#tom holland spiderman

[uhhhj13iguess]

isn't that crazy?

peter parker x fem!reader

summary: reader storms into peter's apartment, upset over her last tinder date being a complete tool and refusing to eat her out. peter gets a little... distracted.

wc: ~2.1k

cw: ! MDNI ! not full smut, but descriptions of peter being hard, talking about oral (fem!receiving), dry humping, hints of peter being an absoulte munch, swearing, peter getting so embarassed he makes half-jokes to himself about suicide, friends to lovers sexual tension babyyyyyyyyyy

masterlist and taglist!

he didn't mean it. honestly.

in fact, there's nothing peter wanted more in this moment than not to be painfully hard. but here he was, and he didn't know what the fuck to do.

you had let yourself into his apartment with your spare, angrily marching down his hallway already yelling, up in arms about your latest shitty tinder hook up. his bedroom door slammed open, causing him to jump from where he was working at his desk. he looked to you with wide eyes as you continued the rant you'd started upon entering the threshold of his apartment.

"i mean, seriously? i give you the best head of your life, and you return with saying how 'disgusting' going down on me would be? and then you have the audacity to get mad at me when i don't want to fuck you? what the fuck is wrong with the men of new york?!"

you threw yourself down on his bed, frustrated sighs wracking through your chest as you attempted to calm yourself down, hands rough in your hair. peter stared back with bewilderment, and unfortunately, upon the thought of eating you out, an insane hard-on.

it's not like you hadn't talked about sex in the past five years of knowing peter, the two of you told each other everything. peter had just never seen you so... vulgar about it. so frustrated. he knew he needed to come up with a response — hell, he should've a solid thirty seconds ago — but he was currently willing his blood to stay in the upper half of his body, failing miserably as he couldn't fight off images of you spread for him out of his mind.

"what do you think, pete?" your voice snapped him back to earth.

"w-what?"

you gave a shrug, staring down at your lap and thankfully not seeing peter adjust himself and bring a sweatshirt into his own lap.

"i dunno, maybe i'm being the crazy one here. is it so bad to want head in return?" you stared at him expectantly, like you hadn't just asked him the most insane question he'd ever heard.

he shook his head a little too quickly, mentally cringing at how awkward he was being. parker, pull your shit together!

"no," he responded honestly. "i don't think you're being crazy." i think he's crazy for not wanting to.

you gave another heavy sigh, this time your turn to shake your head. "this is the third guy in a row who was appalled i even dare to bring it up. isn't that fucking crazy?"

peter nodded as though he was in a trance, eyes glossy as he stared at you. his reply fell to a whisper, not trusting the pitch of his own voice right now. "fucking crazy."

he held your gaze for a while as you sat in a comfortable silence. maybe for you, peter, however, was looking for any possible exit strategy that could come his way. his mind was going a million miles per hour, rushing thoughts of having you under him keeping him twitching against his sweatpants. he shifted in his seat, a lapse of judgment on peter's end as the sweatshirt in his lap moved against his groin, a sharp exhale falling from his gaped lips as he did everything in his power to hold back a moan.

if you noticed, you didn't let him know, giving him a soft smile as you stood from his bed to walk closer, gaze now heavy on the physics notes sprawled on the desk. you leaned over his shoulder, a hand on the back of his chair to stabilize yourself as you peered down.

"i'm sorry for complaining about my trashy sex life, this looks a thousand times more important. jesus, what even is all this?"

you leaned down further, your chest now brushing against his shoulder blade as you skimmed the papers, breath hot against his ear. normally, your proximity was no issue for peter — you've been best friends for years, touch wasn't foreign. but with his current circumstances, your touch against him was sending his senses into overdrive, and he was going to combust.

"j-just... physics... i-i guess." he stuttered, not daring to move his head a millimeter as your cheek nearly grazed his own.

you gave a gentle chuckle, the sound earning a groan deep in peter's throat before he knew to stop it. "yeah, i could figure out that much, parker. what's up with you? you're being weird."

you pull back slightly to adjust, immediately turning around to sit on peter's knee. again, it was something you'd done hundreds of times before with no other thoughts or implications, but with the sinful chains around his thoughts right now, it only threw him off more. you went to grab the sweatshirt in his lap, hoping to shift onto him more comfortably. he immediately grabbed your hand to stop you.

"no! i-i mean, i'm fine. i'm not being weird." he let go of your hand, crossing his arms and giving you a shrug, his best attempt at coming off nonchalant. his best wasn't good enough.

"yeah right, peter. what's your prob-" while speaking, you had grabbed for the sweatshirt quicker this time, using the momentum to immediately swing your leg over both his thighs to sit in his lap properly. you sat down fully, cheeks instantly flushing pink, "oh."

there were many times in his life when peter thought about ending it all, but none as much as now. he was going to have to either move countries, or jump from the empire state without his web shooters. those were the only two options circling his head as his wide eyes met yours, a red tint taking over his entire upper body.

"i'm so sorry, h-holy shit," he breathed out, grabbing at your hips to lift you off of him so he could get out of here as quickly as possible. you resisted him, though, doing what you could to fight against him and stay firmly planted on his lap. that made him panic even more. because, of course. he wasn't going to have time to kill himself. you were going to kill him first.

"i-i tried to, i don't... i'm so sorry."

you put your hands on his chest, a genuine look of bewilderment splayed across your features. "is that... is this because of me? what i was talking about?"

not only were you going to kill him, you were going to torment him about it first. and he knew he deserved it.

"pete—"

"i'm so sorry, please let me go, i didn't, i—"

"pete, listen to me."

"this is so embarrassing, i really didn't mean to—"

"peter," you let out his name in a voice he hadn't heard before, something torn between a growl and a moan — all while dragging your hips up against him. he gave a shaky exhale at the pressure, the feeling of you rutting against his cock stopping his guilty rambling.

you found his gaze, his pupils blown and irises dark, a direct correlation to the twitching of his cock as you gave him another soft roll of your hips. his hands found your hips again, holding you firmly in place to stop the teasing movement. his brows knit together, geunine confusion plastered across his face.

"what... what are you doing?" he was breathless, chest heaving as he stared back at you. you hesitantly reached a hand to his hair, palm splaying out on his scalp as your thumb traced circles on his temple. even in his worst possible moments, you were there to calm him down. he had absolutely no idea why you weren't yelling at him, or what you were even still doing here, but he wasn't going to fight it. he melted into your touch, and his breathing hitched as you leaned in closer.

"have you always felt this way?" you whispered, breath against his cheeks sending goosebumps across his body.

"felt... what?" he tried to play dumb, despite the fact that you could also feel how excruciatingly hard he was against you. when he daydreamed about confessing he was in love with you, this was never a scenario in his head.

you let your hand graze slowly down the side of his face, fingers coming to trace his sculpted jawline. his breath didn't just hitch at this point, he was pretty sure his lungs stopped working entirely.

"why haven't you ever said anything?" it wasn't angry, it was a genuine question.

he let out a scoff, a hand leaving your hip to scratch the back of his neck, embarrassment covering his features for the hundredth time this evening. "yeah, well. this isn't exactly how you want to tell your best friend you love her."

your eyes widened, and peter's followed, realization of his words hitting him.

"you love me?"

"holy shit, that's, i didn't, oh my god that's—"

peter's panic was cut off and replaced with awe as he felt your lips crash against his, a feeling he'd been dreaming of since the day he'd met you back in high school. he immediately reciprocated, tilting his head to deepen the kiss and letting a long overdue moan escape from his lips. you smiled against it, both hands interlocking with those brown curls you'd been dying to run your hands through, just like this.

peter nipped at your bottom lip, earning a sharp gasp from you that allowed his tongue much-needed entry into your mouth. the kiss was nothing short of hungry, years of pent-up feelings being released hot and noisily as peter bruised his lips against yours.

he pulled back sharply, out of breath and looking at you as though you weren't real. "wait, i dont... you...?"

you laughed at the lack of his question, though instantly understanding him. you gave a soft nod, a blush creeping over your cheeks as you brought your hands to cup his face. while the kiss was downright sinful, the way you looked at him filled him with nothing but reverence.

"every shitty tinder date happened after i chickened out of telling you how i felt. i just couldn't stand to lose you, peter." you added sadly.

he gave you a knowing look, nodding in agreement. "i know what you mean," he squeezed your hips, a contagious smirk controlling his lips. "wait, you've been going on shitty tinder dates since we moved out for college three years ago."

you returned the smirk, fingers trailing down to ghost the tendons in his neck. "i know."

peter pulled you in again, no longer embarrassed at the desperate noises escaping his throat as he attacked your lips, this kiss somehow hungrier than the last. you grinded down against him again, a raspy "fuck" leaving his swollen lips as he held a firm grip on your hips to keep you moving.

you chuckled at his desperation.

"you're telling me i could've been doing this the whole time instead of shitty jocks thinking its gross to make a woman feel good?" you sighed out as he trailed down your neck, teeth nipping and bruising your soft flesh as he continued to move against your hips, leaving you to soak up the feeling out how hard he was underneath you.

peter groaned in frustration, standing quickly with you still wrapped around his hips. he held you with one arm as though you weighed nothing, lips still attached to the pulse point in your neck. he used the other to catch himself as he threw you down onto his bed. you gasped, your back hitting the soft mattress as you took in peter's frame over you, hands on either side of your head.

he pulled back from his artwork on your neck, his jaw clenched. "i can't believe anyone could ever tell you such nonsense,"

he leaned down again to peck at your lips, hands making their way down to explore your sides. "i can't tell you what an honor it is to even think about how good you taste," he growled in your ear.

you gave a gasp, his words alone enough to have your cunt aching, as if you hadn't been since the second you sat down on his lap. "you... you think about that?"

he let out a chuckle as he sat back, his hands teasingly making their way to the button of your jeans. he ran his fingers under your waistline as his other hand tugged at your zipper, the feeling of your muscles tensing under his touch driving him absolutely crazy.

"more times than you could torture out of me," he pulled your jeans down, nearly finishing in his sweats at the sight of the delicate lace underwear against your burning skin.

"can i show you what i think about, sweetheart?"

[shortnspidey]

happy national spider-man day! ❤️💙

[thollandsgirl2013]

𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐆𝐮𝐲

Parings → Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings → nakedness, suggestive, 18+

Summary → Peter gets really giddy when he sees your boobs.

A/N - was inspired by @webslingingslasher 's this little blurb

You stepped out of Peter’s bathroom, towel in hand as you gently dried your hair, water droplets still lingering on your skin. The air in his room was warm, comforting, and the sound of a movie quietly played on the TV. You stood by the edge of the bed, your eyes naturally drifting toward the screen where Peter had his focus locked—well, until he caught sight of you in his peripheral vision.

He shifted slightly, trying to refocus on the TV, but his mind couldn’t quite settle. His gaze kept pulling toward you, and you noticed how his eyes flickered in your direction, widening for a moment.

“What?” You asked, confused but amused as you caught him staring out of the corner of your eye.

“Nothing,” he stammered quickly, eyes darting back to the screen. But his mind wasn’t there at all. Not when his peripheral vision picked up something else—a peek of skin, the curve of your boobs just barely in sight as you moved to grab something from his nightstand.

Peter turned his head, and in that instant, his brain short-circuited. You weren’t wearing a shirt. In fact, you weren’t wearing anything at all.

"Whoa—" His voice cracked a little, and his whole body froze in place.

You didn’t seem to notice at first, casually sitting down on the bed next to him, stretching out like it was the most normal thing in the world.

"Is this... are you asking for sex?" Peter blurted out, his face already turning red as his eyes stayed glued to you.

You laughed softly, looking at him like he was overreacting. "No, just hanging out, why?"

His eyes flickered down to your chest, then back up, his mouth slightly open. "Your boobs are out. Like, I’m looking at them."

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head with a playful smile. "Peter, I’m literally butt-ass naked."

"Yeah, I know! But like—" His hands gestured toward your chest, unable to look away. "Your boobs. They’re just out right now."

"And? You’ve seen them a million times!"

Peter was quiet for a second, clearly struggling to process the situation. "Yeah, but… they’re just there. And you’re chilling, like, I can just look at them."

"Peter," you chuckled, giving him a light shove. "Stop acting like a child."

"I did nothing today, and I’ve been rewarded with free boobs," he continued, not even hearing your words at this point. "Holy shit, I’ve never been luckier than this moment right now."

"You're such a dork," you said, shaking your head with a grin.

