#insomniac!Peter Parker

[int-writersmind]

Fragile

Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: The first night you and Peter are intimate together...

Part 3 of Potential Customer (could be read as a standalone)

Warnings: Smut, smut, (semi-dirty) Smut, unprotected sex (whoops), little Fluff at the end

Word Count: 1.7k

Authors Note: This series started off pretty gn w/ the Reader so I tried my best to carry that on w/ this part. Forgive me if isn't that great, I'm a cis woman trying her best, Enjoy!

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“Is this ok?” Peter asks.

“Yes. It. Is. You flop against your bed, elbows holding yourself up, slowly opening your legs, giving Peter space to situate himself in between. He stands there for a moment looking you up and down before leaning over you. “Are you down?”

“Hell yes.”

He quickly kisses you on your lips before going to your neck, peppering more down your throat. Your fingers go to the front of his shirt, pushing the buttons through the loops. His hands go to your pants, slowly unbuttoning, then pushing them down. You peel off his shirt as you reach the last of the buttons, his hands trailing up your body, bringing your shirt upwards and over your head. He brings his hands down your body, down your chest, fingers gliding over your skin, leaving goosebumps in their absence. His fingers wrap around the waistband of your pants, pulling them off in one easy swoop. 

As your hands go towards Peter’s pants you catch him looking you up and down, his eyes practically memorizing your skin. “Gosh, you’re making me nervous…” You say.

Peter’s eyes immediately go to yours, “I don’t mean to, just…taking everything in” He goes towards your ear, dropping his voice to a whisper. “I’m making sure I don’t forget a single thing.” You chuckle as you push his pants down, Peter helping, making sure it comes off. Your fingers creeping towards Peter’s waistband are going to pull them down— ”You sure? Last chance to change your mind.”

“Whatever you’re hiding, Peter Parker, I wanna see.” You push his underwear down all the way, fighting the urge to look down. You fail, of course, face turning red, you bring your eyes back up to meet Peter’s. He kisses your smirk away, bringing a hand in between your legs, touching you in ways that make your eyes shut, his hand movements making you gasp and struggle under his touch. “Oh..my…”

Peter’s hands pick up the pace, causing that heat in the low of your stomach to grow. You feel yourself reaching your peak before Peter takes his hand away, causing you to groan in response. “...Not yet” Peter whispers, bringing his hand up to his mouth and licking away your excess from his fingers. 

His hands take your hips and pull them closer to him, one hand gripping onto your hip, the other guiding himself inside of you. You wince the deeper he goes, and you gasp, going to clutch his shoulder.

“Am I hurting you?” Peter whispers.

“Oh god no,” You bring one hand to his face and using the back of your hand softly graze his face. “I don’t think you could ever hurt me.”

Peter bends down, placing a kiss on your lips as he starts to move, slowly at first, gentle, perhaps a little too gentle for you.

“I’m not fragile, you know?” Your voice is low and soft. 

“I know.”

“You’re not gonna hurt me.”

“I know.”

“Then Peter,” You grip his chin, keeping his face straight on yours. “Pick up the fucking pace.” You both laugh as Peter does in fact take your suggestion into consideration, snapping his hips into you, causing your eyes to roll to the back of your head.  

As Peter keeps up the pace, he grips your headboard, leaving a slight dent in the metal that you don’t notice until the next day. His head falls into the crook of your neck, nipping at the sweaty skin. 

Your hands graze his back, feeling the curves of his moving muscles, fingers falling into the dip of his shoulder blades. One hand going to the low of his back, slowly pushing downward, giving him permission to go deeper, opening more of yourself to him.

Peter looks down, his hair damp causing it to curl and stick to his forehead, his sweat making him almost glow. Your eyes catch one another, neither one of you daring to break contact. The arm resting on the headboard falls to rest next to your head, the other caressing the side of your leg. Peter slows the pace, but not the pressure. “Oh god, I-” Peter struggles to get out. “I-”

One of your hands snakes their way from nape to scalp, gently massaging his roots. “Tell me what you want.” You respond.

