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waitimcomingtoo · 4 months

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A Film By Peter Parker

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Synopsis: Peter gets back into making little videos once the two of you start hanging out

warning: extreme 2017 homecoming era nostalgia

Masterlist

Of course he went for Liz.

Liz was the ingénue. She was perfect in every possible way. Perfect grades, perfect face, and the perfect boy pining after her. You’d been crushing on Peter since the third grade but with Liz around, he never noticed you.

But Liz was gone now. She had moved to Oregon following her dad’s arrest and taken Peter’s feelings for her with her. Now that she was gone, you decided it was time to stop pining after Peter from afar and start pining from up close. And so, when you walked into the cafeteria that day, you didn’t sit at the end of the table like you usually did.

“Oh, hey.” Peter smiled in surprise when you sat down next to him. Smiling was good. Smiling meant he wasn’t creeped out by you sitting so close. You gulped before giving him best smile back.

“Hi.”

“What are you doing here?” Ned asked, making Peter give him a look. You immediately regretted your decision and wished you’d just stayed in your usual spot.

“What do you mean? She always sits with us.” Peter pointed out.

“No, she always sits down there. She’s never actually sat with us before.” Ned replied and gestured to the end of the lunch table.

“Yes, but I’m sitting here today because I needed Peters help with the chemistry homework.” You said and put your chemistry notebook on the table. You knew you couldn’t just randomly sit with them without a reason, so you came prepared.

“Oh, for Mr. Eddie’s class? It’s easy. I’ll show you my notes.” Peter’s offered with a smile. You returned the smile as he pulled out his own notebook. It was a win/win for you since you actually needed help with the homework and it would start a conversation with Peter. While he was explaining the problem to you, you never once looked down at the notebook. You were too focused on the curve of Peter’s suspiciously long eyelashes, the longest you’d ever seen on a boy. Ned noticed the way you were staring his his best friend and frowned a little.

“Does that make sense?” Peter’s asked when he was done explaining.

“Yeah, it does. Wow, thanks Peter. It sounds so easy the way you explain it. I wish this stuff came as naturally to me as it does for you. You’re so smart.” You said as if you had listened to a single word he had said.

“That’s nice of you to say but I’m really not that smart. I just like chemistry.” He replied as he blushed from the compliment.

“Oh, come on. You’re the smartest guy I know. You’re the only one that answers questions in that class. And you always get them right. When Mr. Eddie asks if anyone has any questions, I don’t raise my hand because I don’t even know what I’m confused about yet.”

“That’s I feel in English. I can barely make it through the first line in a poem and you’re already going back and forth with Ms. Teague about Pindaric odes or whatever they’re called.”

“You listen to when I talk in English?” You asked with a soft smile.

“Of course I do.” Peter shrugged. “I always find the reading boring until you raise your hand and talk about how you interpreted it. You make it interesting.”

“I liked that book we read when the kids ate the other kids.” Ned said and interrupted the moment. Your smile dropped as you and Peter looked at him with disgust.

“The one with the flies-“

“We know.” Peter cut him off.

“Anyways, thank you for helping me with the homework. I’ve been stuck on it all week.” You said to Peter.

“Ugh. That’s been me with my paper for Mrs. Teagues class. And it’s due tomorrow.” Peter groaned.

“Oh, the analysis essay? I could help you with that.” You offered.

“Really? You’d help me?” Peter smiled in surprise.

“Yeah. I already wrote mine. It would be no problem.”

Ned was watching this back and forth conversation for a while until it clicked it in head. He gasped and slapped the table, making you and Peter look at him.

“Oh my God.” Ned said. “That’s why you’re sitting here. You have a-“

“Can I talk to you for a second, Ned?” You quickly cut him off when you realized where that sentence was going. Before Ned could even answer, you grabbed his arm and pulled him outside the cafeteria to talk in private.

“You like Peter!” Ned whispered harshly. You clamped your hand over his mouth and pushed him up against the wall.

“You need to keep your mouth shut.” You hissed. “Yes, I like Peter, okay? I’ve had a crush on Peter since middle school. He never noticed me when Liz was around but now that she’s in Oregon, I might finally have my chance. I don’t want to scare him off so just keep your mouth shut and let me handle this.”

You took your hand off Ned’s mouth and he started to gasp for air.

“Oh, please. Your nose wasn’t covered. You could breathe just fine.” You said with a roll of your eyes. Ned stopped pretended and straightened up.

“So you actually like Peter? For his personality?”

“Yes. Is that so hard to believe?”

“Kinda, yeah.” Ned admitted.

“I like everything about him. And I’m gonna tell him that. Just please, don’t say anything before I do. I’ll tell him when I’m ready.”

“Are you going to cast a love spell on him using a lock of his hair?” Ned whispered to you.

“What? No. Why would you even ask me that?”

“Because you’re a witch.” Ned said like it was obvious.

“I’m not a witch.” You groaned. “I just accidentally cackled that one time but it was only because I had phlegm in my throat.”

“Then about that time on the bus?”

“We’ve been over this. It was just a coincidence that that biker fell off his bike after I gestured with my hand. I didn’t move him with my mind.”

“And that one time in physics?” Ned narrowed his eyes.

“I still don’t know how that guys shirt caught on fire.” You shrugged. “It’s a mystery to me.”

“It caught on fire after he made fun of you for being a witch.” Ned pointed out.

“Maybe he was just standing too close to the flame.” You shrugged.

“He was standing in the doorway. There was no flame.” Ned reminded you.

“The magic of science.” You shrugged again.

“But what about that time-“

“Don’t bring up the nosebleed.” You whined.

“I am gonna bring up the nosebleed.” Ned hissed. “In sixth grade, our Spanish teacher got a nosebleed right after he told you to stop staring out the window and made everyone laugh at you. How do you explain that?”

“You’ve made your point, okay? Now are you gonna tell Peter or not?”

“Look, I’m not gonna expose your gross secret feelings, as gross and secret as they may be.” Ned sighed. “But Peter is still my best friend so I have to look out for him. I don’t want any spells cast on him.”

“That’s fine. There will not be any spells.” You held your your hands in defense. Just then, Flash walked by and laughed when he saw the two of you talking.

“Woah. What is this, the friendless loser convention?” Flash snorted.

“Shut up.” You snapped. Flash immediately tripped over his feet and fell to the ground, making Ned look at you with wide eyes.

“Witch!” He whispered harshly as he pointed a finger at you.

“Shut up. Let’s go back inside.” You rolled your eyes and pulled Ned back into the cafeteria.

Later that day, you met up with Peter in the library to go over your assignments. You started with his English essay and finished that within an hour before moving on to your chemistry homework.

“You can plug the numbers into your formula now using the method I taught you. And then you just solve for x.” Peter explained as you worked out a problem together.

“Hm. You make it sound so simple.” You sighed and leaned on your hand. Peter saw the way you were staring at him in his peripheral vision and felt his face heat up.

“It’s, uh, it’s pretty easy once you get the hang of it. I never liked the way Mr. Eddie taught it. I figured this out myself and it’s worked much better for me.”

“Thanks for helping me. You’re a good teacher.” You said and put your hand on his arm. Peter laughed shyly at the contact and cleared his throat.

“Thanks. And so are you. That was the best essay I’ve ever produced. I honestly worry she won’t believe I wrote it.”

“Well if she says anything, I can vouch for you. You put in good work on this essay. You deserve the credit.” You assured him, making Peter blush all over again. It occurred to Peter that he never realized how pretty you were. You’d been classmates since 3rd grade so he always looked at you as just another girl in his class. Now that you had his full attention, he didn’t feel like looking away.

“Thanks. I appreciate you helping me write it. I know it can be frustrating to work with me because of my dyslexia.”

“It’s no problem. And it wasn’t frustrating at all.” You shrugged. Peter smiled at felt better about how long it took him to write the essay.

“Thanks.” He said. You had successfully gotten him to spend time with you one on one but now you needed to commence the next phase in your plan which was to hang out in a non school related setting.

“Would you ever want to hang out socially?” You blurted.

“Like, and not do homework?” He asked. You nodded your head and he smiled before nodding as well.

“Yeah. Sure. I’d love to.”

“Cool. Me too.” You smiled. You hadn’t meant to blurt it out like that but it worked nonetheless.

“Does this weekend work?” He asked you.

“Yeah. What do you want to do?”

Hard cut to that weekend. You were on the subway with Peter and he had his phone out to record himself.

“Firts social hang out with a girl. A film by Peter Parker.” He said in a low voice before flipping the camera to face you.

“Staring me.” You smiled and waved to the camera.

“Are you sure you’re cool with me filming this?” Peter asked as he flipped the camera back to himself.

“Yeah, of course. The other ones you showed me were so cute. But why did it seem like there were so many missing parts? You were always talking about something cool that I didn’t get to see.”

“Uhhh, no reason.” Peter said and looked to the side. He had skillfully edited out any incriminating superhero activity that you were not ready to see yet.

“Well I like it. I feel like I’m on Modern Family.” You said and posed for the camera.

“Which family member would you be?” Peter laughed and zoomed in on you. With his phone blocking his face, he could shamelessly admire your face on his screen.

“Duh. Lily.”

“I can so see that.” He chuckled. The subway lurched suddenly and you both grabbed onto the pole, coincidentally putting your hands in top of each others.

“Oh, sorry. Our hands touched.” You laughed shyly.

“Oh my God. So romantic.” Peter joked, making you blush and look into his camera.

“Stop it.” You laughed and covered his phone with your hand. He laughed as well and put his phone away.

After learn you had never been, Peter decided to the Lego Store. He’d been hyping it up to you all week over text and now that it was finally happening, he hoped it impressed you. You walked in together and Peter heard you gasp.

“Big Lego Aladdin.” You gasped and ran to stand under the giant magic carpet and Aladdin made of Legos.

“That’s the first time I’ve ever heard that string of words come out of someone’s mouth.” Peter laughed and went to stand under it with you. You looked over at him and were surprised to see he was already looking at you.

“This is even better than you described it. You need to show me everything.” You said and excitedly shook his arm.

“I can do that.” He blushed and nodded his head towards some of the sets.

Peter took out his phone to film you as you looked at everything in the store. The way you were looking around like a little kid brought a smile to Peter’s face. He zoomed in on you and caught himself staring at you fondly through the camera.

“Come on. I haven’t even showed you the coolest part yet.” Peter said and brought you over to the build your figure own station. He laughed when you gasped again and started to excitedly rummage through all the pieces. Peter didn’t bring his phone out again until you had built each other.

“Show me what you made.” He laughed from the other side of the phone.

“Looks! It’s a little Peter. He has a backpack and a beaker.” You said as you proudly showed the camera the little Peter figure you had made.

“This is Y/n. I can’t believe I found the shoes you always wear.” He said as he filmed the figure he had made of you.

“You notice my shoes?” You asked with a smile. Peter didn’t catch it because he was too busy fitting the hands of your Lego figures together.

“Look. They’re holding hands.” Peter gasped.

“Aw.” You laughed. “Us on the subway.”

“We should give them some privacy. They might not want us to hard launch their relationship.” Peter said and put his phone away.

“You’re so cute.” You laughed without thinking about it. Peter looked up at you with rosy cheeks and you gulped when you realized what you said.

“I mean-“

“Come on. I wanna take you somewhere else.” He cut you off before you could explain. He brought you to Delmar’s and ordered his usual for you to split. You sat together inside and you tried your best to remain calm. You always wondered what Peter got up to when he wasn’t at school and now you were in one of his favorite places and eating with him.

“Okay, this is Y/n’s first time eating at Delmars since he reopened. Let’s get her reaction.” Peter said as he filmed you unwrapping the sandwich.

“Wait, why is it so flat?” You laughed and held the sandwich up.

“Oh, sorry.” He chuckled. “I forgot to warn you that he always squishes it for me. But you’ll like it. Trust me. It’s much better when it’s squished down real flat.”

“Well I’m glad I now know you like your sandwiches to be squished. I would not have expected that about you.” You said and took a bite of your half before giving him a thumbs up.

“Yeah? You like it?” He asked hopefully.

“I do. Your squishy sandwich was surprisingly good.” You admitted.

“Well, I’m very pleased to hear that.” Peter smiled and phone away. “So to make it even, you have to show me one of your favorite places next time we hang out.”

“Oh.” You smiled coyly. “I didn’t realize there would be a next time.”

“There better be. I had a lot of fun with you today. How come we’ve never hung out before?”

“I don’t know. I always wanted to but you were busy running around with Ned or staring at…” You trailed off and chose not to mention Liz in case he was still hung up on her.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m just glad we’re friends now.” You said instead.

“Me too. I’ve never had a girl friend.”

“What was that?” You said and started choking on your saliva.

“All my friends in my life were guys. It’ll be nice to have a female influence in my life.”

“Oh. Girl friend.” You smiled tightly.

You hung out another hour before taking the subway back to your respective apartments. Peter walked to you the front doors of you building and you had an awkward moment where you didn’t know if you should hug or not.

“We uh, we should probably get an ending for your film.” You said with a timid smile.

“Oh, right. Thats a great idea.” Peter smiled and pulled out his phone. He pressed record and you waved to the camera with both hands.

“So, can you give our first time hanging out a rating?” He asked you.

“9/10.” You grinned and held up two thumbs.

“What? Why’d I only get a 9?” Peter scoffed and pretended to be offended.

“I had a 10/10 time but I have to deduct a point because we saw that guy cutting his hair on the subway and I was scared he was gonna throw the scissors at us.”

“Well I would’ve just protected you with my lightning fast reflexes.” Peter said simply. You smiled at him through the phone and he smiled back. He put the camera down and looked at you with a content smile on his face.

“Seriously, though. When’s the next time we’re hanging out?”

It ended up being just a few days later. And then again a few days after that.

“Peter’s first time!” You cheered as you filmed him during one of your hang outs.

“Trying boba.” He clarified. “I don’t understand this drink. Do I eat the balls?”

“Yes. Sip it slowly so they don’t all go down your throat.” You instructed. Peter took a big sip and immediately started choking.

“Peter! I said slowly!” You said as you slapped his back until he stopped choking. You quickly put the camera down to help him recover.

Your hangouts started getting more and more frequent and Peter soon considered you a best friend. Your weekends became each others and school days were often spent together in the library or at one of your apartments. You were quickly moving up the ranks in Peter’s life, just as you hoped. And the closer you got, the more Peter could not believe he had never noticed you before.

Little did you know, Peter often found himself watching the footage he had taken of you during your hang outs with a big smile on his face. He’d rewatch the videos he had taken and realize that they were slowly becoming less of a documentary and more of a highlight reel for you. He never imagined a girl as cool as you would for him so when he realized he was starting to fall for you, he quickly repressed his feelings. Little did he know, the feelings were mutual.

“Did you always make these little videos?” You asked Peter one day as he filmed you trying to balance on the curb of the sidewalk.

“I used too make them all the time but I hadn’t for awhile. I only started them again when we started hanging out.”

“Really? Why?” You wondered and stumbled off the curb.

“I don’t know. You remind me of the time before my life got crazy. It made me want to do these again.” He shrugged. You couldn’t help but smile at that information and turned around to look at him.

“So I could be the star?” You asked and posed for the camera.

“Exactly. You’re my muse.” He played along, making you laughed shyly. When he watched the video back later that night, he knew he had meant every word of that.

Peter sat in his bedroom one day and filmed himself wearing your glasses while you did homework at his desk. He looked over you every now and then just to admire the back of your head.

“Don’t break those.” You called without looking up. All you needed to hear was the sound of your glasses case opening to know what he was doing.

“I’m not even wearing your glasses.” He lied and admired himself in the camera.

“Yes you are.”

“No I’m not. But yes, I am.”

“Knew it.” You snorted.

“Hey, how come girls always smell so good?” Peter wondered. “Your hair hit me in the face when you turned too fast before it smelled like a baby in a damn meadow.”

“It’s just my womanly essence. Now can you stop looking at yourself long enough to help me with my chemistry homework?”

“It’ll be hard but I can try.” Peter dramatically sighed and set his phone down. You got yo from the desk and went over to the bed with a cheeky smile on your face.

“Incoming.” You announced and patted your elbow twice like a wrestler.

“No, don’t.” He pleaded. You ignored his pleas and jumped on top of him. He groaned and pushed you off, leaving you laying in the bed beside him.

“Ow. My ribs.”

“You’ll heal.” You rolled your eyes. “Now can you help me with number 7?”

“Oh, yeah. No problem. Can you check this email before I send it?” He asked and handed over his laptop. You handed him your worksheet before reading over his email draft.

“Oh, honey.” You grimaced just a few words into the email.

“Is it bad?”

“Good evening, Mrs. Howard. I hope this email finds you well. I’m so sorry for bothering you. I was just wondering if I could possibly have an extension on my midterm paper? No worries at all if an extension is not possible. I apologize for any inconvenience this email may have caused. Thank you for reading, Peter Parker.” You read out loud.

“What’s wrong with that?”

“After your name, you included the name of the class, the time you have it, and a description of yourself. She knows who you are!” You laughed and turned the laptop around to show him his mistakes.

“She may have forgotten.” He pointed out. “I can’t take any chances.”

“Peter, this email is way too submissive. You sound like such a bottom.”

“Well excuse me, genius.” He said sarcastically. “How would you write it?”

“Here.” You said and handed the laptop back after retyping his email.

“Oh, wow. That’s actually really good.” He said once he read your updated version.

“This is why we are such good friends. You have all the math and science knowledge in this little, beautiful head of yours-“

“Little?” He interrupted.

“You’re right. Sorry, I was just being nice. What I meant to say is that your head is huge.” You corrected. “Anyways, you have the math brain and I have the literary brain. It’s like you’re Einstein and I’m Victor Hugo.”

“Who the hell is that?” He laughed as he peaked at your mirror to see if his head was actually huge.

“The guy who wrote Les Mis.” You said like it was obvious.

“Never heard of it.”

“What? You’ve never seen Les Misérables?” You asked in a thick French accent.

“Huh?”

“We have to watch it. It’s so good.” You said and snatched his laptop back. You pulled up the movie and handed it back to him.

“Oh my God. It’s two hours and 38 minutes long? And a musical? Hell no.” Peter shook his head and pushed the laptop away.

“But it’s so good.” You urged. “We can just leave it on in the background while we work. It’s super light and easy to watch.”

“Really? What’s it about?”

“Oh, you know. Just war torn France.” You mumbled.

“No. Absolutely not.”

“But you’ll like it! There’s prostitution and con men and um…oh! And orphans! You can watch it and feel represented.” You said and shook his arm.

“I hate you.” He laughed but nearly gave in to your request just to see you happy.

“Fine.” You huffed. “I finished editing your midterm paper, by the way. You don’t actually have to send that email.”

“And here is your completed chemistry homework.” Peter smiled and handed your worksheet back.

“Aw.” You gushed. “Look at us. I love cheating with you.”

“So do I. We make a great pairing.” He chuckled as he looked over at you. You looked back at him and gulped. You hadn’t realized how close you were with your arms and legs pressed against each other as you sat together in your bed. Peter knew his sheets would smell like your perfume that night and smiled at the thought.

“Now that we’re all done with our work, you know what we should do?” He asked as he moved in closer.

“W-what should we do?” You stuttered now that he was right there.

“You know what I’ve been dying to do with you for a long, long time?” He asked.

“No. I mean, I don’t know. What?” You laughed nervously. Peter moved in even closer and right when you thought he was gonna kiss you, he reached over and grabbed his laptop back.

“I wanted to show you a real musical. Not this French miserable bull crap. Have you ever seen a little movie called Hair-“

“No. I’m not watching Hairspray with you again. You scream-sang every lyric last time and I couldn’t even hear it.” You cut him off and reached over home to take the laptop back. He pulled it away at the last second and you ended up on top of him. You looked into each others eyes and both froze in the positions you were in. Your faces were almost touching but neither of you tried to pull away. Your eyes were going back and forth between his lips and eyes and he was doing the same. Like magnets, you two started to lean towards each other but before your lips could connect, May opened the door.

“What did you guys want- oh! Sorry! I didn’t realize I would be interrupting something. My bad.” May smiled sheepishly and pretended to cover her eyes. Peter burned bright red as you quickly climbed off of him.

“May.” He said warningly.

“Sorry. But maybe lock the door next time. And use protection.”She whispered the last part before shutting the door.

“May!” He groaned and threw a pillow at the door. There was a long, awkward silence before you were even able to look at each other. When you finally did, you smiled awkwardly and kept your distance.

“That was so weird. What did she think we were doing?” You laughed nervously to break the silence.

“Psh. I know.” Peter scoffed. “She said she was interrupting but we weren’t even doing anything.”

“Yeah. What did she think? That we were gonna kiss or something?” You asked and laughed like it was the most ridiculous thing you could ever suggest.

“Us? Kissing? How silly. Imagine that.” Peter forced a laugh as well and looked to the side. The awkward silence returned and you struggled to look at each other.

“Do you think she made dinner?” Peter asked after a beat of silence.

“Let’s check.” You said and quickly got off the bed.

You didn’t discuss the almost kiss and went home shortly after. You couldn’t sleep that night because you couldn’t stop replaying the moment in your mind. No matter how much you wanted him to like you back, if Peter reciprocated your feelings, he would have kissed you.

Your pity party didn’t last long because on the subway the next day, you felt Peter put his earbud in your ear. You heard the Les Mis soundtrack playing in your ear and looked up in surprise. Peter was already filming you with a huge smile on his face.

“This guy 24601 should stop stealing bread and stick to singing. He has serious pipes.” Peter said.

“You listened to it?” You melted into a smile and held your hand over your heart.

“Yep. I stayed up all night watching lyric videos because I couldn’t understand what they were saying with their accents. It’s actually really good. I love Eponine. I just wish Marious wasn’t such an idiot. How does he not see that his best friend is clearly in love with him?” Peter asked with exasperation. You looked directly at the camera and hoped it picked up the irony before looking at Peter again.

“He’s not an idiot. He’s a romantic.” You sighed. “He doesn’t notice Eponine because he’s in love with Cosette. And course he is. She’s prettier and richer and has perfect hair. He doesn’t even see Eponine.”

“Good hair isn’t everything. Eponine is way better than Cosette.” Peter scoffed. “I’m team Eponine all the way.”

“Are you really?” You asked hopefully.

“Oh, for sure. I see why you like this stuff. These songs are awesome.” Peter said and put the other earbud in his ear. He then flipped the camera around to film the two of you sharing earbuds. As Heart Full Of Love played in your ears, you couldn’t help but longingly staring at Peter. The fact that he had stayed up late just to listen to something you suggested made you overcome with fondness for him. If he had done something like that, maybe he actually did feel the same.

“I forgot how good this album is. I haven’t listened in a while. I used to listen to it all the time back when you…” You stopped short when you realized you were about to say too much.

“When I what?” Peter wondered. You looked him in the eyes and decided that it was time to be honest. The song ended and a new, much louder one began to play in your ears.

“Back when you liked Liz. She was Cosette. I was Eponine. I was the one pining after a guy who never noticed me because he was in love with another girl. You were never mine to lose.” You admitted. Peter stared at you for a minute before pulling his earbud out.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear a word you just said. Master of the House is such a banger. What did you say?” He asked you.

“Never mind.” You smiled. “It wasn’t important.”

He smiled back before getting a text on his phone. You looked at his phone when you heard it buzz and realized he was still recording. In other words, he had just recorded you saying you liked him. Your eyes went wide but you only had a second to panic when you read the text he had gotten.

“Did Liz just text you?” You asked in a quiet voice. You felt like you were about to throw up. Years of crushing on a boy who liked another girl turned into months of pinning for your best friend and now turned into a rock in your stomach. Peter stopped recording the two of you to answer her text, which felt a little like a slap in the face.

“Oh, yeah. We’ve been talking lately.” He absentmindedly replied to you as he laughed at whatever she had written.

“You have?” You asked with a dry mouth.

“Yeah. She says Oregon is pretty cool. But she wants to come back and visit this summer to see everyone.” He told you.

“And see you?” You asked with a sad smile.

“I guess so.” He shrugged. “It would be nice to see her.”

“Yeah. Totally.” You said weakly. “So how long have you guys been talking?”

“I don’t know. A few weeks? She texted me a little while ago and we’ve been catching up.”

“That’s awesome.” You lied.

“I know. I didn’t think I’d ever hear from her again after she moved.”

“Neither did I.” You said through a forced smile. You needed to get off the subway and away from Peter before you started crying. So as soon as the subway doors opened, you bolted out.

“I gotta go. See you later.” You called to him before running through the subway station. You wiped tears as you went up the stairs and didn’t stop moving until you were in a bathroom stall at school. You gave yourself five minutes to be upset before drying your face and leaving the bathroom. It sucked, but it could have been worse. Now, Peter never had to know how you felt about it.

Peter was beyond confused by your exit on the subway but he wasn’t about to get any answers from you. You dodged his texts throughout the day and didn’t dare go into the lunchroom where you knew he and Ned would be.

“Y/n isn’t here yet?” Peter’s huffed as he sat down at your usual lunch table.

“Not yet. Actually, I haven’t seen your girlfriend all day.” Ned realized.

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Peter blushed. “And I’m pretty sure she’s avoiding me. She’s been so weird ever since this morning. Everything was fine on the subway until we got to school.”

“Well did anything happen on the subway that would weird her out? Oh no. Did you graze her boob with your hand again?”

“No. That was one time. And it was her boobs fault, not mine.” Peter whispered harshly. “We were just listening to music together and I was filming her like normal. But she could not get away from me faster once the doors opened. It was so weird.”

“Did you say anything weird to her? Girls don’t like it when you say weird things to them.”

“I know that. I didn’t say anything weird.” Peter replied as he pulled out his phone. He watched the video he had taken on the subway with no sound to see where he had gone wrong. All he saw was you looking at him with heart eyes which made his face heat up. But still, no evidence of where he messed up.

