction. “Already did that once and it was…not good.”

Maybe he doesn’t need need her help, but she is really good at what she does, and besides, he wants her by his side. Of course, he’s not about to tell her that, no need to feed her ego.

“Please,” he pouts under the mask, holding her back by her wrist so she doesn’t walk away from him. Begging doesn’t work with her, not at all, but he can try. “I can’t do it without you.”

Her stance softens at that, so she sighs, annoyed, “You know I’m all about being reckless, but not without a good reason. So what’s in it for me?”

“The satisfaction of knowing you’re going to help a lot of people by overthrowing organized crime?”

“Ugh,” her nose scrunches up in disgust.

“Why do you always need to get something out of it? We have a deal, don’t we? You help me sometimes, and I overlook your ‘visits’ to the Guggenheim,” he says, making air-quotes.

“Why do you care about that, anyway? I’m like Robin Hood.”

“You’re the British Museum at best.” She gasps, looking extremely offended for a few seconds, her hand over her heart, so he clarifies, “You don’t take from the rich to give to the poor.”

“Yes, I do. The rich being,” she makes a vague gesture with her hand, as if batting away some fly. “And the poor being me, of course.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works.”

“Whatever you say.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he shakes his head, catching her before she tries to divert the conversation. “Are you gonna help me or not?”

Her eyes roll, “Well, if I must…”

Barely a few hours later, once the sun has set, the crescent moon providing them with enough coverage in the shadows, they’re already on the go, towards the outskirts of the city.

It only takes them a few minutes to get to their destination, and once they do, they wait, watching the entrance of the property from their hiding place in the heights, observing in silence and coming up with their plan of action.

“Rooftop, you think? The skylight?” asks Peter.

“Yeah, that’ll be the quickest and safest way. You web me down, I’ll get whatever I can find. Nobody will even notice we were here. Easy as that.”

“Are you sure? I should go in with you.”

“No. They probably have security systems you won’t be able to recognize or avoid. I’ll go in. You keep watch.”

“I really think I should go in with you. What if–”

“Spider,” she interrupts him, getting closer to him until they’re face to face, inches away. “Let me do my thing. You don’t need to worry about it.”

Peter is not particularly fond of this plan, but she’s the expert at this sort of thing, so he follows after her, silently swinging past the guards patrolling the perimeter and landing on the rooftop unnoticed. Once they reach the skylight at the center of it, she pulls a pin out of her suit and starts fumbling with the lock with expert hands.

Nearly two seconds later, it pops open, “Ta-da!”

“Wow. You are really good at that.”

“The best,” she announces happily. “Alright, pull me down.”

They manage to create some sort of make-shift harness out of his webs, wrapping them around her waist tightly so he’ll be able to hold her easily and bring her in and out of the facility with no problem. Once they’re done, she jumps down into the building with no hesitation, and he steadies himself, bending his knees and planting his feet firmly on the floor to hold her up.

And damn her, because even now, as he slowly lowers her down the skylight, she looks beautiful, with the moon shining down on her, her body contorting on the web to keep herself steady, her doe eyes looking up at him, instructing him to go a little slower now, more to the right then.

The Cat has many good qualities and abilities, but Peter found out very quickly that the weapon she wields the best is her beauty—a perfectly angled knife that slashes through him, punctures his lungs and leaves him gasping for air. It’s the one thing he hasn’t learnt how to dodge yet.

“Spider?” she asks suddenly. “Why’d you stop?”

“Sorry,” he clears his throat and resumes his job in aiding her to rappel down. “Got distracted.”

“Why? Do you like what you see? Is that what it is?” she purrs, obviously trying to make him tick. He’s not falling for it this time.

“Sure. Indiana Jones could never,” he jokes, and unfortunately it’s true. He might have the style, but he doesn’t have the elegance nor the effortlessness of the Black Cat. “What do you see?”

“Give me a second. It’s too dark.”

“You can’t be too far off the ground, can you?” It’s just a warehouse. “Can you?” he asks again, but there’s no answer, so he tries once more, “Cat?”

No answer still. Was this part of the plan? Wasn’t he supposed to get confirmation that she’d made it in? Sure, they didn’t talk about that, but isn’t it a normal thing to check on? Now he can’t recall what they’d discussed and his palms are starting to get sweatier and sweatier by the minute.

