#cindymooons | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lavendertales · 2 years

Text

Temptation - Javier Peña x f!reader**

Chapter 9 of the Unholy series

summary: Javier finally cracks the mystery surrounding your father’s demise. But breaking the news to you turns out to be hard.

word count: 3k

WARNINGS: semi-public action, blowjob, tension.

AGELESS/EMPTY BLOGS & MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED!

gif: @cindymooons

series masterlist | AO3

As usual, Javier wakes up alone. He knows that you did not expect him to spend the night, nor would you have wanted him to. Javier is too set in his own lonesome ways to care about having another human being infiltrate his personal space, and so are you.

Yet he cannot deny that this morning, he does feel lonely. For the first time in who knows how long, he feels lonely in that bed.

Once or twice he woke up with some of his former flings, but they made themselves scarce before the sun was up in the sky. He liked it that way. It was peaceful, an easy transaction and a passionate exchange of fluids. Yet this morning, he feels lonely.

But he doesn’t allow himself to dwell on all of the dark thoughts swimming at the back of his head. He has work to do.

He does his usual morning routine, ignoring the ache from his cock, still sore, and the subsequent memories that it carries along.

But it’s so damn difficult to bury them. He can’t just bury the lingering memory of the harsh, yet tender grip he’d had over your flesh, its pillowy warmth spilling in between his fingers, or the way he buried himself inside you to the hilt, taking you however he could.

Six times. Six times he’s made you fall apart on his tongue and on his cock. Needless to say, Javier feels sore this morning, though he cannot say this time that all of his needs have been sated, which is ridiculous to think about.

Physically speaking, yes, he is beyond satisfied. But, in an odd turn of events, it doesn’t feel like it’s enough. Like sex doesn’t scratch the basic itch. Like he requires something more to add to that fulfilment.

What he does know with certainty is that he admitted to you that he was jealous, and that he railed you into near oblivion last night because he wanted to be with you.

It’s bullshit.

It’s not just a means to an end.

I’ve never seen in anyone’s eyes what I see in yours.

You feel really good.

He has to stop dwelling on those words before they physically choke him out.

Besides, he’d much rather do that to you.

God, stop it. Stop, stop, stop it. Stop this fucking madness.

If I don’t end this now and go back to being strictly professional, I’m so fucked.

He has work to do. He has to focus on that.

So he dresses up, drinks the dreadful instant coffee he’d made a few minutes prior, and rushes into the embassy. He faintly listens to whatever angered speech Wysession has for him, whatever shenanigans Steve throws at him, and dives straight into work. He does his best to keep it confidential since it falls below the “official” label.

No one noticed him taking those folders out of their dusty shelf. Why would they? After cases have been cataloged, chances are no one will even remember or give a damn about the poor civilians who lost their lives for Escobar’s drug war.

He sits comfortably in his chair, browsing the files. Once upon a time, the pictures of the bodies might’ve triggered some uncomfortable reactions out of him, but not anymore. He looks at them with an impenetrable coldness; his eyes glaze over every word with utmost attention. He doesn’t have much to go on except a name, but it’ll do.

“Hey, Jav, a hand?”

Steve’s voice coos next to him, but it irritates. Javier looks up and sees his partner setting up his desk with plenty of boxes. Huffing, he puts the folder away, careful not to reveal it.

“How the hell did you manage to collect so much shit?” he asks Steve.

“It’s not mine, jackass. These are case files. Escobar’s victims.”

“Light reading, huh?”

Steve chuckles, arranging his desk to the best of abilities. When he hears Javier sigh, he looks up. “What?” he questions.

“Seriously, in front of me? I don’t spend enough time looking at your face?”

“Thanks, I’m flattered.”

Steve takes notice of the crusty folder in Javier’s hands, as well as his focused expression.

“What you got there?”

“Case file.”