Peter blinked, eyes wide, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Is this a thing? Are we doing this now? Like, am I lucky enough to get this for the rest of my life?"

You laughed, rolling your eyes but secretly loving how giddy he was. "Oh my god, Peter."

He finally pulled his eyes away from your chest to meet your gaze, his expression still one of awe. "Seriously, I’m the luckiest guy ever. You don’t even know."

"Peter," you said, raising an eyebrow, "I’m right here. I think I know."

But Peter was in his own world, his grin wide and goofy. "I mean, I’ve loved you for a million reasons, but this—this is just the cherry on top."

You snorted, giving him another playful shove. "Okay, calm down, Parker."

Peter scooted closer to you on the bed, still unable to hide his amazement. "Are you sure this isn’t some weird trick to get me to do something?"

You laughed again, leaning into his side. "No, Peter. Just hanging out."

He let out a sigh of relief, but his eyes flickered back down, unable to help himself. "God, I love you."

"You love my boobs," you rolled your eyes.

"That too!" Peter admitted, leaning in to press a kiss to your shoulder. "But I love you way more."

You felt your heart swell at his words, but you kept the teasing grin on your face. "Better."

Peter laughed, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, his hand resting lightly on your arm. "Seriously, though. This… this is the best day ever."

You rolled your eyes again, but you couldn’t help the warmth that spread through your chest. Being with Peter, even in these silly, casual moments, made everything feel perfect.

"You're ridiculous," you said softly, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.

Peter leaned into you, still grinning like he couldn’t believe his luck. "Yeah, but you love it."

Peter bit his lip, trying to contain his excitement but failing miserably. His wide, boyish grin returned as he looked at you. "Can I… massage them?"

You raised an eyebrow, smirking as you leaned back slightly, crossing your arms. "You're just searching for a reason to touch them."

Peter chuckled nervously, shrugging his shoulders like he was caught red-handed. "No.... okay yes, but… you can’t blame me, right? I’m only human!" His eyes darted between your face and your chest, barely able to keep still.

You let out a light laugh, shaking your head at how easily flustered he got around you, even after all this time. "You are so predictable, Pete."

"Hey, in my defense," he said, sitting up straighter, "you’re literally naked, and I’m trying to be a good boyfriend here by, you know, helping you relax. Massages are relaxing!"

"Is that so?" You teased, leaning a little closer to him, watching as his eyes widened at your movement. "So you're offering to help me relax, huh? Not just trying to cop a feel?"

"Totally!" Peter grinned sheepishly, clearly knowing you saw right through him. "I’m all about helping, nothing else."

You playfully rolled your eyes, leaning back against the pillows, still not entirely convinced. "Uh-huh, sure. What kind of massage are we talking about, Mr. Parker?"

His eyes brightened instantly, and he shifted on the bed, eager to make his move. "Like, a really good one! I’ve been practicing my technique, you know. I could help with any tension you’ve got—neck, shoulders, or… y'know… boobs"

"Peter," you laughed, raising a hand to cover your face, "you really are something else."

"Come on, please?" He practically begged, his face adorably eager as he reached out his hands, hovering them just above your chest as if asking for permission. "You know it'll feel amazing."

You sighed dramatically, though a playful smile tugged at your lips. "Alright, fine. But if this is just a clever excuse to—"

Before you could even finish, Peter’s hands gently cupped your breasts, his touch tentative at first as he gauged your reaction. The second you didn’t protest, he relaxed, his grin widening.

"Okay, this is awesome," he whispered, his hands moving carefully as he started massaging your skin in soft, slow circles. "I swear I’m being professional about this."

"Uh hu, sure you are," you said, but you couldn’t help the soft sigh that escaped your lips as his warm hands worked their magic. You hadn’t expected him to actually be good at it.

"See? Told you I’m good at this," Peter murmured, clearly pleased with himself as he gently kneaded your skin. "I mean, I could do this all day."

You chuckled, feeling his excitement through his careful movements. "Yeah, I can tell."

Peter leaned in, his breath warm against your neck as he spoke. "Can we make this a regular thing? Like, I get to massage you every night?"

"Now you’re definitely pushing it," you teased, swatting his arm.

"But I’m serious!" He insisted, his grin still in full force. "It’s a win-win, right? You get a massage, and I get—"

"To touch my boobs," you finished for him, smirking.

"Exactly!" Peter said, nodding as if this was the most logical argument in the world. "Everybody wins."

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head at his adorable persistence. "You're lucky you're cute, Parker."

"I know," he whispered back, his grin softening as he leaned in to press a gentle kiss to your lips. "I’m the luckiest guy in the world."

His hands continued to move slowly, more focused now as he massaged your skin with just the right amount of pressure. You felt your body relax under his touch, your playful banter giving way to a comfortable silence.

"Okay, okay," you finally murmured, your voice soft as you melted into the pillows. "You might’ve been right about this massage thing."

Peter chuckled softly, leaning down to kiss the top of your head. "Told you."

You closed your eyes, letting yourself enjoy the moment. His hands were warm, gentle, and filled with affection. This wasn’t just about him copping a feel—it was him loving you in his own silly, adorable way.

"Fine," you whispered, a smile tugging at your lips, "maybe we can make this a regular thing."

Peter’s eyes lit up with excitement, his grin spreading wide as he kissed your cheek. "Best. Day. Ever."

‎∗ ࣪ ˖༺ 𓆩☆𓆪 ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

[thought-you-knew]

pb&jj roommates au: the one with pbjj jr.

Summary: it's you, hank, an empty apartment, oh, and an annoying little robot following you around the apartment for the weekend. for you protection obviously. inspired by those tiktok couples where one of them is away and uses the cute little robot bother their partner.

Pairings: pb&jj x platonic!reader/fem!reader & peter parker x reader/fem!reader (pairings will change in the future. fem!reader will be romantically paired with a different boy, depending on the story. but she's NOT dating all of them at the same time or maybe… 👀👀)

Warings: fluff, being harassed by an overly friendly robot aka pbjj jr., peter and fem!reader hiding their new relationship. proofreadish

WC: 1.2K

Author's Note: this is purely self-indulgent, and also i blame my friend for sending me those tiktoks. i'm hoping this will help me finish my bob fic :( this one and the upcoming pb&jj oneshots aren't going to be in chronological order

comment below your thoughts on poly!pairing with fem!reader

This is a luxury for you, and you plan on not wasting it. Peter, Bob, Joaquin, and Johnny are currently having their annual boys’ trip. Whatever that means. You didn’t take any of them, except for maybe Joaquin for being outdoorsy. But that’s where they are in a cabin in upstate New York. Male bonding at its finest.

Friday Morning

Peter had managed to sneak into your room while the rest of the guys were in the living room arguing whether they had packed enough alcohol. You look up as Peter closes the door and joins you on the bed. He’s holding something behind his back. 

“I have something for you.” 

“Peter, you’re the one going away. I should’ve gotten something for you,” you say, and he smiles. 

“This is actually for both of us. I know I’ll be only gone for the weekend, but I’ll still miss you.” Peter says shyly and reveals the cutest little white robot. It fits in the palm of his hand, and Peter holds it out for you to take. 

“Peter,” you softly say, and inspect the robot closer. Peter touches the top of its head, and the robot comes to life.  

“We can communicate with each other through the robot.”

You hug him.“You didn’t have to, but I love that you did.” You pull back slightly and kiss him, before he can deepen the kiss, there’s a light knock on your door. Bob is the only one who bothers knocking, which has almost given you and Peter away these past few weeks.

The two of you plan on telling the rest of the guys about your new relationship after the guys’ trip. 

Sadly, you don’t get any more alone time with Peter since Joaquin is impatient and wants to hit the road. 

Friday Afternoon

You and Hank are camped out on the couch while a movie plays and you’re painting your toenails. You feel something bump against the coffee table and look down. It’s the little robot, you bend over and pick it up. You’re eye level with it, and it stares back at you with those wide blue eyes. Why isn’t Peter saying anything? 

“Hey! Can you hear me?” A loud voice, most definitely not Peter’s, comes from the robot, and you almost drop it. 

“Joaquin?”

“Yeah, who else would it be?”

“How do you know about the robot? Did you steal Peter’s phone again?” 

“Borrowing, mine's dead, and I’m bored.” You hope Joaquin hasn’t been snooping through Peter’s text messages or seeing that Peter has changed your contact name in his phone. Placing the robot on the coffee table, you watch as it starts rolling around. 

"Where's everyone else?"

The robot starts spinning in circles, and that catches Hank's attention.

"Mhh, there's trying to get the BBQ going. It's not going very well."

You snort. "That's a surprise."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, from the number of times you, Bob, and Johnny manage to set the fire alarm off."

"Yeah, yeah, details," he says, and the robot stops spinning and moves closer to you. "Show me my son."

"I think you mean, my son."

"Our son," he counters, "now hurry up and show him to me. It's been 6 hours since I've last seen his cute little face." As if knowing he’s being talked about, Hank jumps from the couch and onto the coffee table. 

“There’s my boy!” Hank crouches down with a tilted head, his ears are in airplane mode. That can only mean one thing. Before you can save robot Joaquin, Hank swats at it, and it goes flying. You rush over to make sure it’s not damaged. 

Joaquin gasps. “I can’t believe he just did that.” 

You try not to laugh. “I guess he is your son after all.” 

Saturday Night

Somehow, the rest of the guys have caught wind about the robot Peter gave you, and it’s been nonstop chaos. Thankfully, they’re too dumb to realize why Peter gave it to you in the first place or why he was trying to keep it from them.

Earlier that day, you were trying to do laundry and almost lost your life because Johnny kept making the robot pop out of nowhere. Causing you to either trip or nearly step on it. 

You’re stepping out of the bathroom in your bathrobe when you think you hear the Jaws theme song playing. Thinking you left the TV on, you go and investigate. Nope, everything is off. You shrug, turn back to the hallway, and then hear the music coming nearer. Looking closer, you see a pair of glowing eyes near the couch. Not Hank’s.

Realizing who it is, you roll your eyes. “Not funny, Johnny.” You thought he would stop, but he proceeds to make the robot chase you around the kitchen, all the while playing ‘One, Two, Freddy’s Coming For You’. You manage to get to your room and slam the door shut before the robot can rush in. 

You hear a faint bumping sound coming from behind your door, but you ignore it. 

“Aw, come on! We were having fun.” Johnny’s muffled voice calls out. 

“The fun ended hours ago when I almost tripped and died.” 

“Babe, don’t be mad at me!" 

“Don’t call me that!” 

He gives a dramatic sigh. “I feel like there’s this wall between us."

“I prefer it that way."

Sunday Morning

You didn’t think you would miss Peter so much after only two days. At least he’ll be home later tonight. You’re in the kitchen when you hear the robot rolling in. Without thinking, you’re bending down to pick it up. It watches as you continue to make your breakfast, and you’re not sure who’s on the other end. 

“Morning,” Bob says. 

“Morning, Bob. How’s the trip going?” 

“Ugh. We drank way too much last night, and then Johnny ran off with Peter’s phone. We thought it was lost forever, but I just found it.” 

“Where was it?” 

There’s a long pause, and you think Bob lost service for a second. “It’s best you don’t know.” He changes the subject fast and asks what you’ve been doing this weekend. 

You two idly chat as you finish making breakfast. Once it’s done, an idea pops into your head. You grab two plates and dish out eggs and toast onto both, all the while, robot Bob watches on.

"Do you want tea or coffee?" You ask.

"Tea, please."

Once everything is set up, you place the robot next to you and start eating. Every now and then, you pretend to feed the robot, which makes Bob laugh. 

“So, you and Peter?”

That almost makes you choke on your eggs. It feels more like Bob’s eyes staring at you instead of the robot’s. “What are you on about?” 

“He’s not a very good liar, plus I was the navigator while Peter drove.”

“So you snooped through his phone!” 

“No! I was just confirming my suspicions.” 

You glare at the robot. “What are you talking about, Bob?”

“Don’t be mad! But, I might have seen Peter sneak out of your room last week, sorry.” 

“Bob!”

“I’m sorry! You know I’m an insomniac.” 

Groaning, you lean back in your chair. Well, if it had to be any one of the three to find out, you’re glad it’s Bob.

“It’s fine. At least it wasn’t Johnny or Joaquin.”

“Uh… about that.”

“Bob!”

3am

You’re on the cusp of sleep when you feel the bed dip behind you, and Peter pulls you into his arms. 