“I knew it. We were having a normal conversation about Les Mis and then I got a text from and then she ran. It makes no sense.”

“What was the text? Was it May saying something weird?”

“No. And stop saying weird. It doesn’t sound like a real word anymore.” Peter ordered. “And the text was just from Liz.”

“Oh shit.” Ned said when he heard this.

“What?” Peter wondered.

“Oh, Peter.” Ned sighed. “Peter, Peter, Peter.”

“What?” He asked again, annoyed now.

“Peter, Peter, Peter, Peter, Peter.”

“Are you gonna tell me what happened or just keep saying my name?”

“I can’t tell you. I’m sworn to secrecy. And I don’t want Y/n to put a hex on my family.” Ned said and held up his hands.

“Y/n swore you to secrecy? About what?”

“Can’t say.” Ned shrugged and zipped his lips.

“Does she not like Liz? And doesn’t want me to know?”

“Dude. Dude, dude, dude, dude. You are so close but so far.”

“So she does like Liz? Oh my God. Does she a crush on Liz? And she’s jealous that Liz texted me and not her?” Peter whispered with wide eyes.

“You’re getting colder.” Ned waved his hand. “I don’t even know how you got there.”

“That was all my guesses. Just tell me.” Peter whined.

“Hell no. I don’t want Y/n to curse my crops and make not grow for all of eternity.”

“You don’t have crops.” Peter pointed out.

“I could develop some.” Ned snapped.

“I just don’t understand what she would tell you something but not tell me. We’re best friends. She usually tells me everything.” Peter said right as his thumb accidentally hit the volume button on the video. Your confession to Peter on the subway was heard loud and clear by the two boys. Both of their jaws dropped as the video ended with you asked if Liz had just texted Peter.

“Well I wouldn’t have beaten around the bush like that if I knew you had video evidence of her saying she liked you right in your hands.” Ned sighed dramatically.

“I need to find her.” Peter said and ran out of the lunchroom. He looked around the school until he found you under the bleachers in the gym. You were sitting with your back against the wall and your knees drawn to your chest with your earbuds in your ears. When you saw Peter coming up to you, you quickly pulled them out.

“Hey.” He said and waved cautiously.

“Hey.” You smiled sadly as he sat beside you. You sat in silence for a minute as neither of you knew what to say.

“What’s going on with you? I haven’t seen you all day.” He started off. You looked at your hands to avoid making eye contact and sighed.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’ve been talking to Liz?” You asked quietly.

“I don’t know. I wasn’t hiding it. I just didn’t think it would interest you.”

“Well you have no idea how interesting I found it.” You laughed dryly. “What do you guys talk about anyway?”

“Well, she originally texted me to ask me to confirm I had an internship at Stark Industries because her boyfriend didn’t believe her when she told him she knew a guy who worked there. Apparently he’s been trying to get an internship there for years and he wanted to know how I landed mine. Then we just started catching up. I only talk to her here and there, though. And it’s only ever about school or work.”

“Oh. I thought you guys were talking talking.” You couldn’t help but smile a little when you heard the word “boyfriend.”

“No.” He shook his head. “Just regular talking. When you saw her text on my phone, she was telling me about her cat getting spaded. And I didn’t know what that meant so she had to tell me. I should’ve just googled it.”

You laughed softly at that and he did too. The tension was let out of the conversation and you could finally breathe again. When you stopped laughing, you finally looked in his eyes.

“Do you still have feelings for her?” You asked quietly.

“For her? No.” He laughed. “Those are long gone. I have feelings for someone else now.”

“Oh God. Don’t even tell me. I don’t want to know.” You groaned and buried your face in your hands. Peter looked at you for a minute until an idea came to him.

“Actually, uh, I came looking for you because I was just making another video. Wanna be in it?” Peter asked and took out his phone. You looked at him like he was crazy and could not believe he had just asked that during that moment.

“I’m not really in the mood right now, P.”

“Come on. I can’t make it without my muse.” He said and nudged you slightly. You couldn’t help but to smile at that and reluctantly nodded. He propped up his phone against the bleachers and pressed record.

“In a world where two best friends have no idea how to communicate despite spending way too much time together.” Peter said in a fake deep, gravely voice.

“Okay. Shade. That’s fine.”

“What will it take for them to admit they have feelings for each other?” He kept the voice as he looked at you.

“Wait, what?” You asked and looked at him with furrowed eyebrows. Peter smiled softly at you and shrugged a little.

“What’s it gonna take?” He asked again in his normal voice.

“I don’t understand.” You laughed nervously.

“I watched the video from before. From the subway. I heard what you said.” He admitted.

“Oh shit. You watched it?” You grimaced.

“Uh huh. So if you’re Eponine, I guess that makes me the idiot who didn’t realize his best friend was in love with him?”

“I guess so.” You said with a tight smile and still didn’t understand why he wanted to film this incredibly awkward conversation.

“You know, if I didn’t have a video of it, I never would have believed that you liked me.” Peter told you.

“You wouldn’t? Why not?”

“Because it doesn’t seem possible that the coolest girl I’ve ever met liked me.” He replied.

“You think I’m cool?” You asked skeptically.

“I think you’re the coolest. And you know, I watch the videos I take of you all the time. And half of them are just clips of you existing. So I do notice you. It just took me a second to catch up.” He told you. A smile tugged at your lips as you stared into his big brown eyes.

“You’re my best friend.” You told him. “I’m sorry I want more.”

“I’m not sorry.” He shrugged.

“You’re not?”

“I’m just sorry it took me so long to wake up and find that what I’ve been looking for has been here the whole time.” He said as he hooked his pinky under your chin and brought your face close to his.

“Wait, why does that sound so familiar?” You wondered.

“Don’t think about it too hard.” Peter whispered right before your lips touched. You kissed for the first time under the bleachers but it could have been in a palace for all you knew. The world disappeared around you as Peter slipped a hand behind your head to deepen the kiss. When you pulled away, you rested your foreheads together and laughed nervously together. It was a good nervous, a happy feeling of anticipation.

“Was that Taylor Swift?” You realized when you finally placed where you knew that like from.

“Shh. No.” He shook his head. “But yes, it was. You’re not the only one with good music taste.”

Tag List 🏷️

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shawnxstyles · 1 year

Text

panty stealer

DATE: JANUARY 14, 2023

summary: flash forces peter to sneak into the girls sorority and steal a pair of panties as a dare. stumbling into the nearest room to save himself from being caught, he doesn’t expect you to be there, and to let him steal the panties you’re wearing.

request: yes!

words: 5.1k

warnings: SMUT (f- receiving [fingering, oral], praise kink, slight dacryphilia kink, dirty talk, and protected sex), language, alcohol, mentions of weed, and a bit of fluff.

note: frat!peter x sorority!reader / peter masterlist / PART 2

—

“are you serious right now, flash?” peter groans with a pinch to his nose. his eyes screw shut in annoyance at flash’s obnoxious behavior.

“of course i am, penis parker!” flash shouts, shoving peter towards the large, white sorority house. “you have to do the dare or else.”

peter groans again, hating himself for ever agreeing to do this stupid game with flash.

the night had started calm and for once, peter was grateful. friday nights were the craziest day at the frat house, but this week, everyone was a bit too busy with schoolwork. except flash apparently.

like all of his other roomies, peter loves a good party. he doesn’t mind thrashing his house every week if that means he can have fantastic parties at his place (okay, maybe he minds a little bit. it gets tedious cleaning up garbage after a while). he knows he won’t be young forever, so what the heck, right?

people never would have guessed that peter was the leader of the frat. shocking, right? everyone would assume it’s flash for his obnoxious and party boy persona or brad for his attractiveness and charm. but what do those qualities have to do with being a leader? everyone else (besides those two) agreed that peter should be the head of the house because he is responsible and smart, unlike those boneheads.

peter often asked himself if he was attractive and if he had charm.

he did, right?

brad was good with the ladies. one glance and a wink made the girls melt into puddles at his feet. every morning when peter woke up early to go to class, a different woman would waltz down the stairs with a glowing, uncontrollable smile in nothing but a t-shirt. peter knew without a doubt that every one-night stand that stumbled down was brad’s; it was rarely flash or the others and ned had a girlfriend who was in the sorority across from us.

peter hooked-up once in a while. he found it more difficult to be like brad when he had college to concentrate on and lives to save inbetween it all. being spider-man in high school was overwhelming at first because it was impossibly hard to hide it. but now, having more freedom in college made everything a bit simpler. just a bit.

flash being spider-man’s “#1 fan!” still made him chuckle every time it came up.

speaking of flash, when peter stumbled through the door in the evening expecting a chill friday night, flash just had to crank up the energy. as per usual.

“what is this?” multiple bottles of liquor were splurged across the dining table when peter walked into the kitchen. flash crossed his arms with a huge smirk plastered onto his face, while ned looked concerned and stressed.

“i tried to stop him, but he wouldn’t listen to me,” ned shook his head in disappointment before walking away to his room.

“we’re having a party. it’s friday, penis,” flash said with an obvious tone. peter could easily have him removed from the frat, being the leader and all. yet he still keeps him here. why must he do this to himself?

“flash, i said no parties today. everyone is tired and stressed, and has a lot of work to do—”

“stressed? i think that’s the best reason for a party. you need to get laid, my brotha,” brad interrupted with an arm around peter’s shoulders and a firm pat to his buff chest. brad is way taller than peter, which some might think intimidates him. but peter is mainly intimidated by intelligence, and brad had the iq of a stick.

peter rolled his eyes at the predictable statement. flash rambles on about how parties are a tradition on friday nights and peter sharply cuts him off with a strict tone.

“ugh, fine! no party, party-pooper parker. but we will be drinking tonight. or else i’m sending an invite to 50 people.”

—

peter had no choice but to comply. flash, ned, brad, himself, and the other boys are seated on the furniture with the drinks displaced in the center. flash gave peter an ultimatum; play truth or dare or he rings the entire sports program of a party. peter growled and folded.

soon later, there is a sharpie drawing on flash’s ass, a ruler that measured brad’s dick, a flushed ned from downing too many denied truth shots, and laughter bubbling throughout the whole room. peter is the only one who hasn’t gotten asked anything yet and he honestly feels a bit left out. but he also just wants to do his homework and then go to sleep.

“what’ll be, penis parker?” flash inquires with a mischievous look on his face. “truth or dare? or should i say drink or dare?”

peter, not caring at the time, chose dare. “dare.”

“oh, you’re so in for it.”

—

so in all, peter was basically held against his own will to sneak into the girl’s sorority house. even though he denied the dare profusely and took three shots to make up for it, flash still dangled the party invites over his head like an iron weight waiting to drop.

peter snarled as flash nudged him again impatiently. he thought of an idea that might work. peter would have to do this dare, but would he have to do it alone?

“if you come with me, i’ll give you $50 bucks—” peter sells with raised eyebrows. he licks his lips as the cold breeze rustles the trees and sends slight shivers up his arms. the sky is pitch-black as the heavy clouds cover all the stars. peter felt a storm brewing and he really didn’t want to sneak into the sorority soaking wet.

“pfft, parker, please. i have enough money—”

“—in weed.” peter finishes, causing flash to halt his words. peter knows that flash can never find a good supply because he complains about it all the time. marijuana wasn’t legal on campus, let alone in the state. the trade had the cogs turning in flash’s head.

“alright, deal,” flash gives in and elbows peter as a form of agreement. then flash motivates brad and ned to join, heading straight for the zone as a group.

their goal was to grab a pair of underwear and leave without being caught. as spider-man, that should be easy, right?

—

for some odd reason, the back door was unlocked. you’d think girls would be more secure and observant than guys, but maybe they forgot. after hopping over the trimmed gardening hedges, the four boys crept through the door and into the kitchen.

unlike peter’s frat, the sorority girls had two big rules that they made known to everyone; no hook-ups allowed and no frat guys. ever. the girls didn’t throw parties like peter, they only went to them, so their place was like a holy sanctuary.

when the guys tiptoed into the kitchen, peter wasn’t surprised the place was damn-near spotless. most of the interior was pearly white; couches, love-seats, tables, counter, cabinets— it was like walking into an insane asylum with minor color accents.

it was at least midnight by now, so the girls had to be asleep. tiptoeing as silent as possible up the stairs, peter leads until they’re all standing in the middle of the large hallway with rapid, contained breaths. flash, being the scaredy-cat he is, follows last and nervously trips over the final step. he slips, tumbling down multiple levels with nosy thuds and bangs of his elbows and knees. all of the guys sprout wide eyes and strained, silent gestures to warn him to stop falling and making an absurd amount of noise.

peter gets goosebumps, hair rising on his skin as he gets a shiver down his spine. his hearing intensifies, picking up mumbled whispers and light footsteps with his spider sense. his eyes wander frantically as he scatters his brain for an idea. nothing comes to mind fast enough, as a door down the hall creaks open. brad and ned drag flash up the stairs, but freeze when they hear the door. out of instinct, peter sprints to the nearest door, slyly slipping inside. he closes the door gently, contradicting the pounding of his heart, without a noise being made. he releases a sigh as his forehead rests on the doorframe.

“what are you doing?” peter nearly shrieks when you casually question him. he stares at you, eyes impossibly wider than before. your arms are crossed as you sit on the side of your bed. peter swallows harshly, gazing at your appearance.

your legs look smooth and supple, and very much bare. he assumes you have underwear on under the t-shirt you’re sporting, and is proved correct when you shift to dangle your legs off the bed. his eyes are drawn to the small sight of your panties that tease underneath your shirt. you smirk, arms still crossed as you let him check you out.

“i-um-uh,” cheeks wildly red, he swallows and averts his eyes to the ground. how does he explain such a stupid thing without sounding like a jackass? i was dared to invade the sorority house. sorry. oh, also, can i have your panties? “it was a dare.”

“to sneak into my room?” your head tilts as you lift yourself off the bed and stalk towards him. peter’s cheeks grow redder while his heart pounds brutally in his chest.

besides the embarrassment flowing like blood through his veins, you were the simple kind of gorgeous that made his knees weak. the kind that is stunning in their own skin and that radiates beautiful energy like magical fairy dust. and peter nearly fainted when he saw your lack of clothes.

he’s seen you many times before; you share a class with him and came to some of his parties. he never talked to you in fear of rejection, but now he doesn’t really have a choice.

usually, he has more confidence with girls, but this is a very unfortunate situation where he lost every skill he’s ever known. even talking.

“no—” ear-piercing screams interrupt peter’s stuttering from the other side of the door. footsteps run all over the wooden floor as low profanities leave the guys’ mouths. “i think she found them.”

“you think?” you clip with raised eyebrows. peter inhales, losing some of his anxiousness at his thoughts of the boys being caught.

poor ned. betty’s going to kill him.

flash deserved it, though.

brad is probably getting one of their numbers.

peter shakes his head and sets his thoughts straight.

“okay, look. flash dared me to do this… stupid thing and i convinced them all to do it with me. i wanted to do nothing but relax tonight,” peter admits with a stressed exhale. you glare at him with squinted eyes, trying to decipher what has him so worked up. it’s not like he got screamed at and kicked out like the other guys. knowing some of your roomies, they might be a lot worse than just kicking them out. you get closer to him and ponder what he said.

“what was the dare, parker?” you shoot a harsh glare at him, daggers that force him to answer. your head tilts with curiosity as your heartbeats sporadically. you’ve never had a guy in your room before, and for that first guy to be peter parker has your heart bouncing around your chest like a boomerang. you’ve had your eye on peter for a few months now; not crazy obsessive, but you won’t deny the blood-rushing crush you’ve grown for the frat boy.

how did you stumble that low? a frat boy? jeez.

peter can’t be too shocked that you know his name, let alone his last name, but you saying it still causes him to forget some of the words on his tongue. many shouts are heard from outside the door, but your chests are nearly touching as you gaze up at him and then the outside world is practically silenced.

“i had to steal some… panties,” he mumbles, voice low and quiet. why does it sound so dirty?

“panties?” you repeat in a hushed voice as your surprised eyes blink a few times. you swallow, clit beginning to throb at the word out of his mouth.

“yeah,” he scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “do you have any that i can…borrow?”

your mind hazes at his question. you tried to remember where your underwear was and if it was clean. but as a clear opportunity lies in front of you, you decide to run with it. you look down with a racing heart, fingers gripping the hem of your shirt.

“i…i have these ones,” you lightly ball up your t-shirt, revealing your laced panties to peter. he quietly coughs, cock starting to harden behind the zipper of his jeans. you glance up at his reddening expression through your eyelashes, devilish eyes hiding behind an innocent facade. confidence and lust ease your anxiety. “will these work?”

“um, yeah,” peter coughs again as rosy embarrassment crawls up his neck and blood rushes to his cock. you strut over to the mattress, rocking your hips teasingly, and peter instinctively follows with his heart in his throat. you lie on your back and spread your legs, arousal dripping from you at every movement. peter watches from a side angle, holding his breath as the tension rises.

“well, you’re not much of a panty-stealer if i just give them to you. come and steal them, parker,” you say with as much confidence as you could muster up. your heart was so loud in your ears you almost couldn’t hear yourself. speechless, peter walks to the front of the bed and kneels down, eye-level with your pussy.

he crumples the shirt over your hips, your legs automatically spreading wider. his senses heighten and pick up on the scent of your arousal. a small patch of it can be seen in the middle of your underwear, sending painful pulses down to his forever hardening cock. his thumbs dance around the laced hem, teasing you to see how much he can go.

he would say some of his confidence is back now.

he hooks his fingers under the band, sliding the flimsy fabric down while sticky arousal slings to you. he stuffs the damp material in his back pocket. both of your hearts rack and hands tremble at the extreme intensity, waiting for someone to do something. anything.

peter decides to be that person and resumes his fingers to your hips where the hem used to be. your folds glisten with pent-up arousal, just begging for him to touch you. your puffy clit throbs, neglected, and your thighs subtly spasm trying to remain open. peter grinds on his molars, nearly moaning at the glorious sight. his rough pads trace your smooth skin as he drags lower, dangerously close to where you’re yearning for him.

“peter,” you whisper, holding your breath, so you don’t move a muscle, even though they’re involuntarily shaking with need. he hums, the dirtiest thoughts flowing through his mind. “d-don’t you have to go? what if you get caught?”

“i can spare a few minutes…” his gaze is hazy and distracted, voice gravelly with lust. you clench desperately around nothing as you quietly plead for him to do something. his thumb tests the waters and finally begins circling on your clit, sending electricity up your body. you yelp at the sudden pressure, naturally grinding your hips for more friction. “hmm? don’t you want me to spend a few minutes with you?

his words are taunting and condescending, making your mind go blurry while the words disintegrate from your tongue. the rough pad of his thumb rubs faster while you clench around nothing again, chest heaving.

“i want more than a few minutes,” you moan as his middle finger pets along your soaking slit, teasing you painfully until your eyes roll back. you can sense the smirk growing on his face based on the satisfied hum he responds with.

“more? greedy girl,” peter slides his middle finger into you without warning causing you to release a long string of moans. “shh, you don’t want them to hear you, do you? then we’ll both get caught.”

you shake your head.

“then be a good girl and be quiet for me,” peter demands softly. you nod shakily, as another finger pumps into you rapidly. he thrusts brutally into you, fingertips brushing over your g-spot. you melt as bliss laces throughout your body.

“it’s always the quiet ones who are the loudest,” a devilish and dirty smirk dances on his lips while your teeth sink painfully into your bottom lip. you slap your palm over your mouth to remain quiet as thrilled moans threaten to pour out of you. your revolving hips are halted by his strong forearm, allowing him to curl his digits deliciously into you. you mewl with screwed eyes, back arching at the immense pleasure.

“i’m so close, peter,” you whisper, scared that if you speak any louder your moans will betray you and alert the whole neighborhood. peter subtly grinds his hips into the front of the mattress, cock dangerously hard from your whimpering and whining.

“can i taste you? been dying to since you opened your legs for me,” peter asks while your thighs tremble and your pussy contracts tightly around his digits. you mumble out a shuddery please before his mouth is devouring you.

he never removes his fingers, pumping ruthlessly while his mouth explores your slippery folds. he sucks harshly on your throbbing clit, a muffled wail escaping through your hand. warm and soothing, his tongue glides curiously and sneaks into your undeniably soft cunt. the moan you release is unholy and way too loud. at least right now.

peter wants nothing more than to hear your sweet, sweet moans crying his name while he makes you come in several different ways. but tonight was not the night. he wasn’t trying to get reported and have intruder as a new notch on his belt.

he had a good feeling you wouldn’t run off and report him though.

the idea of it all got him off much more than he would have ever thought. and looking at you, he could say that same.

his mouth plops off of you, lips swollen and puffy from sucking.

“come all over my tongue. let me taste you, sweet girl,” his tone is euphonious and seductive, yet demanding. his fingers savagely thrust into your seeping hole that clenches tightly around him. your back arches off the mattress as your thighs shake from the upcoming euphoria.

peter’s words send your body into overdrive. your muscles contract and your stomach tightens as your orgasm ripples through your body like a heavenly wave. cum oozes out of you and onto his tongue, slurping up every ounce of your juices until there is nothing left.

“such a good girl,” peter praises while he licks away your arousal from his rosy lips. heat crawls up your neck at your sudden vulnerability. you attempt to close your legs to hide, but he keeps them spread with his rough hands. “you’re going to hide yourself after i just ate you out? we’re just getting started, baby.”

peter pulls his shirt off deliberately, showcasing his bulky abs and muscles that made your clit pulse with desire again. he looks like he was man-made, a real-life sculpture with chiseled muscles and perfectly ridged abs. you were insatiable to this man, who snuck into your room to steal something— you should be mad at him. furious. but when his boxers fall down his legs, only dirty and needy emotions and thoughts are left.

your eyes widen at his impressive length; you’ve only been with a few guys in the past, but none of them were this big. you were scared, yet excited to feel his cock stretch you out sinfully. you imagined how long you would feel him inside of you afterwards, soreness like a good workout at the gym.

“you’re so big,” you mumble, not hiding the fact that you were blatantly eyeing his raging cock with hunger, fear, and lust.

“it’ll fit. don’t worry, doll,” he hovers over you, smoothing your hair away from your worried eyes. “do you have a condom?”

you stretch out your arm into your night stand, blindly grabbing a tin-foiled package. you seductively rip it with your teeth, causing peter to groan in impatience. he snatches it away from you and swiftly slides it onto his sturdy cock.

“such a fucking tease,” he hisses, running the tip of his cock along your folds, which were already soaked in arousal again. “are you ready?”

you nod your head surely, more than ready for him to fill you up.

“you’re one to talk,” you sass, rolling your eyes, which were no longer as worried, but full of needy anticipation. he huffs out a single chuckle, eyes strained on his dick rubbing around your wetness tediously.

“speaking of talking, don’t,” peter thrusts into you savagely, making you gasp and shriek. your hand immediately goes to his shoulder for leverage, nails digging desperately into the meat of his skin. the other tightens securely onto your mouth to keep quiet, even though it’s probably useless now.

hoarse profanities fall from his lips as he shifts around your snug hole. your velvety walls choke his cock so fucking good, he doesn’t think he’ll last any longer. and then you clench even tighter around him, sending peter’s eyes rolling back into brain.

“you’re so fucking tight,” peter groans in your ear, flicking his hips upwards into you. your body trembles in overwhelming pleasure, muffled whines begging to be released.

slapping skin and hushed moans fill the air. peter fits a hand between the two of you and rubs your throbbing clit perfectly. his lips travel down from your ear to your neck, kissing along your skin. his tongue discovers your soft spot, sucking harshly until you’re clutching onto him for dear life.

“you’re so good, peter. so deep, too, oh god,” you can’t help the lusty wail that tumbles from your raspy throat when he rapidly rolls his hips, repeatedly touching your sensitive g-spot. he growls at the praise, every action being intensified by the comment. you notice this and smile with a hint of devilishness behind it.

“you may be smiling now,” peter pants, muscles popping and flexing from the position. “but you’ll be crying soon.”

if possible, his thrusts got harder. and deeper. and faster. he was pounding into your cunt like there was no tomorrow, buckets of arousal leaking from you and all around him. peter would pull his cock fully out just to slam it back in, and it made you wither away into another dimension. his balls beat against you harshly with every brisk thrust of his body. his skilled thumb pets your clit, electrifying all your nerves into blissful flames.

there was so much to feel; the biting of his kisses on your neck, the rough texture of his thumb pad on your clit, the long, thick length plunging barbarically into you, and the heaviness of his weight above you. you were so overwhelmed by the pleasure, water brimmed at your tear ducts. soon, full-blown tears are streaming down your face from the euphoria running through your veins.

that familiar wicked smile curls on peter’s face with your appearance; wild hair, tear-stained cheeks, and swollen lips. he doesn’t think you’ve ever looked so beautiful in front of him.

his cock twitches when you whimper loudly underneath the palm of your hand, begging to let you come. contracting on his shaft, your nails stab his shoulder blade until crescent moon marks appear. a strangled moan leaves him when your body rolls up towards him, back arching harshly.

“need to come. so bad, peter,” you whine. his name from your lips drives him mental.