Steve knows better than to put pressure on him, so he drops it. At least verbally. His eyes glance once in a while over at Javier, almost as if searching for a change on his face. But his partner remains ever the impassible, steel hard man.

Who could blame Javier? With all the changes going on in Colombia, and in the embassy, everyone’s patience was stretched thin. Compassion was almost nowhere to be found, and happiness much less so. All the agents were running on caffeine, cigarettes and a sole desire to catch the most prolific drug dealer. Some even used hatred as either coping mechanism or fuel to their fire. In any case, times were tougher than ever, and it showed.

Javier reads dutifully, ignoring everyone and everything. He’s trying to find a conclusion, some sort of clarification that would explain what happened. It couldn’t have been impossible. The name was right there in ink, there had to be something—

Hang on.

That’s my signature.

At the bottom of the report stands, indeed, Javier’s rushed signature. He had signed the report. Which means he was the one in charge of this case and subsequently, the file. Which means—

I know who he is.

I know what happened to him.

“No,” Javier murmurs after a while. “Fuck.”

Steve lifts his eyes from his desk and notices a pale, almost sickly looking Javier staring at the folder in his hands.

“What’s wrong?” Steve checks. “Jav. Hey.”

But Javier doesn’t respond. He’s speechless, utterly disarmed by the conclusion he reaches.

With cold, heavy hands, he stands up, stuffing the folder in his jacket. He tunes out the rest, even Steve’s increasingly desperate calls of his name. In this moment, he craves a cigarette. A cigarette, a drink, and you.

But when he does see you outside, smoking and chatting with Sofia, all color drains from his skin, and he swallows harshly around the massive stone newly formed in his throat.

Guilt.

Shame.

And most recent, pain.

Sleep eluded Javier.

Two days later, he feels exhausted, unable to consume anything. Every time he’s made eye contact with you, his stomach twisted itself into an agonizingly tight knot and he felt sick. He avoided you like the plague, leaving you to wonder and speculate about the possible reasons why he’d voluntarily back out of a good old bickering.

After four days, even you became worried.

Especially when he dropped by your desk specifically, gulping and wearing an undeniable countenance of guilt.

“Could you leave us a minute, Sofia?” he asks.

Surprised, Sofia nods and leaves you two.

“Isn’t this an interesting turn of events?” you smile wickedly.

Normally Javier would make some sly comment or even go as far as to say how much he’d like to wipe that smile off your face in the unholiest ways, but right now, he feels too gutted to do any of that.

“Javier Peña, looking absolutely defeated, groveling right in front of me,” you say.

Your tone is cocky and oddly proud, a stark contrast with Javier’s mood.

“I guess you heard the news then,” you continue.

Javier frowns, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh. Well then, I guess I can still have the pleasure of saying it right to your face. I got intel that Blackie and his personally operated mini gang will be at some sleazy bar downtown this weekend, so we’re planning an undercover mission and raid for that.”

You stand up, approaching him with a big, proud smile on your face. For a fleeting moment, Javier can soak up the image and his heart swells in his chest. He forgets the temporary pain and shame, and all he sees is your happiness, your pride in knowing you made great progress in the case.

“Oh, and there’s more!” you keep going, unable to contain your excitement. “La Quica blabbed, revealing some personal information about Pablo, which means that—“

“You win.”

In your happiness, you manage to notice his petrified stance, reflecting nothing more but that. Cold stone. Not even anger, or disappointment, nothing of the sort.

“Not even gonna fight back or anything?”

“You win,” Javier repeats, seemingly in a trance.

“What?” you ask slyly, needing to hear the words come out of his mouth.

“Everything.”

You furrow your brows, feeling more puzzled than ecstatic.

“What’s up with you? You look sickly.”

Javier opens his mouth, yet nothing comes out. Not a word, not a sound.

“Wait, if you didn’t know about this, then what did you came here to tell me?”

He fails to speak once more, heart aching at the mere thought. How can he disclose such sensitive information to you in the middle of your proudest moment so far? It is an incredible achievement and progress, and he cannot take that away from you.