“I missed you,” you sleepily say. 

Peter kisses the side of your neck. “Me too.” 

You’re both about to drift off to sleep when you say. “You know you’re in trouble, right?” 

[lady-nuggetz]

Was working on sometbing for spider-man day but I don't think I have the motivation to finish it in time for today.

But here's three sweet petes! The magic number! For a tiny animation meme I've been doing.

[emmaslilblog]

Tarantula-Man // Peter Parker

ONE-SHOT

ABOUT: After your long-time crush Peter Parker invites you over for dinner one night, you accidentally discover his biggest secret. [ tomholland!peter x fem!reader. big fluff, quiet bookworm girl x nerdy guy ]

TW: A few allusions to sex. Overwhelming cutness :)

WORD COUNT: 5.1k

A/N: Had to give Tom Holland's Petey a turn! He's just such a softie I can't handle his cuteness. Anyway enjoy :)

DISCLAIMER: The gif is not mine! Also, I might have changed the setup/floor plan of the Parker apartment in order for this idea to work, so please forgive meeee

~~~

You've always had eyes for the nerd in the back of the classroom. Granted, everyone at Midtown School of Science and Technology has more than earned their right to the title of "nerd" - but this one's different from the others.

His name is Peter Parker. He's got the fluffiest brown hair you've ever seen, the softest chocolate eyes, the most perfectly chiseled chin and a smile to melt the hearts of all the world's monsters. Not to mention he's dashing in every way - muscular physique, capable talents, a shy nature and a respect for his fellow students. His best friend is a social outcast, but he's never afraid of getting targeted for it. He's an all-around good guy, and it's safe to say you've never liked anyone more.

But as the resident "quiet girl" of Midtown, no one has ever really looked your way. That's both a good and bad thing. On the bright side, no one ever notices you when you spend hours of your day sneaking peeks at the handsome Peter Parker. On the down side, however... no one ever notices you.

Until today.

It's early autumn. The leaves are falling in golden-tinted shades outside, the trees rustling in the breeze. You can see the sun through the window across the cafeteria, but the windows closest to you are shaded by the trees just outside. You're sitting on a bench, alone, in the corner of the cafeteria, feet kicked up next to you on the empty bench, a book in your hands as you take occasional sips from a carton of crappy chocolate milk. For the time being, your mind has drifted from Parker, settling on the words your eyes scan from the page. Catcher In The Rye, one of your favorite books. An old-timer, and one that's been banned in several places across the world, but the story is just so... thoughtful. And you love to think.

Just when you reach a "good part" in the scene - someone clears their throat.

Your head jerks up. None other than Peter Parker and Ned Leeds are standing on the other side of the table, lunch trays in hand. Peter's face instantly blushes, and you find yourself frozen.

"Hey, uh, Y/n..." Peter says, scrambling for words. "Uh, I, uh... Miss Jenson recommended you to, uh, help me with Calc. She said you have the highest consistent scores in the class."

You gulp down your social terror, and find yourself nodding. "I didn't know I have the highest scores," you tell him, trying to sound confident, "but, uh, yeah. Yeah, I can help you."

Peter beams. You fall for him all over again.

He nods to the table. "Mind if Ned and I join you?"

You smile, a little awkwardly. "I don't usually get visitors, but you guys seem pleasant."

He takes that as the yes you meant it to be. Together, Peter and Ned sit down across from you and set their trays on the table. You swing your legs down from the bench, scooting forward just slightly. You set your book face up on the table, and Peter's eyes dart to its cover. He smirks at you.

"Catcher In The Rye?" he reads. "Wow, I guess you really do have to watch out for the quiet ones."

You giggle softly, pulling the book closer to you. Shrugging, you respond, "Guess so. I dunno, I just like the language. Holden Caulfield's got a lot of useful clapbacks. Which I intend to use, should anyone try to insult me."

As Ned rips his chocolate milk carton open, Peter's eyes twinkle in a sweet smile. "Don't worry, I try to follow the Nice Guy Code. You won't have to go all Holden Caulfield on me, I promise."

You grin. Parker's turning out to be even better in person than you ever could have imagined. You sense there's more behind the "Calc Homework Help" excuse, but you don't want to get your hopes up. Whatever it is - whatever the reason he came to talk to you - you're finally in his presence, and that's more than enough to satisfy you.

For now.

~~~

It's been two weeks. Every day has been like a dream. When the first day was done, you convinced yourself it had been a one-time thing, since Peter had seemed to understand the concepts you were explaining to him and he'd stopped asking questions by the end of lunchtime. But when he returned the second day, Ned at his side, you figured something else was at play.

It took three days before you started - for some reason - seeing him in the halls way more often than usual. He started just passing by, waving to you and grinning each time he saw you. Then, on the fourth day, he ran up behind you (scared you a little bit, but that's okay), and started talking your ear off about The Great Gatsby, a book he figured you'd enjoy based on your taste in literature. You had already read his recommendation at least five times in your life, but you nurtured his excitement anyway. Any chance to be closer to him, to be in his presence, was a chance you would be a idiot to turn down.

On the fifth day, Peter showed up to lunch alone. Ned had gone somewhere else. That was when you allowed yourself to accept that something fishy was going on. You felt like you were a character in one of the books you loved - you could see something was off, but you didn't yet have the knowledge or insight to figure it out. Not fully.

You've hit the two week mark since Peter started seeking you out at Midtown, the first person in perhaps a year or two to do so. At lunch today, Ned finally came back and joined you both, but he kept his nose in his phone practically the whole time. You felt bad for him - tried to include him in conversation - but it was obvious he was there despite not wanting to be. Peter shrugged it all off.

You're at your locker, earbuds pressed deep in your ears and snaking down to the phone in your pocket. You're nodding your head to a beat only you can hear. You have a few minutes in between classes, so you've taken to organizing your (rather cluttered) locker space.

Someone taps on your shoulder.

You jump and spin around to see Peter standing there, face warped in a big grin, and your heart leaps in your chest. You tug one earbud out of your ear. The music stops.

"Don't do that, Parker," you tell him, breathless. "You scared the crap out of me."

He chuckles to himself, leaning sideways against the locker next to yours. You notice that he's standing very close to you. Closer than usual, even when walking down a crowded hallway. Your breath hitches in your throat when you look at him - his eyes are clouded with a depth you can't describe. Something's definitely going on.

"Sorry," he says, a half-assed apology. "I forgot you frighten easily."

A heat rises to your cheeks, and you force a frown. "What ever happened to watching out for the quiet ones?"

Those had been his words, said two weeks ago when he first joined you at lunch. It takes him a few seconds to realize what you're doing, and then he gives you a strange look, and somehow, you know exactly what he's thinking. He's wondering why you remember that so easily... and then he's wondering why you were paying so much attention when he was speaking to you.

Nevertheless, he forces a laugh. "Sorry," he stutters. "I, uh - sorry, that was rude of me. Please don't be mad, Y/n."

He's too pretty. If it's this hard to hold a straight face in front of him, you don't even want to know what holding a grudge against him would be like. You give in, and your lips curl into a smile.

"I'm not," you assure him. "Just... don't make fun of me for being, y'know, a scaredy-cat."

He reaches out, strong fingers grazing your upper arm just barely. Even with such brief contact, his touch sends shivers down your spine. When he pulls his arm back, you feel as though you've lost something. You can't describe it other than the feeling of loss.

"I won't do it again," he says. "I promise."

You force a nod, dragging your mind away from the thought of his fingers on you. What it would be like to feel him even closer to you. He just gave you a taste of the forbidden fruit, and you want more.

You clear your throat. "So, uh... might I ask why you approached me in the middle of the day? We have..." You lean back, squinting at the clock hanging from the ceiling down the hallway. "We have exactly two minutes before the bell rings. Where's your class?"

"Chem," he answers simply, waving your question away. "It's just down the hall. I, uh, I actually wanted to, uh... ask you something."

Your heart leaps.

"Oh?" you breathe, tilting your head to the side, pretending every muscle in your body isn't on edge. "And what's that, I wonder?"

Parker raises a hand to scratch the back of his neck. You recognize the movement from every love confession scene you've ever read. His eyes, big chocolate orbs, dart away from you and around the hallway aimlessly. He smiles at the ground. His cheeks go red.

"I..." he starts, hesitating wildly. "Well, I, uh... I may or may not have mentioned your name to my Aunt May. And she... well, she wants to meet you."

The thought of him bringing you up to someone you don't even know - him talking about you when you're not there, obviously in a positive light since his aunt wants to meet you now - makes your knees go weak. You feel faint. Is this really happening? Is he really doing what you think he's doing?

"I really don't want to put you on edge, you know," Peter continues with a shrug, "so if you're not interested, just... just, uh, say no. I won't be upset. But, um... Aunt May's cooking dinner tonight. For three. If you, uh, want to join." He gives you a crooked smile.

Inside your chest, your heart melts. You're speechless. This is actually happening. He just invited you to dinner. And you can think of only one thing to say in response.