“fuck, y/n,” he sighs heavily. “come around my cock like the good girl you are.”

with those words, your second orgasm tumbles through your body like a thunderstorm. peter slams his lips against yours to keep you quiet, all your pent-up moans turning into needy hums in your throat. stars spot in your vision and you thought you might pass out from being fucked into oblivion. you wouldn’t even be mad— it was worth it.

summoning all your energy, your muscles tense as the liquid floods out of you. your back arches, making your bare breasts push up against peter’s chest. at the same time, peter comes with a string of curse words against your plush lips. he shoots his load into the condom, balls tightening while his eyes screw shut. he steadies his pumps and slowly pulls out of you, never wanting to leave.

you whimper at the emptiness, already missing his cock. he ties the knot and tosses it into the garbage under your desk. peter slips into his boxers and immediately finds the small box of tissues on your night stand. grabbing a few, he cleans you delicately like an antique doll as if he didn’t just ravish your body and soul.

you were beyond dumbstruck as he wiped you up. the few people you have been with never stayed long enough for aftercare, and even though it should be a necessity, the action still made your heart lurch for peter. speaking of your heart, it was beating a mile a minute. sex was a physical activity, yet having a huge crush on someone felt a lot more physically demanding. but you really liked the feeling.

a million thoughts brisked through your head; how does he feel? does he feel the same? did he hate it? did he love it? you shake your head. if you didn’t stop yourself, you would ruin any chance you might have by overthinking too much.

when you refocus your eyes to the moment, peter has his jeans fully on and his shirt in his hand. he slides it on and then looks at you worryingly, seeming as though you’re still naked and haven’t moved.

“are you okay? did i go too hard? fuck—”

“yes—i mean no! shit,” you stutter after interrupting him and close your eyes in embarrassment. “yes, i’m fine. i’m more than fine. that was… really good, peter. like really good.”

peter’s tensed shoulders relax as his face melts from a concerned expression to a soft one. you slip your large t-shirt on and stand up from your bed. your legs are a bit unbalanced and wobbly, and peter can’t help but chuckle as he holds you steady by your hips.

“stop laughing! you did this!” you whisper-yell with a faked angry face.

“oh, i know. next time, i’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk, let alone stand,” he winks with an arrogant smile cascading his lips. familiar heat creeps up your neck and ears, making you all tingly inside at the idea of a next time with peter.

“next time?” large rings of hope surround your irises as you stare into peter’s. his arrogance slightly fades as he itches with nervousness.

“yeah, if that’s what you want, of course,” why is he holding his breath? why is his heart beating so unhealthy fast?

“if i say yes, does that mean you’re going to try to steal my panties again?” you try to hold back your grin as you joke, peering up at him with squinted eyes.

“are you going to let me steal your panties again?” he clicks his tongue with his all too familiar smirk. he loves your playful demeanor and your attempts to withhold a smile.

you pretend to think, really debating. peter can’t help but stare at you in awe. you were beautiful, and he regrets not approaching you earlier because you were… well, he didn’t really know you yet, but he wouldn’t mind getting to know you better. even if you told him to fuck off and never to see him again, he knew that he would never forget you or this night.

you push yourself closer to peter, chest to chest. you can both feel the rapid beating of your hearts through your shirts. however, you stand, gazing confidently at peter. he watches you as you lean right in like you were going to kiss him.

“mm maybe. you might just have to find out yourself,” your breathy words linger on his lips as you back away and casually get into the bed. you unfold the comforter and tuck yourself in, like you didn’t just give peter a semi-hard on in his pants.

suddenly a loud crash is heard from outside, alerting both of your heads to peer out through the window.

“my car!” flash cries so high-pitched and whiny, he probably woke up the entire neighborhood. peter isn’t surprised that one of the sorority girls destroyed his car because he deserved it. someone needed to humble him anyway. you both laugh behind the palm of your hands at flash’s girly scream.

with that, peter realizes that he has to go and that he no longer has any minutes to spare. flash, brad, and ned probably weren’t worried about peter while they were out-running the girls. but now that the girls had done the damage, the boys would soon realize peter’s absence.

“better hide your panties. this isn’t over,” peter walks over to the side of your bed and kisses your forehead delicately. he cracks open the window, turning to you with half his body out. with a wink from him and a gasp from you, he jumps down the two-story window without hesitation. your heart flutters at his gentle kiss that lingers on your skin, fingers pressed against the spot his lips last touched.

rain begins to splash on the glass as sprinkles of water drip into your room through the open window. you purposefully don’t close it, even when you know the carpet will get soaked throughout the night. you welcomed the idea that if peter wanted to come back, he could, simply by sneaking through the window the same way he left.

so many other thoughts cloud your mind, making you lie wide awake. you wondered if his heart was still thumping hastily like the rain pattering on your window and onto your floor. you wondered what he looked like when he was drenched in natural rain water. probably breathtakingly beautiful; soaking wet hair and a childish smile adorning his rosy face while he laughs wholeheartedly.

as you roll over to turn off your lamp with a wistful sigh, you remember that you never even got his number. while trying to guess which set of numbers fit peter parker the best, you fall asleep with a yearning heart, flapping its wings adoringly in your chest.

oh, god, you were down. and it was bad.

what you didn’t know was that peter was down too, but even worse than you.

—

tags: @raajali3

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ptergwen · 2 years

Note

starks daughter reader x peter parker, making out? like the avengers ask jarvis to show what’s happening in her room and they see what’s happening?

ask box | taglist | blurb masterlist | main masterlist

w/c: 719

warnings: 18+, explicit language, implied smut

a/n: i made one little change so it’s friday instead of jarvis but everything else is the same so i hope you don’t mind and that you enjoy! also don’t forget to join my new taglist y’all mwah

“y/n…”

you’re kissing down peter’s neck, lips leaving goosebumps on his skin. he’s practically writhing underneath you, and you’ve hardly even done anything.

yet.

“y/n, baby.”

you grip the collar of peter’s shirt in both hands and bring your lips to the shell of his ear.

“yes, peter?”

“c’mon, we can’t. we’re… we’re gonna be late for dinner.”

“wouldn’t you rather eat me instead?”

your teeth sink into peter’s earlobe, a hand traveling down to the bottom of his shirt. peter throws his head back and closes his eyes, trying to resist you, but he can’t. you’re his weakness.

“fuck, y/n/n. don’t do this to me.”

“what, is there something else you want me to do to you?”

you start to pull peter’s shirt over his head, but he grabs both your hands in one of his.

“we’ve gotta go join the others. you know how important team dinners are to your dad.”

“and you know how much i despise them.”

“yeah, but i don’t understand why. i think they’re a sweet idea.”

“i think they suck.”

“how come?”

“steve makes the blandest food, thor has literally zero table manners, and everyone’s always asking me questions. way too many questions.”

“you mean trying to get to know you?”

“it’s the fucking worst.”

peter chuckles and pulls you in by your waist.

“you really are a stark.”

“am i? because the leader of the pack came up with this whole team dinner thing.”

“your dad just wants everyone to spend more time together.”

“well, i just wanna spend time with you.”

you peck peter’s lips. peter smiles and secures his arms around your waist.

“at least wanda’s cooking tonight. means the food will actually have some flavor.”

“yippee.”

peter lets out a breath.

“i’d be more than happy to eat you for dessert, but dinner first, okay?”

“or i could be your appetizer.”

your lips attack peter’s before he can respond. despite himself, he gives in this time, kissing back with just as much fervor.

“what’s taking them so long? the chicken paprikash is almost done.”

“looks delish, wanda. i’ve never had sokovian food before.”

“oh, thank you, scott. you’ll love it.”

“sure, sure. i bet i will. i just, y’know… it won’t be spicy, will it?”

sam elbows bucky’s arm.

“dude thinks paprika is spicy.”

“and i thought i was bad.”

scott frowns.

“what? it’s a spice, isn’t it?”

tony enters the dining room with a grin, rubbing his hands together.

“hey, gang. smells good in here, little red.”

“thanks, tony. i’m just about ready to serve it. we’re waiting on the kids.”

“oh? they’re still not down yet?”

“nope,” bruce sighs. “i saw them sneaking up to y/n’s room earlier,” natasha smirks. “dang, you didn’t have to rat them out,” sam remarks.

“like you wouldn’t do the same.”

“fair.”

“stop teasing, you two,” steve chastises. “no, no. this is true. i passed little stark and the spiderling on the stairs,” thor says.

tony glares at thor.

“so you all knew they were canoodling, and no one thought to tell me?”

“uh oh, drama,” scott whispers to wanda. “canoodling?” natasha snorts.

steve shoots them both looks.

“i’m sure they’re on their way down, tony.”

“yeah? let’s find out.”

tony double taps his glasses. his artificial intelligence comes to life.

“friday, show me y/n.”

“on it, boss.”

friday taps into her system that’s installed in your room and broadcasts the feed to tony’s glasses. he immediately regrets asking her to do so when he sees what you’re up to. yours and peter’s tongues are quite literally down each other’s throats, and peter is trying to take your bra off, but struggling to unhook it.

tony rips off his glasses and tosses them onto the dining room table. he shudders, shaking his head to rid his mind of the image. natasha puts on tony’s glasses to see for herself.

“yup. they’re canoodling, alright.”

“for real? this i’ve gotta see.”

“wait your turn, wilson.”

tony snatches his glasses back from natasha.

“absolutely not. no one will be taking turns watching my daughter and parker swap spit. have some class, will you?”

“yeah, have some class!” thor chimes in through a mouthful of bread wanda had put on the table.

wanda joins everyone with a serving plate of food.

“chicken paprikash, anyone?”

tags: @mystic-writings @just-lost-inbetween-worlds @lnmp89 @jenoslov @crvshnburnn @yourlocalomlette @starlight-starks @belovasheart @liltimmyst @eviewriites @hollandsangel @parkerctrl @eichenhouseproperty @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @varshhyy @ellebutnotwoods @magicalxdaydream @tayyx

#peter parker #peter parker smut #peter parker fluff #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker x avenger!reader #peter parker writing #peter parker imagine #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland x you #marvel #mcu #tom holland writing

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friendlyneighborhoods-spiderman · 1 year

Text

The forgotten child

Pairing's : fem! reader x peter parker, tony stark daughter! x tony stark, tony stark daughter! x peter parker

Warnings: really sad angst, jealousy, daddy issues, neglect, lmk if i missed anything! :)

Summary: dad of the year award? surely isn't going too him

a/n : I know the gif doesn't really match the theme of this story I just really liked it. I did not reread this so please ignore any grammar mistakes. Also, I'm not sure if i wrote a panic attack correctly but I wrote based on what their like for me. hope you all enjoy!

you really tried not to become the forgotten child, always tried you're very hardest to live up to your father expectations, trying to make him proud in hope's he'd show some form of attention.

always studying to get straight a's even through countless anxiety attacks from fear of failing and disappointing your father.

all you ever wanted was reassurance, and if you ever got lucky enough a "You did a good job" after getting a high score on a test.

but it never came, it would forever be something you longed to hear. he would usually just mumble a small, quiet "congrats" as his mind stayed focused on his work and his eyes stuck to the blueprint laid out on the table Infront of him.

you always tried you're best not to feel jealous whenever your father held morgan, you had no ressentiment towards morgan whatsoever, in fact she was the one that kept you smiling most days. although you couldn't help but feel your heart tighten from jealousy as you watched them have daddy daughter time

you really did try you're best to be happy for your younger sister, but you couldn't ignore that aching feeling. all you wanted was the attention she had that your heart ached so desperately for, but it never came despite your countless attempts.

you we're astound to hear a new avenger had been recruited, you always enjoyed meeting new people. mainly because they gave you attention they didn't even know you craved.

you always seeked to see the best in people, no matter what the circumstances we're. including peter parker, there was nothing wrong with him, he wasn't a bad person in fact quite a good one, and if you weren't so envious of him you possibly could have been friends with the boy. but you watched how peter and your father clicked so easily becoming like father and son.

it made the knots in your stomach tighten as you watched them spend time together, it made you feel as if something was wrong with you, like maybe if you tried harder or changed, he'd give you the attention you deserved.

your mother, pepper always said he loved you just as much as he loved morgan or even peter, but you knew the truth as much as you ignored it you knew. but oh, how you wish he did.

"Mom, I'm home" you called out knowing if father was home, he wouldn't answer you. after not receiving an answer, you decided to look through the house in search of your mother, after a couple of minutes searching you still hadn't found her and decided she probably went out and took morgan with her. you heard talking but it sounded like your father, and peter?? "what's peter doing here?" you wondered. you decided to peak you're head through the door and saw peter and tony standing with their backs faced away from you, working on some upgrades for peter's suit.

"you're a pretty great kid peter" tony told him as he smiled at him patting his shoulder. a wave of jealously hit your chest as you watched them, your throat tightening. "Thank you, Mr. stark," peter smiled cheekily as your fingers clenched into a fist at your side.

"Becoming like my son."

once those words left Tony's lips, your mouth went dry, your head aching as you backed away from the door as quietly as possible, you're breathing picking up rapidly. you quickly made your way to your room, tears forming in your eyes, you walked into your room and shut the door softly as your hands started shaking as you paced around your room quickly, trying to stop the tears from rolling down your cheeks. you never liked crying, it made you feel weak.

you're breathing came out in heavy gasp as you struggled to breathe. you leaned against the wall coughing as you squeezed your eyes shut as you tried to stop the words from replaying in your mind.

"Becoming like my son" continuously echoed through your head as soft sobs left your lips, you didn't want to feel this way, envious of what your father and peter had. it's not peter's fault about what your father feels about you so why hold him accountable. he'll never love you, at least not like he loves peter. you can't figure out why? you always tried you're best to impress him, but nothing seemed to be enough for him, it's like he didn't even care about your existence.

you stumbled over to your bed, taking deep breathes as your body grew exhausted from crying. you plopped down on your bed tiredly as you snuggled up against your blanket that was where your pillows we're supposed to be, you grabbed a pillow and hugged it too sleep.

you didn't want to put the blame on peter because it wasn't his fault, but a little piece of your heart blamed peter parker.

a/n: CLIFFHANGER!?!? I decided to leave it for now because I haven't come up with an ending that I thought fit the way I wanted so if you guys have ideas, please let me know. reblog's are highly appreciated, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed!

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sacharinee · 11 months

Text

pairing: bestfriend!peter parker x fem!reader

sypnosis: after peter misses his chance to ask you out to the homecoming dance, he has to suffer the consequences of his own actions

wc: 1200+

a/n: hiii!! i have the urge to write again bc im bored and i dont wanna do my summer course work. this prompt is based on this post and loosely based on that one scene in the movie ladybird when she gets picked up by her date. i wrote this super quickly so not the best but i hope u enjoy :)

peter had it first. he had the idea, the flowers, the poster, your favorite chocolate strawberries all ready for you. until brad davis came in and stole everything.

now he has nothing. he’s on your bed munching on the melty strawberries as he watches you get ready for the dance; you’ve asked for his help in choosing which dress you should go for.

“okay how ‘bout this one, pete?” the boy glances up at you, mid-chew with his mouth open.

his eyes snake over the outfit you’ve chosen. you do a swift twirl to show off the pretty soft blue satin dress that falls down to your mid-thigh with an open back. the skirt of your dress rides a bit high revealing a little too much. peter gulps, running his hands down his legs, immediately your sweet honey perfume floods his senses, his brain feels a little fuzzy, and he thinks the room gets smaller while his pants get a tiny bit tighter.

however, your eyes are what he takes in the most. you look eager, nervous about his approval, and hopeful for his admission.

his eyes widen as he gives you a soft nod and a pursed smile, “super pretty.”

you stare back at peter, his hair is flared, and you see chocolate smeared on his bottom lip. his posture looks defeated and you can’t help but wonder what’s wrong with him.

you give him a sour yet confused face, “why is your face like that?”

peter’s eyebrows furrow at your expression, “my face- why is my face like what?”

“like…” you take a moment to think, “like- you look like that chef in that one movie with the rat, he’s got that same awkward funny looking face.”

peter barks out a laugh in disbelief, “alfredo linguini?? from ratatouille?!” “yea! that guy.”

the boy in front of you offers you a pout and rubs his eyes, “thanks.”

“sure thing.” peter glazes over your seamless makeup when you take a seat next to him, “so, you’re really not coming? why not? it’ll be fun, plus all of our friends are going” you whine.

peter kicks himself every day since you got asked out to homecoming by brad. he knows he should have made his proposal to you sooner, but now that he missed his chance, he feels like he’s lost you.

“oh, so brad’s our friend now? and nah, it’s alright. i’m just gonna go patrolling tonight, might get some good action.” his eyebrows suggestively

you muster up a smirk and breathe out a laugh, “right. maybe you’ll find your own ‘cupid of crime’ that’ll show you a good time.”

peter groans at you, “oh my god, margot robbie is so-”

honk!

“oh,” your ears perk up at the sudden interruption, “i guess that’s my date.” you quickly stand up and straighten your dress, taking nervous breaths.

“i’m good right? my dress? face? hair?” your fingers run through your shiny locks, “its- i’m, i’m okay?”

peter has an indiscernible look plastered on his face as he gazes out the window and back at you. he’s shocked you’d settle for this, and even more appalled at you’re excitement to go with a douchebag who can’t even meet you at the front door. he knows you deserve better than this, and he knows he would treat you so much better with much less than your date. his stomach turns upside down and he feels his face get hot, breathing through his nostrils as he struggles to control his disbelief. he slowly stands up and meets your anxious expression peering up at him.

“you aren’t gonna get in a car with a guy who honks, are you?”

it’s almost as if the entire atmosphere shifts. peter studies your appearance. your face shimmered sanguinely regardless, brighter than the glitter that sparkled atop your eyelids.

it was safe to say you were excited to go to the dance, even if your date wasn’t your first choice. you had been waiting endlessly for peter to ask you to homecoming. you were almost depressed at the thought thinking your crush didn’t like you back, but even more upset at the fact that your best friend didn’t even want to take you as his date, romantically or not.

you remembered the feeling of delight swirling through your body as betty gushed about ned asking her to the dance, and mj agreeing to harry’s proposal.

you only wanted the same for yourself. the same thrill and warm feeling of someone wanting to take you as their date. you wanted more than anything for it to be peter, but you figured he simply didn’t think of you like that as empty time and hopeless anticipation went by. so yes, you did settle for brad davis. he’s only ever been sweet to you, with harmless flirting and sultry smiles in the halls. plus you had a hunch about peter’s displeasing stance on the man, and presumed this may have tipped peter over just the right amount.

you simply blink at his desperate eyes and nod, your adamant expression not wavering, “i think, yes, i am.”

you offer him a wistful smile when you brush past him, grabbing your purse on the way.

“y/n, stop.” peter’s finger’s wrap around your small wrist, your charm bracelet dangling against his hand.

“are you serious? what, the shithead can’t walk a few feet and knock on the door like a real man?”

“peter!” you snatch your wrist back and his hands rise.

you feel heat rushing up your neck and settling behind your ears. you had wanted a reaction out of peter when brad asked you out, yes, but the entitlement he has to mention about the manhood of brad angered you.

“i’m just saying,” he steps back from you, licking his dry lips while he chuckles back at you. “a guy who doesn’t have the balls to greet you at your doorstep isn’t worth falling for.”

you scoff at him, he was so sweet and now he’s only taking his anger out on you. “well it’s a good thing that he’s just a friend then. what’s it to you anyways?”

peter disregards your last statement, “a friend?! y/n/n, listen to me. you’re being naive if you think he just wants to be your friend.”

another honk outside pierces your ears, yet you can’t seem to shake your stare on the boy before you. you narrow your eyes at him.

“you sound jealous.”

peter sputters nonsense out and breaks his eyesight away from you, nervously running his hands through his curls.

“jealous? me? pfft. never. i’m not jealous, i’m- i’m being absolutely reasonable.”

you keep your eyes on him as he looks down at the carpet floor. he sighs and drops down at your chair, scratching the wood on your desk. his head shakes and ever so softly murmurs, “seriously, why are you going out with him?”

peter continues to stare at the rotten wood he’s chipping, “brad asked me to be his date, so i’m going whether you like it or not. unless,” peter glances back up at you.

“there’s something you’re not telling me.”

hope bubbles down in your stomach, and you anticipate his confession, waiting to hear the words of his true feelings that you know for certain are deep down inside him.

except, he doesn’t.

the boy only blankly stares at your desk, clenching his jaw, and drowns everything inside, letting you down yet another time. you turn away, disappointed in peter, ready to leave him alone for all the false hope and hurt he has caused you.

“right, well, when your balls finally drop, let me know. i’ll be at the dance with my date.”

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aalyssah · 8 months

Text

My Nerdy Boy

Pairing: Nerdy!Peter Parker x Popular!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut. Blowjob, Cursing, Handjob, Loss of Virginity, Names, (Good Boy), Oral, (Peter Receiving), Praise, Soft Sex, and Unprotected Sex. Minors DNI 18+

Word Count: 3,188

Summary: You're a beautiful popular girl in school and after numerous rejections to a boy who doesn't know what 'No' means, Peter steps in, causing an interest to spark in you.

A/N: I just thought of this as Peter, who's a nerd, that's in love with the popular reader, but thinks he has no chance :( Hope You Enjoy!

Being the most popular person in college is hard, especially when you're a girl. It's not your fault your parents are famous actors!

Boys tend to flirt with you, girls want to be your friend to get that same popularity, hell, even some girls want to date you, but you're not that type of person.

You're not one to look for relationships. You just want to do good in school so you can become something helpful to the world.

You walked through the school doors, a small pink bag in your hand. Everyone stopped talking as they watched you walk down the halls. You ignored the whispers of people cooing over your outfit and walked to your best friend MJ.

She's been with you since day one, not caring about your popular parents and that's what made you both so close. "Hey girl, you look good today. You smiled at her compliment. "Thanks, you too. Anyways, have you heard about the assignment Mrs. Smith posted online?"

You and MJ began talking about school until the sound of loud boys yelling caught your attention. You turned around to see Brad walking in, his face oranger than Donald Trump. You rolled your eyes as he made his way towards you, a football in his hand.

"Oh god, here we go." You heard MJ mumble under her breath.

"Y/n! Lookin' amazing today!" You gave a small fake smile. "Thank you Brad, you look-" You paused, looking at him up and down. "Uh, great." Brad cockily chuckled. "Yeah, I know, just got a new tan. You like it?" You held back a laugh at his face.

His face was orange, not matching the rest of his white body. "Yeah, sorry to cut the conversation short, but I have to get to class, so I'll see you around." You were about to walk away, but Brad called out.

"Wait! I just wanted to ask if you would go to prom with me?" You closed your eyes, trying to find a way to politely reject him. "Brad, you're a great guy, but I'm really not into you."

'Ooos' could be heard around the hall as Brad's face dusted pink. He just got rejected in front of most of the school. You walked away without looking back, going to your class.

You went through most of your classes and now it was time for lunch. You were starving and couldn't wait to eat. You sat at a table with MJ eating when Peter came.

He held a tray in his hand. "May I sit here?" You nodded your head, scooting over. "Sure, it's a public lunch room." You flashed a smile Peter's way, a blush forming on his cheeks.

Peter was known as the school nerd, but you didn't care. You and MJ were in the middle of talking when Brad and his football lackies came sitting there. "Move it nerd, this is a popular table only." Peter instantly stood up, grabbing his book bag and tray.

"Hurry up kid." Peter tried his fastest to grab his stuff, but wasn't fast enough for Brad. "Brad stop, leave him alone." Brad ignored you, slapping the tray out Peter's hand, his food falling to the floor.

Laughter erupted throughout the lunch room as Peter got down on his knees and began cleaning up the food. "Brad stop being an asshole and leave him alone!" You pushed past him, getting down to help Peter.

He looked up at you, kind of shocked that you were helping him. "I'm sorry about him, he's just rude." You help him clean up the mess before giving him a smile. "I'll see you around." Just as you finished your sentence the bell rang, everyone getting up to leave for their next class.

It was the next day and you were walking around the corner when you accidentally bumped into Peter.

Your books fell out of your hand and you jumped back. "Oh, I'm sorry." You both bent down to pick them up, your hands touching.

You looked at him, making eye contact. Peter awkwardly chuckled, standing up. "I-I'm sorry, I-" You put a hand up. "Hey, calm down, it was just an accident." You grabbed your books. "I like your outfit, you look nice."

Peter looked down at his blue collared shirt with a small smile. "Thank you, my aunt got it for me." The sweet conversation was interrupted when Brad came around the corner, laughing loudly. "Wow, Peter Parker's aunt buys his own clothes and they're ugly!"

Brad and his boys laughed, a frown coming from you. "I knew you were pathetic, but not that bad!" You watched as Peter looked down at his feet, quiet as a mouse.

"Alright Brad, just because he wears something different than you doesn't mean you have to be rude about it. Everyone has their own style." Brad looked at you surprised.

"Oh c'mon Y/n, why are you defending this nerd?" You shook your head in shame. "You shouldn't treat people like that. Stop being mean." You grabbed Peter's wrist, dragging him to a different area.

"Sorry about him again. Don't listen to him, in fact, I think your outfit is cool." Peter smiled slightly. "I think we should hang out sometime. I have class, but I'll talk to you later." Peter let you go, watching as you walked off.

He felt so in love, but there was no way you would choose him.

PROM NIGHT!

There were posters plastered everywhere the school, telling everyone prom was coming up.

Unfortunately, you didn't have a date, but you don't think you're gonna go with anyone. Usually you and MJ go together, but she and her boyfriend, Ned are gonna go.

You walked up to MJ smiling. "Hey." She greeted you. "Hey, you heard about prom tomorrow? Who's your date? Maybe Brad or Kyle from history." You scrunch your face in disgust. "Oh hell no, definitely not Brad. I might not even go this year."

MJ frowned at your words. "What why? We always go." You shrugged your shoulders, taking some books out your locker. "You and Ned are going and I don't wanna be a third wheel." She was quick to deny.

"You won't be. Just come for me, please?" You grunted in annoyance. "Fine." She squealed, hugging you. "Thank you, oh thank you. I love you." She kissed your cheek and left off to go find her man.

You stood against your locker on your phone, when a shadow blocked some light. You looked up and almost rolled your eyes to the back of your brain.

There was Brad with a smirk on his face. "Y/n, you still down for my offer about the prom? I was thinking we could wear blue, maybe red, so we can look hot. Be the center of attention."

