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rowniebow · 1 year

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new years eve | peter parker x male!reader

summary: three years of you and peter on the fateful day that people swear they're going to change and never do.

pairings: peter parker x male!reader

cw: 18+ MINORS DNI! smut: teasing (edging? eh), light choking, butt stuff, oral, fingers, praise kink-ish. a lil bit o' alcohol abuse, You Belong With Me trope, any peter, late college era, angst! lil bit o fluff

word count: 4.9k+

song: new years eve, by mal blum

an: here's my new year's treat! hope this year treats everyone well. 22' was rough but i hope we can all remember that life really is ever-changing

masterlist

⭒

NYE 2013

"just go talk to her, pete!" you rolled your eyes at your friend.

you truly didn't want to be consoling peter about his long time crush at this very moment. or any moment, for that matter.

"you really think i should?" his eyebrows curled up as he stared at the girl of his dreams longingly from across the room.

"if it will get you away from me, then yes." you poured your drink, frowning down at the pure alcohol flooding your cup.

he hardly spared you a glance, let alone a word, while he made his way over to her, interrupting her chat with her friends to talk about who knows what.

you didn't want to know.

your throat burned while whatever you put in your cup made it's way down but you thought it was better than your eyes burning with tears. you were too ready to forget everything and drown yourself in a dizzy night of nothingness. ready to forget your shitty attitude and the shitty guacamole you were making your way through.

peter came back too soon for your jealous liking. he went on and on about how magical his three minute conversation with her was. how he just had to say how cool the party she was throwing was.

and then, of course, how cool she was.

"that's great, peter," you grumbled after downing another full red solo cup of something. he looked you up and down, and followed your lead in drinking a lot of whatever the clear bottle said it was. you couldn't read it, things were beginning to spin. you assumed he couldn't read much of it either by the way he joined you rather than questioning you about why you were drinking so much when you are alcohol's biggest hater.

or maybe. you wondered, he was just so enamored by the girl across the room that he couldn't spare you any thought.

you didn't really care at that point.

"what about you?"

"what?" you hollered over the booming music.

"are you going to try to get with anyone?"

"i don't want to start my new year with a hook up."

"what about that guy you said you've been thinking about?

"he-he's not here. why would he be here?"

"oh, i don't know. i just assumed."

"yeah, no, he's not here."

"okay, my bad, man."

peter took attention to your knitted eyebrows, lack of eye contact, and flustered features yet excused himself to go converse with someone else.

you gritted your teeth at the sight of his retreating back, taking another beer, and finding yourself somewhere to calm down.

⭒⭒

you watched peter disappear down the hall, fingers drunkenly intertwined with the woman he hadn't stopped talking about for months.

the sickening smiles they shared sent chills down your spine.

you grimaced, poured yourself another drink.

peter was stupid.

he's stupid in general, but especially for chasing after a girl who saw him as so much less than.

he deserved better, he didn't deserve the emotional disrespect he was bound to receive.

he deserves someone he can belt his favorite songs with (which happen to be your favorite songs, too).

he deserves someone who will watch movies with him and joke about how bad all the acting is (which you two happened to do every friday night).

he deserves someone who will understand him and all of his little actions and oddities (which, you prided yourself in your knowledge of peter quirks).

but peter was stupid.

and you were even more stupid for chasing after a stupid man.

you made your decision for how the rest of your night would go. you wanted to completely disregard the stupid man.

⭒⭒⭒

quick, loud knocks rapped against the door of your apartment. the naked man beside you in your bed questioned who could possibly be at your door at this hour. your dizzy mind didn't have the capacity to answer.

you hurried to gather easy clothes to slip on from off of your messy floor, glancing at the clock and seeing it read '3:04 am'. happy twenty-fourteen, you supposed. the man in your bed rolled his eyes as you made your way down the hall.

the door opened to reveal your friend, peter parker. teeth chattering, nose running, eyes swirling in a pool of tears.

the frown that you held lifted immediately, your eyebrows pulled together in worry, instead. "peter? what happened?"

your words dragged the tears out of him, "can i stay here tonight?"

his voice was low. it didn't break or crack. his gaze refused to meet yours, however, and his arms crossed over his chest in an attempt to hide his heart that was stabbed over his sleeve.