It’s not the time.

She’s so happy and cocky about it.

“Congrats,” he clears his throat. “It’s good work.”

“Good? Try great.”

Javier lowers his head in the ground, indirectly divulging more than defeat.

Shame.

Guilt.

Then he hears you huff, and he sees you moving closer to him in an unexpected turn of events. He hasn’t been this close to you in the office’s open space and he feels nervous, even nauseous to some extent.

“I will admit, you did help,” you whisper to him.

Javier shivers when your warm breath touches his earlobe, your eyes staring deep into his soul and way past his earthly confinements.

“How?” he asks, dumbfounded.

“Well, your last stakeout gave us the last known location of Blackie, and when I interrogated La Quica, I questioned him about it. He confessed it’s true, and told us where he’ll most likely be next.”

“Oh.”

He gulps. The more he stares at you, the more he feels his skin burn again, an unquenchable thirst consuming him from inside out.

But he can’t. There’s too much guilt, too much he has to repent for.

“Look, I wanted to tell you—I found something—“

“I know. It was useful, as much as I hate saying it. So… thank you. I guess.”

“Okay, that’s not what I wanted to say.”

“You know, just this once, I’m feeling very appreciative and generous.”

Javier pulls away, gulping yet again and staring at you bewildered, already ruined and broken down in a million and one pieces.

“What do you mean?” he asks, suddenly feeling very exposed.

“I mean, I am having a very good day, which is a premiere, and I am feeling grateful for the little help you gave towards me and this win of mine, so I’d like to do something nice for you.”

“Well that’s unheard of.”

You smile insultingly. “Don’t get used to it.”

You walk ahead, leaving a dumbfounded Javier behind. Then, you turn to give him a suggestive glare, and he trails suit. He’s not sure where you or his legs are taking him, but all he knows is that he has to follow you. All he knows is that if you want him to do something, he’ll do it in a heartbeat, no questions asked.

He has never known a greater danger than that.

His heart stops when you both reach the evidence room. You take a quick scan around, making sure no one sees you get in, and you rush to shut the door behind you. You stare at him with the same lustful glare from whenever you’ve shared your sins, and Javier is weak.

“We can’t,” he mutters, failing to believe his own words.

“Didn’t stop you when you ate me out in this very room.”

Fuck, he does not need that memory back into his mind, not now. But you’re all about being fair and square, and if he’s thinking what you’re thinking, he is so screwed.

So fucking screwed.

“I figured I’d return the favor,” you clarify.

There’s no more saliva in his mouth and no air to be propelled in his lungs.

“Unless you don’t want me to, in which case, I won’t do a damn thing.”

He’s exasperated and tired and stressed and thinking about that gives him a headache and an erection. He’s a loser in that game.

“Now you’re talking crazy,” Javier tries to joke.

“So is that okay? Is that something you’d—“

“Are you asking me if I want you to fuckin’—blow me? Please. I just—“

You smirk, approaching him again and thus causing him to lose his words again. Javier’s heart threatens to burst out of his chest completely, but, to his shock, you choose to kiss him first.

It’s not sloppy and rushed, not really; it’s more tender and wet, deep and passionate in a sense, like you are finally taking your time in exploring each other’s mouths, and it’s oh so heavenly. You cup his face, pulling him close to you, and he reciprocates in an instant, his own hands going to your waist and remaining there. He’s never thought about how intoxicating it feels to simply kiss you, to have you close to him.

But then, one of your hands drops to his nether area and starts palming him through his dress pants, and Javier groans. He groans even louder into the kiss as you subtly push him into the shelves, your free hand working against his belt.

After a few more torturous seconds, you decide you need both hands, so you break the kiss and remove his belt and unbutton his pants right under Javier’s blown out eyes. His breaths are ragged and out of control already, and you’ve only just kissed him. He knows deep down that he shouldn’t be doing this, not now when his conscience weighs heavily on him, but it feels too good to stop now.