You pushed him back, scoffing. "Brad, I already told you. I don't want you. I don't want to date you, talk to you, not even be friends, so what makes you think I'm gonna go to the prom with you?" Brad gave you a challenging look. "Damn, I love me a feisty girl." You walked away, leaving him alone.

You did all your classes and even got to leave early to get ready for prom. You chose a black dress and did minimal make up, not wanting to go all out. MJ stopped by and got you and drove y'all to the school.

The moment y'all reached there, loud music bumped down the street, lights flickered and flashed, and bodies moved against each other like they were in a dance club.

"Me and Ned's gonna go dance." You heard MJ yell at you. You nodded your head with a smile, watching as your friend went off with her man.

You went to a small table that was littered with snacks and drinks. You grabbed a water bottle, cracking it open and taking a sip. You looked around the room once more.

It was a nice prom with some of your fellow classmates enjoying their time. As you looked around you caught the eye of Peter, sitting alone at a table, tapping his foot to the beat of the music. He looked so lonely.

With a determined smile, you got up, walking over to his direction, but before you could make it across the room, Brad came out of nowhere. "Baby, Y/n, you look beautiful tonight." You rolled your eyes, putting a hand on your hip.

"Before you ask, the answer is no." You tried to walk past him, but he only walked in your direction. "Woah, where are you going? I just want to dance, maybe even share a kiss."

"Brad, I've told you multiple times, I don't want you! So no, I don't wanna dance, or kiss you. Leave me alone." You walked past him, making your way towards Peter, but you were pulled back by Brad, his arm wrapping around your waist, and forcing you against his body.

"Why do you play hard to get? I've tried to be get with you since 5th grade, but you're to blind to see because of that stupid nerd Penis Parker!" You squirmed in his arm, trying to get away from his disgusting hold, but he only held you tighter.

"Stop trying to run." You looked around nervously, seeing if anyone was paying attention, but everyone was too busy dancing, and the loud music didn't help anyone.

"Get your hands off of her!"

You felt your whole world stop at that voice.

It was Peter.

The music slowly died down at the yelling, people's attention turning to you. "And what are you gonna do if I don't?" Brad challenged, with a smirk. His smirk was wiped off his face when Peter's fist connected Brad's cheek, his grip falling off you.

Brad fell to the floor, looking up in shock. Murmuring was heard around the room at Peter's strength. You quickly stood by his side, looking down at Brad.

"If you ever try to touch me or even talk to me, Peter's gonna beat your ass, and we know you would want that." You chuckled, watching as Brad scrambled to his feet and left, too embarrassed for what happened.

Everyone began dancing like everything was normal, you turning to Peter. "Thank you Peter, I don't know what would've happened if you weren't here." Peter smiled, looking down at the ground.

"Well, you're just really pretty, and I didn't want to see you get hurt." You matched his smile, grabbing his hand. "Let's go somewhere private." You dragged him outside to a nearby hotel.

It was much quieter and y'all could have peace. Peter felt nervous as you booked a room for the night, but he was sure y'all wouldn't spend that long there.

You closed the door, locking it behind you before sitting down on the bed. Peter awkwardly stood up, looking lost. "Peter, sit down." You said, patting a spot next to you.

He slowly walked to you, sitting down. He had his hands in his lap, playing with his fingers. "Peter? Why'd you help me out there?" Peter stayed silent for a second, trying to think of the right words.

"No man should grab a girl like that. Especially someone like you." You tilted your head to the side, with a questioning look. "What do you mean someone like me?"

Peter jumped up, thinking you were offended. "No, I didn't mean it like that! It's just, you're really pretty, and I don't want anyone to do something you don't feel comfortable with. Plus, you’ve helped me so many times with Brad, so it’s only right for me to help you."

You watched his facial expression as he spoke, getting deep in detail on his reasoning. "Peter? Do you like me?" Peter avoided your eyes, giving you the answer. Without thinking, you grabbed his jaw, guiding him to your lips for a kiss.

Peter sat there, eyes widened, not knowing what to do. You pulled back once you felt him tense up. "Peter, I'm so sorry! I thought you were feeling me!" You scooted away, but Peter was fast to grab your arm.

"No! I want you, I-" He stopped speaking, feeling embarrassed. "I've never done this before." A smile appeared on your face at his confession.

No wonder he always gets so flushed when around you."You're a virgin?" He nodded his head. You 'tsked' rubbing your hands in and down his pants. "Well, we don't have to do anything you don't want to."

Peter shook his head, grabbing your hand. "I-I want you to be my first." Your eyebrows shot up. No one's ever asked you to be their first. "Are you sure?" He finally looked up at you. "Please?"

You dropped down to your knees, spreading his legs apart. "Get naked." He quickly stripped from his clothes, a little eager for you. You could see the bulge poking from his boxers.

A shocked gasp escaped from your lips. "Peter!" Peter sat up, looking worried, as if he did something wrong. "What? What's wrong? Does my thing look weird? I'm sorry!" He quickly raised his hands to cover his crotch area.

You gently pulled his hands down, with a smile. "No Petey. I didn't know you were packing this much." A blush formed on Peter's face at your compliment and the nickname.

You pulled his boxers down, throwing them somewhere in the room. You grabbed his cock with a chuckle, stroking him up and down. "You're so big Peter." He stared down at you as you took him in your mouth, humming at the sweet, but salty taste.

Peter moaned, head falling on the bed. You took him deep down your throat, before slowly coming up. Peter felt like he was on cloud nine right now while you were sucking him off.

You slowly began bobbing your head and cupping his balls, smiling at the squeal that came from him. You took your lout off him for a second, still stroking him. "Peter, baby, can you do me and favor and fuck my mouth?" Peter looked at you with wide eyes.

He's seen people do it in movies, but in person?

With someone as pretty as you?

Hell yeah!

Peter carefully guided your mouth back to his cock, scooting down the bed a little. He thrusted his hips up, his eyes shutting tight at how good your mouth felt. Your nails were digging a deep moon crescent into his thighs.

He was whining above you, his pace not slowing down. "Oh god, it f-feels so g-good!" You relax your jaw and hollow your cheeks around him, making sucking noises known. Peter jerked slightly, hips slowing down.

You noticed how close he was getting and pulled back fast. Peter let out a frustrated sigh, sadly looking down at you with puffy red cheeks, and eyes glisten from the tears.

"Sorry baby, but I don't want you to cum yet. You haven't even felt me!" You stripped from your dress, pulling the straps down, revealing your body.

Peter moaned at the sight of your body, hands coming to your waist. "Ah, ah, no touching, I'm in charge." His hands fell slack on the bed, looking up at you as you stepped over him.

You squatted above him, guiding his cock to your entrance. With slow movements, you slowly sunk down, moaning as he reached deep in you. Peter moaned at your tightness, closing his eyes tight.

You saw and said something. "Open your eyes for me. Look at me as I ride you." Peter opened his eyes, tears glistening in his pupils.

He's never felt anything this good.

You just started and he's already drunk on your cunt.

You gently bounced up and down on him, your hands planted on his chest. Your breast bounced with every movement, Peter's eyes staring at your nipples.

You breathily chuckled, leaning down so your breasts were dangling in his face. He looked up at you with pleading eyes and with a nod, he leaned up and latched his mouth onto your nipple.

He suckled the nipple, an arm wrapped your waist, pulling you down more, as you still bounced on top of him.

With one bounce you stopped, grinding against his pelvic, his cock swiping against different parts in your body. Peter moaned as he hit your sweet spot, feeling you tighten around him. "Feel good, yeah?" You panted out, beginning to bounce again.

He nodded his head, knowing if he talked it would come out as babbled words. "Gotta use your words Petey." He bit his lip before answering. "Yeah, it feels s'good." You smiled. "Good boy, baby."

Peter thrusted his hips up, moaning as you clenched him. "Oh fuck!" You said surprise. "You like to get praised? Huh? You're my good boy, aren't you?" Peter nodded his head, wanting to please you. "Go on and fuck me then. Just like you did a minute ago."

And Peter complied with your order, tucking your head in his neck, knees bent, and feet planted on the bed and began thrusting in you wildly. Loud clapping noises and moans were heard around the room as Peter fucked you.

His balls slapped against the back of your thigh as you squeezed around him repeatedly, feeling all pleasure run through your body. Peter ended up hitting your sweet spot, plowing into it nonstop.

"Oh my god Peter, I'm gonna cum!" Your legs shook, back arched and mouth opened, filthy moans coming from you. You ended up cunning without noticing until you heard Peter moan and wet noises coming from your bodies.

You watched Peter's facial expression as he got close. "Y/n, where can I cum?" He was desperate for any answer. As long as you tell him where to cum. “Inside, I take birth control." That was all you needed to say for him to cum.

Peter came with a needy moan, emptying everything in you. You both laid on top of each other, catching your breath. "You were way too good for your first time." You both shared a laugh.

You got up and slowly pulled out before going to the bathroom to clean up.

As soon as y'all hit the bed, you were asleep, with you holding Peter against your chest.

The next morning you woke to your phone with texts from MJ.

MJ: Y/n, you okay? I heard you left ‘cause of Brad.

MJ: Y/n, are you gonna answer?

MJ: Brad moved, he's going to LA and doing collage there.

Peter woke up, nuzzling his head into your neck, taking in your scent. "Peter, you did so good that you ran Brad outta here. He moved to LA."

Peter had a smile on his face at your words. "You're so strong. My strong nerdy boy." You corrected yourself, brushing some hair out his face.

That day you and Peter became official, him growing somewhat popular and not only did you not have to worry about another guy messing with you, but you’re happy you got a nerdy boyfriend.

#peter parker #peter parker smut #tom holland smut #peter parker fluff #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker oneshot #marvel smut

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silkscream · 1 year

Text

angel unaware

ꨄ︎ pairing: peter parker x silk!reader

ꨄ︎ synopsis: you’ve known peter since you were fifteen, shortly after you were both bitten by the same spider. it was too obvious that you’d end up loving him. as you drift apart during your first year of college, you’re not sure how much longer you can keep dancing in circles with him.

ꨄ︎ genres: best friends to lovers, angst, idiots in love, slowburn, mutual pining, hurt/comfort

ꨄ︎ tags: rated explicit/18+ (smut), alcohol usage, mention of drug usage, unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), characters are 19, mild violence, gun violence (there is a school shooting in the beginning but there aren't too many details)

ꨄ︎ wc: 13.8k

ꨄ︎ notes: omg. happy valentine’s day y’all. i’ve been working on this Big Bertha for literal MONTHS and i’m so happy to finish it and share it with you. thank you for being around even though i haven’t been the most active; this is a gift to you <3

ꨄ︎ listen to the playlist!

The spider bit you first.

It isn’t until you’re fifteen that someone else finds out about it.

In many ways, you should’ve known. The symptoms, the hypervigilance, the strange, gradual transition of filling out your body. You blame puberty first, but this feels more than abnormal. It's almost as if it's bursting through your skin. The only other person who seems to mirror your coming of age is Peter Parker, whose twitchy nature exacerbates the longer high school goes on.

You keep your head low because there’s no reason for you to tell anyone about your powers. Not even the boy about whom you’re positive shares the same curse as you.

But then the videos come out. Red and blue lycra flying through buildings, a blurred figure saving cats from trees, webs shooting and swaying as onlookers stare like it’s a circus act. He calls himself Spider-man and you think it’s awfully corny.

You’d be a fool to think that you were safe from the antics of Avengers propaganda, rubble, and ash blocking your way to school on more days than not. You’d be a fool to think that you could evade the classic tropes of American violence that force the president to lament about "unthinkable tragedies" multiple times a year. At this moment, you’re a fool for getting yourself locked in a janitor’s closet while there’s an active shooter at Midtown High.

Your breath hitches when the doorknob jangles in front of you. On instinct, you stick yourself to the ceiling, far in the corner with your senses on fire. You’ve never actually had to attack anyone before. You aren’t entirely sure how this would play out with a gun involved.

Peter Parker’s labored breaths fill your eardrums, and without thinking, you shoot your webs directly at him. He stumbles, clumsily tripping over an empty mop bucket. He looks up at you in confusion. He’s wearing half of his suit.

"You. You just–"

"Shut the fuck up," you hiss, covering his mouth with your palm. In the darkness, your eyes widen. Someone is near.

It’s a stupid ordeal. The crime happening, this meet-cute, the way your senses feel haywire being this close to him. Both of you are holding your breath, your heart is pounding erratically in your chest, and blood is rushing through your ears.

The day ends with you and Peter making it out of the closet through a vent and the shooter getting subdued by the police. A troubled sophomore who barely knew how to use the gun in the first place made it easy for Spider-man to intercept the weapon the moment the kid raised his arms.

Peter follows you home that afternoon like a stray cat, babbling over a game of twenty questions that you aren’t in the mood to entertain. Somehow, his presence leaves your chest feeling warm and light, and you realize that you don’t mind the company. Twenty questions become routine.

He’s the only one who gets it, of course.

He tells you about the Avengers, ignoring the way you scoff under your breath. Secretly, you’re only a little jealous. Not because you want that kind of prestige or even a fancy suit, but because at least there’s a group of freaks out there who know. "How come you didn’t tell me?" Peter asks you. He looks small on your couch despite his sixteen-year-old sleeper build and the fact that he’s taking up more than half of your space.

"What do you mean?"

"If you knew about Spider-Man this whole time… why didn’t you say something?"

"What, like I was supposed to seek you out on the street with a mask on?"

He gives you a pointed look. "You had a feeling about me. In school. Didn’t you?"

You don’t answer, which, to Peter, is an answer in itself.

"I didn’t want to be any trouble. It’s my burden to deal with," you say slowly, blinking up at him.

Burden. Peter smooths the word over in his mind and watches the way your nimble fingers pick at the threads of your sweater. He suddenly feels guilty for pestering you with questions, especially after the trauma of today.

"It’s not a burden," he says carefully. You don’t protest, but he knows there’s a certain level of repression inside you that won't let you give this part of yourself up. As if his knowing about your powers would only be that — knowing. He keeps staring at your fingers.

"You don’t have web shooters?" He gestures to your hands.

"Comes from my fingertips."

"No fucking way. You gotta show me."

"You saw it today," you chuckle as you take a breath.

"Not really," he pouts. The amber-brown of his eyes is annoyingly irresistible, and you know it because of how hot the back of your neck suddenly feels. There’s a hint of a taunting smile on his face, as if he knows.

You take him to the fire escape outside your bedroom window. It’s barely past five and it’s already gotten dark. Luckily, your bedroom faces an empty alley.

"I’m not some circus act, just so you know," you warn him.

"Please," he tuts. "If anything, we both are. Two arachno-freaks."

"You should rebrand as that," you say with a grin.

You shoot a web to the fire escape railing above you, holding yourself up and swinging like you're in P.E. climbing a rope. You feel ridiculous, to say the least. You quickly shoot more webs after a quick scan of your surroundings to swaddle yourself in something resembling a cocoon. It hangs like a playground swing from the metal above.

"Holy shit! Does it ever… run out? Do you get web blocks? Does it come out of anywhere else–"

"I’m not answering that." Your cheeks heat up at the insinuation.

"Sorry, just curious." He holds his palms up in defense, then reaches to touch a fingertip to the silk holding you together. It feels soft like cotton candy and is much less sticky than what came out of his web shooters.

He asks you to swing with him, and for some reason, you say yes. You don’t like to swing very much, and if you do, you try to look for construction sites or abandoned scaffolding to evade attention. Tonight, however, the New York City lights look warm against the velvety backdrop of the sky, and you decide that flying through the air with someone else feels better than doing it alone.

____

He doesn’t understand your desire to stay under the radar. Whenever he brings it up, you take the opportunity to bring up the New York City disasters that have gone underway before the two of you even graduate. If anything, you’ve been a decent backup, but you refuse to be in the public eye. You don’t want to be Spider-girl.

But you don’t mind swinging around the city in your handmade suit, spun and woven together with the silk that flows straight from your fingertips. It’s one thing that Peter’s jealous of, but it helps him when he needs to patch up a wound when he’s on the go with you.

Peter comes through your window with a red gash on his thigh. You can smell him before you see him.

"Ugh, you broke the streak. Five days without a scratch. That’s a record for you, Parker," you sigh, already rummaging through your drawers for the usual first-aid kit.

"I’m fine." He winces as he crouches down carefully on the floor. You’ve gotten good at minding your business and not asking about his wounds, at least not ones that aren’t too deep into the flesh. He knows it would only hurt you if you knew.

"And yet you’re here."

"I wanted to see you. You know I always want to see you."

You open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. You kneel before him, pouring hydrogen peroxide onto the gash as you dab gently with a hand towel. He hisses and grabs your forearm with more force than he intends to.

"You’ll be fine," you reassure him gently.

"Yeah. I could've done it, you know," he says as he carefully holds your gaze.

"‘S’fun sometimes," you reply without looking at him. Carefully, you wrap gauze around his leg. "When I was little, my neighbor and I used to play House, but it always turned into, like… Hospital. And I’d pretend to be a nurse and take care of her, I’d tuck her into bed, and I’d give her lollipops from my Halloween stash for being a good patient."

Peter chuckles. He wobbles slightly as he stands up with your help.

"Am I a good patient?"

"Mm. A very brave boy," you say as you pat his cheek.

"What, I don’t get a treat?"

"Your treat is staying alive." You take him by the wrist towards your living room couch.

He doesn’t know what he’d do without you. It’s not right for him to think of you as an extension of himself, but he often yearns for your presence like a phantom limb whenever you aren’t on patrol with him. He realizes you're the yin to his yang.

It excites him, the images of you two that end up on the Internet. How good you look together. You, on the other hand, dread any semblance of perception by the world.

"People are catching on, you know. Ned found a subreddit on you the other day," Peter murmurs into your lap.

You snort, rolling your eyes the way you always do. You fiddle with the soft strands of his hair. It’s second nature to you. "Ned needs to reduce his screen time tenfold."

"Rabbit."

You sigh dramatically at the nickname. He’d adopted it after the many jumpscares he’d give you when he’d sneak into your room at night. You’d become so accustomed to him that your spider-sense would dull when it came to Peter. He was your source of comfort.

"What, Pete?"

"Why don’t you patrol with me?"

"You know why." It’s too stressful. Too public. Too many run-ins with death that you can anticipate.

"It’s better when you’re around."

"You’re a big boy, Peter," you murmur. Your hand slides across his scalp again, this time with your fingertips settling in the space behind his ears. You aren’t looking at him; instead, you are watching the documentary on the television at a low volume. He crumples at your touch.

"May says you’re my guardian angel. Every time something really bad has happened, it always worked out because you were there."

"I mean, it probably helps when you have another Spider-person as a backup."

"I think she’s right, though."

You don’t say anything. You’re tempted to reply with something sardonic or self-deprecating. You put too much faith in me. But you can’t – he’s looking at you with something that you can’t fathom. Something earnest and entirely too fragile. You have to look away.

He hums, sighing into a tattered copy of Hamlet. "I can’t deal with any more Shakespeare."

"You’re such a slow reader despite being a goddamn genius."

"Did you just say something nice about me?" Peter raises a brow.

"Oh my God, relax, Big Bang Theory."

He scoffs and swallows down a smart-ass remark. A grin lingers in his mouth as he settles back into the book.

____

You’re apart from Peter for the first time since age sixteen. You don’t tell him – you don’t tell anyone – but you decide on an out-of-state university because you don’t want to feel tethered to him. Your friends consider you and Peter a package deal, and yes, he’s probably the first real best friend you’ve ever had, but the gnawing inside of you telling you that distance is needed doesn’t stop.

You, the black sheep, are the antithesis of your hero of a best friend, despite being bitten by the same spider. You’ve always wondered if your story was supposed to play out like some sort of Shakespearean tragedy because of your bond with Peter, so you decide to take your mind off of it. At least it won’t be as painful as severing it completely.

It feels free to be away from all the chaos. In Rhode Island, you can focus on your art and fold your feelings away in a neat little envelope. You’d rather die than let any of that out, especially when Peter insists on such frequent FaceTime calls.

Sometimes, you fall asleep to the sound of his voice. He tells you about taking a train down to Providence in the middle of September to visit you like some kind of long distance boyfriend. The thought makes something in your stomach bloom and stagger in the same way. He doesn’t keep his promise – chem labs are already kicking his ass halfway to Thanksgiving break, not to mention the crime rate in New York City rockets beyond normal.

Thanksgiving comes, and both of you are the same. Peter is exactly as boyish as you left him three months ago, though his brown hair has grown longer and he wears blue-light readers to help with the mild headaches he gets from staring at screens.

He isn't attached to your hip like you expected. Your week off is filled with missed texts and a marathon of TV shows about broken women—the kind with dark humor and falling in love with priests.

The next time you see him, your roommate is out of town. It's not an unusual occurrence given how little she spends time in the dorm, always elsewhere with her new boyfriend.

Peter takes up so much space in your bed that you almost offer to push the two twin beds together, but the feeling of his warmth is too comforting. Propped against the wall, you’re hip-to-hip with him as you scroll through Netflix on your laptop.

You can feel him staring. It becomes routine, or maybe it’s your senses, but you can always tell when he’s merely observing you, watching you carefully like ripples on a pond. You've never really chastised him about it, but it doesn't help that you know he can tell when you're nervous. He has you memorized.

He likes the way you look when you concentrate. Sometimes, when you’re deep in thought, he likes to take his thumb and smooth out the ridges of your furrowed brows even though you end up swatting him away. When he does this now, you look up at him with wide, doe eyes.

"Still as indecisive as ever."

"I have to be, otherwise you’ll just put on Gilmore Girls," you scoff.

"You’re the one who showed me that!" Peter protests.

"And then it was the only thing you wanted to watch to the point where I genuinely considered locking you out of my Netflix account!"

He doesn’t bother to argue, instead resorting to poking you in the side. You squirm immediately, yelping as he continues. He flashes you a leering grin as you whine in dissent, flinching from the feather-like touch of his fingertips dancing across your skin.

"You’re so annoying," you huff, curling your body toward the wall.

"And you love it."

More than you’d ever know.

You pause, rolling your eyes at him. You contemplate kicking him again just to get a rise out of him, anything other than the short silence between you that feels more present than it should be. Your stomach feels warm at his proximity, but then again, Peter’s built like a human furnace anyway.

When you attempt to playfully shove him, he catches your wrist with quick reflexes until the two of you are tangled together. It’s easy to fight with him when you’re both running off the same biological fuel. When he ends up on top of you, you forget how to breathe.

The two of you stare at each other like this, as if frozen in time. It’s you who looks away first, then back to his big brown eyes, settling a palm to his cheek. You can feel how hard he is. You wonder if he knows.

It’s something you’ve only thought about in your subconscious, in dreams, or in moments when you’re bandaging his wounds. How would it feel to have his skin all over yours? It’s a selfish thought, but it rings in your brain without warning at times like these, times of such closeness. The spider bit the two of you for a reason. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.

It’s a curious thing for sure, but there are doors you don’t want to open yet.

"One episode and then I pick a movie," you mumble.

____

You don’t tell him about transferring when you come back for Christmas break. It feels embarrassing, despite knowing that he’d be ecstatic about the news. RISD proved to be too difficult for your one-track mind as you found yourself sleeping in more and more, flaking on the most rigorous of classes due to your mood. You’d successfully gotten into Pratt for the next semester and were fully moved out, thankfully. But when you see Peter in the arms of another, you wish you hadn't left.

You should’ve expected it, maybe. Peter had always had a thing for Michelle Jones but could never quite get past the friend zone. It seems as though your absence has nudged him further.

No, that feels too selfish to say.

But it’s still too difficult to bear in the loneliness of December, knowing that when the New Year’s parties hit, you’re still the black sheep. Even in a shiny little dress.

You don’t see him much over winter break, but he gets you a silver necklace for Christmas with a spider pendant hanging on it. It’s more sentimental than you expect, and it’s the nicest gift you’ve ever received. It certainly beats the Lego set you’d gotten for him.

Now, in your black cocktail dress, you smile dopily at Ned Leeds as the rest of the room counts down at the television, waiting for the ball to drop. It’s bittersweet when you remember last year’s countdown, in which Peter insisted the two of you swung out to Manhattan to watch the ball drop in person. You remember how much you wanted to kiss him then, but you didn’t. Thank God for his hero's anonymity and the impediment of his suit.

"Five, four, three, two, one – Happy New Year!"

Makeshift confetti falls to the ground as you watch him and MJ kiss. There’s enough champagne in your system for your heart to grow warm at the sight of it.

____

January is cold. Desolate. Even if you have your friends around you in New York, the place that feels most like home, you’ve come to realize. But there’s still something missing, something lacking. Like you’re inside a familiar place inside a dream.

You ignore the itch, learning to numb it with champagne. It worked on New Year’s, and now it’s been working for several weeks. You don’t leave your apartment.

Even though Peter Parker is a text or phone call away, you fade into the background of his life, watching him through newsreels and YouTube videos. You’re on his mind more than you’d expect. He doesn’t know why, though he does realize that your absence bothers him in small ways.

Sometimes, when he’s on patrol, he’s frustrated by his loneliness, especially in the dead of winter. You were never one to play the hero – he knew that – but it was still comforting to have someone to patch up his wounds or soften his fall. The webs that flow from your fingertips have always been strong, enough to form hammocks in between the corners of his bedroom or a makeshift suit.

And then there are the dreams. They feel real, vivid, and much too physical for something that his mind could conjure in his unconscious. You had only kissed him once before (in real life, that is), at a stupid basement party in the ninth grade, before the two of you were friends, but shortly after the initial spider bite. Although it’s something that’s only been brought up as a joke these past few years, Peter remembers vividly how hard his heart was pounding when the glass bottle landed on you after what felt like an excruciatingly long spin. He could never forget the feeling. He wonders if you feel the same.