“I-uh-” His head dips forward to kiss you, on the chin first, then the side of your face, to behind your ear. “God-I-”

You gently tug his head backward so that your eyes are finally meeting together once again, his movement stills for a moment. “I want you to use your words, sweetheart.”

Peter laughs at this, “I think I’m the one that is supposed to say that.”

“But where’s the fun in that?” You move up and gently bite him on the ear, “Plus I can’t imagine you saying that.”

Peter growls just slightly, “There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me” His mouth moves to your ear, “Like all the naughty things I want to say to you, want to do to you.”

The two of you look at one another again, holding intense eye contact before breaking out into laughter. “Well, so? Do I get the part?” Peter asks.

“Shut the fuck up…” 

The two of you embrace in a hot, messy, kiss, your arm hooking him closer, tongues entering each other's mouth.

“I want you,” Peter says between gaps of kissing, breathless, “Not just now, but every night, just like this.”

The two of you break away from one another, Peter looking down smiling such a genuine smile that you couldn’t help but blush from this intimacy, from his vulnerability. Thank god you didn’t call out of work that day.

“Ditto.” Was all you managed to say, you smiled back, causing him to chuckle and grin in response.

You turn on your stomach, Peter placing kisses down from the nape of your neck down to your tailbone. He gently lifts your hips, before guiding himself into you once again.

A sigh falls from your lips at the familiar feeling inside of you, Peter’s hips crashing into you, pressing you into the bed farther and farther, one hand going between your legs, pleasuring yourself.

Peter’s head leans down, resting on your shoulder, his moans and groans turning you on more than anything he was doing physically. One of your hands, resting on the bed, is soon covered by Peter’s, his hand interlocking with yours, squeezing, and squeezing and squeezing–

“Ow, Peter-”

Peter quickly stops everything, lifting his head from your shoulder. “Oh God, I, I-”

“Hey,” You turn your head, craning to see his worried face. “Accidents happen, and remember I’m not fragile.” You turn on your back once more, careful to not let him slip out of you. “Just keep your eyes on me, babe, keep your eyes on me.

You hold his face in both your hands, pulling him for another kiss on the lips, then another on one side of his face “Darling,” Than another on the other side, “Honey,”

“God, we gotta talk about this obsession with pet names,” Peter responds, the panic finally leaving his face.

You giggle back, “Only after you fuck me like you did earlier.”

You hold each other's attention as Peter does just that, eyes never leaving each other, noses so close that with every thrust his nose brushes against yours. You bring one hand in between your legs, making quick work to bring yourself back to the edge, so close you could trip into pleasure. “Ah, ah- oh god, Peter…”

Waves of pleasure spread throughout your body, the heat that built in the lower part of your stomach spreading to every inch. You throb against Peter inside you, with him continuing his pace, until he’s burying his head in the crook of your neck, groaning as he releases inside of you, pressing your bodies against one another. 

Letting some of his body weight on you, Peter lifts his head so he can look at you, glancing back, spent, but happy.

Seemingly untired from the whole ordeal, Peter climbs up your body kissing you again, deeply, passionately, as if he didn’t know you would escape and never come back. 

Tired, you kiss back, running your hands through his hair as you do so. As Peter finally looks into your eyes. “God we are so sweaty.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, “You’re so fucking…I don’t even…I don’t even know.”

Peter takes himself out of you, shifting so he lays next to you, leaning over to look at you. “You know what? I’m gonna have to wash that dirty mouth of yours.”

“Oh please,” You go to thwack Peter on the forehead with your pointer finger flicking from your thumb. “Weren’t you the one that had naughty things to say to me?”

He catches your wrist effortlessly, placing a kiss on the inside, “Doesn’t count, I was under a lustful haze.”

“Fuck you!” You say, laughing as his head turns to face you.

“You already did.”