She told him to wait and keep watch, but he can’t just sit back. He has no business getting so worried, so quickly, but he’s not the most patient person, and he doesn’t like a single one of the hundred different scenarios that are rushing through his mind right now.

So he jumps into the building, with no thought in him but his partner getting hurt or taken or worse. And two seconds later as he lands on a dark hallway, just like she said he would, he triggers some sort of alarm, and the whole building goes on full blast, blaring a high pitched noise, bright red flashing lights and all.

“Shit,” he murmurs under his breath.

Peter doesn’t know what to do except run, instead of back through the skylight, right down the hallway, in search of The Cat. Just when he rounds out the corner, running frantically like a maniac, he slams hard against something, sending him almost straight to the floor.

“Peter?”

“Oh, thank God, you’re okay,” he places his arms on her shoulders to ground himself, relieved once he sees her, safe and sound.

“What did you do?” she asks, annoyed, over the deafening sound of the alarm.

“You weren’t answering! So I came in.”

“Yeah, no shit.” Red light illuminates her face, matching her annoyance. “I was doing my job. You clearly didn’t do yours very well.”

“Uh, excuse me, lady, for worrying about you.”

“Get us out of here, Spider. Out, out,” she taps his shoulders.

They run back down the hallway, to make their way out of the skylight once more, and he’s wrapping his arm around her waist to swing them both out and away when-

A bullet whizzes past them, making them jump.

“Holy fu-”

“You!” Two burly men in suits are sprinting down the corridor towards them, guns pointed, fingers on the trigger and ready to shoot again.

Peter tugs at her hand to get her out of there, but she steps in front of him instead, on the line of fire.

“Watch out! Faulty construction!” she yells out in a mocking tone, and somehow, the whole ceiling panel ahead of them breaks away and tumbles down onto the men, knocking them down and burying them under plaster. “Oops!”

Peter’s eyes widen, weirdly impressed. Those bad luck powers truly are something.

And as soon as he’s about to praise her and her little stunt, a whole group of mobsters round the corner, marching at them with all kinds of weapons ready to fire. They’re way too many to fight on their own, so like real heros do in times of trouble, they make a run for it.

“Hold on tight!” His arm wraps around her waist as her legs wrap around his, and Peter leaps out of the skylight, carrying them both out into the night.

A bullet whizzes by way too close to them, cutting through the air and making his hair stand on end as he shoots out a web to propel them towards the edge of the building. He jumps off the railing, the arm around her tightening its grip, and for a couple of seconds where time stands completely still, they’re free falling, and falling, and falling, until Peter shoots out another web, preventing them from slamming onto the pavement.

He swings them back to his apartment, his mood souring further the closer they get, guilt starting to creep in as the adrenaline washes away. Perching her gently on the window ledge, he allows her to crack it open and let them in easily, too defeated to even try to argue about it.

He rips his mask off as soon as he steps in, throwing it across the room carelessly. “Damn it,” he barks frustratedly, kicking the floor. “I messed it up, didn’t I? I almost got us killed.”

“You did,” she nods her head, adjusting the fur on her collar. “But it was fun. A little run in with the mob is always good. Could’ve gone worse.”

“Fun? They were firing multiple guns at us. That wasn’t fun, that was insane!”

“Spider-”

“That was all my fault! I almost- How could I be so stupid?”

“I can assure you, you can get stupider. it wasn’t that big of a deal,” she tries to cut in again, but Peter keeps on frantically pacing, his breathing getting agitated, his face blotchy.

“I didn’t listen. I should’ve listened to you.”

“Don’t worry about that.”

“Oh my god! I put you in danger! I fucked up and I put you in danger and it was all for nothing-”

“Peter!”

Now, that shuts him right up.

“I swear to God, you better shut up right now.”

But he’s so caught off guard that he wouldn’t be able to speak even if he tried.

Peter.

She has never called him that. Never by his name. Always Spider, sometimes Spidey, other times any weird name that crosses her mind. Never Peter. And he doesn’t understand why he’s so shocked by it, but he guesses it’s because it’s been a while since he’s heard his name coming out of the mouth of a friend.

And the realization is soul-crushing.

He’s too preoccupied with that to process anything else she’s saying or to notice how she’s ruffling through her pockets in search of something.