And when he sees you on his knees before him, curling your hand around his cock and starting to jerk him off, he’s fucking gone.

“F-fuck,” he grunts, forcing himself to stay as quiet as possible.

“Shhh,” you coax him sweetly, teasing the tip of his cock, using a combination of your thumb and your tongue.

His hand instinctively goes to grab a handful of your hair, the other holding onto one of the shelves. A regrettable word leaves his mouth next: your name. He hears it, and you do too, but it only determines you more. You stroke the base of his cock, the rest lathering in saliva and sucking attentively, as if it’s the most important task. And perhaps right now, it is.

Javier closes his eyes, consumed by one too many feelings to be even mentioned, indulging into the forbidden moment. What was another sin to add to the list, after all? And there’s none more delicious than you, no other torture sweeter or more desirable.

When he makes the mistake of opening his eyes and looking down, his eyes find yours, and he nearly shatters right then. He’s probably not going to last long anyway, but the mere eye contact is deadly enough to make his insides burn and his body crave yours all over again.

“You’re so—fucking good, Christ…” he can barely say those words as it is.

The feeling of his cock in your warm mouth, licking expertly at the right time, is explosive, and your name staining his lips, a longing desire. In this moment, he’s powerless, a pawn at your will.

“Why are you doing this, fuckin’ hell—“

He smirks, long gone past the edges of sanity, and tugs on your hair to make you attentive.

“Oh yeah, you can’t talk with your mouth full,” he teases.

That’s the Javier I know, you think in some sort of bliss yourself.

You retaliate by deep throating him, as much as you can, and you’re beyond delighted when Javier grunts, the sound serving as warning. But you don’t care: you keep sucking him off as hard and as deep as you possibly can.

That is, until Javier pulls you away, staring at you with darkened eyes. He wraps his own hand around the base of his cock, the other on your jaw.

“Open your fucking mouth, now,” he barely gets out as he strokes himself to completion.

You follow the instruction, eyes locked with his and mouth waiting for the treat it’s about to receive.

Sure enough, seconds later, Javier’s face is scrunched in inevitable ecstasy, his cock pulsing and throbbing as he messily spills his cum over your lips and jaw. The feeling empties him completely, leaves him in shambles, and he knows it does no good for his mental state. But it was also craved, notoriously needed.

While Javier wrestles his conscience and inner demons, his breaths slowly return to normal. He watches you stand back up, cheekily removing the excess arousal from your jaw with your index and taking it to your mouth, sucking slowly.

All while staring right at Javier.

“You’re welcome,” you say smugly.

He doesn’t have any clever remark. Not now, not anymore. He’s told you what you need to know: you won everything.

You won the bet, the case, and him.

And Javier was the sore, bitter loser, with nothing more but a heavy conscience and unrequited feelings.

previous | next

293 notes · View notes

t-lostinworlds · 2 years

Note

What are some active Tom blogs on here?

i've been looking at this for the past few minutes and i've gone blank ksksks so i'm just going to mention some blogs at the top of my head:

@tomdutch @userholland @oatmilkholland @vitaminholland @selfcarecap @devotion @cindymooons @cutetomholland @cumholland @hollandsmoose @honeyspidey @spideybrie @spidey-sophie @storybookholland @worldoftom @lauras-collection @softholand @peteprker @parkerpeter24 @feliciahardly

i'm sorry if i forgot ppl it's like, 5 am lmao. BUT anyone can feel free to add more btw!! <3 i know i need to follow some more blogs too sksks

#some aren't /tom only/ blogs tho so just #proceed with care 💓#they're all lovely ppl anyways so just follow them #as for active....well aksksalsk #that will depend on tom entirely #if he'll give us crumbs #u bet when he posts it's like a mating call #and all of just appear out of nowhere salivating LMAO #i'm kidding sksks #not really but #answered: anon #answered asks