You roll your eyes before sitting up and placing a kiss on Peter’s lips. “Don’t go anywhere I gotta pee.”

And you do so, as Peter remains on the bed, arms crossed behind his head, an image that makes you chuckle as you come back. “God, you-you look even better now.”

“You’re only saying that ‘cause I’m literally naked.” You climb back in bed, turning to lay on your side to face him. 

“Maybe,” He turns to his side as well, “But I would say that to you even if you wore twenty layers of the heaviest of snow clothes.”

“Yeah maybe to yourself”

“Ugh, just get over here!”

The two of you just laugh as Peter pulls you into his chest, turning you around so that your back is now flush against his chest.

“Ugh, Pete, I’m sticky and hot.”

“I really don’t care.”

You reach back to play once again with his hair, “But I’m sweaty, so, so sweaty.”

“God, you could say a million other things and it wouldn’t matter,” He lifts his head so his lips are close to your ear, “I want you.”

“And I want you.” You strain your neck to see him, “Only for your body, of course.”

“Of course”

The two of you laugh as the moonlight shines through the window, illuminating a conversion that no one else will hear, but would be the start of something amazing to the both of you.

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Hey thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed, Part 4 (the final part) will be out Sunday. Hope to see you there 😜

masterlist

[websterss]

𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 — 𝐏𝐒𝟒!𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐑

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓: I dont know how detailed you'd like the request, but may I request a PS4 Parker x Ninja Reader. GN. They've been dating Parker for a little while and he wants to meet their family and Reader is really excited because their family means so much, but they're also nervous because usually people find Ninja clans intimidating. Bonus if he doesn't know they're a Ninja untill he gets there.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒): fluff

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 2,030

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: PS4!Peter Parker x GN!Reader  

𝐀/𝐍: Ngl I struggled more with what to name this fic lmfao I hope you like it love! <33

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

It took a lot for you to be left baffled or speechless. It was a very limited occurrence. The first occurrence had been when Peter decided to spill the fact that he was New York’s Spider-Man. You had probably stared at him for a good half hour. After that you were left pacing back and forth in your living room as he sat patiently waiting for you to react. When you did, Peter had expected you to hit his shoulder.

“How could you keep this from me?” You had scolded him. Every news article and tv report where there had been a massive disaster resurfaced your memory. It worried you even more now knowing it had been him underneath the mask. Knowing that him, Peter, your Peter was out there risking his life and being a hero. That whole night was spent with Peter explaining himself and trying to make you understand all the reasons he didn’t tell you. One being for your own safety. The more evolved you were, the more leverage every bad guy with a vendetta against him had to use against him. He couldn’t risk it. So he kept his alter ego a secret.

The second occurrence was when you were both having a night in your apartment. You offered to cook while he picked something for you two to watch. Deciding on some early two-thousands movie, he got it ready to just press play, then stood up as he walked over to the small counter. He leaned his arms on it and tapped his finger against the wood. You had spared him a glance, smiling as he gave you a timid smile. You turned the chicken you had been cooking and leaned back from the stove to face him. Crossing your arms as you narrowed your eyes at him.

“What’s up?”

“Mmm…nothing why?” Peter stopped biting his lip and straightened up. His hands colliding and sliding against each other to ease his troubled mind.

“You’re doing that thing with your hands.” You giggled as you gestured to his fidgeting. “You only do that when something is on your mind. What’s up?” You leaned forward on your hands, opposite of him at the counter. He sighed, he rolled his eyes. Of course you could read through him. Five months strong and you had him read like a book by now.

“I just— It's not something you bring up a lot, and we’ve been together for five months now and it crossed my mind the day on patrol. So it got me thinking…stay open minded okay?” The corner of his lip lifted.

“Peter just say it!” You laughed. Your head shook, then urged him along with your hands.