“Hey!” she snaps her fingers to get his attention. “Who said it was for nothing, huh?” she purrs, a smirk on her face, and in her hand, between her index and thumb, a shiny, silver pendrive, glinting in the dim light, like the final quest reward in some videogame.

He takes it from her and studies it in his hand, fascinated with the little token and even more fascinated by her and her abilities and how she somehow keeps surprising him again and again. “Cat, I could kiss you right now.”

“All in its right time,” she laughs, sitting beside him on the end of his bed, her hand on his shoulder. “I told you I had your back if you had mine, didn’t I? When I found out,” she points at his face. “I meant it. Don’t beat yourself up. We did this together. I know you don’t like me most of the time, but-”

“Don’t say that. I do. Like you. All of the time.”

How could he not? Even back when he thought he hated her, he adored her. Cherished every second they spent together, throwing punches and kicking each other in the shins, throwing witty and snarky comments back and forth like daggers.

Bold and brass, she’d shaken him awake from a deep slumber. Not gently like the warmth of the early morning sun on your closed eyelids would, heating up your chilling bones; but more like the punching shock and the grimace that follows after sucking on a lemon. Or getting kicked in the mouth, those terrible seconds when you notice that rusty taste on your tongue and you check in fear if you’ve still got all of your teeth.

That's how she makes him feel, which is not a pretty picture, but somehow explains it perfectly.

“That’s very sweet of you, lover,” she says with a fond smile. “I like you too, even when you’re scolding me for being a master at my craft and looking good while doing it.”

“Ha-ha,” he fake-laughs despondently. His hand finds hers on her knee, and he interlocks their fingers, squeezing reassuringly. “Is that really what you think? That I don’t like you?”

“Not really. I’ve seen your cheeks turn bright red enough times to know it’s not exactly anger. But…”

“What is it?”

“I dunno. I feel like there is a side of me you can’t get behind, and that really bothers me,” she says honestly, in a tone he’s not used to hearing from her. “This is not a game to me. You know that, right? I know I say I’m having fun all the time, but really, I do have my reasons for doing this. I’d much rather be in college, like you are.”

The breaking and entering, the robberies, the fights, the getting acquainted with the wrong people. Of course he knows there’s a reason behind all of it. She’s young and on her own. He doesn’t know what brought her to this point, but he understood from the beginning that she’s just looking out for herself.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “If I ever made you feel bad about that. I know you’re just doing what you need to do. We all are.” They just have different ways to it. But he can’t judge her for that.

“It’s okay,” and her smile is back. Sunny and undefeated. “You couldn’t bring me down if you tried. I’ll beat your ass.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” he laughs with her, and it flows easy and free, his chest feeling lighter, his hand still on hers.

But then the laughter dies down, and the silence settles in, and they stare at each other with nothing to say for once. They’re sitting way too close together. The faint fragrance of her perfume–something sweet and floral he hasn't had the chance to indulge in until now–fills up his nostrils, making his head spin.

Tentatively, he reaches up, his gloved hand meeting the side of her face, and he expects her to pull away, make some comment about him keeping his hands to himself. But surprisingly, she gets even closer, nuzzles into his touch, and he’s suddenly wishing he wasn’t wearing his suit, just to feel her warm cheek under his fingers.

“Can I?” he simply whispers.

Their eyes meet, and she nods coyly, giving him the green light to move forward. His fingers clasp around her goggles, perfectly fitted to her face, and he pulls them off, slowly.

She once said she wore them only for theatrics, not to actually hide who she was, because she was too pretty for that, and besides, no one would ever catch her. Peter wasn't too sure about that, but he agreed on the former.

He’s never seen her without them, and even if they don’t do much in covering her face, it feels weirdly intimate. Like some sort of metaphorical mask; a veil that’s being lifted to reveal truths, ones that he suspects have been ready to be uttered for a while now.

And it’s like he’s seeing her for the first time all over again.

He remembers the shock, the awe, the intrigue. It still feels fresh in his mind, imprinted there, the way it does when someone makes one hell of a first impression. He recalls every single move she’d made during that first fight, every punch she’d thrown, every kick he’d received.

And yet, all of it dissolves into nothing but feelings and sensations, faint memories, because the girl in front of him–the girl he’s seeing–is not The Black Cat, infamous master burglar. He’s seeing her, just the girl, more akin to him than he’ll ever know.