"of course," you pulled the door opened wider for him to come in. he immediately went to lay on your couch, face first.

you muttered a dismissal for yourself and made your way back to your room. back to the man clicking through his phone, uninterested. "you-you gotta go,"

he looked back up at you. his features resembled an angsty teenager's when their parents ask them to do chores. "are you serious?"

"yeah," your unamused tone pulled a glare to his face.

"whatever," he spat.

you watched him dress himself with the clothes he threw on to your floor. you couldn't understand what drunken thoughts led you to bring home a disgusting pig of a man like him.

you walked him out anyway, wishing him a safe trip home. he only glared as he left, earning an eye roll and an urgency to lock the door behind him.

peter watched the whole time, thinking back to your words from earlier. how you didn't want to start new years with a hook up. he silently took the blame, understanding fully well that it was because he left you alone in a sea of unfamiliar people.

the thought pulled more tears out of his eyes.

he dragged a throw blanket over his body as you shuffled around in the kitchen. glasses clattered against one another and onto the counter. pots rumbling with the milk inside of them.

he examined your movements carefully. your eyes seemed so far away. you held yourself as if you were cold, but didn't think of doing anything about your shorts and t-shirt to fix the problem. you stared at the boiling milk as if it were the only thing getting your through it.

and when you handed peter his share of steaming hot chocolate, he felt the same.

"do you want to talk about it?" you finally broke the several minutes of silence.

peter shrugged, shaking his head.

"okay," you took an extended sip of your drink. peter followed the swirl of the whip cream to your lips. "do you want to watch a movie?"

peter nodded, willing soberness to come snap him out of his pathetic behaviors.

it wasn't as if you two hadn't seen each other cry before. in all your years of friendship, there's been plenty of moments where you shared and comforted each other through them.

but, with the alcohol buzzing in his head and his constant yearning to be held - loved, touched - tears felt embarrassingly pathetic.

he took the pathetic and laid his head on your thighs with the small screen playing some random film you two hadn't heard of before.

⭒⭒⭒⭒

NYE 2014

"please?"

"no, peter,"

"come on!"

"you're too drunk," you grabbed a chip full of guacamole and shoved it into his loopy smile.

"i'm not, i haven't had hardly anything."

"and i'm starting to think i haven't had enough."

"i want to kiss someone on new years!"

"don't we all?"

"exactly! who else better to kiss than my best friend."

"i-i don't know,"

"it's only weird if you make it weird, babe,"

"see, now you're calling me 'babe', that's making it weird,"

"i'm trying to get you in the mood,"

you glared up at peter. his stupid eyes smiled with his lips. the pleading look of a desperate man with a dash of innocent smiling was chopped finely and boiled. the aroma of his sick soup swirled into your nose, pulling you in.

it was kind of nice having that much power over him, you had to admit. you could mix him into anything you wanted, realistically, but you had yet to realize your talent as a chef.

"i had one beer like an hour ago. that's nothin'," he continued his cheesing.

you rolled your eyes, his ingredients infectious. "whatever happens, happens, parker. if i find someone much better than you in the next twenty minutes then you're on your own."

his smile only grew, knowing you wouldn't be social enough to find anyone in the next twenty minutes.

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

"so?" peter's dragged vowels rang quietly behind you.

a minute left until the ball would drop.

"how was your impossible search for anyone better than me to kiss on new years?"

your dramatic sigh brought an irritating i-told-you-so grin to his face, "sadly, it came to no avail."