“I want to meet your parents.” You leaned back this time. Your mouth opened and closed not knowing what to say. You stared down at the wood then back to him. Your eyes narrowed deep in thought. Peter could see the crease between your brows. He bit down in his lip. Eyes searching for any signs of discomfort or refusal.

“You— You want to meet my parents?” You gaped at him.

“Yeah!” He nodded. “I figured it was time ya know, but if you think now's not the right time. We could always wait until you’re ready. I just figured since you don’t really talk so much about them that’d you be against the idea. It was just a suggestion-“ You walked around the counter and brought your lips against his. Peter relaxed, sighing into the act of affection. He cupped your face gently, deepening the kiss further. When you had to breathe you pulled back bashfully. Touching your lips with a smile. Peter licked his lips, a smirk forming on his lips. He loved it when you got timid after enacting the first move. He brought his hands up to rub and soothe your arms.

“I didn’t think you’d want to.” You breathed out. “You really want to?” Peter saw a glint shine in your eyes. You were glowing with joy.

“Yes. I figured if anytime is the right time. It’s now.”

“Oh you don’t how happy I am to hear that. Oh god, okay!” You palmed your forehead, deep in thought. “When would we even do it? I’ll have to talk with my mother about scheduling a day. Her and my father are usually busy with— Oh my goodness, my brother. You’ll be meeting him too. I’ll have to give you a run down on him too. He’s usually busy too, but if I tell them that my boyfriend wants to meet them. Then surely they’ll clear time in their schedules. What would we even eat?” You started pacing back and forth. Peter watched with amusement as you started overthinking. “Oh that reminds me, I have to tell my mother not to put peppermint in any of the food she might make. Don’t want you having an allergic reaction in the middle of dinner.” You stopped to look at him then continued. “What else? Should we have lunch instead?” You frowned. Peter decided to stop you and placed his hands over your arms to hold you in place.

“Babe, you're doing that thing again.”

“What?” You looked up with big eyes.

“You’re overthinking things. I’m sure meeting them will be fine. From what you have said about them. They sound great.” He leaned in to press a kiss to your cheek. He then pushed past you to remove the chicken from the pan and put it into a bowl.

“Yeah…” You nodded trying to reassure yourself. “It’ll be fine.”

“What was it you said your family did again?” Peter asked.

Your eyebrows furrowed when you answered him. How the hell would you even tell him your family were well trained specialized assassins?

“Uh— they work in uh...private security.” You nonchalantly scratched the back of your head. Your face scrunched, not thinking he would believe you.

“Oh nice. Like for the mayor?” You closed your eyes, bringing your fist and elbow towards your chest in silent victory. 

“Uh— ish.” You stared dead at a piece of lint on the floor. Oh boy he was in for it, alright. 

-

You didn't know just how nervous you were until you had Peter with you at your doorstep. You had knocked a few times waiting for anyone home to answer, but when you reached for the handle. The door pushed open. You peeked your head in checking for any signs of life. You had every right to be cautious.

“Ma we’re home.” You called out. You hummed in wonder. You reached into your back pocket to pull out your phone. “That’s weird I told her we would be here earlier.”

“Maybe she forgot-” Peter began, but was startled.

You had heard the shout before you could fully register what they said. Your head had snapped to the voice then back to Peter in time to catch the star that was about to pierce through his face. Your boyfriend was close to dropping dead. Your heart rate was beating against your chest. You breathed in and out deeply to control yourself. Fear and anger had befriended your entire body. You spared a glance to Peter who just stared in shock at your hand in front of his face. His eyes up to his chest in surrender. He didn’t know what to do. You sheepishly looked away as you lowered the hand that caught the star, it was like three inches from his face. You examined it thoroughly and rolled your eyes. It was your mothers.

“Is everyone alive?” You frowned as your mother came into the living area. Her hands up in surrender, a grimace present on her face as she flinched at the ninja star in your hand.

“Hardly!” You yelled. “What were you thinking? You could have taken his eye out ma.”

“You said 6:30. It is 6:00!” She defended.