It’s not something he should be thinking about right now. Especially when you’re not his girlfriend. He’d rather die a thousand deaths than have you know what you do to him in his dreams when you’re nothing but a reverie of your own silk-spun webs and soft, bare skin. You treat him like prey. He loves it.

Peter can nearly smell you, that sandalwood-citrus shampoo of yours, and your warm breath over his face. Your little whispers of praise, your tiny whimpers. The image of your eyes struggling to stay open while you’re underneath him is burned into his brain.

"I missed you," you say breathlessly. "Missed you so much."

God, how is this a dream? He can feel you so clearly. Until he doesn't, and he wakes up with a groan, an exhale, and an excess of sweat on his brow. Not to mention a dampness below him.

"Fucking Christ," he curses under his breath.

The ghost of you is on his bedroom ceiling, in the corner of his room. Something nearby smells like you, even though you haven’t been in his room in ages. This makes something in his chest hurt until he decides to get out of bed.

He wants to see you, but he feels guilty knowing what he's just dreamt about. He can’t help that the person that makes him feel the most human is the only other one who shares the venom in his blood.

Sometimes he follows you. It feels almost meditative for him to sit on a rooftop and watch you from the window of your favorite cafe, reading and writing and breathing. The brightness of his phone screen illuminates his face as his eyes scan over your contact. Your face smiles back at him, but there’s a distance considering the lack of texts between the two of you over the past month. He sighs as he zooms in on your location – the two of you had shared each others’ years ago and only found it convenient to keep.

Peter doesn’t know why he’s feeling all this yearning all of a sudden – sometimes he recognizes the feeling in his body and he thinks of you and he thinks of safety. Other times, like now, he knows that it only breeds guilt.

But he misses being quiet with you, misses the mundane intimacies of him poking you and you fixing his hair. All the small expressions you make with your face that only he notices. There’s something empty in the space he usually holds for you in his heart, and he doesn’t know why.

He has to see you. Maybe then, something in his brain will click, or he’ll see you as the old friend you’ve always been, and he can blame the heat in his body on his subconscious.

You’re predictable with your routine, because this afternoon, he finds you in your usual spot by the window at your favorite cafe again. You’re writing in your journal with your noise-canceling headphones on, so Peter’s presence is completely unknown to you. After he gets his coffee, he watches you from afar, just for a little bit.

As if on cue, you already know. The moment you skip a song and a millisecond of silence fills the space in your head, you feel him immediately. You always know when he’s around.

"Peter," you murmur without thinking. Your gaze is soft but carries the surprise of a deer caught in headlights.

"Hey," he smiles. "Mind if I sit here?"

He gestures to the armchair across from you, and you nod.

Peter knows how to coax your warmth from you, because within minutes, he has you talking about school, what’s on your mind, and why it feels better to be holed up in a cafe than sit miserably at home. You do the same for him, though you notice he’s more reserved for some reason – he’s tight-lipped about MJ, and doesn’t delve into the details of his hero work. He prefers to bombard you with questions instead, listening intently to your most recent fixations or the newest movie you saw alone in theaters.

"You replaced me yet, Rabbit?" he teases you.

"Never," you scoff, tipping your coffee cup to hide any embarrassment on your face. You haven’t heard him call you that in so long. "You know me. I’m a lone wolf."

"Pratt seems like your crowd though, no? No one at Midtown High was a match for you. You were way too cool."

"Mmm, true, yet you’re my best friend."

"Hey!"

Your laugh is like a song to him; he can’t help but smile ear to ear when he hears it.

"The only person who talks to me at school is this guy Cam from my ceramics class. He’s actually from Brooklyn so we took the train together to get home and he’s around for break, which is cool."

Peter’s face nearly goes cold at the sound of someone else’s name, though he stays composed.

"Fun. Are you two…" He gestures vaguely.

"We hooked up like, once, but I don’t really know where it’s going." You say it so nonchalantly like it’s an afterthought. You’re not even looking at Peter.

"If he fucks anything up, you know where to find me."

You smile, rolling your eyes in that bashful way you do when you shrug things off, and it’s more apparent to Peter now how much he adores all your little quirks and mannerisms. He realizes that he might have them all memorized.

"We’re actually going to a party tonight if you want to come. A friend of a friend’s birthday party in Manhattan, I think? I think her name was Anna?"

"Oh, my friend Gwen knows her and invited me!"

"Small world." You swallow down the image of Peter at the party with an ESU girl for a second, and it feels rough in your throat. But you’ll manage. You always do. "Is MJ coming?"

Peter shakes his head. "Ah, she’s in Philly visiting family. I’ll probably go with Gwen and her boyfriend Harry, though."

You feel shame in your relief. It’s sickening how much you have to bury your desire and your tenderness because you know better. You know that even though the two of you were bitten by the same spider, it doesn’t mean you’re necessarily compatible. Sometimes you think your attraction to Peter is some biological fluke determined by the cells in both of your bodies. And then you think, God, how can anyone look into his brown eyes and not feel a thing?

You're both warm in your chests as you part ways, waiting for your next meeting.

____

The night of the party, Peter revels in the sight of you wearing your spider necklace, which sparkles under the flashing lights of the penthouse apartment you’re both in. His mood dampens when he notices the tall boy attached to your hip like a guard dog.

It’s a stupid game and he knows it. The way he pretends not to see you or acknowledge your presence is cruel, but it feels safe for now. He doesn’t feel ready. He’s high off some gummy that Harry had given him an hour earlier, and it’s still fogging his senses, and even though he can be cloudy and nonchalant at this party, his paranoia precedes him. It feels like you’re everywhere.

He shouldn’t feel this way. Why does he feel this way? You’re his best friend and you have your own life that’s separate from his – he knew this would happen the moment he found out you were going to different colleges. Despite that, there’s a piece of you tethered to him that he can’t bear to cut off. It makes him feel sane, the parts of you that you’ve given him.

But now, he sees you laughing and swaying your hips with someone else’s hands resting on your waist and it makes his face burn.

"Dude," Gwen snaps her fingers in front of his face. Peter blinks back at her. "Are you good?"

"Yeah, sorry."

"Harry wanted to do a shot, you want to join?"

Peter nods numbly, following the blonde to the kitchen. He watches everyone else in the kitchen pour shots and drinks like they are rehearsed marionettes. Harry snaps him out of his daze once he slams down a shot glass full of vodka in front of him.

"Drink up, Parker!" Harry cheers.

The alcohol burns Peter’s throat, but he feels the head rush and the warmth. It feels good, makes him feel looser. Malleable. Invincible, maybe, if he took two or three more. But he knows he has to pace himself. He hates that his default setting is to look for you no matter where he is. But when he scans the room this time, you’re downing a glass of champagne alone.

Your body feels heavy at the moment, so you don’t register him plopping down on the couch next to you. You wake up to the sound of his voice as you always do.

"Hey, you."

"Hey."

Your glass of champagne is empty, so you take the beer bottle out of Peter’s hand without saying a word, and he lets you. He watches you gulp a bit of it down. Maybe you’re a little too drunk. Maybe you’re imagining the way his eyes scan your body.

You’re drunk enough to feel social, but truthfully, you’re deathly afraid of being alone with anyone right now. Being alone with someone would make you feel much too raw and vulnerable, so you convince Peter to introduce you to his friends that you’ve never met, and you try to cope with the fact that they look like they were cut straight out of a magazine.

"Peter talks about you all the time," Gwen gushes, sipping from her champagne flute.

"He does?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Of course," she nods incessantly.

"Only incredible reviews all around," Harry nods, drunkenly slinging an arm around Peter’s shoulders. The brunette smiles sheepishly, bashfully. You raise an eyebrow at him along with a coy smile.

"Should hope so," you tease. "He wouldn’t have gotten through high school without me."

It’s mostly a lie considering Peter was the star student and you were barely second to him. Maybe fifth or sixth. In a way, your words are true, because Peter’s agreeing with you.

You zone out as he starts a story from junior year and you have half the mind to chime in when needed. Harry suddenly puts a whisky coke in your hand and you don’t want to refuse out of politeness, but you know the mix of different alcohol will have your head banging in the morning. Peter downs half of his within a millisecond.

"What?" he asks when he notices you making a face.

"Since when do you drink so much?"

"It’s a party," he shrugs.

"Peter, when I brought you to your first party, you refused to drink anything that wasn’t a fruity canned cocktail. You won’t go near wine let alone whiskey."

"A semester at ESU changes you," Harry interjects. "He’s still a little fruity, though."

Peter chastises him as you and Gwen laugh. As the boys bicker, Gwen gets your attention. She asks you mundane questions, like your major, your zodiac sign, and what you thought of the season finale of White Lotus. You’re grateful when she beckons you to follow her to the kitchen to make another whiskey coke.

Her glossed lips twist to the side, eyes bright with a teasing glance. She has the ability to make you feel calm, almost excited to be there.

"He is obsessed with you," she sneers.

"What do you mean?"

"He just talked about you so much when we met him that I had to stalk your Insta, and I was like Jesus Christ, that makes so much sense. If I wasn’t with Harry I’d snatch you up myself. And then when I met his girlfriend and I was confused that it wasn’t you. Unless you’re doing that, like, exes-that-are-still-best-friends thing."

You blush and nearly choke on your drink. "Peter and I never dated."

"Seriously?"

You say nothing, only forcing an amused smile. You don’t know where to put her assumptions, but you sure as hell can’t keep them.

"I’m actually, uh, here with someone," you mutter, pretending to look around. Briefly, you lock eyes with Peter on the couch, who’s pretending to listen to Harry's rambling. Your eyes flit away quickly. "I think I might step outside for a smoke and look for him."

You don’t have to turn around to know that Peter’s eyes are following you. Or maybe you’re just drunk and projecting. Gwen’s bubbly nature makes her seem like the type to gossip, and just because your best friend happened to talk about you doesn’t mean that there was anything under the surface. But then you notice his slightly nervous energy tonight, the silver necklace around your neck, and the last time he visited you months before, when his body was so close to yours.

A pair of hands situate themselves on your waist and it makes you jump. The warmth feels different, as does the sudden smell of sharp cologne, and then you feel your heart drop the slightest bit when you hear his voice.

"Was looking for you," Cam slurs. You can smell the beer breath as he exhales on your neck, making you shiver.

"You sure? Because you’ve been MIA for like forty-five minutes."

You try to keep your voice even, sighing when he plants a kiss on your neck. Any animosity in your tone is completely ignored.

"I was catching up with some people that I wanted to introduce you to," he says, tugging you along by the wrist like a child. You pull up a chair to a firepit surrounded by a group of strangers, and the charade of icebreakers returns. There’s no point in remembering anyone’s name.

You think about returning inside to look for Peter or maybe Gwen and Harry, but being on Cam’s lap is distracting you. At some point, a joint a passed around, and the feeling of the boy’s arms around you makes it easy to melt into nothing.

____

You’re right. You always are. Peter Parker doesn’t drink, and he’s never drunk this much in his entire life. He’s been sitting in the bathtub for… how long? He doesn’t know. All he knows is that his senses were dulled to the point of detachment and he needed to get alone to ground himself.

He’s so out of it that he doesn’t realize someone’s knocking on the door of the bathroom, and his reaction time is too slow before Harry barges in.

"Are you hiding in the bathtub?" Harry squints.

"No, I’m just… hangin’ out," Peter stammers.

Harry snaps out of the facade of a confused daze and shrugs, unbuckling his belt with nonchalance in front of the toilet.

"Dude!"

"What? I’m turned around!"

Sighing, Peter looks around his surroundings. Generic brand shampoo and conditioner. A deformed bar of soap. A red solo cup with clear liquid. He remembers suddenly – he’d filled an empty cup he found with sink water before getting in the tub.

His brain swims with dizziness and mild nausea that mix up his stomach. Gulping down the water, his throat burns immediately, only to realize that it isn’t water at all. It’s fucking vodka and seltzer. Harry’s turned around again, cackling before washing his hands.

"Idiot."

"Fuckingshitjesusfuckingchrist," Peter groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You should just drink straight vodka at this point, man."

"Oh, I do," Harry agrees. He crouches down, squatting to meet Peter at eye level. A warm palm taps Peter’s cheek. "You good, bro?"

"Mmm," Peter nods. His breathing turns shallow as he hunches over, pulling his knees into his chest.

"Jesus, you need to get home, don’t you?"

"‘m fine. You go home."

"Gwen’s been nagging me to for the past ten minutes, so I might. I’d let you crash on the couch, but we’re getting up early to go upstate. How are you getting home, bro?"

Harry frowns when he realizes Peter is barely listening. "Pete!"

He grimaces at Harry’s constant fidgeting. With an annoyed sigh, he shoos the other boy away with flailing arms.

"Heard you," he slurs. "I’ll– I’ll share an Uber with Y/N."

Harry sighs with exasperation, pulling Peter’s arm forcefully to get him out of the tub and down to the living room of the house. Peter is dizzy in his vision, clumsy in his movements, but finds clarity when he glances towards the couch and sees you sitting there with furrowed brows.

"Peter? Are you okay?" you ask.

"Yeah, absolutely not," Harry says. "Gwen and I gotta head home and we’re leaving early tomorrow so he can’t crash. You guys are like, neighbors, right?"

You swallow a lump in your throat, briefly turning your head to glance back at Cam, then back at Peter. He looks at you with a guilty cadence, though his eyes lull with a tiredness that is unusual for him. He’s corpse-like, still hanging onto Harry’s shoulder like a lifeline. It makes the pit of your stomach stir.

It’s unlike him, to be this drunk. The only other time Peter has been this drunk was once in high school, when he was slurring his words all night and determined to clutch you like a teddy bear in his twin-sized bed. You recall his warmth and how his post-puberty figure appeared gargantuan to your body. Foreign, but warm. Comforting. When you think about taking Peter home tonight, you feel like you aren’t allowed to lay next to a body that doesn’t belong to you.

"Yeah, I’ll take him home."

____

"Coulda swung home myself," the boy mumbles. You hit him on the arm and give him a chastising look. Thankfully, your current Uber driver speaks a limited amount of English, not to mention the radio is on blast.

"You couldn’t have. You’re so fucking drunk, you’d kill yourself," you hiss in a low tone.

"Not if you were with me."

"Well, I wouldn’t be. I wasn’t even gonna go home tonight."

"Ah. Of course. Cam,” he exasperates. “Is he your boyfriend?"

You sigh. "No, he’s not."

"Right, you don’t… you don’t do boyfriends," Peter murmurs, rubbing his face with the palm of his hand.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing."

The car stops in front of Peter’s apartment building.

"Thank you," you say stiffly to the Uber driver as you drag Peter out of the car. The elevator ride is awkward and quiet, as is the fumbling of keys when Peter tries to unlock the door.

He leans on your body as you coerce him into his bedroom, with him thumping onto his bottom bunk.

"Jesus. I feel like if Richie Rich called you an Uber himself you could’ve easily made it up the elevator by yourself. Right, Pete?"

"Mhmm. He’s such. A worry wart. For some rea–" Peter makes a gulping sound that makes your face pale. Immediately, you grab his trash bin and place it between his feet.

"‘m not gonna puke."

"I think you might, Peter."

He pauses and examines you as you kneel in front of him. He’s so drunk, so awfully drunk, but he has enough sense in him to take the caution that the anxious voice in the back of his head commands. But fuck, you look so pretty. He doesn’t know what to do about it.

Peter takes a strand of your hair in his hands and curls it around his finger. His shallow breaths feel louder than they should be. Or maybe they’re yours. He can’t really tell.

"What?"

"Nothing," he shrugs. "I won’t vomit. I promise."

You sigh.

"I should get going–"

"Can you stay for a little?"

Swallowing, you nod. You get into bed with him, because, quite frankly, you’ve had your fair share of alcohol tonight, and laying down in Peter’s warm bed makes you want to melt off the bone.

"I'm sorry for fucking up your night." Peter turns to lie on his side and drapes an arm carefully around you. His hand is feather-bare on your hip.

"You didn’t."

"You were gonna go home with Cam."

"It’s fine, Peter. I wanted to make sure you were safe."

"Like a chore."

"Not like a chore."

"Yeah, okay."

He does that thing again – holds a strand of your hair in his hands. He runs his fingertips nimbly across your scalp as if he’s handling an injured bird. As if he’s afraid you’d bite.

Your eyes are huge, like flying saucers. He used to say that all the time, especially whenever you came to his apartment after experimenting with any new drugs. You only felt safe with him – you had told him that – and he took care of you and your big eyes and your tendencies toward erratic behavior. He always knew how to calm you down. And now, in your adult lives, you were doing it for him.

You let him keep his hands in your hair and he doesn’t know why. There’s a theory he wants to test – one that he dreams about even when he knows he shouldn’t. He thinks about it in vulnerable moments. He considers that maybe this is a vulnerable moment.

His fingertips trace your face between the edge of your eyebrow and the baby hairs on your hairline. He taps along your temple gently, smoothing across the softness of your skin until he sculpts down your cheek and jaw. He blinks once, then twice. And then he rests the pad of his thumb on the corner of your mouth.

Almost automatically, you part your lips. Your mouth is pink, dusted with a purplish-red in the center from the merlot you’d drank hours before, and he wants to lick it off you.

He feels your heart beating, too, and you can hear his. It's a loud bang that resonates in between your eardrums. It’s that shared venom that makes your bodies so acquainted with one another. You briefly consider whether a human body can overheat and burn away simply by being touched by another. You wonder how human the two of you can really be.

You close your eyes.

"What are you doing?" you whisper. Your voice is gossamer-thin, barely there, but you’re so close to him that he hears it so clearly.

"Whatever you want." His voice is dripping honey.

You shake your head, still with your eyes closed. Peter’s hand descends to your jaw, thumb on your bone, with the rest of his fingers warming up your neck. You feel like you might just choke on the feeling of it.

"No, that’s not fair. That’s not… okay."

"What?"

"You’re drunk, Peter. Don’t do that to me. Please."

"What am I doing?"

Your face scrunches up as your eyes open to look at him with a pained expression. You have to close them again. You don’t want to look at him. You want his hands off of you, so you push them away.

"You’re with MJ."

"I… I know."

Your face is crumpled as you inch out of his bed. You’re back to kneeling on the floor in front of him.

"Please don’t leave," Peter whispers.

"I’m tired. I’ll sleep on the top bunk," you mumble. You try not to let him catch you sniffling.

"Goodnight.” You don’t respond.

He falls asleep shortly after and smells your perfume even in his dreams. When he wakes up, he smells you. But you’re nowhere to be found. There’s only the cold air coming from a crack of his window left slightly open.

____

It’s not your fault, but you’ve broken his heart a million times. The night of the party was the most recent one. To be fair, he had also broken your heart. He was just too fucking drunk to remember most of it.

You’ve become a ghost, barely texting Peter back, and when you do, your responses are short and clipped. You don’t have much time to hang out, and he realizes he doesn’t either, not when he has MJ to spend time with along with his Spider-Man duties.

But he would make time for you if you wanted it. He wonders if you know that. He feels too ashamed to tell you that himself.

It’s been like this before, and he’s been able to cope. The way you’re on his brain and won’t leave —stuck on him like a parasite. It’s his fault, he decides, not yours. He knows he’s not being fair. Not to you, not to MJ, not to himself. But he keeps it all in and hopes it doesn’t boil over.

Truthfully, Peter wants to avoid everyone. He understands now why you abhor winter to the degree that you always have. The desolation is too much to bear when there’s not much sunlight in January to activate dopamine receptors, so Peter sleeps in longer than he should. Late enough for Aunt May to get on his case about it.

"Something’s up with you," MJ accuses him on a Thursday evening. It’s one of their ritual movie nights with pizza and wine.

"Huh? Nothing’s up," Peter shrugs.

"No, I know you. Something’s wrong."

"I’m fine, Em." A lie.

It’s a miracle that Michelle Jones sees through Peter’s bullshit because it means that she has the incentive to protect herself from any future bullshit that may break her later on. Peter is too numb to process any of it. There was the refusal of admission, the attempt to keep up the wall of his emotions, which crashed down soon enough by the time MJ was out of the door.

He thinks he should call you, but he doesn’t.

____

Peter is used to scrapes and bruises. He’s seen more than enough charred flesh than a nineteen-year-old should. You had never asked to be his caretaker, but over the course of years, that was what you became. His guardian angel.

He used to make excuses to come over after patrol, trying to coax you out of your nest of a room for just an evening. He'd always known you were far more talented than you gave yourself credit for when it came to spider abilities, but it felt more like a curse than a gift for you to bear.

Some nights, he dreams of you falling stories beneath him. Your face is covered in rubble and ash, and although his nightmares often start with this, he knows that somehow, it’s his fault. It feels visceral, the burning in his calloused hands. Torn lycra to show the dirt underneath his fingernails. Hot tears dripping.

He starts taking that Ambien you gave him years ago.

After that, each day passes like he’s trapped in a nightmarish purgatory. No, that’s an exaggeration. He’s just a victim of a New York winter, and he misses you more than he wants to admit to himself or anyone else.

"I can take care of myself." And with that, the image of you disappears.

"I know," he murmurs softly. He’s always known. It is insignificant in comparison to how badly he wants to take care of you if you let him. Your voice echoes in the cavern of his room. You get farther away by the second until you disappear completely, and he evidently wakes up.

Even in your worst state, he’s obsessed with your honeyed skin. It doesn’t matter the number of bruises or cuts – he caresses them all with his nimble fingertips, and he’s ready to kiss them until they heal. He thinks about this sometimes, how much he cares for you and your body. What he'd do if you just let him in, let him devour you however he pleases, and it disgusts him.

In his dreams where you’re hurt, he’s willing to sacrifice whatever he can so that you can revert to your clean, unbothered state. I’d never let anyone break you. It’s a prayer for him. One that he whispers in your ear whenever he can, at least in these dreams. In reality, he knows that he has to let you go because he knows you. Knows how much you want to be free and alone. How you can take care of yourself. You’re not a damsel in distress – you never have been. But Peter feels like he was made to care for you. It would gut him all the same regardless of whether you loved him or not, and he was willing.

When it’s real, he doesn’t know what to do. He didn’t ever think the two of you would be in this position.

He’s been in enough battles to know how these things end. Mr. Stark had walked him through it all and been by his side while the rest of the Avengers repaired the other broken bits of the universe.

Right now is one of those unique times, the quiet and wretched ones, where Peter is contemplating breath after breath before imagining the full picture. Shambles of the street he’s in. The ache of his bruised body and the blood that he sees from yours, that he shouldn’t have seen, because you said it yourself. You’re not a fucking hero. So why is your blood streaked on the palm of his hands?

The distance between you and Peter doesn’t matter – it never does. The moment you’d felt a dread stirring in your stomach, there was a sharp pain in your head that refused to leave unless the working adrenaline in your body was satiated. It wasn’t the same adrenaline that circulated within you from a night of debauchery – instead, it felt like poison. A compulsory kind of pain, a sharp jolt to your senses. Tonight, you’d felt Peter in danger, and it would’ve killed you if you couldn’t get to him. He'd been the destination you'd been dead set on by the end of the night because of your spider instincts.

The police broadcast was too muffled for you to understand much of it, but you picked out the parts where Spider-Man was mentioned and followed through on them. Although you didn’t fall into the shadow of his hero work, you still kept enough tabs on Peter to know where he would usually be on patrol. It wasn’t like he knew, or that you’d ever told him, but when he was starting out as another guard dog for the Avengers in high school, you needed to at least know his approximate location in the event that something went terribly wrong.

An explosion blasts in the center of a park, where the two of you would meet in the middle between Queens and Stark Tower. This is where you lay your courage down. This is where you find Spider-Man’s mangled body before anyone else does.

"Peter," you huff. "S’gonna be okay. You with me? I’m gonna make sure you’re okay."

He’s just less than conscious, the stretch of his animated eyes limited by his weakness. When he sees your face, however, his face glows – not that you can see it through his mask.

He says your name with a fervor that surprises you. His voice is raspy.

"‘m fine. I have to stay," he grunts, his pain palpable. You know that he’s telling the truth, but you don’t want to leave him alone in his misery.

"Peter. You’re hurt."

"You go home. I’ll come find you later. Just let me–"

"You’re fucking limping."

You had always carried yourself like a feather-like, lithe ghost. Quiet, whereas Peter was bold, despite the fact that his anxious nature had rendered him a boyish thing all these years. This is why he’s surprised that you carry him easily with your supernatural strength. He forgets that you have the same abilities as him. If anything, he’d think you were stronger than him in every way.

Even with his thick skin, he melts into something malleable, comfortable. The solace of your arms makes him feel better already.

A pang of small guilt rots away within him, knowing the circumstances of your last meeting. You’re too good. He didn’t deserve to be saved by you, to be patched up with your nimble fingers like he had been treated when he was younger and more naive.

"I can make it to my place, it’s okay," he rasps gently.

You don’t have to say anything, because bullshit radiates through the stern expression of your eyes, your mouth in a grimace. You had always been stubborn and today isn’t an exception. With your webs, you crochet a path for him toward your home, lifting and catching the boy effortlessly as you swing.

A gentle sigh escapes his mouth when the two of you crawl into the safety of your fire escape. The night is quiet behind you. When he looks at you, you have to look away, fixing your hair nervously or occupying your gaze anywhere but in his direction. His eyes are poignant in their longing, though you’re unsure of what he could be thinking. If he’s sorry about before. If he’s ashamed.

Your wispy webs wrap around the parts of him that hurt, but you wince when you check on him to see that the white fibers are slowly saturated with the dark crimson of his open wounds.

"Peter, you have to wash up," you whisper. "Shit’s gonna get infected. I can put some gauze on you after you shower."

He nods wordlessly when you ask him if he can manage the shower on his own. He feels vulnerable, and although your presence is always desired by him, he finds relief in the hot steam of your shower, alone with his thoughts. He’s still shaken from the explosion. Not completely catatonic, but tense. As if he isn’t in his body at all.