The girl, who fills his nights with giggles and joy, amidst the blood and the bruises and the darkness.

Sure, she enjoys teasing him, toying with him, pressing all the wrong and right buttons. Her presence is intoxicating in all senses of the word. Most of the time, he finds her extremely annoying, especially when she goes a little rogue, but he wouldn’t trade her company for anything. She fills up all the empty spaces in his life left by the people who are gone, and the ones that no longer know him. But she does–know him. He’s gotten the chance to start over, with her, a blank slate.

He’s afraid he’s given her too much of an in into his life, and having someone know about his identity again is terrifying, it strangely feels like he’s doing it all over again. He just hopes history doesn’t repeat itself, and although he’s learned to not take anything for certain, the one thing he knows is that he wants her here, by his side. He wants her.

He can pinpoint that feeling now, clear as day. It’s that very last second playing roulette, when you see it’s about to land on red after you’ve bet all of your money on it.

He might have just gotten lucky.

Before he knows it, he’s leaning in, and after a beat of a heart, his lips are on hers.

She doesn’t pull away, just leans into it, letting him take the reins of the kiss, his hand cupping her cheek, her hand wrapping around his wrist. She presses on a little closer, her other hand falling onto his thigh that’s brushing against hers on the bed, tainting the kiss with a fervor unfamiliar to him. He welcomes it gladly, allowing her to climb onto his lap, his hands coming to rest on her waist, pressing her body against his as she lays him on his bed.

Her kiss is tender, and strangely sweet considering she’s sitting on top of him, but not gentle–more so, demanding. He’s tempted to move his hands on her waist a little lower, explore every inch of that damned leather suit, but he doesn’t dare move them, just keeps kissing her. It’s only when her hands start snaking down his body and her lips move down his jaw and neck to plant open-mouthed kisses there that he snaps out of it

“Wait, wait,” he pulls away, holding her face in his hands. He can’t believe he’s saying no to a girl already in his bed–even if it’s the stuff of his wildest fantasies and a younger version of him would smack him on the back of his neck–but he wants to do this the right way. He owes her that. “I really like you.”

“I can tell,” she assures him with half a smirk, her eyes drifting down between their bodies.

But he doesn’t blush this time, not even under her scorching gaze. “And I really, really want to keep kissing you.”

“Okay,”

“But I really, really care about you, so let’s not jinx it?”

“You really just don’t like fun, huh?” she sighs.

He laughs, sitting up to rest his forehead against hers, his nose gently grazing hers, his hands flat on her back. “I wanna be with you, Cat,” he whispers.

She just studies him silently, pondering his words, her mind surely working through a hundred different scenarios and outcomes. “You’re too good for me, Peter.”

By the way she’s looking at him, he can almost hear her next words in the silence. I’m not a hero. I’m not some broken toy you can fix. I’m a thief, proudly so. And I’ll always be one. You can’t change that.

And that’s the thing: he doesn't want her to change. He’ll take the good with the bad, the shiny and the rusted. He likes her as she is. Even if she does not understand boundaries, even if she’ll go to the ends of the world just to see him blush at one of her dirty comments.

Most of the time, she represents everything he’s trying to fight, but it’s like every single time he thinks he can’t see past it, she surprises him with some small, little confession in the midst of some casual conversation that hits too close to home. He can’t help but feel like there is more to her. There is something hidden under the leather and the pout and the pretty face and the witty, flirty comebacks, and he’s more than willing to uncover it all, if she’ll let him.

“What if it doesn’t work?” she asks, their bodies still tangled together on his bed. “What if it ends up horribly and I’m just someone else you have to lose?”

Peter places the softest of kisses on her forehead.

She looks so sad, and he gets it; he really does after losing everybody. This lifestyle is not easy, and it’s hard to let people in. Fear eats away at you slowly, until you’re left with nothing, all jagged and sharp edges, with a “Danger. Do not touch.” sign printed on your chest.

But it’s been a year already, a very long year, and he’s already gotten a taste of what a second chance might look like. If he thinks back on everyone who has ever loved him, he knows he can’t let her go. He wants to try his luck.