"What time?"

~~~

You must have spent close to three hours preparing for dinner with Peter and his Aunt May. Your shower took over an hour (you frantically made sure to shave every hair exposed on your legs, not wanting to take any chances on Peter's toleration level), and then you spent half an hour scrolling through Pinterest for eyeliner design inspiration. In the end, you settle with your usual school makeup, plus a slightly darker shade of lip gloss and a smattering of rosy eyeshadow. From your meager closet you elect a black skirt ending just above your knees, a gray buttoned blouse, and a black cardigan. While lacing your white Converse, you hyperventilate for a terrifying fifteen minutes. Then you say goodbye to your parents and leave your apartment on foot.

Peter's apartment complex isn't far from your own - just a few blocks. In an endless city like New York, that's a simple distance. You brought a little bag of homemade chocolates for the Parkers to share, and you spend the entire walk switching the strings of the bag between sweaty hands.

When you arrive in the lobby of the apartment complex, no one is there to welcome you, and it alarms you a little bit. Your heart beats louder and more aggressive in your chest, throat tightening as you try to swallow away your anxiety. You sent Peter a text when you left your apartment, and another five minutes out from his, but he hasn't responded. Hell, he hasn't even read your messages. You begin to wonder if this is a good idea, if he suddenly went back on his offer. You can't blame him - you aren't the most interesting or the most beautiful girl at Midtown. You aren't the cream of the crop. You're just... you. And if things aren't going like he said they would, then maybe it's time to accept the Midtown boys as a mere passing moment in the era of your life.

Just when you've convinced yourself it's time to turn around and go home, you hear a ping! from your back pocket. You whip your phone out at dastardly speed.

Peter :))) : sixth floor incase i forgot to mention :P

You smile to yourself. Instead of quieting, your heart skips a beat and then continues faster. You head over to the elevator. It takes a millennium for the thing to descend to the ground floor after you push the button, and even more time to begin its agonizingly slow ascent to the sixth floor.

Ding!

You exhale deeply. Sweaty fingers straighten your skirt at its edge. Then you urge your feet forward onto the carpet, looking for the number of the Parker apartment.

Before you feel properly prepared, you stop in front of a maroon door. The door. You stand frozen for a long moment, double-checking the number against the one Peter texted you earlier. You're definitely in the right place - now it's just a matter of screwing up all your courage. After taking the deepest breath of your life, you reach up to knock on the wood.

It swings open before you can touch it.

Standing in front of you is a gorgeous woman looking to be in her mid-thirties, maybe slightly younger. She's wearing a black and white striped long-sleeve, with dark navy jeans that hug her waist as if she's eighteen. A pair of circular glasses sit on her nose, a headful of dark brown hair flowing down and over her shoulders. If not for those instantly recognizable chocolate brown eyes, you would have believed you'd knocked on the wrong door.

When Aunt May sees you standing there, her face erupts in an enormous smile. She leans against the doorway, one hand resting loosely on the doorknob.

"Y/n!" she greets happily. "Pete didn't tell me when exactly you'd be coming. I was just going to get the mail from downstairs."

You giggle. "You call him Pete?"

Aunt May smirks, an expression far too mischievous for a woman reaching her middle age. "Just one of his many nicknames," she answers. Before you can react, she grabs your shoulders and pulls you into a crushing embrace. "He told me you were adorable, but I have to say, you still surpass my expectation."

Wrapped in a strange hug by a woman you've never met before, you can't help but smile. Your heart flutters in your chest - Peter told his aunt you were adorable. Who knows what else he's said.

Aunt May pulls away, regards you kindly. Then she ushers you into the apartment. "I'll be right back," she assures you. "Pete's in his room doing God knows what. Go terrorize him for me."

She winks at you, then disappears into the hallway, letting the door fall shut behind her. You can hear keys jingling as she walks to the elevator.

You take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Your eyes flicker around the apartment, bag of chocolates gripped tightly in both hands. The Parker living space is a good size, strewn with modern furnishings and knick-knacks and decorations akin to the personalities of Peter and his lively aunt. On the far wall, you spy a pinned-up painting of a cow in a pasture, the artistic level of a kindergartener. You giggle to yourself at the sight, gaze moving over object after object, then falling on a stream of light emanating from a slightly opened door at the end of a short hallway. You can hear the rustling and creaking of someone moving around - it's got to be Peter.

You gulp down your rising nerves. "Peter?" you call out. You step forward, then stop and listen. The movement has ceased entirely. "Peter, it's Y/n. Aunt May let me in."

A moment of silence. Then a strange scraping sound - like boots on a wooden dresser. You don't know why he hasn't answered yet.

After setting the bag of chocolates on the island, you defy your growing apprehension and direct your slow steps toward Peter's room. Wild thoughts of an intruder swirl around your mind, but you push them away. That can't be possible - Aunt May was here not two minutes ago.

You're in front of his bedroom door now. The movement has stopped again, replaced by a silence only broken by the thumping of your rapid heartbeat. This is the setting of something horrific - or would be, if you were a character in a novel. But you're not. You're retrieving Peter Parker from his bedroom. For a dinner with him and his aunt. That he invited you to. Nothing out of the ordinary is going on.

"Peter," you say, your voice shaky, "I'm coming in."

He doesn't answer. You give him several long moments, but all is silent. It's like he's disappeared into thin air.

Biting your lip, you push his bedroom door open all the way. The white wood creaks, and you step forward. Just a typical teenage boy's bedroom, moderately messy with a few open Lego sets and clothing items and a blue hoodie at the edge of his bed and a Playstation controller on the floor near a dresser. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Until your eyes drift to the ceiling.

Peter is glued to the ceiling as if by magic. He's wearing some sort of red and blue costume. He's staring at you, unblinking, as your eyes widen in terror.

You stumble backward and open your mouth to scream, but Peter jumps down to the floor in a soft thump and presses a soft gloved hand to your mouth. He's frantic, but you are horrified - what the hell is happening? Your mouth is covered, and you can't scream anymore, but you can't get the image of Peter clinging to the ceiling out of your mind. Peter shushes you quietly, his free hand reaching out to close the door behind you. It clicks shut.

"Please," Peter urges you, "please don't scream. I - I didn't mean to - I didn't know you'd be up here this fast. Please, Y/n, I -"

You rip Peter's hand away from your mouth and stumble on your feet, your back meeting the closed door. Your eyes are rimmed with tears, lungs struggling to pull in air, but you're able to hiss one thing at him: "What the fuck?"

Peter sighs deeply, fingers pulling at his hair in frustration. If you were less terrified, you would marvel at how flawlessly the red and blue suit hugs his form. The pattern looks like a spider at the center of his chest, legs stretching up and down across his figure.

"I really hoped you wouldn't - Y/n, I really -" he stutters, tripping over his words. "I didn't mean to - shit."

You take a moment to focus on your breathing. He's obviously angry. You obviously just walked in on something very private and possibly very dangerous. But he's still the same Peter Parker. He's still the same sweet nerdy guy who invited you to dinner with his aunt. He's still the guy who approached you at lunch and made conversation when no one else would. He's still Peter, and you have no right to hold your shock against him when you are the one who invaded his privacy in the first place.

A tear rolls down your cheek. "Did I just screw us up?" you ask, voice astonishingly quiet.

Peter looks up at you, chocolate brown orbs meeting yours, and he exhales with a faux smile. He shakes his head. "No, Y/n, I just... well, I've just had a lot going on lately, and I... this is something even my Aunt May doesn't know anything about. You're, like, the second person to find out about this. Maybe the third, I don't know."

Once you convince yourself that he isn't going to hurt you, you leave the door. Your steps carry you forward, toward Peter, and he takes a step back, perhaps fearful you're going to slap him or punch him. But you don't. Even if you wanted to, you couldn't.

"I didn't mean to walk in on a secret," you tell him softly. Against your racing heart, you raise a hand, gently touching his... suit-thing with the back of your index finger. It's smooth, soft, almost silky, but strong beneath your skin. It must be a new kind of technology. "What is this... for? This... suit... thing?"

Peter opens his mouth to answer, but pauses breathless when you press your palm to his shoulder, running your skin across his strange outfit. "I, uh..." he stammers, watching you inspect him with eyes of that strange depth from before. "It's a crazy story. I don't know if you'll believe me."

You recall the vision of Peter clinging impossibly to the ceiling, and you shrug lightly. "Tell me anyway," you say. "I just saw you glued to the ceiling. Anything would seem plausible at this point."

Peter bites his lip. He leans closer to you, almost imperceptibly, and lowers his voice. "I was bitten by a radioactive spider, and it... well, it gave me some powers I'm still trying to figure out. I was, uh, messing with some of it when you got here."

You nod, doing your best to process the impossible. "And this suit..." you ask, tapping on the material beneath your fingers, "it'll help you... what, control these powers? Harness them?"

"Something like that," Peter says. He shakes his head, chuckling softly. "I can't believe you're still here, after seeing... you know, that."

You smile to yourself. "You looked more bothered by my intrusion than I felt. Would've been a shitty move to run."

The whole thing is ridiculous. You feel like you're in a dream. But at the same time, you feel more lucid than ever before. What you saw was real, and what Peter's telling you is even more real. You feel it in your gut. You just have to gather your courage and believe him. It's easy enough to believe your written stories, right? Why not believe the one Peter just told you out loud?

All of a sudden, you realize how close you're standing to him. With him leaning forward just slightly, and you merely a foot or two from him, you can practically feel the heat of his body on yours. The last time you were this close to a boy - let alone a boy you were actually interested in - was in seventh grade. The ensuing kiss was sloppy, awkward, and something you vowed to forget as soon as it was over. Now, standing a breath away from Peter Parker, you feel almost euphoric. Overcome with a sensation you can't describe. The suit makes him look hot - and you can't tear your eyes away from him.

He clears his throat, and you look up to his face. His cheeks are a little blushed. "I feel underdressed," he confesses.

You furrow your brows. "I didn't really dress up at all," you tell him. Your voice is just barely unsteady, trembling in a mix of adrenaline, leftover fear, butterflies...

Peter takes the gloves off his hands, dropping them to the floor beside him. His fingers raise to your shoulder, skin fluttering across the soft fabric of your black cardigan. You nearly melt under his touch. He's as gentle as a feather against you. "Maybe not," he says after a long pause, his breathing hitched slightly. "But you still... you still look gorgeous."

You freeze. Your heart pounds inside your chest, demanding to be let free. You feel dizzy all of a sudden.

"Makes me feel a little, um... a little inadequate," he continues with a soft chuckle.

Your voice crackles when you speak, lips parting in a soft haze of rapidly growing adoration and need. "Peter..."

Your hand drifts to his bare neck, and he shivers against your touch. His hand is tracing a sketch of your figure - where he started at your shoulder, he's now moving to your neck, your arm, down to your waist, grazing a spot that leaves you with little breath in your lungs. His other hand approaches from the other side, fingers ghosting your jawline. You can't breathe. He's looking everywhere but your gaze. His chocolate brown orbs are skimming every visible part of you, memorizing your figure like he's at a museum beholding a Monet creation. His movements are restless, determined.

Then -

"Can I kiss you?"

Peter's eyes glisten with a longing you can't quite describe. He wants it just as much as you do. He needs it.

"I know it's a weird moment," he says in rambling words, "after the - y'know, the - the ceiling thing, and, uh -"

Your fingers curl in his hair, pulling him to you. You shut your eyes just as his lips connect with yours.

His kiss starts slowly, softly, tentatively. You search for his determination, his hunger. He tastes fresh, like peppermint - the thought produces a blazing fire in your core. He had thought ahead. He'd wanted to kiss you even before you arrived, had even prepared with breath mints.

You open your lips, and that seems to be his cue - he meets your effort with shocking ferocity, diving back into you like he's starved of affection. His fingers dig into your waist, drawing your hips to his, and your arms snake around his neck, your nails dragging across the sensitive skin of his scalp. A noise escapes his throat at the contact - a mix between a groan, a whimper, and a moan - and his arms lock around your waist, holding you steadfast against him. Before you know it, you're stumbling backward, and your back hits the door. One of his hands travels down to your ass, and in permission, you kiss him with more hunger. More fire. His response is a light squeeze to your butt. The mint is all-encompassing now. His body is taut against yours like a lifeline. He's not going anywhere.

His lips leave yours, but you barely notice. Down he drifts, down to your jaw and slowly to your neck, peppering kisses as he goes. His arms are strong around you, and even as your knees buckle and your body melts against him, he holds you steady and safe and constant. When he nips at a spot just below your ear, you bite your lip so hard you taste blood, shutting your eyes and letting out a soft whimper. Peter holds you closer, tighter. You can't believe how good this boy feels against you.

"Come on out, lovebirds!" a voice calls from the kitchen. Aunt May. You both freeze. "Dinner's ready!"

When Peter straightens and meets your gaze, you know exactly what he's thinking. Since when did she get back?

He swallows, making sure you're steady on your feet before he pulls away. "Two minutes, May!" he yells through the closed door. Your jaw clenches. The euphoria is gone too soon.

"On the clock!"

Peter rolls his eyes. You straighten against the door, fidgeting with your skirt, your shirt, your hair, making sure everything is in place before you appear once again to May. Peter backs away, glancing at you before he turns around. You take the cue, spinning around to face the door. Your cheeks still blushed, you listen to the hum of fabric removal from his form. You wish you could turn around, view his perfect muscles without the shield of clothing, but that would be extremely rude and yet another invasion of privacy.

The question pokes at your mind for several long moments before you voice it. "Can we have a round two later?" you ask him. Peter stops moving, and you giggle softly. "When you're not stuck in that weird tarantula suit, obviously."

"Tarantula?" he repeats, giving a soft snort. "Ew, no. It's supposed to be a spider suit."

You hug yourself and shrug. "I think it looks like a tarantula... but spider it is. For a spider man." You laugh to yourself at the thought. You still don't quite believe the story, but it's alright. No harm was done. Peter's still Peter.

A pair of strong arms snake around your waist from behind, and your heart leaps in your chest. You tilt around to look at him over your shoulder, and on his chiseled face is a cheeky grin. A boyish grin. You melt at the sight of the boy you like love. The boy who just kissed you so hard you nearly forgot the fright you'd experienced minutes earlier.

"So..." you say softly, grabbing his hands and wrapping them tighter around yourself, "how about that round two?"

Peter snickers and kisses your hair. "After dinner," he tells you. "And then, maybe... maybe I'll take you out to get ice cream somewhere." He glances down at you, sees a smirk crawling across your face, and raises a brow. "Why the mischievous grin?"

You restrain a giggle. "I thought of an R-rated joke," you reply.

Peter's arms tighten around you. The kind of pressure that makes you feel immensely safe, but reminds you just how strong he is. He could throw you over his shoulder, no problem, if he wanted to.

"Do tell," he murmurs into your hair. Your heart skips a beat at the soft rumble of his voice.

You hesitate. "I was thinking of a dessert... but not ice cream."

His mouth curls into a sly smile. "Hm," he remarks. "I like the sound of that."

He leans forward, lips grazing your exposed neck. He presses a kiss at its base, hands holding you steady at your hips, and you close your eyes, drifting into the safety of his chest (now clothed in a regular shirt). Something tingles deep in your stomach, and you focus on the heated sensations as his fingers drift forward, drawing shapes on your hips, down to your thighs beneath your skirt...

Aunt May's voice cuts through the quiet and the tension. "I'll eat this whole meal myself!"

You regain feeling in your extremities, and you pull away from Peter, only for him to let out a little disappointed groan. You grab his hand and pull him toward the door.

"Come on, Tarantula-man," you tease. "I'm hungry."

Peter eyes you through narrowed lids, but only love shines through in those chocolate orbs. "You're never going to switch to Spider-man, are you?" he whines.

You smirk. "You wish."

The boy you've loved for years looks back at you, and this time, he grins from ear to ear. He's just as happy as you.