When Peter emerges from the bathroom, he looks like a stranger. Scars adorn his sides. Your face crumples at the sight of his fresh wounds.

"C’mere."

It doesn’t take you long to fix him up, cleaning his cuts and wrapping gauze around his stomach and chest. His quiet grunts startle you, as if he's a wild animal. Eyes screwed shut, brows cinched in pain. A heavy exhale and a mumbled apology followed.

You forgive him with a soft touch and a hushed whisper. He wishes the ache would stop. He wishes he could lie on your bed and have you whisper in his ear all night until the sound of your voice lulls him to sleep.

There aren’t many words exchanged, and you want to ask him why. If you did something. But then you think about the images on the news and his withered face, and you decide not to probe the sphere of trauma surrounding him. Peter has probably gone through more in the last twelve hours than you have in a week.

You stop him before he tries to make it out of your bedroom door and towards the living room.

"I don’t mind sleeping on the couch, I’ve done it before."

"It’s like sleeping on a rock, Parker. You just gone through God knows what," you chide. "Just… get in here."

As he breathes in and out, he nestles in your shoulder, his clean hair tickling your bare skin. There’s a nasty guilt that lurches from your sternum. As if you were the reason for his pain. For the state of his body. And you think back to the desperate look in Peter’s eyes the night you took him home from the party. Were you too cruel, then?

It’s like he steals the words from your mouth. He beats you to it.

"I’m sorry," Peter murmurs. His amber eyes blink up at you, unfathomable. You flash him a downturned grin.

"For what?"

"I feel like… there’s been a distance between us lately. And I don’t want that, because you’re my best friend. And now you’re taking care of me when you don’t have to. I just wanted you to know that I really appreciate it. That I, um, lo–," he stammers. He chews on his bottom lip. "You’re really good."

"‘m not all that good, Peter."

But of course, you are, he protests in his head. You are the moon and the stars and everything in between.

"I’m sorry for not being around."

"Not just your fault," you shrug. "Phone works both ways."

He knows you better than you think because, within seconds, his palm rests softly on your cheek, where he feels a hot tear.

"What’s up, Spidey?" he asks you. It makes you laugh.

"Shut up." You shake your head, trying to hide your face. The feeling of his thumb rubbing your cheek makes the tears flow even more. "I wouldn’t know what I’d do if something bad happened to you. If I couldn’t get to you. Or if you – if you were gone."

"I’m okay, Rabbit. We’re okay."

"Yeah," you chuckle, trying to hide your tears.

"Couldn’t get rid of me if you tried."

You feel warmer in his grasp. His small breaths fall on your arm as his body curls up next to you. He’s bigger than he’d been before back when you were teenagers. The jaw is chiseled and sharp. Not as soft and boyish as you once knew. With your senses, you can discern the steadiness of his heartbeat as his chest rises and falls into slumber. You fall asleep soon after, dreamless but full of warmth.

____

Waking up next to him is nothing new, but it’s been years. You never thought anything of it when the two of you were sixteen, staying up all night reading creepypastas and watching movies until you’d fall asleep on top of each other by four in the morning.

After a night’s sleep, Peter's sullen face is a bit brighter despite his dark circles. His limbs are entangled in yours, bodies fused together. Yin and yang. You can only assume that this is how it will always be.

You keep mental notes of him like trinkets. The uneven slant in his left eyebrow. The faint freckles dotted along his nose, the one near the corner of his mouth. The faint shadow of hollowed-out cheeks. Peter is still half-boy to you, and half-man, but you didn’t want to come to terms with it. Maybe he was something else. Half-ghost. Half-angel.

Slowly, over the course of a few weeks, he comes back to you again. Sitting together and reading at a cafe. The occasional 3 am swing. Walking around high at the 7-11.

"Did you like Rhode Island?" he asks over a joint one night.

You hum for a second, trying to come up with an acceptable answer. It wasn’t that you hated being in Rhode Island. It was that you hated being away from him.

So instead, you shrug. "It was nice to get away from everything. Providence is still a city, but it isn't as large as all this–”

You trail off, making a vague gesture with your hands. Chaos, Peter presumes.

"Less overwhelming?"

"Sure," you say, nodding. "I missed being home, though."

I missed you.

Peter passes you the joint. His brain feels fuzzy. Warm. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He massages your ankle absentmindedly.

"I get it," he says, breaking the silence.

"You get what?"

"Wanting to leave. I've been thinking about it," Peter shrugs, his eyes squinting in the late afternoon sun. "Sometimes I wish we could pack our bags and go to the countryside. See some cows and shit."

We. We. We.

"There are cows upstate," you snort.

"You know what I mean."

"We can do a road trip."

"You can’t drive."

"I am aware and perfectly fine with being a passenger princess. In fact, I’m looking forward to it," you grin.

He yanks your ankle this time, causing you to slip from where you’re sitting on the pavement. Giggling, you swat away his hands, but he’s too quick, untying your shoelaces as you kick and thrash.

"Honestly, it’s probably better for society if you never get behind the wheel," Peter teases. He dodges you when you try to kick him in the shin.

"Oh, but you can be? You get so distracted so easily! Whenever you’d practice driving, you’d miss so many exits or be too anxious to merge on the highway."

"Okay, well, you’re just a force of distraction," he shrugs, throwing his hands up in defeat. "You have that effect on people."

You look at him quizzically, your eyes narrowing. If there’s anything behind his statement, he doesn’t show it on his face. Peter knows his cheeks are burning, however.

There are more moments like these. Ever since you’d rescued Peter that night, he’s grown accustomed to spending hours of his day idly looking for you, learning your class schedule, and following you home like a pet when it’s time to unwind. He stays for hours like he used to when you were kids, and although he always thinks he’s overstaying his welcome, you don’t seem affected.

You curl into him more these days, like a sunflower stretching toward the morning glow. There are more lingering touches, here and there. You have to remind yourself not to get too comfortable, but God, he makes it so easy.

So the burning question pops out during a marathon of Chainsaw Man.

"Does MJ care that we hang out so much?" you blurt out. He looks at you like you have three heads. Also, his mouth is full.

"Um, webrobrup," he mumbles. He frowns as he looks down. Hot Cheeto fingers.

You mock him, of course.

"English, yeah?"

He chuckles as he finishes scarfing it all down. He shyly licks his fingertips, and you have to stop yourself from staring at the way his fingers enter his mouth. Ugh, gross. This is hardly supposed to be hot.

"We broke up."

You keep a straight face. It’s not like you’re excited or anything. You realize you shouldn’t be surprised because… why else would he be so available to you lately?

"Shit. You really fumbled, then."

"Shut up," he laughs.

"Seriously. Who else is gonna wanna put up with you?" You both know the answer to that.

"It was mutual," he says, shrugging. "I’ve got all my Spider-man shit, she’s getting into a bunch of extracurriculars and even a research internship even though we’re literally first years."

"Classic MJ."

"Yeah."

"We’ll get you back on the market, buddy," you tease, patting his head like a dog. A coy smile lights up your features. It makes something inside him melt.

"I’m not a piece of meat."’

You click your tongue.

"Oh, right, you’re an insect."

"Hey, so are you!"

____

You used to think it was a kind of twin telepathy, the magnetism to Peter that you felt. Bitten by the same spider and entangled in the same web. You realize as you grow older that it’s more than a platonic bond. It feels like wanting to share the same skin.

Or maybe it’s the wine talking.

It’s not your job to keep Peter afloat at the party right now, but both of you remember too well how the last party went. He continually sips water in between gulps of whiskey like a paranoid freak, which you tease him about. Maybe it’s just the darkness of his eyes under this light, but his pupils look wide and dilated.

It’s almost March. You’d both endured a proper New York winter, which usually extends until April if you’re lucky, but global warming has other plans. It's warm enough for you to pair one of your favorite dresses with an oversized Carhartt jacket that used to belong to Peter before the bite bulked him up significantly. You fiddle with the black velvet wrapped around your body as you pretend to listen to banal conversations, leaning your head into Peter’s bicep.

You keep picking at loose threads obsessively. You think about your fingertips and their webs. You think that maybe you should take up crocheting to distract your hands from their restlessness.

Peter grabs your hand away from you, squeezing it slightly, not even looking at you. His flushed palm rests against yours. Gently rubbing your thumb between your finger divots

If you were a cat, Peter would imagine you purring right about now. He wants to take you into his lap, stroke your hair while the alcohol subsides in both of your systems. The thought of you on top of him causes his cock to twitch slightly. His rose-colored cheeks are from the whiskey, he reassures himself. An affirmation. He lets go of your hand.

He knows that this isn't the time or place for such thoughts, so he makes an effort to push the desires down. He knows they'll come up again when the whiskey leaves his veins, but at least he'll be of sober mind.

Christ, he feels like he's at a middle school dance. Especially when you run off with a spring in your step to socialize with some girls you recognize from school. The smell of your hair lingers next to him. It's sweet and slightly floral, a scent that makes him think of when you were kids.

His ears perk up like a dog's when you call his name, reaching out to him so that you can introduce your best friend. He has the right mind to be polite, even funny at times, but he knows he pales in comparison to your current charisma, which contrasts with your usual wallflower nature.

Peter likes watching you talk, and you like that he watches you so intently. When you know he's watching, it's easy to deadpan some drunken jokes and elaborate superfluous tall tales from your high school days. His eyes are bright, and his bottom lip is chewed in between his teeth.

Suddenly, he gets to be alone with you in the kitchen. Your scent permeates the air. He could drown in it.

“Rabbit," you whine petulantly. "Swing me home."

"How drunk are you?" he chuckles with adoration.

"Not very. Just tired, s'all," you respond with a yawn. You scrunch your nose. "Can I sleep at yours?"

Peter looks at you with a soft gaze. "Of course, angel."

Angel. He's never called you that before. You decide that you like the sound of it.

By the time midnight comes around, you're barefoot in his bedroom, black velvet spinning loosely around your figure. In Peter's blurred vision, you look like a friendly apparition, one that particularly favors "Champagne Coast" by Blood Orange.

"Come into my bedroom, come into my bedroom," you quietly sing along as you sway your hips.

"You're already in my room."

Your smile beams at him, huge and illuminating, and impossible to look away from. Peter wishes that he could bottle up this moment to revisit it, or maybe live in it for the rest of his life. The sweetest way to exist.

Your body sinks to his level -- no, collapses -- as you roll over his heavy frame and rest yourself on your back. Your hair fans out like you're underwater. Your lips are red and wine-colored, freshly bitten. When you turn your head toward Peter, his hand plays with the exposed nape of your neck, fingertips grazing the creases of your skin.

"You used to be so gangly, you know," you murmur. Your voice is lower than usual.

"Okay, well, I'm not anymore."

"I could totally still take you in a fight." Still refers to the times when the two of you would attempt something along the lines of combat training, if combat training was just you unleashing your hotheadedness with your mutant powers instead of with your fists. If you weren't so agile, maybe Peter would've had a chance of winning.

"I'd like to see you try, angel."

It's decided -- you are on top of him, knees bent around his waist as you wrestle. The fabric of your dress pools around your waist in a way that feels sacrilegious. Peter has his hand on your thighs, and his touch feels white-hot to both of you, so he closes his eyes, tries to focus on swatting you away like a bat instead. When he opens his eyes, he meets your devilish ones, gleeful that you've managed to pin his arms above his head.

It would take two inches to break this spell of separation. He keeps trying to keep this bubble intact because the last time he tried to pop it, the look on your face made him want to dig a hole and lay in it forever.

Peter feels sorry for many things. He feels sorry for the times he's intruded, when he's made Mr. Stark angry, for the times he couldn't be there for you. He feels sorry that you had to take care of him when he wanted to do that for you.

Right now, however, Peter doesn't feel sorry at all. The slight twitch of your pulse, the way you smell, the curve of your bare shoulders -- it's all too tempting for him to feel sorry for. So he kisses you.

He's surprised when you nearly bite him back. You inhale sharply, pressing your body against him as you let go of his wrists and rest your palms on his jaw instead. Your kiss is fervent, desperate.

His brow cinches in confusion when you pull away.

"Wha--"

"Fuck."

"What is it?" He frowns.

"I owe Ned twenty bucks."

"What?"

"I just remembered. At graduation, he was like, teasing me that we were gonna get together, and we bet on who would make the first move. I was just entertaining him, but you know how that kid gets about twenty dollars."

"So you thought you were going to make the first move, then?”

“I mean, yeah. How was I supposed to know that MJ was going to cuff you before I did?”

“You snooze, you lose, I guess,” he deadpans.

“You don’t even fucking deserve me, you little freak,” you taunt, tickling his exposed midriff.

“God, I know. I’ve known that for a while. Too bad I want you regardless.”

He smiles as he captures your lips again, tasting sweet and smoky at the same time. He coaxes you onto your back and you revel in his body heat and the way his large hands grab the plush of your thighs, pushing and pulling your skin taut. It’s so erotic that it almost feels dirty.

You kiss him back like he’s your last meal while you roam your hands under his shirt, then to his protruding collarbones, then experimentally, to the tufts of his chestnut hair. You pull a bit too hard due to your eagerness and he lets out a mewl that you never could’ve imagined to come out of him.

“You like that, don’t you?” you taunt darkly. “Is that why you always want me to scratch your head when we watch movies?”

“I don’t care what you do as long as you’re touching me,” he breathes out, like a confession. “Don’t care how you touch me, s’long as it’s you.”

A tepid blush soaks your face. You shut him up with another kiss. He licks at your bottom lip, groaning softly at the feeling of your soft body against his.

“You’re so pretty, Peter,” you whisper.

“You are.”

Before you can react, you hitch a breath in surprise when you find that his hands have fully reached above the hem of your dress and onto the bare skin of your hip, toying with the elastic of your underwear. You part your legs, bending your knees so that you can pull the fabric off.

He sighs as his fingers tease the slot of your cunt, which grows wetter and wetter with every touch. Your sensitivity makes you squirm a little. He can tell so easily that you’re falling apart for him. He loves it.

You nearly whine when he takes away his fingers from you. Instead, he towers over your body, pulling your legs toward him as he pulls up the hem of your velvet dress and cascades kisses on your knees. He slowly works his way up to your thighs, biting gently, then hard. Meanwhile, his hands roam the perimeter of your chest and your ribs, all soft and pliable for him. You’ll be delighted when you wake up to a bruise on your thigh stuck in the shape of Peter Parker’s mouth.

A shiver lacerates your lower body all the way up to your neck – you feel it, viscerally. All from his mouth. He slots his tongue onto the bud of your clit going slowly just to watch you squirm.

“Please,” you beg.

“Please what?” His eyes are as dark as the sky. As dark as your dress.

“Your– your mouth. I need it. Please. More.”

Peter’s grip on your thighs tightens as his face moves closer to your center, licking incessantly as you cry out. You attempt to muffle your sounds with your hand covering your mouth, biting the skin on your palm. Your blood is hot, pumping hard, all the way down to your swollen clit, and he treats you like a man starved.

“Oh my God,” you gasp. “More, please. Pleasepleaseplease.”

He listens to you, forcing his ring and middle finger into your cunt and curling upward. Your legs shake involuntarily when he does this and it takes everything in him to not stop just so he can see the look on your face head-on. You look so beautiful right now.

“Gonna cum, Pete. Fuck.”

He closes his eyes as he savors your sweet taste. He feels it when you cum as if it’s happening in his body, too. A jolt to the sense. A vivacious rumble. Your mouth is slack, jaw falling open with your eyes screwed shut as you finish, and Peter towers over you to watch. He’s never seen you like this. He wants to keep the image of it forever.

You thank him with a messy kiss, not caring about the remnants of your lipstick. Your hands attack him, teeth nipping at his earlobe as you help him undress. Soon enough, the two of you are naked together, limbs entangled and kissing without paying any mind to oxygen.

You take his jaw in your hand as if he’s a delicate thing. Easy to break. It’s your turn to tease, now.

“What do you wanna do?”

“You’re such a little shit,” he mumbles, but he can’t help but grin.

“Tell me about it, Spidey.”

“Want you, Rabbit, want to make you feel good.”

“And how exactly will you do that?”

“Gonna fuck you. I’ll make you cry if you keep being a little shit like this, too.”

There’s no time for a reaction. He’s on top of you, pinning you down, and he licks your collarbone up to your jaw as you whine like a newborn kitten. He spanks your ass and you have to your bottom lip to keep from being too loud.

“You want it that bad, huh?”

“Yeah,” you respond breathlessly. He melts at the sound of your voice, cooing softly as he playfully bites the skin of your cheek.

You love him like this, a burst of passionate energy focused on you and you only. His little angel. You remember your rabbit heart caged in your sternum fragile and thumping like an earthquake for him.

He pauses to give you another kiss, this time sweet as he licks up the bottom of your lip. You can feel him at the crux of your legs and you can feel the want pumping in your veins. Patience. Patience. Patience.

“You want me to go slow?”

“Of course not.”

You’re so relaxed in his grasp. Gooey with your desire that it might disgust you if you weren’t so enamored. You keep your eyes on him when he enters you – you want to see the look in his eyes.

Peter feels selfish wanting to tease you like this. He’s slow when he enters you, listening to your sweet exhales.

“Easy,” he warns. “‘m gonna take care of you, don’t worry."

Please floods your entire body like a heat stroke. You bend your knees upward and rake the smooth terrain of his back, lifting your hips up at the same time. He thrusts once, then twice, and already, he feels like he’s ready to unfurl completely.

“Fuck,” he groans. You’re so goddamn wet. Soft. Velvety.

“Don’t be shy, Peter,” you murmur. “C’mere.”

You keen into the way he buries his nose into your shoulder, shallow breaths uneven and erratic as he continues, losing control bit by bit as he goes on. His pleasure is the knife you twist inside yourself.

You gasp at the way he can carve you out, the way he knows exactly where to put his hands as he grasps for your body, like he’d molding you from clay. He drinks down your moans with his mouth, eyes fluttering at the impact of your cunt clenching him.

Peter props himself up now, moving his body backward so he’s perpendicular to your core. He holds you by your hips a little too hard, but you’d always liked it rough. You liked it when he would cuddle you or play with you or put his entire body weight on you. To smother was to be encased in something akin to love.

“Fuck,” he hisses, getting the hang of a constant rhythm. His hips slot with yours as his cock thrusts deeper into you, until he can feel the slight tremble of your thighs.

“You okay?” he asks, chest heaving.

“Yes, keep going. Keep going.”

You underestimate how fragile you are. A rough thrust almost has you there, until he pulls out of you like a stolen breath, and it leaves you whining.

“Pete.”

“Shh, I’m just trying to pace myself,” he breathes, jaw slack and glistening with sweat. “You feel too fucking good.”

“Come back or I’ll break your wrists.”

He chuckles, but you’re dead serious. You lift your body to him so you can pull his down, kissing him with a ragged hunger that’s all teeth and lust. He’s quick to match your vigor but with more tenderness than desperation. It makes you melt, how natural it is, how this is how it might’ve felt in a past life. Your bodies entwined in a way that’s proverbial.

He listens to you. Fucks you much rougher than before, giving in to what he wants, because he’s not sorry about how much he wants you. Your broken moans curl out of your throat and into his mouth and the feeling of him deep in you makes you feel like a balloon ready to burst from the pressure.

It’s like Peter reads your mind, because suddenly, his hand is around your throat. You’ve never looked more angelic to him than you do now, eyes half-lidded and your reddish mouth all lax.

“So fucking beautiful, I love you,” he mumbles against his mouth.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

All of Peter’s muscles are tense from holding back. Fuck, he doesn’t want to cum until you do.

Luckily, the way his cock stretches you out has you nearly drooling underneath him. He touches the deepest parts of your insides like he belongs there, like he was meant to be there, as if the way he turns his hips toward you is a vow in itself. You whimper at the feeling of it all and he nearly loses it.

“I’m so close,” you pants. Thank fucking God.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Cum for me,” he coos. “You’re doing so good. Fuck.”

Your gaze lingers on the shape of his mouth. You think about how his voice sounds when he calls you angel.

Your orgasm comes like a flower blooming, like a beam of light in the darkness. He feels it, too, so vividly like he shares your body. It feels strange how much he feels that he hasn’t felt before, and it makes him come undone right after you.

He pulls out of you and spills onto your stomach unceremoniously with something in between a grunt and a whimper. He’s all over you. You want to bury your body into his.

“Peter,” you whisper, your gaze languishing.

“Yes, angel?”

“I think I owe Ned fifty bucks now.”

He looks at you incredulously but you can’t keep the facade, bursting into laughter as he groans in annoyance and flops his body on top of yours.

“Ew, clean me up, at least,” you complain.

“Right,” he says, nodding. And he does, with a spare t-shirt from his floor absentmindedly while he shares a grin with you. “You serious, though?”

“Of course not,” you scoff. “Ned Leeds will never get anything over twenty bucks from me.”

He laughs and it sounds like heaven.

“You said you loved me,” you tell him.

“I do love you. I’ve always loved you.”

You could cry right now. Surely the influx of endorphins in your body is breaking the rest of your brain.

“I love you, too.”

You kiss him again, open-mouthed, teeth sucking slightly as his lips. He takes a fistful of your hair while his other hand caresses your jaw. It excites you when he breaks the kiss by pulling your hair. His cheeks dimple the slightest bit when he smiles at you.

“Don’t do that, you’re gonna get me hard again.”

“You have the stamina,” you shrug, hugging one of his oversized pillows to your chest.

“You’re cute.”

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“How come you call me angel now?”

Peter shrugs. He rubs his hands on your calves.

“You’re my guardian angel. Always have been. And you’re not allowed to complain about it being corny because it’s true.”

Peter is shy all of sudden as if he hadn’t just fucked you. His brown hair is tousled to bedhead perfection, messy and slightly frizzy, and the warmth of his skin radiates from the way his whole body seems to blush in front of you.

“I have a proposition.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Come on!” You nudge him, kicking him with your feet. You get off of his bed to rummage through his dresser drawers for an oversized t-shirt, just dodging his attempts to grab you by the waist.

“Okay. What is it?”

“We should use our webs next time.”

He blinks, smirking, indulging you for a second.

“Deal.”

tagging mutuals: @meliapis @cutetomholland @userholland @sparklingsin @tomdutch @userholland @vendettaparker @selfcarecap @simplykenni @uhlxis @cordiformity @sapphicsoie @seolaseoul @honeyspidey @logangarfield @justapurrcat @arachine @cocoamoonmalfoy @ohcaptains @aniqua

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #spiderman x you #peter parker fluff #peter parker smut #peter parker angst #spiderman x reader #mcu!peter parker x you #tasm!peter parker x you #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland smut #peter parker x you

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darling-im-wonderstruck · 9 months

Note

could you write something where peter and reader are having a study date, but peter falls asleep and reader just lets him be/tucks him in?? tysm

don’t want to miss a thing.

synopsis : getting peter to sleep wasn’t going to be as difficult as you’d thought.

pairing : bf!peter parker x reader

wc : 490 +

warnings : none ! super fluffy sleepy!peter is all you need to worry about :) (normal sized text belowww + this is college!peter)

‎‎ masterlist | request | navigation

a/n : hi nonnie !! thank you so so much for this request <3 i actually whipped this one up pretty quickly because of the rush of inspiration your request gave me hehe :) hope you enjoy it !

it was nearly midnight when you started to notice peter’s eyelids practically begging to fall, his head was inching closer and closer to the surface of your desk. which, admittedly, was somewhat adorable. he’d been like this for the past hour, though it was getting progressively worse every passing minute.

you were in your room, catching up on some studies alongside peter. the boy found every single excuse to be with you, and when you said that you didn’t have time (due to your need to study), he came up with the perfect compromise. a study date.

though, by the time he’d come back from patrolling, it was already 10 pm, and naturally, he was exhausted. but you knew peter, therefore, you knew he was going to put up a fight rather than accepting defeat and falling asleep.

“pete, you look like you’re about to pass out.” you say softly, causing him to whip his head to your direction.

“no, no, no, no. i’m wide awake!” he shoots himself up, making you let out a small laugh, causing the tenseness of his body to disappear. your laugh comforted him.

“i think you need some rest. c’mon, this can wait.” you stood up and gestured for him to go to your bed, but he shakes his head.

“‘m okay, really.” his attempt to assure you was failing, given that he was falling asleep as he said that very sentence.

“you’re so cute when you’re tired.” you smile at him, he returned it with a lazy smile and continued to attempt answering a few practice questions on his worksheet.

“you think so?” he has a smug smirk on his face. gosh. you couldn’t help but giggle.

“just tell me when you wanna call it a day, okay?” you say as you sat back down beside him and continued your work.

“talk to me? tell me about your day, that’ll help keep me up.” he asks, keeping himself focused on his work.

“oh! okay then! well, after class, while you were out, i ended up coming over and talking to may, and she showed me a bunch of your baby photos, which, might i say, were so cute.” peter sat closer to you, and you thought nothing of it as you continued talking.

“mhm…” his responses became increasingly incoherent as you continued talking about what aunt may had told you. he was falling asleep before he began to realize it.

“so then, i asked may- oh, you’re asleep.” your voice starts with its normal volume and you quiet down as you realize.

oh.

he’d found a comfortable spot on your shoulder as you were talking and slowly began to drift off. you observed a small, barely there smile that he had as he slept. his arms were rested around your waist and his face was buried into the crook of you neck. he was finally relaxed.

you found it increasingly difficult to move at all, in fear of him waking up, so you decided that it’d be good for you to get some rest as well.

you press a soft kiss on his cheek (and you may or may not have taken a quick photo of him for your wallpaper) before resting your head gently on his, but you felt him move ever so slightly, so you lift your head up, and so did he.

all he did was smile at you, and you did the same, right before he rubbed his eyes and rested himself onto your shoulder yet again.

work could wait, this, however, couldn’t.

taglist : (send me an ask to be added hehe !) @live-laugh-lovejoy

a/n : thank you for reading loves !!!! requests are open, as per usual, pls just be patient w me, feel free to reblog as it is very important to support writers <3

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deathbyathousandspiders · 10 months

Note

peter and reader at avengers tower and they’re both avengers but they’re “best friends” cuddled up on the couch asleep and none of the avengers let them forget it for weeks

i gotchu ;) also thank you for the request !! i really appreciate it! <3

!!! read part two | part three | part four | part five here !!!