After all, she came in right when he needed her the most, and if that’s not good luck, he doesn't know what is. It’s a lonely life, the one they’ve chosen, but it’s theirs, and they have each other now. She’s got his back, and he’s got hers.

“I’ll always be there to catch you, remember?”

Both her hands come up to his face, and a second later, she’s kissing him again, with the same passion from that first kiss, but still gently, confirming everything Peter needed to know. That she might be the one–the one who sticks around, who understands him.

She pulls away, with a smile threatening to break free on her face, and whispers against his lips, “You’ll have to let me go about my business, though. You know that.”

His whole face lights up wtih a silly, shit-eating grin. “Don’t I already do that?”

“Alright,” she hums in agreement, tilting her head like a kitten with glossy eyes. “Can we keep kissing now, or…?”

“Yes.”

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theficplug · 1 year

Text

Actors on Actors , Tom Holland.

Tom Holland x Actress ! Black Reader

warnings: none, just pure fluff.

You and Tom are invited by Variety to do the Actors on Actors interview together.

-unedited-

“I know that outings for us these days are pretty rare, but when you gain twice your body weight and everyone's constantly watching you like a hawk it's a bit difficult to be as open.

We try to keep our careers separate as much as we can.

Sometimes things come along that peak your interest and you just can not pass it up.

I have been a fan of the Actors on Actors series for a long while. I’ve watched them all and each time my respect for the craft grows immensely. Thank you Variety for having Tom, our little special co-star, and I.”

You say nodding to the camera to pan down on the little raven curly haired one and a half year old tugging on the hem of your silk black dress with one arm and clinging to your sparkly black coat with the other.

“Say hello Dakota. H-e-l-l-oooo”

Tom sounds out to the little brown eyed boy and he looks up to laugh at his father for a moment.

He wraps his arms around your waist before bending down to pick up the little boy and he gives a small wave to the crew.

“Papa sounds funny?”

You ask and he nods before laughing at you pulling a funny face.

"HeeLLoooOOO DaaAAkkooTTaa"

Tom says again imitating a whale call and Dakota loses it as he holds onto his father's face watching him make the funny faces.

"Pa" he shrieks , letting his little rice grain teeth show for the camera.

You both smother him in kisses and raspberries and the little boy falls against you both in a fit of laughter and squeals.

"If I don't hand him over to Sydney we'll be here all night. He's literally our best friend." Tom says pretending to gobble his little twin's hand before handing him over to your assistant and taking your respective spaces in the chairs to get the interview started.

Tom lets out a long sigh before reaching his hand out for you. You shake your head and roll your eyes before letting him place a kiss on your hand and sitting back properly into your seat.

“Hi baby.” he coos softly.

"Hi Tom. How are you? Did you have an alright trip here?"

You ask as if you both didn't arrive together.

“You’re too far away.” He pouts before sliding your chair close enough for him to rest his hand comfortably on the inside of your knee before snapping himself into “professional mode”.

“Right, so I just want to jump right into it. Firstly, congratulations on all of your nominations this year. If anyone deserves it, it’s you. Dirty Jazz, I think received a solid 10 minute standing ovation at Cannes and honestly it could’ve went on forever. You told the tumultuous and incredible story of Lucille Anderson often known as Lucille Bogan or Bessie Jackson. A jazz- blues singer in the 1920s and 30s with a vibrant sexuality and look on life. You were truly brilliant.”

He showers you in compliments and you try to confidently accept the praise , but after years together your husband still gives you butterflies.

“Lucille Bogan’s story was so important for me to get to be a part of. Especially at a time like this. One could say that like “oh every woman is sexually liberated and free and this and that”. But, we know that’s certainly not the case for most women and especially not black women. My craft , my story-telling, and my career will always be a love letter to black women. People love to dance and sing and laugh with us because they love to pinch and pull from our culture, our song, our grace, and our beauty but there’s not many that are willing to take in our truth and our humanity.

There's a living breathing human being behind the theatrics and melodies. Most recent indication of this is Megan Thee Stallion. She has gone through so much for such a young woman. She’s been called everything under the sun but a child of God. It should’ve been as simple as her telling her truth and then receiving an outpour of love. Right? But as always they want our rhythm but not our blues.