You let your face fall into your hands, shaking your head.

“I texted you!” You reminded her.

“What no you-“ She took her phone out to check. “You did not text me— Ma, Peter and I will be there at 6 instead— Oh.” She trailed off tucking her phone back into her back pocket. “Okay maybe you did…” She grimaced. She turned to Peter and welcomed him with open arms. “You must be Peter, may we move past my attempt to take your life?” She laughed as she patted his back. Peter chuckled nervously as he side eyed you in fear.

“S-Sure…” He nodded, letting her give him a hug. Though he stiffened when she voiced her motherly warnings.

“Good good…just know that’s only one way I can kill you. So treat them well.” She patted his arms gently. Then backed away from him. “Who’s hungry?”

Peter laughed nervously. He was practically sweating as he watched her head further into the house, possibly the kitchen, or the weapons room. He wasn’t so sure anymore.

Your face fell into your palms. This was going to be a long night.

“Your mom seems nice...” He offered a smile, but he was just really pulling your ear.

“Wait till you meet my father. You’ll think he’s super nice.” You looped your arm with his as you led him to the kitchen. Peter took the star from your grasp. Raising it up to his face in disbelief.

“This is a ninja star.” He stopped before the kitchen doors. You laughed, shaking your head. 

“Or correctly referred to as...The Shuriken. Throwing star.” You informed him.

“Ya know I had this gut feeling you were something but I never would have guessed a ninja.” Peter shook his head. “You being able to sneak up on me makes a lot of sense now.” He laughed.

“My family is, our clan really...I’m still in— training.” You trailed off, not wanting to tell him what your final test involved for your official initiation. “Also I can sneak up on you because you tend to let your guard down more when you’re out of the suit...not because I’m a ninja.” You smirked.

“Your family owns throwing stars. I thought these only existed in movies.” His eyes widened as he used the name of them correctly. 

“No they exist.” You nodded. “Movies tend to be misleading though. Too exaggerated. We don’t wear masks or wear all black. We make use of disguises to blend in more with civilians. Makes striking our targets easier.” You smiled. “Besides, we don't just own throwing stars. We also learn how to throw them properly...” You took it from his hands before he cut himself.

“Can I see?” Finally settled down and intrigued. Peter grew excited. 

“What? You want me to throw it?” You chuckled.

“Please.” He nodded and rocked on his heels.

“Okay fine...” You rolled your eyes, sighing. “Just this once, yeah.” You had fixed your stance and turned to face the front door where Peter had been standing before. You aligned your hand with the star next to your face, then let it fly forward. Peter zoned in on it spinning. It spun smoothly. You both anticipated for it to dig into the material of the front door, but you felt your heart sink when the front door opened.

You gasped. A hand over your mouth. Eyes widened in fear as your brother leaned back in time for the star to miss him and for your father to catch it. 

“Did I forget to mention I’m still working on my time management?” You grimaced at Peter. 

“Yup.” Peter closed his eyes.

“Y/N!” You grew smaller and smaller under their stern gazes. 

“You- You could’ve killed me!” Your brother sputtered. He ran a hand over his hair subconsciously. He met your gaze again, pointing a finger at you. “This is why you’re in training!” 

Peter stood awkwardly, biting his lip. Your brother noticed him and straightened out. He stepped forward holding a hand out. “Hey, nice to meet you. You must be Peter!” He exclaimed, then added. “How much did she pay you?” You scoffed, offended. You reached forward and started smacking the side of his shoulder. 