✨masterlist✨.

1.4k.

Being an Avenger definitely came with plenty of risks, seeing as you put your life on the line every day in attempt to save the world. Along with the risks, there were several upsides that outweighed your anxieties about the superhero lifestyle.

Every few months, the team was required to spend a week at the compound for training; it was something fairly stupid, but staying in the mansion for a week wasn’t something you’d complain about. Especially when the team made the most of it.

You enjoyed getting up at dawn to run with Steve, and cooking dinners with Wanda. One thing always stood out to be something you looked forward to most: movie night. You came up with the system so that everyone had a chance to pick a movie, and this week, it was Steve’s turn to pick. Unfortunately, he chose “Snow White and the Seven Dwarves.”

The entire team corralled on the couch, sharing four or five bowls of popcorn and chips, and watching the movie on the giant flat–screen in the meeting room. You were sandwiched between Steve and Peter, attentive to the screen in fear that Steve would be offended if you weren’t. It made you crack a small grin to overhear Sam trying to commentate on the movie, and Bucky immediately tell him to shut the hell up.

You don’t recall at what point of the movie you fell asleep, or how the blanket got draped over you, but it didn’t catch your attention quite like the silent snorer you were cuddled next to. The sound was oddly soothing, and the arm snaked around your torso warmed you more than the blanket did. You would’ve tried to drift back off to sleep in the midst of comfort, if not for the snickers heard beyond your closed eye–lids.

“They look so cozy.” Bucky’s voice was hushed, speaking just above a whisper. The dark of your closed eyes lit up for a second by what you recognized as a shuttered flash photo.

Shit.

“I’m going to make that my lock–screen.” Sam added, trying not to sound as amused as he felt.

There was a quiet pause. “Isn’t that a little weird?” Bucky’s whispered question carried itself above the scattered footsteps of their departure.

When their ascending paces creaked the carpeted floors further out, your eyes lifted, turning your head up to look up at your designated pillow. Upon shifting your sleeping position, you watched Peter adjust mid–slumber, unconsciously catering to your new position.

A smile touched your lips at how peaceful he looked beside you — mouth parted slightly, eyes gently shut, curls falling in front of his face. When you moved to sit up a little, his armed grip around your waist grew tighter, and his sleep stirred at the idea of your absence. You decided against leaving, or moving, and rested your head in the nook of his shoulder. Sleep welcomed you back into slumber quicker than Sam changed his wallpaper.

When you woke in the morning, you thought almost nothing of falling asleep next to Peter. The only thing left to remind you was the lingering aroma of Peter’s cologne, and the ghost of his arm leaving your waistline colder than the rest of your body.

You didn’t pay much mind to it, nor how frequently your train of thought seemed to derail back to Peter somehow; how snug his hold was, the way your head fit with his shoulder like a missing puzzle piece. It felt like a slow–burning ache, the way you missed him. But he was merely your best friend, and the rest of the team seemed to agree with that.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.” Sam chimed, watching you waltz into the kitchen. He leaned the small of his back against the marble countertop beside the espresso machine, waiting for the pull of his latte shots.

Your hair was still damp from your shower, and your hoodie husked over your body to protect from the looming winter chill. You arched a brow lightly at how amused he seemed to be, slowly recalling his whispered conversation with Bucky from the night prior. You decided to be coy with him. “I think you’ve got your Disney movies mixed up.” You started, pressing on your tiptoes to reach a bowl from the shelf. “We watched Snow White last night, Sam.”

He hummed, sounding skeptical. “Well, everybody but you and your little cuddle–bug boyfriend.” Sam tried to keep himself from laughing. He started to steam the milk he’d set aside to froth to cut you off from giving a witty remark.

Boyfriend. Peter wasn’t your boyfriend, and he probably wouldn’t ever be your boyfriend. Admitting that to yourself sent a sharp jab at your heartstrings, but the pain was quick. Quick like the blush that fanned your face before you dismissed it. Quick like the pour of cereal into your bowl like the thought didn’t flash through your mind.

The steam wand simmered down, and you made it a point to let out a scoff that he could hear. “He’s not my boyfriend–”

You turned. Like an idiot, you turned, bumping bodies with someone and nearly spilled your entire bowl of cereal across the tiled floors of the kitchen. Wide eyed, you looked up, meeting the familiar stare of your best friend. His arms hovered inches from yours, but the electricity flowing between you felt like that length was much shorter. The scent of his cologne filled the room so quick, you nearly forgot how to breathe.

Peter tried to laugh off how tense the room felt, feeling safe enough to once he knew you were okay. “Who’s not your boyfriend?” He asked, the chuckle weaving through his words, sending a pink glisten to your cheeks.

You could feel the smile Sam pressed to the lip of his mug, slurping his latte as he eyed the two of you. “I’ll give you guys the room.” With that, he left, still leaving the kitchen with just as thick of tension. It felt like he left a gigantic elephant in the room, one that had never existed to them until Sam pointed it out. He pointed it out all because you passed out on Peter’s shoulder.

Shaky fingers set the bowl of cookie crisps on the kitchen island before you walked to the fridge for some milk. Your eyes stayed glued to your task, almost like you were trying to avoid eye contact with Peter for some weird reason. How odd.

“Boyfriend?” You pressed air through your closed lips, blowing a dismissive rasberry. “I didn’t say boyfriend, I said Boygenius–” It was a solid cover up, for sure; you thought, pouring milk over your cereal. “They’re performing this weekend with Clairo–”

Peter pressed his palm into the kitchen island, leaning against the structure right beside you. The body heat from him radiated into yours from your close proximity, reeling you in with how intoxicating his presence was. “Y/N, are you hiding something from me?” He faked an offended expression, mouth agape from his act of shock.

That’s when your eyes met. And you swore that the connection of your vision sent him every thought that ran through your head. Every feeling that coursed through your veins telepathically traveled through his too. It was a second, just one second, where you felt like he shared the same conflicting feelings you did. Perhaps he felt the same attraction towards you that you felt for him.

It didn’t help that he stared down at you with such earnesty and attentive nature. His eyes glossed over every inch of your face, studying your expression like he’d find the answer to his question there. You knew the exact moment that he found it, too.

Shit.

You picked up your bowl of cereal, stiffening your posture as you took careful steps backwards. “Nope! Nothing. I’m not hiding anything!” You sounded as suspicious as ever, so your escape route needed to be hasty. You opened and closed the fridge with just enough time to throw the milk in before rushing off to your bedroom.

This wasn’t the first time you’d gotten these intrusive–romantic thoughts about Peter Parker, or when you’d gotten these frantic–giddy jitters around him, either. Typically, you just let them die out over a day or two and then you could find your little pocket of comfort and normalcy again.

But the second you entered your room, you saw the framed photo of what you assumed was the photo Sam took of you and Peter passed out on the couch. The second you saw it, you knew this wouldn’t die out as quickly as you’d hoped. You couldn’t lie, though…It was a pretty cute photo. Although, you didn’t have too much time to dwell on the captured moment. The neon–pink sticky note on the top right corner caught your attention.

‘I better get invited to the wedding, —Sam.’

Shit.

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p3terparker · 7 months

Text

𝗽𝘂𝘁 𝗶𝘁 𝗼𝗻 𝗺𝘆 𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗱 - 𝗽𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗸𝗲𝗿

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: peter and you argue because he loves to spend all of his money on you.

𝘄/𝗰: 0.5k

𝗮/𝗻: sorry for disappearing for a few months… again 😭 i am slowly getting back into writing so please bear with me! i saw my last fic reached over 9000 notes so that really motivated me to write something else for you guys ♡ i’m not so sure how i feel about this but i really do see peter as the type of boyfriend to blow all of his paycheck on you so i just had to write this LOL anyways i hope you all enjoy this!!

“put it on my card” you suddenly hear peter say as he pulled your earphones out, causing you to jump.

you were trying to keep yourself awake while waiting for peter to come through your window after patrolling for the night. to keep yourself occupied, you decided to listen to music and do some online shopping (which consisted of you just putting things in your cart but never actually buying anything). with your back facing your window and your earphones in, you didn’t see or hear peter come inside.

“jesus christ peter, don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“yeah yeah whatever” he says not really caring that he nearly scared the life out of you. “as i was saying before you rudely snapped at me, put your order on my card”

“i literally have over $400 worth of clothes in my cart”

“and?”

“what do you mean and? that’s expensive”

“your point?”

“that’s more than half of your paycheck”

“doesn’t matter. the whole reason why i have a job is to spoil you” he says while taking off his suit and getting comfortable in your bed.

“aww pete, you’re too sweet. but still, no. i don’t want you spending that much money on me”

he hummed an okay which led you to believe he was gonna just drop the conversation.

you were so wrong.

before you know it, he’s shooting a web at your laptop and dragging it over to him.

“NOOOO!” you scream dramatically and tackle him on your bed before he can type in his card information.

“LET ME BUY YOU CLOTHES!” he screams back while trying to push you off of him so he can grab your laptop again.

you quickly snatched your laptop from the bed and ran out of your room as fast as you could.

“GET BACK HERE!” peter shouted while chasing after you to which you just ignored and kept running away.

“you know what, you leave me no choice” he abruptly stops chasing you which causes you to stop in confusion.

suddenly, he jumped and stuck to your roof with his webs, and webbed your laptop over to him. you literally had no way of getting to him now.

“that’s no fair, you’re cheating!” you whined.

he laughed at you standing helplessly below him and finally placed your $450 order on his card.

“here you go” he smiled and jumped down from the roof, handing your laptop back over to you.

before you were about to scold him for spending so much money on you, you heard a knock at your door.

you and peter both looked at each other confused because you weren’t expecting anybody for the night. he walked to the door and opened, revealing the people you were least expecting.

the police.

“hello, we were called over here for a noise complaint. your neighbors reported screaming being heard from your apartment room and they were concerned. is everything alright?”

you did not expect to end your night by explaining to the police that you and your boyfriend were screaming over buying clothes.

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waitimcomingtoo · 7 months

Text

Wasn’t Me

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!reader

Synopsis: when Vision accidentally phases through your wall and catches you and Peter in the act, you try to stop it from spreading to everyone in the tower before Tony gets home

Masterlist

“Wait, this isn’t the kitchen.” Vision said as he accidentally phased through the bedroom wall. You and Peter froze at the sound of a third voice and slowly looked up. Every time you snuck off to have some private time with each other, you made sure to lock the door. But despite all your best efforts to keep your relationship a secret, neither of you accounted for Vision coming through the wall. Especially not when you were right in the middle of….something.

“Oh. Hello.” Vision said and gave you and Peter a polite wave. The act he had caught you did not seem to phase him at all while you and Peter were horrified.

“AHHHH.” You and Peter screamed at the same time. You rolled off of Peter and landed right on the floor while Peter grabbed a pillow and placed it over his lap.

“Forgive me for intruding, but I am looking for the kitchen.” She said to meet her in the kitchen.” Vision asked politely.

“Well you’re not gonna find it here!” You exclaimed as you threw your shirt back on.

“Dude! Get out! ” Peter shouted as he hastily tried to zip his pants.

“Oh, sorry, am I interrupting something?” Vision genuinely asked.

“YES!” You screamed like it was obvious.

“My apologies. I bid you both a good day.” Vision nodded curtly and disappeared back the way he came. You and Peter stayed in silence for a while as you processed what had happened.

“Do you think he saw us?” Peter asked to break the silence. You sat up from under him and gave him a look.

“Do I think he saw us?” You repeated slowly.

“Well do you?” Peter asked as you climbed back onto the bed.

“Are you kidding me? Of course he saw! The straw was already in the coconut. There’s no way he didn’t realize what was going on.”

“Maybe he thought we were just wrestling?” Peter shrugged weakly.

“Uh huh. Wresting with your dick out. Just like WWE.” You said sarcastically.

“Damn it. He definitely saw us. Do you think he’ll tell anyone?” Peter worried.

“He better not. My dad will kill you. And then vaporize your corpse. And then set the ashes on fire. And then blow them into a shrimp cocktail.”

“But I’m allergic to shellfish.”

“Exactly.” You whispered.

“Oh shit.” Peter gulped. “We need to go find Vision and make sure he doesn’t tell anyone.”

“Let’s go. He’s probably charging or in a bowl of rice or something.” You said and lead Peter out of the room. You went into the kitchen and found Vision at the breakfast table.

“Hey Vision.” Peter smiled awkwardly as you stood beside him.

“Hello, Peter.” Vision said politely.

“So, about the little snafu from before. We just want to make sure you don’t tell anybody about what you saw.”

“Yeah. Because it wasn’t what it looked like.” You added.

“Oh, no? It looked like the two do you were engaging in sexually explicit activity.” Vision replied. You and Peter exchanged a panicked look and tried to think of a way out of this.

“It looked like that, yes, but that’s not what we were doing.” Peter lied as you nodded along.

“Hm. That’s funny. I can detect heart rates and both of you appear to be lying.” Vision said with genuine curiosity.

“We’re not lying, silly.” You forced a laugh. “My heart is racing because I haven’t had any food yet but I drank a bunch of coffee.”

“You know women and their pumpkin spice lattes.” Peter added, earning himself a jab in the side.

“Watch it.” You said through a smile.

“And my heart just beats fast because I have the heart rate of a spider.” Peter added. “No lying here.”

“Oh, I see. But if you two weren’t engaging in sexual activity, what were you doing?” Vision questioned.

“Uhhh…” Peter scratched his head and tried to think of something.

“Peter was just choking on a pretzel and I was getting it out of his throat.” You jumped in.

“With your tongue?” Vision asked.

“Yes?” Peter said weakly.

“With your shirts off?”

“It’s a new technique.” You deadpanned.

“I’m not aware of this technique. Can you demonstrate on me?” Vision asked you.

“Absolutely not.” Peter snapped and stepped between you and Vision. Vision looked at Peter in confusion and you had to jump in again.

“Because it didn’t work.” You explained. “He still choked.”

“He seems fine to me. Although, I am detecting some slight discomfort in the abdomen.” Vision said as he looked Peter up and down.

“I have a tummy ache.” Peter admitted and patted his stomach.

“Would you like me to conduct a physical exam?” Vision asked and held up both his hands.

“No. I probably just have to fart.”

“Oh my God.” You groaned and rubbed your eyes.

“So are we cool? You’re not gonna tell anyone what you saw?” Peter asked Vision.

“We are cool. I will not be telling anyone what I didn’t see.” Vision confirmed.

“Okay. Good.” You sighed in relief.

“Except for Wanda.” He added. “Because I already told her. I tell her everything. I love her quite dearly.”

“Oh my God.” You groaned even louder.

“What did you tell her you saw?” Peter asked him.

“Just you were engaging in-“

“It wasn’t sexual activity!” You exclaimed. “He was choking and I was saving his life.”

“Then why was his penis out?” Vision asked Peter.

“Because…it…was… cold.” Peter said slowly, hating himself with every word.

“Oh my God. Both of you need to stop.” You stated. “Do you think Wanda going to tell anyone about what you thought you saw but didn’t actually see?”

“I’m not sure.” Vision replied. “You’ll have to ask her.”

“Fine. We can ask her.” You sighed and pulled Peter by the hand and brought him to where Wanda was reading on the balcony.

“I don’t want to. She’s scary.” Peter whispered to you.

“We have to talk to her and find out what she knows before she tells my dad.” You whispered back.

“I can whisper too.” Wanda whispered as she suddenly appeared behind the two of you. You both screamed and jumped apart as she laughed. You grabbed Peters hand and ran away, brushing past Natasha as you went.

“They’re a little odd, aren’t they?” Natasha chuckled as she watched you run by.

“They are.” Wanda agreed. “You know, Vision caught them doing it before.”

“What? No way.”

“Yeah. He said he accidentally phased through Peters bedroom wall and caught them.”

“Oh God. Yuck. New fear unlocked. That’s hilarious though.” Natasha laughed at the thought.

“What’s hilarious?” Steve asked as he came into the room.

“Vision caught Y/n and Peter doing it.” Natasha told him.

“What?” Steve laughed. “No way.”

“That’s what I said!” Natasha laughed.

“Honestly, I kinda figured they were doing it. They are the only two in the tower around that age. And lord knows Peter is hornier than an…animal with horns.” Steve said weakly when he couldn’t think of an animal.

“Rhino?” Wanda asked.

“I was thinking Triceratops.” Steve admitted.

“Wait, isn’t there a rule again dating on the team?” Nat asked. “At least, that’s what Tony tells me and Bruce every time we make eye contact.”

“If he had a problem with that, he’s definitely gonna have a rule against one of us dating his daughter. Especially Peter.”

“I thought Peter was a nice boy, no?” Wanda asked.

“He is.” Steve nodded. “But all Tony will see is that he’s a boy who Vision caught with his daughter. He’s gonna blow Peter into a million pieces.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s what Vision walked in on.” Wanda mumbled. From across the room, you and Peter were peeking out from behind a wall to watch them all talk.

“This is bad. They’re all laughing and saying our names.” Peter whispered to you.

“Do you think Wanda told?”

“I don’t know. What if she made them all see it with her mind powers?”

“Why would she do that?”

“Because she’s evil and not to be trusted!” Peter whispered harshly.

“We just need to talk to her and find out what she knows. Maybe she didn’t even believe Vision.”

“Do we have to?” Peter whined. “What if she enters my mind palace?”

“She wouldn’t find much.” You mumbled.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, sweetie.” You patted his cheek and pulled him out from behind the wall. Natasha and Steve had left at that point and Wanda had gone back to her book.

“Hey, Wanda.” You said with an awkward wave.

“Oh. Hello. I haven’t seen you two in forever. What have you been up to?” Wanda said sarcastically.

“Not much. Same soup, just reheated. You know the vibes. So, uh, we just wanted to talk to you about something. Something Vision might have said.” You began.

“Oh. You mean you two swallowing each other alive in Peters room?” Wanda asked. You and Peter exchanged a look and Peter let out a loud gulp.

“Vision doesn’t know what he saw.” You told her.

“Vision is made from the highest form of artificial intelligence. He knows everything.”

“Okay.” You said mockingly. “But he doesn’t know in this specific situation.”

“He’s programmed to access a situation down to every last detail in case there is a threat of danger. And it seemed the only threat of danger in Peters room that day was running out of oxygen. Or maybe a broken pelvis.”

“I’m flattered but I’m not that good.” Peter said humbly.

“He’s right. He isn’t.” You nodded in agreement.

“What was that?” Peter asked you.

“We just want to make sure whatever Vision told you about what he thinks he saw isn’t going to be told to anyone else.” You said to Wanda.

“Now hold on.” Peter tried to go back to what he had heard.

“Secrets safe with me.” Wanda smiled and zipped her lips.

“And me.” Bruce said from behind you. You and Peter whipped around and saw Bruce staring at you while eating a bowl of cereal.

“What?! Were you in here the whole time?” Peter asked.

“Yeah. Wanda, you are funny. How come I never noticed that?” Bruce chuckled.

“I’m not sure.” Wanda shrugged. “You tell me.”

“God damn it. Are either of you going to tell anyone what Vision saw?” You asked and pointed at Wanda and Bruce.

“I thought Vision didn’t see anything?” Wanda smirked.

“Right. Is anyone going to tell my dad about what Vision thinks he saw but definitely didn’t see?” You asked with a hopeful smile.

“Maybe? I don’t understand the question. Can you reword it? Or maybe write it down so I can see it?” Bruce asked.

“Oh my God.” You groaned. “I thought you were the smart one.”

“Ouch. Can you tell your girlfriend to stop being mean to me?” Bruce asked Peter.

“I’m not his girlfriend because we weren’t engaging in sexual activity because we’re not dating. Everyone got that?” You asked angrily.

“Got it.” Wanda nodded.

“No, sorry. Still confused. So you are dating but Vision didn’t catch you guys doing it?” Bruce asked so genuinely that you wanted to scream.

“No, he definitely did.” Wanda snorted. You looked at her in betrayal and she smiled apologetically.

“Oh. Now I get it. You guys are dating and Vision did catch you having sex.” Bruch realized. “But what are we not telling Tony?”

“No one is telling Mr. Stark anything. Everyone just keep your mouth shut about the activities, which may or may not have been sexual in nature, that Vision allegedly walked in on. Okay?” Peter exclaimed.

“My lips are sealed.” Wanda assured you. “Well, now they are. Because I already told Steve and Nat. But that was before you asked me not to tell anyone.”

“Oh my God. Find. Can we trust you?” You asked Bruce.

“I’m not gonna rat. Don’t worry.”

“Thank you.” Peter nodded. “You’re dismissed.”

“I don’t take orders from you.” Bruce snapped and walked away.

“Jesus Christ.” Peter whispered and felt genuinely offended by the tone. You took his hand and brought him away from Wanda to regroup.

“We need to get ahead of this before anyone else finds out we’re secretly dating.” You told him.

“You guys are secretly dating?” Sam asked as he came into the hallway, making you both jump.

“Damn it!” Peter shouted and hit the wall.

“Oh great. Captain fucking America knows now.” You grumbled.

“Since when are you two a thing?” Sam laughed and looked between you and Peter.

“Two months.” You admitted.

“Two months? And Tony still doesn’t know?”

“Do you think Peter would be alive right now if my dad knew?” You asked and gestured to Peter.

“That’s a joke, right?” Peter laughed nervously.

“I guess not.” Sam shrugged.

“Are you gonna tell my dad?” You asked him.

“No.” Sam replied.

“Cool. Thanks.” You sighed in relief.

“But only if-“

“Mother fucker.” You exclaimed now that there was a new obstacle.

“Only if you promise to never bring up that one time with the TV.” Sam continued.

“You mean when you got caught-“

“Zip it.” Sam cut you off. “Or I’ll tell Daddy Warbucks about your affair with Little Orphan Annie here.”

“This whole conversation has been wildly emasculating.” Peter mumbled.

“I never saw anything.” You told Sam.

“Good.” He nodded. “Then we have a deal.”

You went to shake hands when your phone started to ring. You looked at Peter curiously and pulled it out of your pocket.

“Hang on. Hello?”

“Hey short stack. I’m landing in 20 minutes. I can see that most of the team is in the tower today so I thought we could all have a nice, family dinner in the dining room. How does that sound?” Tony asked you through the phone.

“The entire team? In the dinning room? For dinner? Tonight?” You asked as panic grew in your chest.

“Are you playing a one man game of Clue? Just let everyone know, will you?” Tony asked.

“Sure, daddy. No problem.” You laughed nervously and looked at Peter with wide eyes.

“Thanks, peach. See you soon.” Tony said before having up.

“Shit balls.” You whispered once you were off the phone.

“Was that super good news?” Peter asked hopefully.

“My dad wants the whole team in the dinning room for family dinner.” You said and held your breath for his reaction.

“Son of a…” Peter started to shout and then quieted down, “shart mama.”

“I know. It’s bad.”

“This has gotten so out of hand. I’ve never taken this many L’s in a row. I don’t know if I can take anymore. My body is shutting down. I haven’t peed all day.” Peter said as he paced back and forth.

“Keep it together.” You said as you gripped his shoulders.

“Oh no. This is going to be so awkward.” Sam laughed at your misfortune.

“Why? Because everyone knows we’re secretly dating except for Mr. Stark and they also know Mr. Stark will kill them for knowing and not telling him right away so tonight will be a long, uncomfortable game of who tells him first?” Peter asked all in one breath.

“Yes, that’s exactly why.” Sam nodded and looked at Peter strangely.

“I don’t want to go.” Peter whispered and turned to you.

“We all have to go.” You told him. “He’ll get sus if we’re not all there.”

“But what if your dad kills me?” Peter whined.

“Then I’ll wait at least three months before getting a new boyfriend.” You smiled sweetly and patted his chest.

“You can do that but I’ll just haunt him and kill him in his sleep.” Peter smiled back.

“Oh my God. Come on. We have to go get ready for dinner.” You said and pulled Peter to your room.

30 minutes later, everyone was seated in the dining room with Tony at the head of the table. You and Peter nervously peered through the doorway to see what the set up was.

“What’s our plan?” Peter asked you.

“Sit far away from each other and diverge the conversation every time my dad gets close to happening upon the truth.”

“Okay. How hard can that be? We never get together for family dinner. They’ll all be talking so much that you and I won’t even come up.”

You and Peter took your seats at the table with you next to your dad and Peter further away. You made eye contact with Peter and nodded to let him know that you were in this together. Everyone stayed dead silent as the food was passed around and Tony was quick to notice.

“Why is everyone so quiet? Did Sam leave porn on the big TV again?” Tony asked as he chewed his food. You gulped and looked at Peter in a panic. You had been wrong about everyone talking and keeping the attention away from you. Instead, everyone was silent and tense since they didn’t want to be the one to let Tony know what Vision had seen.

“That was one time.” Sam defended.

“But how could we ever forget?” Tony teased him.

“I just wanted to watch Mama Mia. My eyes were burned.” Bucky said as he shut his eyes to keep out the memory.

“Let it go.” Sam said flatly.

“I don’t remember that.” You said robotically. Sam gave you a discreet thumbs up across the table.

“What? You were the one that found it.” Tony reminded you.

“Doesn’t ring a bell. I think you’re all remembering incorrectly.” You said with no much stiffness it sounded like you were reading from a prompter. Tony looked around the table and everyone avoided eye contact with him. They mindlessly pushed their food around their plates to look busy so that Tony wouldn’t ask them anything.