So, to be able to tell the story of Lucille- and all of her truth was an instant yes from me. Lucille was this multifaceted sensual, delicate, and powerful woman. She was singing in 1924 about how she enjoyed sex and the ways that she wanted to be pleasured. We went about getting her family's blessing and then from there I got to work. I watched all of the performances of her I could find. I listened to her voice and the way she spoke. I wanted to capture that raw confidence that she exuded. She pushed the envelope not only for bisexuals like me but also sex workers.

That was completely unheard of at the time. Ms. Bogan knew that she was an icon in every sense of the word and everyone else was going to know it too. A complete opposite from how I was feeling at the moment because I was around 12 weeks when we started filming so I wasn’t at my most confident and for every roll of my hips. There was a roll of nausea that was sure to follow.”

You say, chuckling softly and Tom nodded along fully immersed until he gives you a small pout at the memory of you having to endure that rough bit.

“I remember the times I would visit you on set and it was in the dead of summer and they’d have you dressed up in the most lavish coats and these sort of headpieces, and you were performing these songs and dances in 95 degree Alabama weather. So they had to have huge fans on you and like a gallon of ice cold water on standby.

I would just massage your back every 15 minutes to try and get you through. It was insane but the film was absolutely incredible. I am so proud of you.

The first time I got to watch you perform Shave 'Em Dry and you were shimmying that white fur coat down your body and then you threw yourself down onto the floor with it. I was so concerned at first because you were literally carrying Kota at the time, but they assured me that you had cushions on the floor and your knee pads. But , you just became her. I had goosebumps up and down my arms. I knew that you had something special on your hands. To watch you in your element was something I'll never get over. I’ve never heard you talk that filthily in my life either.” he states cheekily and you give him a coy smile before mumbling “that’s a lie”.

Tom’s entire face goes a little funny as he covers his mouth with his question cards and shakes his head.

“I’m just saying. They know that the storks didn’t exactly drop Kota on our doorstep. That’s all, love.”

You reassure him as you watch a crimson blush slowly make its way across his face.

“Behave.” he warns, laced with a laugh and it’s loud enough for the crew to pick up on and they chuckle at you two flirting back and forth a little.

You clear your throat and create a segue, but you knew exactly what that meant for date night later on.

“But, thank you baby! First of all, The Devil All The Time is my favourite film of yours. And I know that the process was a tough one for you because it is a total contrast to beloved Peter Parker and a small step away from Marvel. To get into the mindset of Arvin, his religious trauma, and the almost southern gothic-y horror elements had to be a bit difficult ?

Because when you get those heavier roles you almost have a duty to the character to give them as much of a voice as we can. For the people who resonate with them to be able to feel seen and heard. I’ve always wanted to pick your brain about your process of reaching Arvin?”

You ask and you don’t miss the way that Tom is scanning your entire face and settles on your lips.

He takes a moment to ponder your question, but he finds himself continuously getting lost in the way that you spoke so passionately and melodically. You were born to be a story-teller.

"Stop staring at my lips and answer the question Thomas!"

You playfully scold him and he nods his head while toying with his wedding band.

"Yes ma'am."

He answers in a faux southern accent before fluffing his hands through his hair.

"Ehm, during that time we were going through a bit of a rough patch. We had broken up and it felt like the big one. It felt like that was it and that we were never going to find our way back to each other. We dated other people and we went on our own adventures. But throughout the entire process there was this gnawing feeling. Loss. Grief. I grieved a million and one universes where we could've made it work and I was hoping that this would be one of them. It is. Thank God."

He adds and you take his hands into yours for a moment giving him a little reaffirming squeeze as you wait for him to continue.

"So, I let that sort of feeling guide me to tap into a modicum of what Arvin was feeling. That, love lost. That sort of grief. Because people grieve everyday, right? That’s something that connects us all. We're all trying to work through something that we don't have. Albeit, a version of ourselves, a loved one, or the loss of something/someone to believe in. I think that Arvin was grieving not only his parents but his loss of peace. And I think in some way I could connect to that because without you there was no peace."

You couldn't help but to lean in to kiss him. You decided to leave it "modest" and opt for kissing his cheeks and nose instead.

He scrunches his nose in response before giving you one back.

"Keep going." You whisper to him.

"During filming I leaned on Rob a lot. The way that he transformed and ran into this project bible raised in the air and high pitched southern accent first. It made me feel like I had to step up to the plate. I didn't grow up super religious in that regard so I did spend some time in small churches and gaining that insight into what that sort of connection to a higher power and faith can mean to most."