90 notes · View notes

allamericansbitch · 2 years

Text

Hi everyone! Here’s the newest addition to my Creator Shoutout Series (november 27 - december 4)! For info about the series, I explained it in the first post here, but generally, it’s to show appreciate to editors and their creations that i love from the past week. To track this series or look at previous shoutouts, please check out the tag on my blog *creatorshoutouts. Have a great week everyone!

halsey graphic by @itconsumesyou

wednesday: wednesday addams gifset by @sapphic-girls

taylor swift: midnights from blank space taylor gifset by @tayloralison

the bear: carmen berzatto gifset by @emziess

wednesday: anti-hero gifset by @laylakeating

taylor swift: would’ve could’ve should’ve gifset by @iwishyouwouid

lorde: melodrama tracklist gifset by @pateldevs

little women (2019): jo march gifset by @binariesuns

taylor swift: anti-hero graphic by @cellphonehippie

jenna ortega: wednesday adams fashion looks gifset by @nessa007

stranger things: ‘fruity four’ gifset by @ririvilliams

taylor swift: AMAs icons by @treacherous

gracie abrams: camden + taylor swift: this is me trying gifset by @thatwasthenightthingschanged

stranger things: eleven gifset by @hopper-wheeler

wednesday: wednesday addams gifset by @sashafierce

taylor swift: ‘sincerely’ album concept design by @ohgaylor

olivia rodrigo gifset by @igor-shesterkin

nope (2022) gifset by @jellymonstergrrrl

taylor swift: snow on the beach graphic by @sadbeautifutragic

succession: others being forced to perceive tomgreg gifset by @divorcedtom

stranger things: steve and robin gifset by @santasteve

taylor swift: evermore tracks graphics by @the-punk-panther

succession: gerri kellman gifset by @rvmanroy

wednesday: wednesday addams gifset by @chriswevans

stranger things: max mayfield gifset by @forbescaroline

taylor swift: this is me trying graphic by @vigilanteshit

brooklyn nine nine: amy and jake gifset by @glendoll

wednesday: rainbow gifset by @usergif @wakandasforever

taylor swift: dear reader graphic by @andtosaturn

tangled gifset by @auiym

wednesday: wednesday & enid + midnight rain gifset by @nick-nelson

taylor swift: labyrinth gifset by @rogerhealey

a charlie brown christmas gifset by @juliedelpy

wednesday: familial nicknames gifset by @yenvengerberg

taylor swift: holy ground album concept design by @stood-onthecliffside

stranger things: nancy wheeler gifset by @agentplant

wednesday: wednesday addams gifset by @eddie-dustin

taylor swift: midnights tracklist edit by @hekaates

‘the comfort zone’ gifset by @antoniosvivaldi

wednesday: season one gifset by @usergif @sith-maul

taylor swift: back to december gifset by @cametotheshowinsd

holiday icon pack by @naiey

wednesday: wednesday addams gifset by @ehmuh

taylor swift: holiday icons by @petersevan

the shining edit by @iskarieot

pearl (2022) gifset by @kitherondale

taylor swift: chrsitmas tree farm move poster edit by @carlytayjepsen

wednesday: wednesday addams outfits gifset by @petersevan

conan gray: music videos as movie posters gifset by @pjobsessed

taylor swift: the very first night by gifset by @loversmore

wednesday: season one gifset by @florencipugh

succession gifset by @castlesrichards

taylor swift: the 1 edit by @tvventystitches

wednesday gifset by @marty-mcflly

taylor swift: midnights favorite songs gifset by @enbyjinx

wednesday graphic by @snimeat

the bear gifset by @cindymooons

taylor swift: midnights gifset by @jakeperalta

scream (1996) gifset by @buffysummers

sabrina carpenter: because i liked a boy graphic by @21-roses-a-day

taylor swift: vigilante shit edit by @ohnoballoons

halsey: badlands gifset by @phoebesbridgers

dermot kennedy: something to someone edit by @vigilanteshit

taylor swift: bejeweled graphic by @wildestdream

wednesday: nevermore academy + main powers gifset by @seance

mean girls: gretchen wieners gifset by @ashleysolsen

taylor swift: midnights redesign by @startreatment

gilmore girls: jess and rory + question...? gifset by @endiness