[drizzledrawings]

They are my best friends

[artichow]

and nothing bad ever happened to them ever <3 (zoom + ref under the cut)

[dawndauce]

[jasminebythebay]

what could have been

-

i was making myself sad by watching a clip of peter parker dying when the implications of insomniac peter parker being in atsv hit me. insomniac's Spiderman is one of the few times Peter actually lives to see Miles becomes Spiderman, so you can imagine how seeing a version of himself actually get a chance to know the peter parker of his world might shake up some Feelings™ (read: guilt, jealousy, awe)

don't get me wrong, Miles has clearly stepped into his role as Spiderman fantastically and loves having Peter B Parker as a mentor, but i wouldn't be surprised if he was a little jealous of insomniac miles getting peter's constant presence and support instead of just a week's worth

[mustasekittens]

husband of death condones axe murder

original meme | another philza and spiderman | another one

[spiderdeli]

Spider-Men

[queerxqueen]

INSOMNIAC PETER & HARRY + touching each other's faces when they're hurt

[currentlyonstandbi]

marvel's spider man 2 as headlines from the onion

[circusmantis]

Peter may be a silly goofy boy failure alot of the time but we mustn’t forget he pulled THE Black Cat somehow

[int-writersmind]

Potential Customer

Summary: You work at a record store, bored out of your mind, until Peter Parker walks in and catches your eye. Peter Parker x Reader 

*also I wrote this with the Ps4/5 Peter Parker in mind, but honestly it's generic enough to be any Peter.

Genre: Fluff; Flirting

Word Count: 2k+

When you decided to take a job at So-So Records, you thought it would be like that movie Empire Records where every day would be an exciting romp, well hopefully not a potential job-losing-filled-romp. Unfortunately for you it was much more boring.

Your days were mostly filled with dealing with tourists who were kind-hearted but utterly clueless or pretentious audiophiles who would give you their opinions without even asking you. However, for all your big talk you weren’t that knowledgeable when it came to music, you just liked what your liked and were opened to suggestions (from unpretentious, kind customers of course.)

It was a weekday, you couldn’t remember which, since they all seem to blend together when working back-to-back shifts. You were alone, the shop had a few customers idling around. 

You were at the front counter, elbow resting on the check-out counter, head resting on one hand, the other lazily flipping through a catalog. When the front bell rings, your eyes barely flicker upwards. It isn’t until that potential customer who walked through the front door is standing right in front of you do you finally look up.

“Um, hello?” says the Potential Customer.

“Welcome to So-So Records,” you decide to stand up straight and give your full attention to this Potential Customer. Clueless Tourist or Pretentious Audiophile? “Can I help you with anything?”

“Uh, yeah, um,” The Potential Customer, a mid-twenties guy with chocolate brown hair and amber eyes that complemented, reached into his satchel and pulled out a notebook, flipping through the pages. “I’m actually looking for this album? I’ve been to a few other places and had no luck, they all say So-So would be my best chance.”

The Potential Customer, with his slouchy shoulders and tendency to fidget quite often, placed a hand on the back of his neck, rubbing up and down. Your eyes dart from the hand on the back of his neck to the hand that gives you the notebook. Your gaze lingers a little too long on his long, slender fingers. Strange, you know, but sometimes the most attractive parts of a human were really strange. 

You refocus, eyes skimming the paper, on it was a title and artist, your brain flickers with the passing glance of the cover. “Uh, yeah, I…think we have this, follow me.”

You move from behind the desk, taking the notebook in hand, glancing at the words once more. You lead– 

“I’m Peter by the way, I know you didn’t ask, but still…” You glance back, gesturing to your name tag, as you lead Peter down the aisles of various genres of music. “I actually never been to a record store before, didn’t even know they still existed.”

“I was like that too for a while,” You stop at a section where the older music was located, placing the notebook on one section of records. “Gotta thank the hipsters for making it popular again, even though they are some of the most annoying customers.”

“The only memory of records I have is when my Aunt and Uncle used to play some every so often on the weekends.”

You start to flip through the albums, scanning for the right one, “Do they still find time to play some?” 

Peter sighs and leans against a row of records, looking elsewhere, “No, no, my Uncle, actually…passed some time ago...”

You stop for a moment, fingers pausing, you look in his direction. As if he could feel your eyes on him, he looks up at you. His face, neutral with maybe a hint of sadness. Like he was used to saying that a loved one who must have been important in his life was gone, but also still hurt when thinking about him. 