"of course, babe, it's me we're talking about."

peter tugged on your hand, pinky fingers intertwined as if they were the only thing keeping you next to him. he pulled you out onto the balcony of the small apartment that still managed to fit so many people.

the cold air hitting your cheeks as the crowd inside began surrounding themselves around the television displaying the annual ball dropping.

"did you have anything else to drink?" your quiet voice disappeared into steam. peter only barely grasped it.

"absolutely nothing. have you?" he leaned against the railing. the ever busy new york streets below haunted your conversation.

"oh yeah, tons! had to prepare, you know? really don't want to remember this one," you laughed, looking anxiously back inside through the large glass windows.

their counting began from ten progressing downwards all too quickly. peter's hand found it's way to your cheek, successfully redirecting you to look at him.

"we don't have to do this, if you really don't want to." his kind smile seemed to yank on your neck and pull you towards him.

your lips collided as the crowd inside cheered and fireworks exploded.

it was a kiss reserved for small children on the playground at first.

eyes squeezed so tight they hurt. hands lost, finding an uncomfortable home at your side. you pushed your lips so far out at the start, it was as if you were keeping him at arms length of intimacy.

but peter. his eyes widened with shock, his hand still resting on your cheek. it took him a moment before he understood the your awkward actions. he smiled into your lips, almost giggling at your nervousness, wrapping his arms around your neck.

his arms around your neck brought you a comfort you hadn't felt before in a kiss. warmth came from every bit of him that touched you.

he was a magnet, but all of a sudden he was even more so. his warmth fought off the biting cold of the new year's air. it captivated you and grew to be a warmth with it.

his lips molded into yours. your mouths opening and closing to become one.

your tongues danced to the honking of a car below.

your hands found a place at his waist and your fingertips longed to intrude on the skin beneath his sweater.

when you finally pulled back, peter found you gasping and your eyes pleading for more.

he smiled.

who had the power now?

he drew you in but missed your lips, much to your displeasure.

"do you wanna get out of here?" he whispered, longingly.

you hummed a confirmation, gripping his waist tightly, still.

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

it was sick, truly.

the way you wouldn't let go of peter's waist. you had him practically crawling out of his pants to you all the way back to his apartment.

what was even sicker, was how peter would only talk to you in fleeting whispers. speaking all too close to his ear. his lips brushing against the tip of it far too many times for sanity.

"i cant wait to get you home," he'd whispered, "i get you all to myself, how lucky am i to have you on new year's?"

it was sick.

so as soon as the door to his apartment shut, you made sure the manipulative man understood who he was working with.

your hands found his wrists and his back met the wall. your lips found his, but only for the most painfully briefest of moments.

instead, your mouth found interest in his available neck. you buttered the array of skin in fleeting moments of bliss: your lips just barely brushing his seemingly amplified nerves.

his quiet breaths of wanting were all too loud in the silent apartment, and those breaths were the only thing that brought you in to give him what he wanted.

you let go of his wrists and made yourself comfortable over his pulse, nipping and sucking on the bare skin. your hands found his hair, one at the base of his neck and the other surfing their way through his locks. his hands dragged down your chest and his fingers looped themselves in your belt hoop.

his undeniable strength brough your hips to his. the button on your pants clattered against hit, but the friction of your movements against each other brought nothing but bliss.

peter's deathly voice cut through the sonorous breathing between you two. you hummed in response when his fingers made their way to your hair, tugging your head from his throat.

your power vanished while he dragged you to his room, smothering you with kisses along the way. the bed pressed against the back of his knees, bringing him falling to it's surface.

you bit your lip looking down at your best friend. he looked up at you, only thinking about how hot you looked undressing him with your eyes like you did (and do quite often, if he was honest with himself).

your reckless decision for your deep, long-time wants managed to win over your debating thoughts. you fell to your knees, and yanked at the button and zipper hiding what you are fully aware will change your relationship with peter, for better or for worse.