"That's hot, be careful babe." He whispers to you while holding the mug for you to have a sip of the chamomille tea.

"When I heard Robert's voice, I screamed! It was so creepy and off putting. Hated him throughout the entire film."

You added and Tom nods in agreement before sitting the emerald green mug down and offering you one of the strawberry pastries from the small table next to you both.

"Peter and Arvin are different but in a lot of ways they aren’t. They both lost their parents at a young age. They both were raised to try and do the right thing. Both, a little lost and always end up in situations they had no business being in at their ages. They are connected through that feeling of grief, self preservation, and coming of age. It's just that through writing we were able to laugh and kind of ride the wave with Peter. With Arvin the writing is very- cut and dry. The audience feels uncomfortable because he is uncomfortable and at times drowning beneath the wave. I’m sorry babe. Was that too long winded? I never know when to cut myself off. I’ll just keep going and going.”

He stammers nervously while sitting back to sip his own tea.

You admit to him half jokingly and he gives you a small nod.

“No, are you kidding me? You know that I could listen to you talk for hours. I wanna finish this conversation with you tonight.

We've also never really even announced that we’re married. We just started showing up one day with our rings, and only the sleuths know that we have a baby. Let alone talk publicly about the break up so this nearly feels like one big couple’s therapy session.”

“We already share so much of ourselves with the world through our art. I leave a piece of me with every character that grace your screens, and in the year of 2023 everyone knows everything. It just felt nice to have a moment in time where Thomas and I didn't have to open up the relationship to a third partner, the public. There were no analysis of our body languages towards each other or rumours that he was going to leave me for a very talented, very beautiful well known past partner.

Although, I did see a few of those after the TMZ announcements. Sorry babes I've got this one locked in for life.”

You state and he smiles giddily and happily for the camera before showing his wedding band.

"I've seen some of you little sleuths talking about me wearing my ring on my pinky so that means that we must've gotten a divorce, right?" he asks you in faux concern with a small voice crack for dramatic effect.

You immediately follow his lead and hop into character with furrowed brows and a scowl on your face.

"YOU MEAN TO TELL ME THOSE PAPERS I SERVED YOU LAST MONTH WEREN'T ENOUGH? GOD, WHY WON'T YOU TAKE A HINT!" you ask before leaning in to grab his face and place the softest kiss to his lips.

"I just wish I knew how to quit you..." you say quoting Brokeback Mountain, one of the films that inspired you both to become actors.

He breaks character and rests his cheek against your hand for a moment.

"But yeah guys, my ring is just a bit small. It always has been and I'm in the middle of two films right now. I haven't had the time to get it resized. Leave me alone!" he says the last half, jokingly in the Peter Parker voice.

“Speaking of waves. Your next film! Cat’s out of the bag. You’re going to be in The Little Mermaid live action remake. I am so excited to see you in it because you’re honestly just already a real life Disney princess and this is one that Dakota can actually enjoy and he gets to see mummy sing and be all pretty as one of the sisters of Ariel! What was that like?” Tom asks, still smiling proudly at you like a Cheshire cat.

“First of all, two Disney checks in one household! So, there will be foundations, organisations, and communities being poured into. Just give us a year! My team read the email to me and I said THE MOUSE? I’ll be there by tomorrow. UNDER THE SEA. SHALALALA MY OH MY. YOU WANNA KISS THE GIRL.

Clearly, I wanted to audition for Prince Eric and they said no. So, that was a bummer that you couldn’t see my on-screen happily ever after with Halle. I pitched for Erica and Ariel but they said give us some time and I will be holding them to that.

In all seriousness, it was one of those pinch me opportunities. When it knocks at your door you have to welcome it in with a charcuterie board and wine waiting for it.

I knew that I eventually wanted to be apart of something less gruelling and a film that our Kota-bear could enjoy too because he loves anything with singing and bright colours at this stage.

I remember seeing my favourite cousin. She knows that she’s my favourite cousin too. Hey girl! She was playing the role of the hairdresser that melted Tina Turner’s hair off with the relaxer in What’s Love Got To Do With It.

