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readerhead · 13 days ago

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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?"

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readerhead · 2 months ago

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you can keep talking ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ●ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ spencer reid

spencer reid who speaks in statistics and spirals. who gets so excited when his mind begins to string facts and patterns together, he doesn’t even notice the hours slipping past. who gestures wildly with his hands while talking, voice bouncing softly as he explains a theory, a memory, a moment from his childhood—until he notices you’re quiet. too quiet.

spencer reid who finds you curled up beside him, asleep. and something in his chest tightens. not because he’s angry—he could never be—but because some wounded part of him thinks, of course. of course he bored you. of course he talked too much. he shuts his mouth instantly, lips pressed together in a quiet, familiar regret.

spencer reid who gently adjusts the blanket over your shoulders. who brushes a hand over your hair with the softest touch, the kind only someone who adores you would know how to give. he whispers “goodnight” even though he wasn’t finished. he never really is. the silence that follows is a lullaby he’s learned to live with.

you who wakes up with guilt curling in your stomach like smoke. because you remember the way his eyes dim when he thinks he's too much. you remember how he once told you he learned to count the seconds people stay interested before they drift. and now you’ve gone and confirmed it—you fell asleep.

you who cups his face in your hands and whispers you’re sorry, so sorry. and spencer who looks up at you like he doesn’t understand why you're crying. he says it's okay, really, but the way he avoids your gaze tells you it still stings. so you make him sit back down. you ask him to tell you everything from the beginning.

spencer reid who blinks in surprise, then slowly starts again. who watches your eyes this time, tentative and cautious, until your hand finds his and stays. and when you repeat back what you remember, ask questions, lean forward with that soft look only meant for him—he realizes you’re listening. you always were. you just needed rest.

spencer reid who talks slower now, but with the same love. and you who never interrupts, who makes mental notes of every reference, every name, every thread of thought that lights him up. because to love spencer is to listen. and he’s never been so quiet in his heart before.

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