he smiled, pulling his sweater over his head. your jeans pulled against the new growth that lied within them. peter's jeans, and underwear, too, fell to release his own growth.

peter watched your mouth cover the tip of him. your tongue flicked over the bit of him you had, his precum covering your tongue.

he moaned into the darkness of the room, the only light filtering in from behind you from the door. you were glowing because of it. you often were glowing, your radiance always lighting peter's life up, but this glow was full of need and want. pure and primal. something so human that it boarded the line of animal.

your tongue lightly traced the crease of his tip. then crept down the shaft. your teasing pushed excitement down peter's thighs and up into his stomach. the excitement balled itself up and came back to him in a throbbing want for you.

"fuck," he groaned, grabbing a fistful of your hair and guiding your head, firmly but ever so gently, over him and all the way down.

the pressure of him at the back of your throat brought tears to your eyes and a sickness to your stomach, but you fought it with a long, low moan.

your noises mingled with peter's as you began to bob your head with his guidance. a hand made it's way up to peter's chest while the other stayed gripping his inner thigh, nearly bruising the sensitive skin.

your hand on his chest rolled his nipple in between your fingers, pinching and pulling at the hard pink nerves.

his hips bucked, forcing him deeper into your throat with every movement. every time you felt him bounce off the walls of your throat he aroused provocative noises from within you.

"i'm-i'm gonna-,"

you stopped.

he glared at you as you hurried off of your knees and began fiddling with your belt buckle over him. the glare disappeared, replaced by the look a man only gives when a world of pleasure is presented right before him.

he practically came at the sight of you: only revealing your most vulnerable part to him. still completely covered with shoes and pants and your nicest winter sweater despite your now exposed length.

after muttering about where the lube could be, he let you shove him back on to the bed and watched you position yourself through his hooded eyes.

you tugged his ankles to rest on your shoulders, covered your hands in the lubricant. you brought one hand to his ass, soaking his entrance with the puddle of goop in your hand. your finger teased, lightly tracing the outside of his openness.

you had him shriveling into himself even with the faintest touch. a frustrated plead escaped his lips, and you decided to reward him in the smallest way you could.

you pushed the tip of your finger in, hardly even spreading him.

then quickly pulled out.

then in again, just barely.

and back out.

you went through this process several times, meanwhile using your free hand to prepare yourself, fiddling with your tip and assuring it to be supple enough for him.

your thumb passed over your tip for what seemed like the last time that you could bare before you went crazy with him whining beneath you as he did.

you removed your hand from him, instead rubbing your tip along his entrance.

you entered unbearably slow, both for you and for him. but he deserved it. all this time of you being forced to watch him pine after girl after girl. he could wait for you like you did for him.

his fingers gripped at the sheets, his extended moan gripped at your brain.

with you finally in him completely, you took a second to lean over, your hand lightly gripping his neck. his eyes closed from the comfort of your hand. your other free hand wrapped itself around the base of his penis, readying your intentions.

you moved your hips back out, still slow as ever. your hand on his length began stroking him at a similar pace. your just barely pulled yourself all the way out, your index and middle finger rubbing the very tip of him in a circular motion.

his staggered moans, moans of pain, at that point, from the lack of release he was getting, filled your ears, begging you to hurry.

"please, fuck me. i need you, please,"

and you complied.

you were so slow, so gentle at first. you were building him up again. but as time went on you couldn't help but give in to your own needs.

your needs of a quicker pace. your needs of a little bit of pain. your needs of watching him come undone before you.

you kept going, sloppy now.

back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

your eyes squeezed with your hand on his throat, doing your best to hold yourself back until he was ready, too.

his constant confirmations had you near spilling over the edge.