“Apologies.” You say, not completely happy with the response. How many times had he heard that?

“Don’t be,” Peter crosses his arms, smirks a boyish grin that makes him even more appealing. “It made me think of a nice memory that I forgot about, more memories about Uncle Ben will never not be nice.”

You smile as you return back to searching for the record, “Oh, look I found it! That’s surprising.”

Peter moves closer, hovering over your right shoulder to get a better look, You sharply suck in breath, turning your head to look at him. Peter glances at you, and smiles, “That’s great, kind of a shame though.”

“Why?”

“'Cause it means I have to leave now,” You hand him the record and the notebook, to which Peter plucks it from your hand, looking over the front and the back, while moving away from you. You exhale deeply as you follow behind him.

“Who says you have to go? Unless you have somewhere to go?” You finally say.

“I think I can spare some time,” Peter looks down at his pretend watch on his bare wrist, “Are you gonna introduce me to some music that will change my life?”

“Please,” You laugh as the two of you lazily walk down the aisle, “I’m hardly the last person to do so.”

“Don’t you-” 

“Work at a record store? I know, I know, but I like what I like. Sue me if it’s Top 100.”

The two of you stop at the end of the aisle, you standing at one end of a row of records, Peter moving over and doing the same.

“I guess it’s better than getting made fun of for having an old man's taste.”

“Really? You get hate for having a love for the oldies? That’s some bullshit, especially in a place like New York.”

“Well, when you're a nerdy kid with thick glasses and a love of science, it’s not so cool” Peter flicks through the stack, pulling up an album by a band that was huge in the 70s. 

“Hmm, if you like that group,” You flick through some albums on your side, skimming until you land on the second record by a female-led group from around the same time. “How about this?” You model the record, posing with it, flipping it from front to back. “And…it’s on sale.” You move over to the same aisle as Peter, standing close to him like he did to you earlier. 

Peter takes the record from your hand, “I think younger, nerdier me would have loved this.”

“Younger, nerdier, you sounds like he was such a cutie.” You response. 

“Was?”

You shyly smile back, moving away with your hands behind your back. ”

This was grossly unprofessional, what were your intentions with this potential customer? Making a sale or making a move. You push that thought out of your head, if you were making him uncomfortable or pushing it too far, then he wouldn’t be smirking at you like that. That smile that causes a slight flurry of butterflies in your stomach. 

The two of you continue your walk back to the front, the long way of course. Bobbing and weaving through different aisles, many short, some long. Passing through pop–contemporary and classic, and some RnB, ending up at one end of the store, in the rock section. “What were you like in high school?” Peter asks.

“Quiet, mostly,” You lean against the wall and Peter does the same next to you. “Not too popular but I had friends, spent a lot of time with my art and music teachers, focused on doing little stuff like that instead of more fun extracurricular activities.”

“Huh, yeah I get it, I found some time to do some little stuff to distract myself in high school too. Nothing…too exciting.” 

You inch closer to Peter and so does he, to the point where the two of you bump shoulders. “Oh sorry…”

“Don’t be,” Peter says.

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. The two of you just stare at one another, the hum of whatever record you put on earlier lightly plays in the air. The dry smell of the older, original pressings of albums of the past, filling up the room. 

You dart your eyes downward, quickly, towards his lips, before looking away. God, now this was unprofessional. “Shit, sorry.” You move off the wall, but Peter’s hand on your wrist causes you to turn. His touch wasn’t aggressive, or rough, but gentle and light. Like a feather was tickling the underside of your hand instead of his long, slender fingers. 

Ding-Ding!

Both of your heads turn towards the door, a middle aged couple walk in, wonder in their eyes, cameras slung over their head. Clueless Tourists. You and Peter look at one another, before resigning to the situation and finally making it to the front. You, behind the counter, Peter in front, the two records under his arm.