taylor swift: anti-hero postcard edit by @onsomenewsht

knives out gifset by @nowadayz

taylor swift: evermore headers + icons by @treacherous

#*creatorshoutouts

68 notes · View notes

userparamore · 2 years

Text

2022 creation summary

a creation for every month of 2022

post your favorite or most popular post from each month this year (it’s okay to skip months)

i was tagged by @daenerys-stormborn and @elena-gilbert, thank you so much mali and tanya!! <3 i was a little inactive in the first half of this year tbh

january:

fave: song for sharon by joni mitchell - collage art pop: turn it off by paramore - collage art

february:

fave: my favorite lyrics from flowers for vases/descansos & paramore | monster pop: hayley + GDY & i guess by mitski - collage art

march:

fave: paramore + screenshotsofdespair pop: hayley + GDY’s tiktok

april:

fave: harry styles at coachella + 🌈 pop: hayley at coachella with billie eilish

may:

fave: 5 years of after laughter & satellite by harry styles - collage art pop: hayley williams | 2015 -> 2022 & daylight by harry styles - collage art

june:

fave: strangers by ethel cain - collage art pop: 15 years of riot

july:

fave: rhaenyra & alicent + art by dough wheatley & both sides now by joni mitchell | 1970 -> 2022 pop: rhaenyra targaryen + HOTD trailer

august:

fave: my limb by hayley williams - collage art & rhaenyra costume appreciation & types of people at tourneys | HOTD 1.01 pop: rhaenyra + alicent in 1.01

september:

fave: first and last appearance of milly alcock as rhaenyra & #i support women’s rights to be covered in blood | HOTD 1.03 pop: #a plague and a headache | HOTD 1.04

october:

fave: paramore | this is why & HOTD + official art pop: HOTD | 1.08

november:

fave: htsyhb and crystal clear parallel - collage art & paramore + 🌈 & hayley in atlanta & the blacks & the greens pop: #hayley saying “gay” for a minute straight in respons to florida’s “don’t say gay” policy

december:

fave: rose-colored boy and the news parallel & HOTD: end of the year review - 1.08 pop: paramore | the news

no pressure tags: @iero, @taylorisapuppy, @paramores, @petersevan, @tomlinsun, @cellphonehippie, @mercymaker, @maya-hawke, @hoe-biwan, @milesgmorales, @cindymooons

#tag game #i don't really have many creator mutuals 🙈#so sorry if you don't know who i am i just really like your creations <3

16 notes · View notes

tomdutch · 3 years

Note

*slams fists on table* prompt #30 [grabbing your lover by the collar] and #37 [kitchen counter make-outs] with peter please my dear talented mutual <3 <3 <3

❀ home to me ❀

prompts: (30) grabbing your lover by the collar + (37) kitchen counter makeout

↳ post-college!peter, established relationship, a bit of suggestiveness at the end

word count: 1.7k of light angst & lots of fluff

flufftober drabbles (now completed)

wednesday is the worst day of the week for peter. he’s had this argument with ned all through high school, usually under your amused gaze as you watched your two best friends argue like bored housewives.

hating monday is garfield behaviour and it’s not cute, peter maintains, and tuesday is unmemorable. thursday has a spark of excitement, knowing friday is so close and will bring with it the weekend, which are totally exempt from criticism. except sunday from the hours of three to eleven pm, where peter often finds himself scrambling to catch up on all the schoolwork he’s missed while being new york’s friendly vigilante.

he can easily remember the first time you witnessed him and ned bickering; it was a dreaded wednesday afternoon during junior year of high school, and the three of you had decided to skip your last period—an egregious crime for peter, but you talked him into it—to get sandwiches from delmar and eat them on the roof of peter’s building, since he lived the closest to the shop. the sight of your twinkling eyes watching his hands gesture enthusiastically and his cheeks darken with enthusiasm for his explanations was more than enough to have him stuttering even more than usual.