I remember watching her and knowing then and there that if she could be on screen like that then so could I. It was a foot in the door. Halle and everyone that was a part of the project were dreams to work with and the representation that she’s bringing to the company is beyond. It’s something that little brown and black children have been waiting for since the dawn of time. It’s here. We are here.” You say definitively and nod your head towards the camera.

“This is also one step closer to working with Angela Bassett. Angela, we met once in a Met Gala bathroom and I’m sorry you had to see me taking a “breathing break” while sitting on my fiance’s lap eating Jolly Ranchers but this is me absolutely shooting my shot.” you plead as you turn and look directly into the camera.

Tom places his hands over his chest and throws his head back laughing at how cute you are.

You’ve been in this industry for years and have so many accolades of your own but you still look at everything with fresh eyes like you’re just playing dress up and meeting your idols every time you walk on set.

“How do you feel about taking on such big shoes to fill? I know that you were absolutely losing your mind when you got this role. Because not a lot of people know but you have been grinding since you were just a little tadpole on the waves with thee Naomi Watts but this is the role that kind of skyrocketed you into the public eye. Apart from you being a part time Rhianna impersonator.” you laugh and he gives you a side eye over his mug before you continue.

“We had been together for 6 months when you got the call and you were just floored. I kept having to remind you that it’s real and wasn’t an “accidental email”. Your mum cried I believe. I mean we all kind of did to be honest. It was a core memory for sure. We were also out at dinner at the time and I’m sure scaring every other customer there. We were all just cheering and holding onto each other and crying.

And then the nerves settled in and you thought about not only filling Toby’s shoes but also the shoes left by Andrew. And at the time most of the fan reception of Andrew’s version was just- a lot. I personally loved his version of Spiderman. I thought that it felt authentic to him and the lens that he wanted to tell Peter’s story through. But some of the original stans were not having it. I remember that there were think-pieces being written before you had even gotten the script.” You watch as Tom weighs the question and his answer for a moment.

“Well, first things first. I remember you telling me the best piece of advice that I could have possibly been given. You told me that “yes, of course you want to honour the groundwork that Toby and Andrew had both laid down for this beloved character but you also want to trust your own instinct and intuition about what feels real and right to you”.” Tom says and you hum and nod in agreement.

“You said whether they love you or hate you, your job is to tell a story. No matter how you tell that story as long as it feels real and right to you, someone’s going to resonate with it. And from there the pieces of the puzzle just kind of came together.

We may not have all have been bitten by radioactive spiders. But, we've all been teenagers before. We've all experienced that feeling of wanting to know all that there is to know but not knowing how to digest all of it. The little awkward quips and quirks of growing and becoming yourself is Peter Parker. He’s so imperfectly perfect and he’s always going to be a big part of what I’ve done in my career. Getting the accent down was one of the hardest bits because I am so painfully British and the way that we speak is just different. So, to just stay there in his zone for days at a time I would bring Peter home with me. I love that the fans love him so much. I love the way that he seems to STICK with them. See what I did there.” He says laughing at his own joke and you shake your head at him.

“He’s like this all day! His dad jokes kicked in long before he was even an actual dad! Get a load of this guy. Please don’t cast him in any comedies any time soon. No, actually diapers are expensive. Please cast this dilf of the year in all of the comedies, thank you.

I think that authenticity is what really brought your version of Peter to life. He's a larger than life superhero but you made him seem like everyone's childhood best friend. But also YES I remember. We would be lounging around at home and you’d just casually go “ do we have any cold waTER bOTTLES”. Peter lived with us for about 5 months until you got the accent down perfectly. Now you just slip in and out of it at the most random times.” You say and his eyes widen at the dilf of the year comment.

“Dilf of the year? Please don’t get them started, that's going to be a hashtag by this afternoon.”

He groans and you lean into him , blowing onto his cup of hot tea with a smirk plastered on your face before taking another sip of his tea.

“I said what I said.”

You retort quietly and he holds the mug to your lips and gives you a soft kiss to your forehead.

“And with that. This has been Actors on Actors for Variety with the Hollands. Please, be sure to watch the others if you haven’t already! Take care.”

“That's brilliant baby, nothing more to add. Oh, and be sure to watch The Little Mermaid in theatres on May 26!” You add before blowing a kiss to the camera.

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x black reader #spiderman x reader #fanfic for black girls

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