~~~

Masterlist

[rarsathemoodreader]

Newton's Third Law of Motion

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Iron Man (Movies) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark Summary:

Tony Stark’s attention, Peter discovered long ago, is that of a flickering candle—warm one second, gone the next.

OR

In theory, Peter knows that people are flawed. That trauma leaves scar tissue, and healing isn’t linear. But he also knows Newton’s Third Law: for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.

And eventually, when you reach for someone too many times without being caught, you stop reaching altogether.

[randomwriting42]

Screaming, crying, throwing up!

Me rambling below >>

The new suit is sick! It’s simple but not boring, I want to see what the back looks like.

The spider legs are a little goofy haha, but not in a bad way, I love the home-made aspect, if the suit was unrealistically advanced and stuff that would throw me off so bad.

The suit is like Andrew and Tobey’s!

I like the raised webs.

I’m so excited for street level spidey with street level villains, give the guy a break fr 😓

And the punisher will be there!?

Peter is no longer a kid, and we’re definitely going to see a less-soft side of him, you can see his age, obviously because Tom has aged, but I love seeing an older Peter and to see where this goes.

Tom nailed Peters mannerisms, he got into character 🗣️

I love that you can see Peter through Toms movements, Peter is so back!

ngl can’t wait for depressed, broke, Peter Parker.

I just know I’m going to have so many emotions watching this movie, I don’t want to wait so long!

I was (still am) emotionally distraught after No Way Home and Far From Home, his story line still makes me sad af.

What’s everyone opinions on the idea of a new love interest? It’s something I’m not sure about.

It feels wrong to just leave MJ behind and forget about her, and Peter definitely wouldn’t be able to just do that quickly.

But also it could be really cool.

I think getting a Spider-Man movie that isn’t just him accompanying an avenger or getting absolutely cooked would be so good.

He got his identity revealed, everyone hated him, got crushed by a building, got snapped, everyone forgot he existed, he lost May and Tony, AND now him and Bucky both hate trains. 😔

So I’m excited for a street level Spider-man movie, that’s just a spidey movie, despite the fact the punisher will be there so that changes things.

Anyway so I’m really excited and need more clips like this to feed me while I wait for the movie, which is so long away 😭

And I’m hoping the movie is good 🤞🤞nervous af

It’s just so good to see Peter again!

[deniable-masterpiece]

these as a sex position

[flightlaw]

Ok but why does it look like Tom's Peter made his new suit with inspiration from Tobey and Andrew?? Cause like, the raised webbing? And don't tell me that spider emblem doesn't resemble Andrew's

In other news, I am freaking out

[yasministration]

Just the tip - Ex!Peter Parker

summary: just the tip with ex!peter parker cw: SMUT, kind of pushy/manipulative peter but everything is consensual. wc: 2k

When Peter fell through the open window of your bedroom, you had let out a loud gasp, spinning around in your desk chair, only clad in your exposing pyjamas. At the sight of your ex boyfriend, you put your hands on your hips, instantly abandoning the homework laid out on your desk. Standing up, you walked towards the hopeful boy, watching as he approached you, a pleading look in his eyes. “So we’re normalising breaking into our ex’s apartments now?” Peter opened his mouth, putting both hands on your hips desperately. “Peter just because you’re spider-man-” “Please.” Peter whispered, his eyes tearing up slightly. “I miss you.” He said, making you drop your hands flatly by your sides. One of your hands came up to cup Peter’s face, thumb caressing his cheek softly. Peter leaned into your touch, shutting his eyes as he savoured the moment.

You looked at Peter with concern; this wasn’t the first time he had come back to you, longing to be held. Things had always escalated to more despite telling yourself that you wouldn’t allow it to happen again. “Can you hold me, please?” Peter asked, ducking his head down to nuzzle in the crook of your neck. Obediently, you snaked the hand on Peter’s face around his neck and over his shoulder, the other one wrapping around his torso. Peter sighed, his own arms enveloping around the curve of your waist. You held him for a moment, inhaling his familiar scent as you gently stroked his back. From where Peter’s head is pressed up in the pocket of your neck, he slowly presses a soft kiss to your skin. You took in a sharp breath, jumping slightly at the sudden movement. Peter kissed your neck again, but you didn’t have the heart to pull away from him. “We can’t keep doing this Pete.” You mumbled instead, a hand finding its way in Peter’s soft locks. “Just this once. It’ll be the last time I promise.” You vividly recall him uttering similar words to you last time.

Sighing, you stepped away from Peter, unravelling your arms from around him. As though he knew what you were thinking, Peter added “Baby, please.” You let your head drop to the side, crossing your arms over your chest in an unconvinced manner. “Peter, we broke up. Exes don’t keep going back to each other like this.” At your words, Peter dropped to his knees in front of you, both hands landing on your thighs, softly grasping them. He looked up at you with his signature begging, puppy eyes, leaning his chin on your exposed abdomen. “You broke up with me. I’d never leave you. Just one night. Let me spend one night with you.” You uncrossed your arms from your chest, returning your hand to Peter’s hair, softly scratching at his skull. Peter never broke eye contact with you, leaning just slightly forward to press a kiss on your bare stomach. You tugged your short tank top down, hoping to stop the tickle from Peter’s kisses, until you finally gave in, telling the boy to stand up.

Peter followed you to your bed, chanting quietly “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” You tossed the covers off the corner of your bed for you to climb in, patting the empty space next to you for Peter to join you. He immediately climbed in next to you, allowing you to cover him up with the soft blanket before cuddling into you. You turned on your side, facing Peter and watching as he pressed his face directly against your breasts, both hands coming to your hips to pull you closer to him before his arm settled over your waist. Sighing melancholically, you threw a leg over one of Peter’s, tangling your body with his as you leaned forward, pressing a kiss on his forehead. Peter laid still as you played with his hair and kissed along with hairline, treasuring the intimate moment. It had been so long since he had felt loved like this. In fact, the last time he felt cared for was the previous time he had been in your arms, despite your complaints about these reoccurring meetings.

Finally taking his opportunity, Peter shuffled upwards on the bed so that he was face to face with you, nose nudging against yours. With Peter’s intentions clear, you had enough time to pull away if you wanted to, but you felt bad, or at least that’s what you told yourself. You didn’t want consider that the way Peter’s eyes flickered down to your lips made you feel engrossed in him, or that his lips also looked soft. You didn’t want to consider the fact that maybe Peter wanting you so badly drew you closer to him. But he was your ex, and the furthest you would go is a kiss. So when Peter leaned ever so closer to you to press his lips against yours, you didn’t pull away, allowing your eyes to flutter shut.

Peter’s lips moulded against yours, his lips separating slightly so his tongue could shoot out to lips your bottom lip, a silent request for access into your mouth. When your mouth dipped open, allowing Peter’s tongue to press against yours, his hand came up, cupping your jaw to pull you closer to him. Peter pushed himself up on one of his forearms, using the height over you to press you deeper into the mattress as he deepened the kiss, his tongue licking deeper into your mouth. You gasped, pushing Peter away by his chest as you panted in attempt to catch your breath. Peter’s mouth latched onto your neck, immediately suckling at the sensitive skin as he moved his weight over you. Peter held the leg you had on top of his to pull it over his waist, testing your limits as he experimentally thrusted his hips between your spread legs. You immediately gasped, pushing Peter’s mouth off your neck and sitting up straight. Peter fell on the bed next to you, a guilty look on his features. “I thought-” “Peter, exes don’t have sex. If we have sex, we’re official again.” Peter furrowed his eyebrows at your words, the same sentence echoing in his mind over and over again. But I want us to be official again.

“Let me put the tip in. Just the tip.” You looked unconvinced, leaning over to take a sip of water from your bedside table. Peter scanned your legs, your cotton shorts riding up with each movement you did. When you sat up straight again, you readjusted the straps of your tank top and crossed your arms over your chest, suddenly aware of the way your nipples were constraining against the fabric of your top. “Just the tip isn’t sex.” Peter pushed, adding a pleading “Please.” “You’re really going to get off on just putting the tip in?” You questioned, eyeing Peter down. He felt himself harden when your gaze landed on his covered cock. “Just want to feel warm.” He weakly argued.

You rolled your eyes, reaching your hand out to grasp the cotton of Peter’s t-shirt, roughly pulling him towards you so you could slam your lips against his. Peter moaned, softly holding your face, but you broke the kiss as quickly as you started it. Peter froze, awaiting further instruction from you. “Just the tip.” You warned, laying back on your bed. Peter instantly jumped up, as though he had to act before you changed your mind. He tripped over his trousers twice before finally tossing them somewhere in our room, and his boxers went next, carefully watching the way your eyes widened slightly in reminiscence. Peter climbed over you, his knees on either side of your legs as he hooked his fingers through both your shorts and panties. He slowly tugged them down your smooth legs, leaning down to press a single kiss on your mound. Peter climbed off you, manhandling your body to lay on your side and settling himself flush against your back. You gasped, feeling Peter’s hard cock poking against your hip. Peter wrapped an arm over your shoulder, pulling you back to stay put against him while his second hand guided his cock towards your entrance.

Peter’s dick nudged your tight hole and you shut your eyes tightly, listening to the immediate moan that ripped from Peter’s chest. You cursed, seriously considering to tell Peter to push all the way in as you felt his swollen tip dip into your entrance. Peter whined, pulling his dick out of you and you sighed disappointedly. Peter bit his lip so hard it almost bled, his thighs shaking in attempt not to push himself all the way in. He needed to abide by your rules if you were going to let this happen again. “Just the tip.” You mumbled absentmindedly, drool gathering in your mouth as you pushed your ass out for Peter to put it back in. Peter panted, trying to control himself as he put the tip back in your entrance, rocking slowly back and forth. “Just the tip.” Peter repeated, but quickly found himself losing control over his actions, and suddenly, he had half his dick inside you.

The both of you moaned in unison, and Peter brought a hand to the arch of your back, caressing your skin. He needed to take a moment or else he'd instantly be coming inside you. You reached a hand behind you, landing halfway on Peter’s cheek. Peter kissed your hand, pushing himself up to press kisses on your cheek and jaw. You whined in pleasure, rolling your hips back to take as much of Peter’s dick as possible. “Fuck, just put it in baby!” You cried, finally letting your put-together front crumble down. Peter chanted a string of ‘thank you’s, finally snapping his hips all the way in so his cock fully sheathed himself in your folds. Wrapping an arm over your hips, Peter shifted his weight to switch your positions, landing you laying on your stomach with him on top of you.

Whining, you pushed yourself on your knees, chest touching the mattress as Peter kneeled, gripping both your hips tightly before setting an unforgiving pace on your cunt. Your moans immediately increased, small sounds escaping you with each push of Peter’s cock closer to your cervix. Peter relentlessly whimpered, feeling his orgasm building up quickly, but he needed to make you cum. He needed to make you cum or you’d never let him fuck you ever again. Desperately, Peter snaked his fingers around your body, concentrating hard on finding your clit while keeping up the pace and brutality of his thrusts. You whined impatiently, your own hand finding Peter’s to guide him to your clit. When his fingers finally made contact with your clit, your toes were immediately curling, a high pitched moan escaping you. Peter squeezed his eyes shut, feeling your pussy clench around his dick. “Come on baby, cum for me.” He begged, rubbing harsh circles on your clit as his thrusts became sloppy. You couldn’t help your bodily reaction to how pathetic Peter sounded, your cunt clamping on his dick as you came, causing a string of curse words to leave Peter’s mouth as his own orgasm was triggered. “Shit, shit, shit.” He mumbled, whimpering softly as he emptied his loud into you, your sounds of ecstasy ringing in his ears.

Peter softly rocked his hips into yours, hoping to ride out your orgasm, but you whined at the overstimulation, and Peter knew it was time to pull out. You immediately slumped against the bed when Peter pulled out with a groan, sitting next to you to rub a hand over your back. You turned onto your back, looking up at Peter tiredly, and gesturing for him to get closer to you. With a hand on his jaw, you pulled him into another kiss, engrossed in the fact that this would be the last time you two had sex. “Last time Peter. Yeah?” Peter nodded, mumbling “I’m happy with that, yeah.”

But his words sounded so familiar you refused to believe them.