"yes, god, you're so good. more, please, thank fuck,"

the lewdness of your name on his breath had your nails on his throat in an attempt to keep you in reality.

peter finally twitched in your hand, the white liquid shooting out on to his chest and stomach. you watched it drip and pool in his belly button. you watched it cover one of his perky pinky nipples.

and you couldn't hold back any longer.

you leaned over, hand off of his throat and dick and on to the bed next to him instead, and ran your tongue along where his juices spilled.

you dipped into his belly button, scooping it out. your ran your tongue up his chest, lapping over his nipples until your couldn't feel his burning skin under you any longer.

you slurped him up and spilt into him entirely. peter arched his back at the feeling of your warmth pooling inside of him, moans continuing, his high lasting longer than usual as he rode into yours as well.

you, exhausted, finally achingly pulled out of peter and flopped next to him in the bed.

the sound of both of you breathing heavily was the only thing that filled the air.

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

waking up the next morning, you were all too aware of the man on top of you naked.

the man who is your best friend.

the man who begged you to be his new years kiss.

the man who, both, got you turned on, and got turned on in said kiss.

the man who whispered threats of pleasure all throughout the train ride home.

the man who didn't follow up on his threats.

the man who you absolutely railed the night before.

the man who crumbled and ended up begging for you once again.

the man who was your best friend.

just the thought of what you two shared the night before brought blood rushing back into your lower half. you wanted to roll your eyes at yourself. maybe even sneak into his bathroom and get it out, then get yourself out.

but instead, your best friend moved in your arms, thigh rubbing against your quickly growing self.

he groaned at the light, his arms finding their way up your torso.

his eyes slowly opened and he pulled his neck to look up at you. he smiled, moving his thigh at just the right angle to rub your lower half. a frustrated breath left your lips, the lips he so very badly wanted to eat up again.

"good morning," his raspy voice sent electricity through you. "did you miss me?" he laughed sleepily, his hair a mess. his hand on your torso moved back down and wrapped itself around your length. "seems like it."

you only managed to glare down at him, gnawing on your lip.

"you didn't let me fulfill my promises last night," he moved his hand up and down, lingering his thumb over your tip each time. "may i?"

you nodded.

your eyes landed on the clock as he stuffed his cheeks with you and your cum ran down his throat.

10:53 am, new years day. happy twenty-fifteen.

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

NYE 2015

rage filled you as you watched peter retreat down a hallway with a girl. he had the nerve to smile and laugh with her all night, now the audacity to follow her away and leave you stranded.

after this whole year? all this time?

after a year of loosing your best friend. loosing your best friend to the mindless fucks you gifted each other.

after a year of you becoming more familiar with peter's body than his brain.

after a year of earth shattering orgasms together, only to be left alone in bed afterwards.

a year of loneliness.

a year of feeling like an emotional burden to him.

a year of lost traditions.

a year of weekly movie nights being converted into weekly fuck nights.

you were okay with it, you thought. you have peter almost all to yourself.

sexually, at least.

so why are you watching him head to a back room ten seconds to midnight on new year's eve?

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

your ears rang all the way home and into your apartment. they rang as water poured into the kettle.

the glowing neon clock on the oven illuminated your face. 2:17 am. nothing good happens after two a.m.

and the knocking on your door seemed to prove that.

you were hesitant at first. who would be at your door this late other than him? you don't want to talk to him, the thought of him at all brought redness to your ears.

but the glowing time stared back at you, mocked you. sat on your shoulder making up all these excuses for why you should let him in.

what if he's upset?

what if he's alone?

what if he's still drunk?

what if he's hurt?

you knocked your fist on the wooden counter, three times for good luck, and trudged to the door.

it opened to reveal peter (surprise, surprise!). he looked up at you, obviously tired and still intoxicated with something.

without a thought in the world he walked in, sparing you a kiss on the cheek, "hi, baby,"

"are you okay?" your voice, soft and caring, needed to get the question out of the way to allow yourself to feel your feelings.

"yeah, of course," he flopped down on the couch, arms spreading out over the space.

"why are you here then?" you finally closed the door, not wanting your poor neighbors to hear you in a state like this.