“i’m just saying,” he ended his account with a loud breath shaking his chest, “wednesday is the purgatory of capitalist society’s seven day week.”

ned’s jaw slackened, while your grin only got bigger as the three of you took seats on the ground near the roof’s railing, warm sandwiches in hand. “oh my god, we’re never getting girlfriends.” he exlaimed, throwing his head back and clutching his grilled chicken sub close to his heart as though this new proximity would heal it.

an embarrassed shut up left peter’s thin lips, and he looked down, focusing on unwrapping his sandwich and on not shivering when your thigh brushed his as you settled in beside him.

“i don’t know,” you giggled, sparing your curly-haired best friend a glance from the corner of your eyes, “i’m sure there’s a girl out there who love freckle-faced boys with strong opinions on the days of the week and a hatred of non-smushed down sandwiches. who knows, maybe she’s closer than you think.”

this wasn’t the exact moment peter fell in love with you—no, that ship had sunk a long time ago—but it is when he knew he would never love anyone more than you. and now, five years later, that certainty still hasn’t faded, not even one bit. not even when you two fight over the dumbest topics imaginable.

it’s been almost two hours since peter’s seen you. after your argument, the first one in your new shared apartment over the furniture of your new shared apartment, you’d glared at him with palpable contempts, turned on your heel, and slammed the door shut behind you. rain soon started plummeting from the skies, like it’s mocking peter’s horrid mood, and he knew you hadn’t stopped to check the weather app and grab an umbrella before you stormed off.

great, peter thinks, i can’t suit up and go looking for her or she’ll get even more mad i didn’t give her space and if i don’t, she’ll come home mad about the rain and mad i didn’t go find her. all he can do is fall onto the couch, making sure not to knock any of the boxes around the coffee table, and bury his face in his hands. right as he’s about to bite the bullet and get up to wear his suit, the front doorknob jiggles for three solid minutes before the hinge creaks loudly when you throw the door open.

as expected, you’re utterly soaked, clothes sticking to your skin and shoes squeaking on the thor-themed welcome mat before you take them off. you glare at the little cartoon norse god holding his hammer up as thunder strikes loudly outside for good measure.

“hey,” you surprise peter by addressing him first, making his back snap to an upright position.

“hi, sweetheart.” he responds, snapping into action when your bottom lip trembles and your eyes fall onto the hardwood floor. thankfully, the bathroom is the first room you two got working on when you moved in a couple days ago, and he was able to find warm, clean towels in seconds. “here you go, baby.” peter mumbles, wrapping a big one around your trembling shoulders and a smaller one over your head; big, gentle hands attempting to dry your hair.

your throat feels strained, a heavy weight in the middle restricting your breathing. wide eyes with unshed tears watch your boyfriend as he tenderly moves the towel over your wet strands, and you place your hands over his wrists, effectively stopping his ministrations. once your gazes meet, peter’s worried brown eyes locking onto your regretful ones, you whisper, “i’m sorry.” the words almost get stuck rolling off your tongue from your remorse, but you manage them. “i’m sorry for fighting and leaving when i was angry, petey. i’m so sorry.”

one of your palms leaves his skin to grab a fistful of his signature find x pyjama shirt, and peter lets you drag him close until your noses are touching despite his super strength. “it’s okay, baby.” he reassures you, voice kind and light. “you can get mad at me whenever you want, as long you always come home to me.” his eyes turn glossy, thin bottom lip getting caught between his teeth. “i can’t lose you, too.”