[musingsofheaven]

SUGAR RUSH.

peter parker x afab!reader

fluff. heavy kissing. implied intimacy. teens being ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ teens. light suggestive vibes but nothing explicit. ♡

You're on your stomach on Peter's bed, your legs stretched out while wearing the hoodie you stole from his closet a week ago. The sleeves are too long, covering half your hands, but you like it that way. It smells like him, like detergent and that cologne he pretends he doesn't use. You've been living in it like a raccoon in a stolen nest. You're not doing anything right now, just waiting for your boyfriend to finish studying, with your mouth full of Pop Rocks that won't shut up.

Crack. Pop. Crack. It's funny, honestly. It sounds like a neck getting cracked in half—well, it can sound like fireworks too. It's annoyingly loud because your mouth looks like it's trying to pick a fight with physics.

Peter groans from his desk and doesn't even look at you. "You're so annoying." The words come out flat like he's already said them three times today. You know he doesn't mean it. Not really. He's just complaining. As always. It's his nature.

You chuckle, candy still fizzing. "You said I could have them." You roll onto your side just to get a better look at him, your lips pouting as if you're using them against him. His pen is tapping against his notebook while listening to the popping of the Pop Rocks.

"Didn't say I wanted to hear them every five seconds, baby." He pinches the bridge of his nose. Sometimes you wonder how he can even manage you. Maybe he's praying for patience and not getting any divine assistance.

You shift a little, cheek pressed against the soft fabric of his bed. "You can't even hear me over there," you say before scoffing and chewing deliberately, just to make a point.

"I can. It's like... background music. In my head." He spins slightly in his chair, just enough to throw a look at you over his shoulder.

You snort. "Dramatic." You drag the word out, milk it, trying to piss him off. Then you toss another handful of candy into your mouth like a kid.

He finally turns around the chair creaking. His hair's a mess, and there's a pencil tucked behind his ear like he forgot it was there. He crosses his arms and damn... those muscles are flexing. "I'm trying to study, and you're over here sounding like... I don't even know what to call it." His expression is all annoyed, but his eyes are warm. Tired, but warm. Not angry. Honestly? You love it when he gets like this, grumpy and soft around the edges.

You open your mouth real wide and go "Aaahhh," just to make the fizz louder. It's obnoxious. Truly. The kind of noise that would make people glare at you, and you're so proud of it.

Peter squints at you like he's in pain. "Why is my girlfriend like this?" He says it like a curse, like a prayer, like a man at the end of his rope who still wouldn't let go.

"Aw, come on, you love me." You say it too easily. It's not a question—something settled and obvious and unchangeable.

He exhales through his nose and walks over to you anyway, flops down next to you on the bed, elbow bumping yours. You hold out the package of candy. It rustles between you like a peace offering. Or a trap. He hasn't decided which yet.

He eyes it before looking back at you and your lips. "You're gonna shut up if I take some?" There's no heat in it, like the everyday tone he uses when you're being like this. Just a tired sort of fondness, like he's resigned himself to your antics and this weird little life you two have built. Annoyingly lovable, what he always says when you're asking for assurance if he still loves you even though you're playful.

You shrug. "Probably not." And you mean it. You're indecisive, and impulsive, with tendencies to be pushy. He knew that when he let you steal his hoodie the first time, and when you did things just to get his attention.

He sighs but takes a few and tilts his head back to chew. The sound bursts in the quiet like tiny firecrackers, and he physically winces, like he didn't think they'd be that loud. Hates the sounds. Obviously.

He looks at you like you just committed a crime. "Why does it... feel weird?" His face scrunches, and he's trying not to like it but also can't deny that it's kind of hilarious.

"It's fun-weird, not bad-weird." You roll onto your back beside him, shoulder brushing his, voice smug. "It tastes good though!"

Peter turns his head toward you and looks at your mouth. "You're ridiculous," he says softly, barely louder than the crackle. But he's still watching you, still close before he takes the Pop Rocks from your hand, gets enough from inside, and puts it in his mouth.

Then he kisses you.

Like... no warning. One second he's staring at your mouth like it's got all the answers to his questions, and the next, he's leaning in, slow but sure, like he already decided and you just didn't catch up yet. It's not aggressive, not rushed- it's soft, warm, and easy.

Your mouths meet soft at first. Just lips brushing lips, a little sticky from the candy's effect. But then the Pop Rocks crackle between you, loud and sudden, like someone just started a time bomb under your tongues, and everything jumps.

You giggle against him, nose bumping his, but he doesn't pull back. He just tilts his head and pushes in a little deeper. And, well, yeah, maybe that's when it changes.

Because now it's not soft. It's something else.

His mouth opens just enough for your tongue to catch him, and he tastes like cherry- you're sure it's from the candy. The candy's still popping, still snapping under your tongues, and it's a funny feeling. Literally. Your lips part wider, let it get messy, let it get loud. You lick into his mouth a little and feel him suck in a breath right through his nose.

And God, that's all it takes before he's kissing you back harder now, licking the taste of candy right out of your mouth like he's trying to shut it off. His hand finds your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek, gently and soft the way he knows you like. It's steady; he's holding you in place. His teeth graze your bottom lip, yearningly, just barely, just enough to feel it, and you groan, soft and surprised and too into it.

It's clumsy, yeah. Of course, it is. You're both grinning too much, breathing too hard, lips swollen already, and the candy still going off like a fucking broken record. But you don't stop. Neither of you. Because it's fun and silly. Because it's stupid. Because it's so much better than it should be.

Peter pulls back eventually, breathing hard, his lips pink and wet, a little sugar stuck at the corner of his mouth again. He licks it away automatically, and your stomach flips.

"Okay," he says, voice low and just barely wrecked. "That was..."

He doesn't even finish the sentence.

You're already grabbing more Pop Rocks.

"Again," you say, out of breath but grinning. "C'monnn."

He laughs, but it's a little shaky now. "I'm gonna die."

"Mhm," you hum and press your mouth to his before he can say another word.

This time, it's not that gentle. It's full of tongues and teeth and stupid little moans pressed into each other's mouths, sugar and spit and heat all tangled up in a kiss that has no business feeling this good.

You taste like candy, and he kisses you like he’s starving for it.

𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓© 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍

𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝

[ironinc]

Distracted.ᝰ.ᐟ

Peter Parker x F!Black Reader. (Smut/NSFW)

˗ˏˋ You decided to take a break from your day and play a online game with your friends, but before you can even start, it's impossible to concentrate when your boyfriend, Peter Parker, is being so distracting. He offers to let you sit on his lap while you play, not realizing his intentions aren't nearly as innocent as he pretends they are.

──── .✦

Very explicit & detailed. | A/N: Posting back to back since I just posted a story about someone that wasn’t in the marvel universe! Also Peter is aged up to 22 in this, and you’re 21. | WC: 2,187

(Sauntering definition: walk in a slow, relaxed manner, without hurry or effort:)

✮⋆˙

The hum of your gaming PC filled the room, the monitor's glow casting a soft light over your desk. You adjusted your bonnet, pulling it down a little as you settled into the chair, your boyfriend’s oversized shirt billowing around your thighs. 

Peter—your Peter—leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest, that infuriating smirk playing on his lips. He was wearing a plain white wife beater and grey sweatpants, the fabric clinging to his muscular frame in a way that made your breath hitch. His thighs—God, his thighs—were on full display, and you couldn’t help but bite your lip as your eyes lingered on them.

“You sure you’re not just stalling so you can keep staring at me?” he teased, his voice low and amused.

You rolled your eyes, though your cheeks flushed. “I’m not stalling. I’m warming up.” You gestured to the screen where your character stood idle in the game lobby, your friends already chiming in over the headset. “Besides, if you’re just going to stand there and look all… that, then maybe you should leave me alone.”

Peter chuckled, pushing off the doorframe and sauntering toward you. Sauntering. Because of course, he did. He rested his hands on the back of your chair, leaning down until his breath ghosted over your ear. “You’re the one who couldn’t stop talking about my thighs this morning,” he murmured, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. “Now you’re kicking me out?”

You swallowed hard, trying to focus on the screen. “I’m trying to play a game, Peter.”

He hummed, his lips brushing against your neck. 

“I’ve got a better game for you.”

Before you could protest, his hands were on your waist, lifting you effortlessly out of the chair. You let out a small yelp, your hands flying to his shoulders as he settled into the seat and pulled you onto his lap. The heat of his body seeped through the thin fabric of your shirt, and you could already feel his arousal pressing against you.

“Peter,” you hissed, glancing at the monitor where your friends were still chatting, oblivious. 

“I’m live. They can hear me.”

“Then don’t make too much noise,” he said, his voice dripping with mischief. His hands slid down to your hips, pulling you closer until you could feel the hard length of him against your bare core. “Just sit on my lap while you play. I promise I won’t move.”

You shot him a skeptical look, but the way his pupils were dilated, the way his breath hitched as you shifted slightly—God, you didn’t stand a chance. “Fine,” you muttered, reaching for the keyboard. “But if you ruin my game, I’m kicking you out for real.”

He grinned, his hands resting lightly on your thighs. “Deal.”

You unmuted your mic, trying to ignore the way Peter’s warmth felt against you. “Sorry, guys. Had to adjust something,” you said, your voice steady despite the flush creeping up your neck.

“You good?” one of your friends asked.

“Yeah, all good,” you replied, focusing on the screen. For a moment, it almost worked. You were able to push Peter’s presence to the back of your mind—until his hands started to wander. His fingers traced slow, teasing patterns up your thighs, and you could feel him growing harder beneath you.

“Peter,” you whispered, your voice tight. “You promised.”

“I’m not moving,” he said innocently, though the smirk in his voice betrayed him. His hands slid under the hem of your shirt, brushing against your bare skin.

You bit your lip, trying to concentrate on the game, but it was impossible with his fingers inching closer to where you wanted them most. 

You quickly muted your mic, turning to glare at him. “You said you wouldn’t move.”

“Technically, I said I wouldn’t move,” he said, his hands cupping your ass. “You can move if you want.”

You groaned, your head falling back against his shoulder. “This is not fair.”

“Life’s not fair,” he said, his lips trailing along your neck. His hips shifted slightly, and you couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped your lips. 

“But I can be generous.”

You shivered as one of his hands slid between your legs, his fingers parting your folds with practiced ease. “Peter—” you started, but your voice broke off into a moan as his fingers found your clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles.

“Shh,” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. “You’re still muted, right?”

You nodded, though you could barely think straight. His fingers moved with a precision that left you breathless, your hips rocking against his hand as you tried to stifle your moans.

“Good,” he said, his voice dark with desire. His other hand moved to grip your hip, guiding you to grind against him. “But I think we can make this more fun.”

Before you could protest, he unmuted your mic, his fingers still working their magic. “What’s the plan, team?” you asked, your voice trembling as you tried to focus on the game.

“Are you okay?” one of your friends asked, her voice laced with concern. “You sound… off.”

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, though your voice hitched as Peter’s fingers pushed inside you, curling in just the right way.

“Just—uh—got a cramp.”

Peter chuckled softly, his lips brushing against your neck. “Cramp, huh?” he whispered, his fingers increasing their pace.

You bit your lip, trying to keep your breathing steady. “Yeah, just—need to stretch.”

“Well, hurry up,” another friend chimed in. “We’ve got a raid to finish.”

“On it,” you said, though your vision was starting to blur as Peter’s fingers worked you closer and closer to the edge.

“You’re doing so good,” he murmured, his voice thick with praise. “But I think you can take more.”

You barely had time to process his words before he was lifting you slightly, his free hand pulling his sweatpants down just enough to free his cock. He positioned you over him, the tip brushing against your slick entrance. 

“Peter,” you gasped, your hands gripping the edge of the desk. “You’re going to get us caught.”

“Then don’t make it obvious,” he said, his voice low and commanding. He lowered you onto him slowly, inch by agonizing inch, until you were seated fully in his lap.

You whimpered, your head falling back against his shoulder. “Fuck.”

“That’s the plan,” he said, his hands gripping your hips. He started to rock you against him, the pace slow and deliberate, but enough to make your toes curl. “But let’s see how quiet you can be.” 

You muffled a moan against your hand, trying to focus on the screen where your friends were still strategizing. But it was impossible—the way he filled you, the way his hands held you in place, the way his breath hitched every time you clenched around him—it was all too much.

“You’re doing so good,” he whispered, his voice rough with desire. “But I think we can push you a little more.”

He increased the pace, his hips meeting yours with a force that left you breathless. You quickly muted your mic again, unable to hold back the moan that escaped your lips.