"to see you. it's new years,"

you scoffed. the unfamiliar noise brought his attention to you. he finally opened his eyes. he watched you shake your head, staring at the ground.

"what?"

"who was that girl?"

he groaned a little, struggling to remember, "i think her name was amy? are you mad about that-,"

"no, why would i be? yes, i'm mad about that! what the fuck, peter?"

"baby, it didn't mean anything," he raised himself off of the couch as if he we old and worn and carried the weight of a seventy year old. "she just wanted to be with someone on new years, that was all."

you rolled your eyes, chewing on your already raw lip.

"why are you upset, it's not like we're exclusive or anything? we're just friends."

"we're not friends, peter!" your hands flew in the air. you were practically in disbelief. "friends don't do the things we did a year ago. and-and we just- kept doing it. as if we never were friends."

"that's not true, you know that's not true. you were my best friend-you are my best friend."

"i'm not! not anymore,"

"what do you mean,"

"when was the last time we treated each other like friends, pete? i can't remember the last conversation we had that wasn't just when we'd meet up next."

"that's not true, we were talking about that pizza place you thought looked good the other day,"

you shook your head, rolling your eyes in disbelief. you kept still next to the door, peter coming over to plead with you. "peter," you took a deep breath readying yourself for the intense words you wanted to spit. "i do not like you anymore,"

"you... you liked me?"

"jesus christ, parker," you threw your hands up again, giving up on it all.

"wait, no. i-i like you, too-,"

"no, i don't anymore!"

"what-? baby, come on,"

"don't call me baby, peter. i'm tired of the fucking games."

"i'm not playing any games-,"

"you are! and i'm so tired, pete. please, just-just leave."

"no, no, no, you're my best friend, i'm not leaving,"

"i'm not your best friend anymore! please, just leave." you tugged on his sleeve weakly, pulling him to the front door.

"i-i just-,"

"i don't want to hear it. get the hell out of here." you opened the door

"no, please, let's talk about it. i'm sorry," you tried half-heartedly to shove him out into the hall, him only looking back at you with pleading eyes unmoving. "y/n, please, baby. talk to me, i don't wanna lose you because i was being stupid."

the kettle rang out cutting through the tension of the apartment.

you huffed, giving up on pushing him out of the door. tears punched at your squeezed eyelids. you kept your head towards the ground.

"i-i'm going to shut the door, okay?" he whispered.

you nodded, holding your breath to not let the sob escape your lips. you rushed to handle the ringing of the kettle, instead. your hands wouldn't let go of the rushing blood in your fingers.

"why-why didn't you tell me you liked me?"

you took a shakey breath, "i felt like it was pretty obvious."

"no, i-i didn't," he lingered behind you in the kitchen, leaning against the counter. "i don't really know what i thought. i didn't think you ever wanted to be exclusive, though."

the tears finally began peaking out of the corners of your eyes, your mind replaying the sight of him walking away giggling with a girl.

"i'm sorry, you're right. i've-i've missed you. i've missed my best friend."

"peter," you choked out, voice cracking over every sound of his name.

"i think it's my fault. i take full blame,"

"peter,"

"i mean, i really could have done more this last year. i think i got caught up in the fact that i could be with you at all in anything more than a platonic way-,"

"peter."

he ceased his rambling. you could feel your stern tone making him shrink behind you.

"i'm begging you. please, just leave me alone. at least for tonight. i can't do this, not right now." you kept your hands over the counter, them being the only thing holding you up.

"o-okay, i'm sorry. i'll just-, yeah."

you listened closely. his retreating foot steps.

they stuttered, tempted to bring him back to you. but he knew better.

the door creaked open and closed.

you could finally open your eyes. the blurry world revealed itself to you.

2:34 a.m. nothing good happens after two a.m.

but happy fucking twenty-sixteen.

⭒

⭒ taglist ⭒

@fadedver @drainfury @1ischai @djmalik52

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