“never, peter.” you answer him immediately, reaching up to press kisses to his wobbling chin, your boy trying hard not to cry. “you’ll never lose me, love, you’re stuck with me for good. no return policy here. matter of fact, it’s illegal.”

a breathy chuckle leaves his throat, and he rests his forehead on yours. comfortable silence falls over you, peter’s fingers playing with the hem of your wet sweatshirt, stuck to your cold skin uneasily.

“why don’t you take a hot shower and i’ll whip up some light dinner?” he mutters, dragging the tip of his nose along the slope of your own.

shit-eating grin spreading over your lips, you cup his cheeks and drop a peck on his mouth. “as long as the shower isn’t hot because you’ve set our home on fire trying to make an omelet.”

peter groans loudly, throwing his head back with amused irritation as he steps away from you, “you’re so annoying.” he grumbles and snaps the towel off your head just to playfully throw it in your face. “go shower before the living room smells like wet dog.”

he doesn’t wait for your response, heading to the kitchenette and giggling under his breath at your insulted gasp.

thirty minutes later, you’re dry and sitting on the kitchen counter, legs swinging back and forth as you tap your flannel pants-clad thighs along to the rhythm of a song on peter’s playlist. the culry-haired boy is standing in front of the stove, dumping some of may’s tomato sauce that she dropped off as a housewarming gift onto pasta and veggies.

“smells so good.” you sigh, leaning your head back on a high cabinet and delighting in the proud, happy beam your boyfriend sends you.

the phone in your lap vibrates, and you look down to your lockscreen, a message from one of your friends flashing on it. that’s when your eyes fall on the date, memories of high school flooding your mind like a tsunami of reminiscence.

biting back a laugh, you look over at peter, his tongue slipping between his pink lips as he attempts to not splatter sauce all over the stove while mixing the pasta and sauce together.

“baby,” you giggle, holding your phone up to him, “it’s wednesday.”

the furrow in his eyebrows and confused expression only make your laughter multiply, fully amused as realisation sinks in. “fucking wednesdays,” peter grumbles, turning the heat off with the strength of a petulant child. “i swear, i need to start sleeping through w*dn*sdays so that nothing bad happens to me or anyone i love during them again.”

“wait,” you deadpan, “how did you just censor wednesdays if we’re talking out loud?”

“huh?”

“never mind.” you shake your head, waiting for peter to finish serving the pasta on each of your plates.

he takes his time, moving slowly and twirling the tongs around dramatically to swirl the spaghetti as though he’s a contestant on masterchef. dork. when he’s satisfied with the presentation, he grabs a fork and gets a bit of everything on it, before looking at you with the most convincing puppy dog expression you’ve ever countered.

“taste?” peter asks, shy smile tugging the corners of his lips up.

you nod, and he feeds you, cheering adorably when you close your eyes and moan at the savours. “if i hadn’t watched you make this, i’d think you got takeout while i was showering. ‘s really delicious, petey.”

his eyes light up at the compliments, cheeks a soft pink as he places the fork on your plate. he’s about to graciously respond, when your hands grab the neck of his shirt and drag him into you, hips cornered between your thighs and mouth pressed to yours. despite the sudden movements, peter recovers quickly, melting into your embrace like butter on a hot pan. tongue slipping between his lips, you run your fingers through the dark curls at the nape of his neck, pleasurable shivers racking down your back when he groans at the contact. the taste of the sauce on your tongue moves to peter’s while his hands grasp your waist tightly, dragging you to the edge of the counter.

you break apart minutes later, both your chests heaving for air and faces feeling warm. sucking your bottom lip between his own, peter smirks at the whimper you let out. “how about after we enjoy my skilled cooking,” he whispers, feeling his heart literally skip a beat when you giggle, “i can eat something else?”

the ridiculous comment is very much worth it when you laugh harder and pinch his tummy playfully.

#peter parker smut #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #peter parker x reader #tom holland smut #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #cindymooons #answered

802 notes · View notes