“Why is everyone acting weird?” Tony asked.

“What? We’re not. You’re being weird, dad.” You forced a laugh and patted Tony’s arm.

“Right.” Tony said skeptically. “So, Pete the treat. Any romantic interests at school?”

Everyone turned to stare at Peter, who was in the middle of taking a sip from his glass. Peter started choking on his water for a long time. No one made any effort to help Peter so he just sat there choking for an uncomfortably long period of time. Everyone stayed silent as he Peter coughed, turned red, and clapped his chest to try and get the water out. When he was finally done, he was crying and bright red.

“What?” Peter asked horsely.

“Peter doesn’t want to talk about girls, dad.” You laughed nervously. Everyone exchanged looks while also sneaking glances at you and Peter.

“He does with me. Come on. My dad never bothered with this stuff and I want to break the cycle. Tell me about your love life.” Tony insisted and playfully patted the table. You shot daggers at Peter and everyone turned to look at him. Peter felt sweat dripping down his forehead and smiled nervously.

“There’s no one, Mr. Stark. No girls.”

“I don’t buy that for a second. I can see the hormones brewing in your eyes. You’re sweating just at the thought of her. I know there’s a girl.”

“Maybe.” Peter squeaked out.

“See? I knew it. Tell me about her. She cute?” Tony asked. Peter looked at you for a brief second and quickly looked away.

“Yeah, yeah. She’s gorgeous. Really pretty.”

“She’s all right.” Sam shrugged, making everyone stifle a laugh as your jaw dropped.

“Fuck did you just say?” Peter snapped.

“I was kidding. Damn.” Sam held up his hands in defense.

“Damn, indeed.” Tony laughed. “Way to stand up for your girl, kid. She’s a lucky lady.”

“Thank you, sir.” Peter said and hoped that was the end of the conversation.

“You really are a good kid, Peter. I don’t tell you enough. I was just saying this to Pepper the other day, but if anyone is ever brave enough to try and date my daughter, I hope they’re like you.” Tony said sincerely. This time, you started choking as everyone murmured with amusement.

“Really?” Peter asked hopefully. He looked at you but you didn’t dare make eye contact.

“Yeah. Sure, you’re pretty annoying and way too eager at times, but you’re a good kid. You’re responsible, you care about other people, and you know how to get a decent haircut.” Tony continued.

“So you’d give Peter your blessing? If he and I ever wanted to date?” You asked skeptically.

“Absolutely not.” Tom said immediately.

“What?” Your face dropped. “But you just said-“

“I said I hope the person you date is like Peter.” Tony specified. “But Peter would never be allowed to date you.”

“Why not?” Peter asked and you shot him a look. Everyone else kept their heads down and turned away from Tony so he wouldn’t suspect anything.

“Not that I care. Psh. Peter is lame. I would never date Peter. Haha. But yeah, why not?” You asked your dad.

“Because he’s a superhero. And no daughter of mine is dating a superhero.”

“But you’re a superhero.” You pointed out. “And mom married you.”

“I know. That’s why I’d never allow you to go down the same path. I’ve missed hundreds dates, thousands of calls, and a million important moments because I was off being a superhero. I was saving the world but I was hurting the person I love most in the process. I don’t want that life for you. If Peter was an average guy off the street, I’d be thrilled to know you were dating him. But Peter isn’t average.”

“I know that.” You replied, starting to get annoyed now that your dad was trying to tell you that you couldn’t do something. You were already doing it, but he didn’t need to know that. He needed to know that he couldn’t make your choices for you.

“Ayo. Yeah she does.” Sam snorted. Everyone gasped and looked at him, making him freeze. You and Peter stared daggers at Sam who smiled sheepishly.

“Oops?”

“You little bitch.” You mouthed across the table at him. Tom noticed the way everyone reacted and grew suspicious. He looked at you and noticed you weren’t making eye contact. He then looked at Peter, who looked like he was about to pass out.

“What was that?” Tony asked Sam.

“Nothing.” Sam scoffed and went back to eating.

“Samuel. Tell me what you just said.” Tony said with an eerily calm smile.

“I don’t want to.” Sam whispered.

“Tell me or I will shove your wings so far up your ass-“

“I said she knows Peter isn’t average.” Sam admitted before Tony could finish his sentence. You buried your face in your hands while Peter chewed off all of his fingernails.

“What does that mean?” Tony asked and turned to you.

“I can confirm that as well.” Vision raised his finger as he spoke up. You and Peter looked at Vision in betrayal while everyone else stayed silent.

“Oh my God.” You whispered and rubbed your face.

“What? What’s the big red giant talking about?” Tony asked you again, sounding angry this time. Before you had a chance to think of something, Vision spoke up.

“I’m talking about how I accidentally caught them fornicating earlier today, sir. Also, am I required to be here? I can’t actually eat food.” Vision said politely. Everyone was dead silent as Tony processed what he was hearing. No one dared to look up from their plates or even move a muscle.

“You know what? Vision is right. We should actually all leave. And never return. Bye!” You said and got up from the table. Tony grabbed the back of your shirt and made you sit back down.

“Nobody move.” He said in a low voice. Silence fell over the table again as Tony slowly looked to Peter. That’s when he noticed that Peter had passed out and had his limp head in his dinner plate.

“Wake the son of a bitch up.” Tony ordered. Wanda lifted Peters head by his hair and a green bean stuck to his cheek and forehead.

“Peter?” Tony asked, but Peter didn’t wake up. Wanda shook him, then took his pulse to see if he was even alive.

“He’s unresponsive.” She reported.

“Jesus Christ.” You groaned to yourself as you watched Wanda and Steve try to wake Peter up.

“He peed his pants.” Steve announced, making you groan even louder.

“PETER!” Tony shouted as he banged on the table. Peter woke up and looked around in confusion. Tony slowly stood up and leaned over the table while staring daggers at Peter.

“Somebody tell me what’s going on.” Tony demanded. No one said anything, so you bit the bullet and stood up as well.

“Dad, Peter and I are dating. Vision caught us before and the whole team found out about it. That’s what’s going on, okay? Please, don’t kill my boyfriend.”

“What?” Tony asked as he slumped back in his seat. You couldn’t tell if he was angry or upset, but it was definitely not good.

“Sam was watching porn on the big screen!” You blurted and pointed to Sam.

“You said you didn’t see anything!” Sam pointed back at you.

“That was before you didn’t hold up your end of the deal!” You shouted.

“Shut up, both of you. Are you kidding me right now? You’re dating Peter Parker?” Tony asked in a calmer voice.

“Yes, daddy. I am. I have been for two months. We didn’t tell you because we knew you’d be mad and we just wanted some time together before you forced us apart. I wouldn’t normally lie to you like this but I knew you’d never allow us to be together and I love him. I just needed to love him for as long as I could before the world knew. I’m sorry. Please, don’t be mad at me.” You said as you took your dads hands. Tony stared at you for a long time and finally, put his hand on your cheek.

“I could never be mad at you, princess.” Tony said kindly. You smiled in surprise as Peter let out a sigh of relief.

“I’m gonna turn Peter inside out, though.” Tony said sweetly before lunging at Peter. He punched Peter right in the throat, making Peter collapse to the ground. You rushed to Peters side as Tony shook out his hand.

“Dad! You can’t hit him that hard. He’s only 5’8. He could’ve died.” You yelled at Tony as you pulled Peters head into your lap.

“That didn’t even hurt.” Peter wheezed out as he clutched his throat. Tony wound up to hit Peter again, but stopped when he saw something that surprised him. He watched Peter reached up and touch your face as he whispered to you that everything was going to be all right. He thought he had just been punched in the throat and was awaiting the punishment of a lifetime, his priority was to comfort you when you were upset. Tony then knelt down beside Peter and helped him sit up.

“I’m sorry, kid. I should not have hit you. It was a slight overreaction.” Tony sincerely apologized.

“Slight?” Peter croaked out.

“I just wasn’t expecting to come home to this news. But if it’s been two months and my daughter says she’s this in love, maybe I was wrong. Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as I thought.”

“Mr. Stark, I know it’s probably hard to think about your daughter dating someone with a life as unpredictable as ours, but I don’t put anything above her. If I’m out on patrol, chances are, she’s hanging out on a rooftop with a walkie talkie telling me where to go. If I have to miss a date to take care of something, I take her with me. She’s my partner in all of this. I don’t leave her waiting around for a text back all night. She comes first.”

“Actually, “Vision began, “when I entered your room, it seemed as though Peter was going-“

“Do not finish that sentence, jumbo tampon.” You cut him off.

“You can trust me, Mr. Stark. You can trust us.” Peter said as he wrapped an arm around you. Tony looked between the two of you for a while but didn’t say anything.

“Please, daddy.” You whispered. Tony finally caved and smiled softly.

“Okay. You’ve convinced me. I’m not gonna kill Peter. You have my blessing, underoos.” Tony said as he helped Peter off the floor.

“Really? You’re not gonna force us apart?” You asked hopefully as you wrapped your arm around Peters.

“I’m not.” Tony confirmed. “You’re old enough to make your own decisions. But if he breaks your heart, he’s getting turned inside out. At least for a day. I cannot compromise on that.”

“Deal!” You clapped your hands before hugging your dad.

“Hold up, do I get a say in that deal?” Peter questioned.

“Don’t push your luck, kid. After what Vision walked in on you doing with Tony’s kid, you’re lucky to be alive right now.” Bruce said as he patted Peter on the back. Tony frowned as he pulled out of the hug.

“Hold on, what exactly did Vision walk in on?” Tony asked. Peter motioned for everyone to keep their mouths shut as Tony looked around the room. When no one answered him, he looked at you expectingly.

“So.” You laughed nervously. “Dessert, anyone?”

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shawnxstyles · 1 year

Text

please, call me peter

DATE: JANUARY 6, 2023

summary: you haven’t been able to come with anyone besides yourself, making you think something’s wrong with you. once you go to the gynecologist, dr. parker shows you that you’re just fine.

request: yes yes

words: 3.4k

warnings: SMUT (f- receiving [fingering], dub-con, small praise kink, dirty talking), and a cute ending.

note: shooting out requests like webs. sorry that was lame. if this makes you uncomfortable, do not read.

gynecologist!peter x female!reader

—

Your eyes scan the white room while you sit impatiently. Your heart lightly thuds in your chest and your fingers drum rapidly along your clothed thigh. The nurse had asked if you wanted to change into a hospital gown, which you politely denied. She gave you an indifferent expression before walking out, leaving you here.

You were at the gynecologist for one concerning reason; every time you had sex, you couldn’t come. Your previous relationship ended because you were unable to reach that euphoric high, which you believed was a ridiculous reason to leave someone. You weren’t as sad as you thought you’d be because you were too concerned with your own well-being to dwell on some bloke.

Before heading to the doctor, you had a quick hook-up, assuming that you and your ex just weren’t sexually compatible. But then you were proved wrong when you didn’t come. Again. You weren’t really the hook-up type, in fear of catching some unwanted disease or infection. Finally, you took matters into your own hands, literally, and masturbated with your fingers until you orgasmed all over your bed sheets.

See? It wasn’t impossible.

Then why couldn’t you come with other people? It had to be your fault. It had to be.

So, again, you were left here in the small hospital room sitting between empty stirrups with your ankles tightly crossed. The widening of the wooden door alerted you, your eyes shooting towards the man entering the room.

A guy? Your gynecologist was a guy?

You knew you were a decently healthy person because you were always on track with your appointments, even small check-ups. Because of your good wellness, you had never needed to go to the gyno. Until now, which seemed a bit nerve-racking all of a sudden.

The second the doctor turned around, you knew exactly why.

Warm, brown eyes peer at you with tenderness. Chestnut curls rest upon his head a little messily, but in the cutest way. He wore a professional lab coat over his casual clothing. His ribbed shirt and blue jeans seemed to match him perfectly. His cheeks appear a tinge pink when he smiles, welcoming and greeting you.

Oh shit.

“I’m Dr. Parker, and you are?” Dr. Parker asks as he plops onto his spinny chair. His eyes stare deeply into yours, causing your heart to race more than you’d like to admit. His voice was as attractive as his face, and you tried to convince yourself that he had to have at least one bad quality that you just haven’t seen yet, so you didn’t soak your panties.

“Y/N,” You blink to wash away the feeling of your nerves as your palms get clammy. “but you probably knew that already.”

“That is true, but I like for my patients to introduce themselves to me directly,” He states simply and you nod in response. Your sweaty hands interlocked over your thighs to ease yourself.

“So, what brings you in here today, Y/N?” Dr. Parker questions with a lick of his lips. He can’t help himself when his eyes drift nonchalantly, but quickly down your body. You were beautiful, which made it hard to concentrate on anything else, especially when you started talking. Your voice was silky, and he wanted to ask you more questions just so he could hear it more.

“I…” You were a bit embarrassed to share your reasoning. Was it common? Will he laugh at you? No, of course not, he’s a doctor! You battled with yourself in your head before spitting it out. “I can’t come during sex.”

Your jaw clenched as your hand practically hit your forehead in embarrassment. You couldn’t look at him because he was probably holding back a laugh. But you also couldn’t look at him because he was so handsome you might melt.

True be told, Peter already knew why you were here. He read the small report the nurse got before he entered. It was part of protocol and he wanted to hear you describe it yourself.

“That’s okay, darling. Nothing to be ashamed of,” He reassures gently as you remove your hand from your face. He smiles sincerely and you smile bashfully back. The nickname erupts butterflies in your stomach, and you can’t disregard the small wetness you feel trickle in your underwear.

When he asks, you go on to explain your situation in detail, even including the part about your ex-boyfriend dumping you. When Peter hears this, his jaw subtly clenches as irritation spreads through him.

Who breaks up with someone for that? He wanted to ask, but knew that was probably inappropriate. He does need to question you professionally though to ensure there’s nothing wrong. However, he thinks he already knows the answer.

“I’m going to ask you some questions that get pretty personal,” Parker faces his notes with you in the corner of his eye. You nod as your nervousness never fades and your heart beat remains quite fast.

Most of his questions were simple and straightforward, so you weren’t too ashamed to answer.

“Do you have any pain?”

“No.”

“Are you on birth control?”

“Yes.”

“How long?”

“Two years,” You eyes strayed away from him, thumbs twiddling in your lap like an anxious child. He wonders how you got birth control without going to the gynecologist in the past, seeming as though you’ve had no history.

However, some questions made the heat rise to your cheeks. Your arousal worsened the more Dr. Parker spoke, his voice warm and soothing like honey.

“To clarify, you have orgasmed before, correct?” Peter was able to focus when his eyes were glued to his papers, but one glance at your adorable shyness and his cock was semi-hard in his boxers.

“Yes, I-I did it myself,” You hissed at yourself for stuttering. He made you so starstruck it was hard to form words. You didn’t meet many people like that in your life— now that you think of it, none at all. He surveys you for a moment you think was a little too long, and you tighten your ankles together at his burning gaze.

“Um,” He grunts, covering it up with a cough as his cheeks turn pink a tad more. Your lip subtly curls into a smile at his cuteness. Peter was nervous for the first time in a while, fingers shaking as he scribbled notes about you. He felt as silly as a child who had a crush on a classmate. “you seem very well.”

“So nothing’s wrong?” Your eyebrows crinkle in confusion, a lost expression cascading over your face when you feel like you’ve hit a dead end. You gaze at the floor, trying to understand.

“Not directly,” He says to reassure you. Your eyes meet his with a head tilt. Now, you were really confused.

“What do I do then?”

“Don’t have sex with idiots,” He grumbles, honestly hoping you didn’t hear it. But of course you did. Your heart rate quickens wildly in your chest at his blunt statement. “but to make sure, I’m going to check you, okay?”

Your eyes widen for a moment, not thinking you would have to be checked. Your thoughts immediately shoot to your soaked panties and how he’ll see your very visual arousal. Hopefully, he assumes it’s from nerves.

“Would you like to change into something more comfortable and accessible?” He asks, looking at your shirt with jean shorts. He checks most of his patients, so usually they would have been in a gown already. But at this hospital, the patient didn’t have to change, even though it was highly recommended. However, when they rarely denied the new wardrobe, the doctor had to undress the patient themselves. So far in Peter’s career, he’s only had to do that with incidents that were an emergency.

“No, thank you,” You answered with no explanation. Secretly, you hated the material of the gown and you swore it gave you rashes. Maybe you were allergic?

Dr. Parker nods once and turns to his little side table beside you. He slips on his blue gloves and tells you exactly what he’s going to do, so you’re not unprepared.

“And since you’re not in a gown, the protocol is that I must undress you myself,” Peter feels the burning red flame up his cheeks at his statement. Your eyes widen again at the image of the sensual action, but nod in understanding.

Who made that rule? You wanted to ask, but it seemed disrespectful. You honestly couldn’t tell if you loved or hated the person that invented that idea. Picturing Dr. Parker strip you only made a pool in your panties.

Peter’s gloved fingers unbutton and zip down your jean shorts with your permission. It was slow and steady, unlike your heart that was bouncing off the walls of your ribs. You know he could see your heavy breathing as your stomach rose up and down too quickly under the thin material of your shirt.

Your shorts were removed and then he was on to your underwear.

Peter’s cock pulsed in his jeans at the wet patch on your panties, his red blush never fading. He wanted to press the pad of his thumb against your throbbing clit. He would rub you over the flimsy fabric and then make you moan for him as he fucked you roughly with his fingers. He could assume that you were tight and tense because of your struggle to orgasm with another person, but the thought only made his cock twitch needily as he imagined you squeezing around him.

“Are you okay so far? And can I remove these?” He asks for consent and patiently waits. You nod, but he’s not having that. “Words, Y/N. I need you to say it.”

His demand caused you to clench around nothing as you stutter out a trembling yes, so he can proceed. Peter delicately removes your panties, sliding them down your supple legs and placing them with your shorts. You didn’t open your legs, but you knew he’d already seen the wetness leaking out of you.

“Okay, um,” His professionalism was fading from him. He wanted to devour you because you probably tasted amazing. The smell of your arousal filled his nostrils, making it hard to focus on anything. “Put your legs on these stirrups. I’ll help you.”

He guides your legs into the holders, strongly resisting the urge to gawk at your vulnerable area. Once you were settled, he looked down and nearly came right there. Arousal drowned your folds as your puffy clit poked out behind it all. He noticed the fluttering of your folds as the cold air hit your wetness. He wouldn’t need to use any lube on you for sure. Peter was losing his cool and was about to lose everything if he did not pull himself together.

“I’m about to start. Are you okay?” He could sense your nervousness from a mile away. He wanted to make sure you were okay, even if you’ve had sex multiple times before.

“Yes, doctor,” You reassure and his jaw subtly locks at his label leaving from your mouth. He avoids picturing his falling from your pretty lips, so he could focus on the task at hand. You didn’t notice, too caught up in your own thoughts of his fingers entering you. You wanted him to pound them into you mercilessly because you know he’d know all the right spots and special places to hit. You can imagine he’s soft and caring, and always gives immense pleasure to the woman.

You almost gasp aloud when you come to a realization; he probably has a girlfriend. Or a wife. A wife and kids. You don’t remember seeing a ring, but that doesn’t mean anything. Oh, God, you were daydreaming sexual thoughts about your gynecologist who would probably freak out if he could hear them.

“If it makes you more comfortable, my name is Peter. Sometimes that small detail helps the patients relax more,” He noticed your sudden panicked state and high tension in your legs, wanting to calm you down, so it doesn’t hurt. It was perfectly fine to be nervous, but it wasn’t fine for him to be this nervous. He’s a professional doctor, yet he’s thinking about ruining it all just to please you at this moment.

You feel the latex gloves graze your folds, making your heart jump up into your throat. Peter’s middle finger practically teases your entrance, and you hold back pathetic whimpers. Once he slips his middle finger inside, you release a shuddery moan. His finger stills, deep inside of you while he gives you a second to adjust.

“Relax for me,” You try not to clench around him, but you’re a lost cause when he begins to wiggle it around the tight space. Peter is struggling. His cock is about to burst at the seams while his middle finger sinks far inside you. Your clenching walls and hushed noises nearly make him moan. He sees you resisting the urge to moan and it’s killing him because he wants to hear you.

“You can moan,” Peter says, voice low and sultry. “It’s welcomed.” He curls his finger and slowly pushes in and out. You don’t hold back your moan this time as lust begins to fill your vision. It feels too good, even though you know it’s wrong. You feel yourself getting wetter and wetter at his skilled finger and his concentrated expression.

Peter is positive you’re enjoying this. He can’t resist you anymore when he has you spread open for him. Plus, he found nothing peculiar inside, you seemed healthy. He could stop now if he’d like, but the contraction of your pussy walls around his finger and the sweet whimpers you’re eliciting spur him to continue.

“How does this feel, Y/N?” Peter’s voice was gravelly and lustful; you were sure to catch on by now. His question was borderline professional, yet inappropriate. At this point, Peter couldn’t care less because your face said it all.

“Good, really good,” You admitted with fluttering eyes as your hands gripped the sides of your shirt. Your name out of his mouth made you melt into his touch as you instinctively grinded your hips into his hand.

“What about this?” His ring finger slides in effortlessly, and they both curl inside you. You gasp, eliciting another shaky moan. His digits were thick and just the right length to satisfy you without even needing his cock, even though you wanted it. “God, you’re so tight. Imagine what you’d feel like around my cock.” He grumbles.

You gasp at his sudden profound language, but the dirtiness only made you more aroused. Your brain imagined how his cock would look buried so deep inside of you that you’d feel him in your stomach. You imagine this pre-cum leaking from his tip as he pulls out of you just to slam back in. Your core tensed at the thought.

“I didn’t hear you, Y/N,” He grunts gravelly, slowing his movements. He slips his fingers out, removing the glove swiftly. You whine at the emptiness, answering him. He was so sweet, yet dirty, and you loved it.

“So good! It feels so good, please don’t stop,” You plead and he smirks in satisfaction as he continues. His thumb rolls over your puffy clit, making your hips press into his hand as he slips back in. Your thighs contracted as they begged to close, but the locked stirrups blocked you from doing so.

“Who’s making you feel this good?” His tone was smooth and clear, almost contradicting his sinful actions. His pace becomes brutal, ramming in and out of you with no mercy. The rough texture of his bare hand sends a shiver up your spine as your orgasm nears.

“You! You, Peter,” Your chest heaves as choked moans leave your lips. His digits rub your throbbing nerves as his fingers glide against your walls addictingly good. Your fingernails dig into the soft flesh of your trembling thighs. His lips raise in another smirk as his cheeks flush that familiar pink. “I’m close, Peter,” You whimper, causing him to hiss at the harsh pulsing of his shaft when his name falls delicately from your lips just how he imagined.

“I know, honey. Can feel you clenching around me,” He groans when you release another noise of pleasure. His eyes wander down to your aching cunt as his fingers become drenched in your juices. You’re squeezing him torturously, on the edge of your break.

“Are you gonna come? Gonna come for me?”

Without another moment, your orgasm ripples through your body with a blissful wail. Clenched muscles and screwed eyes don’t even express the full ecstasy you feel. White liquid saturates Peter’s bare fingers before he licks them clean. It wasn’t the most sanitary, but he didn’t give one fuck.

Your face screams fucked out; perspired skin, droopy eyes, and a weary smile. In his ideal situation, he would have devoured you until you couldn’t take it anymore. But that was for another time. If there ever was another time, which he hoped there would be.

Just maybe not in a hospital.

“Well, Y/N, it seems like you are very healthy,” Peter grins, taking the tissues to clean you thoroughly. You can feel the heat radiating from your cheeks at his joking comment.

“Thanks, doctor,” Your voice came out a bit squeaky while your heart continued to stammer in your chest.

“After that, I think you should call me Peter,” He chuckles, sliding away in his stool to discard the tissues. Heat burns your skin from his adorable laugh.

“Peter it is then,” He helps you down the stirrups and you begin to get dressed with a goofy smile curling on your face. Peter doesn’t fail to notice this as his thoughts begin to wander. He knows he just met you, but he wants to see where this goes. He is confident that you’re interested in him (at least enough for him to finger you), so maybe asking you out isn’t the crazy idea he’s ever had.

“Y/N?” Suddenly, he didn’t feel so confident.

“Yeah?” Your response was breathless.

“Would you, um,” Peter hesitated to find the words. He really was like a little kid talking to his crush for the first time. “like to go out sometime? Maybe?”

You admire his bashfulness. He anxiously rolls up his coat sleeves while his face displaces a rosy blush. His brown eyes twinkled with hope as he waited for a reply.

“I would like that, doctor,” You smile genuinely and sweetly, your joyful energy calming his pent-up nerves. “I mean Peter.” You giggle when he blushes.

“Okay, okay, this is great. Here’s my number,” Peter scribbles messily on a small sheet of note paper, handing it to you. It was adorable how nervous he was for being a well-respected doctor who waltzed in with a sweet kind of confidence. You were giddy as well, but you were way better at hiding it clearly. You snatch the sheet with your fingers, tucking it away in your palm.

“Do you do this with all your patients, Dr. Parker?” You tease with a quirked eyebrow and a pointed finger at his chest. Peter huffs out a chuckle while clicking his tongue.

“Only the most beautiful ones,” He gently lifts your finger, kissing it gently before striding out of the room. Peter doesn’t forget to leave an arrogant wink as the heavy, wooden door closes abruptly.

Maybe being a doctor does make him arrogant. Sometimes.

You stand frozen, starstruck. Your breathing was back to heaving again because he left you breathless. And speechless. You jokingly wondered for a minute if you would die from a heart attack, due to the rapid thumping of a stupid organ against your ribs. Curious, you open your palm and unfold the slip of paper he wrote hastingly. Glancing past the number, you notice the small words underneath.

Please, call me Peter.

—

yesss tell me what you think :)

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