“Peter,” you gasped, your hands gripping the desk for support.

“You’re going to make me—”

“Go ahead pretty,” he growled, his hands tightening on your hips. “Come for me, baby. Let me feel you.”

You couldn’t hold back anymore—the tension coiled in your core snapped, and you came with a muffled cry, your body shuddering against his. He followed soon after, his hips stuttering as he filled you, his breath hot against your neck.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was your ragged breathing. Then, Peter unmuted your mic, his voice calm and steady. “You good, mama?”

You shot him a glare, though your legs were still trembling. “Yeah,” you said, your voice surprisingly steady. “Just… stretching.”

Peter’s hands slide up your thighs, his grip firm as he lifts you off his lap with ease. The sudden shift leaves you momentarily disoriented, but before you can protest, he leans you forward over the desk, your palms pressing into the cool surface. The game is still running, and the chatter of your friends faints through the headset, but your focus is entirely on him.

“Shh,” he whispers, his breath hot against your ear as he moves behind you. The sound of his sweatpants sliding down to his ankles sends a shiver through you. His hands grip your hips, adjusting your position until your left leg is propped up on the desk, giving him better access. He could see how his cum was slowly dripping out of you. Making him ‘Tsk’ at the sight. 

The position is vulnerable, exposing, and intensely arousing.

His hand comes down on your ass in a sharp slap, the sound louder than you expected. You gasp, your body jerking forward, but his other hand holds you in place. “Peter—” you start, but he cuts you off with another slap, the sting making your breath hitch.

“Quiet,” he murmurs, his voice low and commanding. His cock slides between your thigh, already hard and demanding. “Let’s see how quiet you can be now. And this time, you can’t mute the mic. Let them hear you moan.”

Your heart races as he positions himself, the head of his cock teasing your entrance. You glance at the screen, where your friends’ avatars are moving around, oblivious to what’s happening. Your mic is still unmuted, and the thought of them hearing you—really hearing you—sends a jolt of both fear and excitement through you.

Peter doesn’t give you time to adjust. He pushes into you in one smooth, unrelenting motion, filling you completely. You bite your lip to stifle a moan, but it slips out anyway, a soft, breathy sound that makes his grip on your hips tighten.

“That’s it,” he growls, his voice rough with need. 

He pulls back almost all the way before thrusting into you again, the force of it making your arms tremble. “Let them hear. Let them know who’s making you feel this good.”

You try to stay quiet, but it’s impossible. Every thrust wrings another sound from you, a mix of moans and whimpers that you can’t suppress. 

Your friends’ voices chatter in the background, oblivious, but you can’t focus on the game anymore. All you can focus on is Peter, his cock pounding into you, his hands gripping your hips like he’s afraid you’ll pull away.

“Peter—” you gasp, your voice trembling.

“Say my name again,” he demands, his pace relentless. “Louder.”

“Peter,” you moan, your voice breaking as he hits a spot that makes your legs shake. You can hear it faintly through the headset, your moan carrying over the mic, and you freeze for a moment, wondering if your friends heard.

But Peter doesn’t stop. If anything, he seems more determined, his thrusts growing harder, faster. “Again,” he growls, his hand sliding around to rub your clit in tight, rhythmic circles. “Let them hear you.”

“Peter!” you cry out, your voice louder this time, and you can’t bring yourself to care if your friends hear. The pleasure is too much, too intense, and you’re teetering on the edge of another orgasm.

His name spills from your lips over and over as he fucks you, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. His fingers circle your clit faster, matching the rhythm of his hips, and you can feel the tension building, coiling tighter and tighter until it snaps.

You come with a cry, your body shuddering as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you. Peter groans, his hips stuttering as he follows you over the edge, his cock pulsing inside you as he fills you with his release.

For a moment, the only sound in the room is your labored breathing and the faint chatter of your friends through the headset. Then, Peter leans down, his lips brushing against your ear. “Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice thick with satisfaction.

You’re still catching your breath when one of your friends speaks up, her voice concerned. 

“Hey, you okay? You’re being really quiet.”

Peter smirks, his hands still on your hips. “Answer her,” he whispers, his voice teasing.

You hesitate, your cheeks burning, but you can’t bring yourself to lie. “Yeah,” you manage, your voice shaky but steady enough. “Just… got distracted for a second.”

Peter chuckles softly, his hands sliding up your sides. 

You took your left leg off the desk, now standing in front of your monitors. He took a couple of wet wipes out of your desk drawer to clean you up. 

“Distracted, huh?” he murmurs, his tone playful. 

You look behind you, and he's silently laughing at your 'plain excuses.'

"Shh," he hushes you with a sly grin. "You can lock in now."

He starts rubbing your bare ass gently, his touch sending chills down your spine. Softly, he kisses your skin, his lips leaving a trail of desire in their wake.

Then, in a voice that's both tender and teasing, he whispers, "God, I love you."

⋆˙⟡

OH LA LA LAAAAA😝😝 I loved writing this so much I could SCREAM!! I hope you all are doing well and enjoyed it!

(Credits: spiderevans on TikTok)

- I’ll see you soon ‹𝟹 (MasterList) ⋆˚࿔

[thollandsgirl2013]

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐢𝐱 : 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐟𝐭

Parings → Peter Parker x Werewolf! Reader

Warnings → Painful transformation, Nudity (non-sexual), Exhaustion, Emotional vulnerability.

Summary → You finally shift back into your human form, revealing your identity to Peter, who reacts with shock, care, and acceptance.

Masterlist l Next

It had been a few days since Peter insisted you stay with him in his room at the Avengers compound. And honestly? You loved it. You weren't just some experiment in a cage anymore. You were free—sort of. Peter treated you like an actual person, even if he didn’t know the full truth. He talked to you constantly, fed you, played music, snuck in snacks, and even got Tony to arrange a big, fluffy, circular bed just for you in the corner of his room. It was warm. Safe. Yours.

But despite how much you appreciated Peter’s warmth and care, there was still something he didn’t understand—something he couldn’t understand. You weren’t just a wolf. You were human, trapped in your wolf form since Hydra had captured you. And every night, when Peter was sound asleep, you tried. You tried to shift back. To reclaim your human form.

But the pain? It was unbearable. Like your bones were locked in place with rusted chains, screaming with every attempt to break free. You'd collapse in exhaustion each night, breathless, frustrated, defeated.

Tonight was no different—except maybe it was.

Peter was sitting cross-legged on the floor beside your bed, leaning back against the side of it, idly scrolling through his phone with one hand while his other rested gently on your head, fingers absently scratching behind your ears.

“Fluffy,” he said with a soft laugh, scratching behind your ears, “I know you’re not really a human, but man, it feels nice to tell you things. It’s like you really understand me.”

You lifted your head, ears twitching as you met his gaze. He didn’t know how right he was.

“It’s weird, right?” He continued, rubbing your head affectionately. “Talking to a wolf. But with you, it doesn’t feel weird. It’s… easy. Like you get me. Like you care.”

Your chest ached. If only he knew. If only you could tell him.

He let out a breathy laugh. “God, I must sound insane. Talking to you like you’re my therapist or something.” He looked at you fondly. “But thanks. Really. I’ve never had someone I could just… be around. No pressure, no expectations. Just… you and me.”

You gave a soft huff, nudging your head into his hand. His smile widened.

Peter gave you a gentle nudge on your shoulder. “I know, sometimes I talk too much, don’t I?” He chuckled, clearly amused at himself. “But it’s easy to be around you, Fluffy. You don’t judge or tell me I’m being annoying.” He sighed. “Thanks for being here.”

With a determined breath, you slowly stood up, shaking off his hand from your fur. You had to do this, even if it was hard. You took a few steps away, your gaze locked on Peter, who was now looking at you with confusion.

“Fluffy?” He asked, eyebrows knitting together. “What are you doing?”

You turned to face him. Heart pounding. Every instinct screamed at you to wait—to hide—but you couldn’t live like this anymore. Not in silence. Not around him. You had to show him the truth.

You locked eyes with him, then closed yours. You focused with every ounce of strength you had. The pain came instantly, a white-hot sear tearing through your bones. Your body trembled violently as you fought against the unnatural form, as if your own skin didn’t want to let go. The air was ripped from your lungs as your limbs cracked, bent, shifted—your fur receding, your muscles stretching.

Peter shot to his feet. “Fluffy?! What the hell—what’s going on?!”

He took a step forward, then hesitated, his hands hovering like he didn’t know whether to help or not. “Are you—Are you changing? What’s happening?!”

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. You bit back a scream as your body contorted, reshaping into something familiar. Fingers, toes, collarbones, knees—every joint splintering and fusing.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the painful shift began to work. Your body trembled violently as it changed, your limbs extending, bones snapping and reforming, fur receding as you took on your human shape. The transformation was agonizing, each moment stretching endlessly, leaving you drained and trembling.

When the pain finally stopped, you collapsed onto the cold ground, hands and knees pressed against the hard surface. You were dizzy. Naked. Vulnerable. You could barely lift your head, but you managed—just enough to see Peter’s face.

“Holy shit!” Peter’s voice shattered the silence, filled with a mix of shock and disbelief. His footsteps were quick and unsteady as he rushed toward you, kneeling down at your side. His hands fumbled with the zipper of his hoodie, and in one swift motion, he shrugged it off. Without hesitation, he draped it over your bare shoulders, his touch careful and deliberate.

You managed to tilt your head up, your vision blurry but just clear enough to see Peter’s wide, astonished eyes staring back at you. His mouth opened and closed, but no words seemed to come out.

With what little strength you had left, you gave him a weak, apologetic smile. “Hi, Peter,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Peter blinked, his expression shifting from shock to something softer—concern mingled with wonder. “You… you can talk?” He stammered, his voice cracking slightly. “You’re… human? ”

A faint chuckle escaped your lips despite your exhaustion. “Yeah,” you murmured, your voice trembling. “I’m sorry it took me so long to tell you.”

His eyes scanned your face, his brows knitting together as he processed what he was seeing. “I… I don’t know what to say,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, tinged with awe. “You’re really… you?”

You nodded, but the effort was monumental. The transformation had drained every ounce of energy from your body. Your limbs felt like lead, and the edges of your vision began to blur. “Peter… thank you,” you mumbled, your voice barely a whisper. “For everything.”

As your strength gave out and you started to slump forward, Peter moved quickly, his arms catching you before you hit the ground. “Hey, hey, stay with me!” He said, his voice urgent but gentle. His hands adjusted the hoodie around you, pulling it tighter to ensure you were covered and warm.

He shifted you carefully, cradling you in his lap. His touch was steady, his movements deliberate as he held you close, his warmth radiating through the fabric of the hoodie. “You’re safe now,” he murmured, his voice soft but firm. “I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

You let yourself relax against him, your cheek pressing against his chest. His heartbeat was steady and comforting, a rhythm that anchored you in the moment. Despite the overwhelming exhaustion, a sense of peace washed over you. For the first time in what felt like forever, you weren’t alone. Peter knew who you were, and he didn’t push you away.

“Peter…” you mumbled again, your voice faint as your eyelids grew heavier. You wanted to say more, to explain everything, but the words wouldn’t come. The darkness tugged at you, pulling you under.

“It’s okay,” Peter reassured you, his hand brushing gently over your hair. “You don’t have to say anything right now. Just rest.”

His voice was soothing, and you let yourself sink into it, allowing the exhaustion to take over. As your eyes fully closed, the last thing you felt was Peter’s arms around you, holding you securely, his presence a shield against the fear and pain that had haunted you for so long. You felt a strange sense of peace—knowing that, finally, Peter knew who you really were.

‎∗ ࣪ ˖༺ 𓆩☆𓆪 ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

Tags:

@sir-this-is-a-wendys @words-to-accomplish-something @moniffazictress11 @love-hs28 @lightgreysoul @peterparkersgirlfriend1 @trueellivingx @anonymousprettygirl @dayastarkorwtvr @cherriies-snake

[thought-you-knew]

pb&jj roommates au: the one with the disaster date

Summary: the dating scene isn't easy, but at least you have four amazing roommates to make it all better. based on this request

Pairings: pb&jj x fem!reader/platonic!reader

WC: 2.4K

Warnings: living with four guys, asshole date, her date is a finance bro, slut shaming, her date calls her a slut once, someone is getting punched, fluff, slight angst, language, limited use of y/n, fem!reader with vague description, but has hair long enough to put into a ponytail, proofreadish.

Author's note: this one is for you, anon! i enjoyed writing this one and hope you guys like it. feedback is always appreciated (: you can find my other fics here

not me picturing jeremiah from tsitp as her date because i was binging the show. i'm a jeremiah hater, sorry, not sorry.

Tagging: @wetspaghetti3 divider by @saradika-graphics

You don't know what possessed you to go on this date, but here you are.

Miserable.

When you first agreed to the date, you were hesitant, mainly because of your living situation. What guy would be okay with his date living with four guys and believe that it's a strictly platonic living situation? A mature man would have no problem with it.

You realize later that your date isn't mature at all. He's a straight-up asshole. The first red flag was that Shane or Sean was running 20 minutes to the restaurant.

Part of you is a little grateful that he suggested meeting at the restaurant. Just trying to get out of the apartment was stressful when you had four guys bombarding you with questions.

"What do you mean he's not picking you up on the first date? I would never..." Joaquin

"Do I need to remind you who I'm living with?" You

"Are you saying we're intimidating? Cause if so, good." Johnny

"Where is he taking you, again?" Peter

"How late do you think you'll be?" Bob

"What's the address and number of this restaurant?" Johnny

"Do you need a ride?" Joaquin

"Remember, send an SOS, and I'll be there, okay?" Peter

"Maybe we should come with you?" Bob

"Guys!" You interject before Johnny can open his mouth again. "It's one date. My first date in a long time, so please, can you just." You make a shooing motion as you try to put on your shoes.

"Really? How long we talkin'?"

You're glancing at your phone again when a figure sits down in front of you. Looking up, you're met with a startling pair of blue eyes. Shane/Sean isn't an unattractive guy, but his eyes are a little unsettling. Too blue.

"Hey, y/n, right?" He asks, before picking up the menu, without really looking at you.

"Yeah, and it's S-"

"Yeah, Sean." The menu is completely covering his face, but you can hear the clicking noises.

Is he seriously texting?

He tosses the menu, and he has the most unnatural, charming smile on his face.

"You're Casey's co-worker, right?"

"Yeah, and how do you know her?"

"Eh, I'm friends with her older brother," he says, starting to look around the restaurant. The atmosphere is semi-romantic. The place is dimly lit, and the tables are placed close together. The ones on either side of yours remain empty.

Good, an easy escape route.

And of course, Sean would be someone who snaps his fingers at the waiter.

Sean is already running his mouth before the poor waiter can reach your table. "Yeah, we'll take a bottle of your Sauvignon blanc, and what's the chef's special tonight?"

You've already zoned out, and you're barely registering what the waiter is saying.

Until Sean snaps his fingers at you and you notice that they're both looking at you. Sean, with impatience, and the waiter with a polite customer service face.

"Sorry, what?"

"You're okay with fish, right?"

You pick up the menu, which is all in French. "Uh, yeah, I'm-"

Sean whips the menu out of your hand and passes it over to the waiter. "Great, we'll take two chef's specials."

An awkwardness lingers once the waiter leaves, and you're trying to think of anything to ask him. But, at this point, you're already done with the date, and part of you is considering pulling the old bathroom excuse as an exit strategy.

A smaller part does feel bad, primarily for your friend who has spent the last week hyping up this guy. Now you're realizing it's because it's her brother's friend.

"Casey says you work in finance?"

That seems to please him, and he leans against the table. "Do you know the Whitmore company?"

"No."

"That's surprising," Sean says without missing a beat, then proceeds to drone on about the company and how he has just received a promotion.

You're about to interrupt him and say you're going to the bathroom when the waiter comes back with the wine.

You fiddle with your wine glass as Sean makes a show of swirling, sniffing, and then sipping his own wine. His face scrunches up, and you think he's about to spit it out.

"You're not much of a talker, huh?" He says.

Not like you've given me much of a chance to get a word in.

It's official, this is one of the worst dates you've been on, and you're done with being fake polite, so you just shrug.

"Well, at least you're pretty enough to look at."

"Excuse you?"

"You're nothing like what Casey described you as, but I guess that's what I get for agreeing to a blind date."

You clench your hands and resist the urge to reach over and strangle him.

"Yeah, well, I didn't think she was setting me up with a pompous asshole. So I guess we both got screwed over." There's an edge to your tone, and he picks up on it, but doesn't say anything. He just gives another infuriating smirk.

The rest of the dinner goes by rather quickly, and before you know it, Sean is paying. He makes a show of flashing his Black Card, and you don't hide your impatience to leave.

"Well, since I'm here in Brooklyn, why don't I walk you back to your apartment." It wasn't a question, and you had no desire to spend another second in his presence.

You blurt out the first thing that pops into your head. To hell with it, he already isn't impressed with you. "I live with four guys."

"What, like you live with your brothers? That's not going to scare me off, sweetheart."

Well, you guess he's in for a surprise.

The whole walk back, Sean had tried to put moves on you, hinted at how he paid for dinner, and made the long drive from the city to Brooklyn.

You let out a sigh of relief as soon as you see your front door. Sean makes his move.

He leans against the door with a what you think is supposed to be a seductive look.

"You gonna invite me in for a nightcap?"

Rolling your eyes, you pull out your keys. "I don't think so."

Loud voices, along with the fire alarm going off from behind the door, interrupted Sean from whatever he was going to say. The door burst open, followed by a cloud of smoke, Johnny, Jouqin, and Bob.

"Dude! How the hell do you keep setting the popcorn on fire?" Joaquin says while coughing.

"Hey, don't blame me, blame Bob!'

"Me?"

"Yeah, you Bob. Why the hell are you always buying stovetop popcorn? I didn't even know stores still carried that."

You clear your throat, and it's only then that they realize you're there along with your date. Sean is shocked to say the least as he's staring at the three guys who just stumbled out of your apartment.

"Oh hey, roomie, how was the date?" Johnny says with his easy-going smile.

"He's still here, and what the fuck is going on? You guys are her brothers?" Sean cuts in.

Jouqin smirks. "Not exactly."

Sean scoffs and turns to you. "Wow, I didn't think you were that type of girl."

You know where this is headed. "Yeah, what type is that?"

He hesitates as he glances at the other three. "A liar and a slut, I'd rather not be with a girl who's been ran through." He sneers.

"What the fuck did you just say?" You don't think you've ever heard Bob raise his voice, and he sounds furious.

Someone is grabbing you and pulling you slightly away, but you're trying to make sure a fight doesn't break out. You know how nosy the neighbors are, and you've already gotten judgy looks.

Sean doesn't look as confident as he did a moment ago. He keeps shooting Joaquin and Johnny nervous looks.

"Bob," you start, but Sean just has to get the last word in.

"I said, she's a fucking slut-"

It happens so fast, one moment Sean is in Bob's face, and next he's on the ground with his nose gushing blood. Bob remains unnervingly calm as he lowers his fist.

"Just get the fuck outta here."

Sean doesn't need to be told twice.

The bathroom sink continues to run as you're removing your makeup. You've been in here for a bit after what happened with Sean. It's not like you haven't been called derogatory names before, and you've been called worse.

The stress and anxiety you've been holding in all night come crashing down, and you start to feel that familiar pressure building in your chest.

"Don't you dare cry over that asshole." It was easier said than done. You hope the sound of running water will drown out your sniffles.

A small part of you had been looking forward to this date. Only to be met by disappointment, again.

Someone lightly knocks on the door, you quickly wipe your eyes, and turn off the sink.

"Just a second."

"It's me, Bob."

You check your reflection, but there's no hiding you've been crying.

The door opens, and you're met with Bob's slightly regretful face. He says your name softly when he sees your red eyes.

"Oh, hey," you croak out, your eyes remaining fixed on his chest, "what's up?"

"Bob repeats your name. "Look, I know I shouldn't have punched him, but he had it coming. So, I'm not sorry about that. I'm sorry if I overstepped. I know you're a strong, independent woman who could have handled it, but you're my friend, and I really care-"

Bob abruptly stops when you hug him. "Thank you."

He tentatively wraps his arms around you. "Are you okay?"

Another wave of tears comes as you hear his gentle tone. He just holds you closer and caresses your back. You finally pull back and see you left a tear stain on his shirt.

"Sorry," you try wiping it away, and he smiles.

"Stop," he grabs your hand. You look at him and see that he's already watching you. He gently nudges your chin. "C'mon, the guys have everything set up."

Bob leads you to the living room, and there's still a faint smell of burnt popcorn. There's a whole setup of popcorn, candy, and your favorite hot cocoa.

"Ah, there she is." Peter passes you and Bob with his arms full of blankets.

"What's all this?" You follow Peter as he drops them on the L-shaped couch.

"We thought you needed to end your night on a good note," Johnny answers from the far side of the couch.

"Guys, you didn't have to. I'm really okay."

But they're not convinced, and you secretly appreciate that they did all this.

You're squished between Joaquin and Peter, and Bob is sitting in front of you. You're favorite movie is on, but no one's really watching.

For the past couple of hours, the guys have been trying to see who can make you laugh the hardest, mostly by throwing each other under the bus by telling the most mortifying stories about one another.

You're not surprised that the wildest ones are from Bob and Joaquin's high school days, they're both from Florida. You add a few embarrassing ones of your own about Peter, which makes him blush.

Throughout the night, you found yourself leaning against Joaquin and your legs in Peter's lap.

"Oh, let's play truth or dare!" Johnny exclaims, sitting up.

You feel Joaquin groan behind you, his arm resting around your shoulder. "Dude, I'm too comfortable to do any dares."

"Fine, how about two truths and a lie?"

It takes a little more convincing, but you all agree. Things take a turn when it's Joaquin's turn.

"Okay, one, I'm allergic to cats, two, I failed my driver's test 4 times," he pauses before the last one, "I've drunkenly made out with one of my current roommates."

The room erupts in shouts, mainly from Johnny

"The game is two truths and a lie!" Johnny gets quite worked up when it comes to games. "You liar!"

Bob is looking up at Joaquin with a perplexed expression.

Joaquin gives a nonchalant shrug. "Maybe I'm telling the truth, or maybe I'm not."

"Bob, settle this for us."

"Well, I can't remember if he failed his driving test 4 times or 3 times."

Johnny dramatically groans. "We all know you're not allergic to cats, and I would remember if we made out, drunk or not."

That makes Joaquin laugh. "Maybe we did."

Johnny perks up. "Did we? Maybe I was extra plastered. Hey, was it during rush week, our freshman year?"

Joaquin just shrugs and starts playing with the ends of your hair. He leans in and whispers. "You're awfully quiet, don't you wanna try and guess?"

The mention of freshman rush weeks brings back a distant memory. Gwen Stacy was rushing and dragged an unwilling you and MJ to a lot of parties.

Back then, you were quite the social drinker and got surprisingly good at beer pong.

There's no way you could've run into Joaquin. The campus was huge, but there was a faint familiarity with Joaquin being pressed up against you.

Pushing away the feeling, you turn back to him. "You look like someone who would fail their driver's test multiple times."

He smirks and leans in closer. "If you say so, cariño," he settles back against the couch and pulls you back into his embrace. "I think Bob's next." And no one tries to prod him further.

As the night winds down, you find yourself alone, Joaquin.

"Thanks again for doing this for me." You say carefully as you watch Joaquin fold the blankets.

"It's no problem, what are friends for?" He turns to you with a slight smile.

"You're turn." He says as he moves closer to you.

"My turn?"

"Yeah, two truths and a lie."

You laugh. "I already had a turn."

"Okay, truth or dare."

You both know you're going to pick the truth.

You cross your arms, knowing he's not going to let it go. "Fine, truth."

"Why didn't you tell the truth during the game?"

"What?"

"During my turn with two truths and a lie."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Joaquin. I didn't meet you and Johnny until senior year. Trust me, I would've remembered your annoying face freshman year."

The intensity of his gaze isn't helping your poor heart. When you remain quiet, he gives a slight nod and passes you, purposefully brushing against your shoulder.

He says your name, and you turn around, you're afraid he's going to call you out on your lie.

"I'm sorry your date turned out to be such an asshole."

"It happens, besides, it was a blind date."

"Well, just know if it had been me, the date would have turned out differently."

A/N I have no idea what wrong with the ending 😭I think I got caught up in my joaquin feels. Ugh I tried my best and I hope it’s what you’re looking for anon.

[lady-nuggetz]

My little gift for spider-man day, albiet a bit late haha. ❤️❤️❤️