“Hello, welcome to So-So Records, I’ll be here if you need me.” You say to the newest potential customers, as they give you that polite nod, and split off into the rest of the store. Peter places the records on the table, when all of sudden his phone goes off, he opens it and stares intently at the screen. “Something wrong?”

“No, ah yes, no,” Peter says, his head whipping from his phone to you multiple times. “I-God, I hate to do this but I can’ take these right now–”

“You can always come back.” You take the records from the counter, holding them in your hand.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I close tonight, you can come back later and get them.” You place the records behind you, before looking back nervously. “I mean only if you want, obviously, duh.”

“Duh.” Peter dryly chuckles, glancing once more at his phone. “I really have to leave, but I’ll be back, I promise. It’s a date. I mean, no, not a date, but–”

“I gotcha.” You wink and smile at Peter as he nervously backs up, sneaking in a last look before leaving through the door, with a ding-ding.

God, you can not believe what just happened! Are you some teenage girl whose knees go weak when a semi-attractive guy shoots you a smile? Who’s touch makes your face heat up, even if it’s just shoulders touching, or gentle, kind, fingertips on your wrist?

For the rest of your shift, you did more of the same that you did every day at your job. Helping customers, listening to unsolicited music advice, and a lot of needless flipping through the store’s catalog.

As the day wined down, the sun dipping into the horizon, you made peace with the fact that Peter wasn’t coming back. Whatever, this  is reality not some rom-com where fate will bring the two leads back together at the end.

You also decided to buy your recommendation to Peter as well, you had plenty of copies of it in the store, so if he decides to come back after all, he could get his own copy. 

You pull down the store’s  front gate, squatting down to lock the padlock, pulling it to make sure it was secure, the record under your arm.

“Making away with customers orders I see.”

You turn to face the familiar voice, Peter slightly out of breath, but still as charming as he was this morning. “Potential customer.” You say, standing up, smiling ever just subtly.

“Sorry I’m late,” Peter glances at the closed store, with its darkened lights and gated entrance. “Like really late.”

“Hmm, that’s ok,” You turn to walk down the sidewalk, your head peering over your shoulder, “Walk with me?” 

As you walk down the sidewalk, record held in your arms across your chest, Peter falls in rhythm with you, so close that his hand occasionally grazes your leg. Jokingly you say, “I thought you forgot all about me, wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Oh god no,” Pete dryly chuckles. “The only thing I could think about was you, I-I mean coming back here to pick up the records and uh, and also to see you, I guess.”

“Ah, you guess huh?” 

The two of you wait at a crosswalk, before deciding to jaywalk as there were no cars in sight, you make a turn once you get to the other side, on the block that you lived on.

“I was actually coming to tell you that I no longer need that record actually, the one I came in for. It was for a, uh, a project that quickly evolved to…something else.”

“Ok, I see,” Your head turns to Peter and he does the same, your eyes lock on to one another, his face filled with nerves. “You were gonna come all the way back here to not buy something. That’s a first, I would have preferred ghosting.”

Peter laughs again, shaking his head, “No, no, I was still gonna get the record that you suggested to me. Sounds more up my alley anyway.” You stop in front of your apartment building, with Peter placing his hand on your arm to move out of another couples way. The two of you stand in front of the building's metal gates. “But it seems I have to come back during business hours to do so.”

“Or not.”

Peter raises his eyebrows in confusion, as you reach in your jacket’s pocket for a notebook you always kept. You write down something on the paper, using the pen you stuck in the notebook holder, tearing off the page. You place the paper on top of the record and push it towards him.

“No I can't-”

“I’m not giving it to you.” You say, “I’m lending it to you. Listen to it, listen to it again and then…call me, or text me and let me know how it is.” Peter takes the record and piece of paper from your hands, his fingers brushing yours. “And don’t ghost me, it would be a shame if I never get to see-talk to you again.”

“Yeah…it would be…”

“Goodnight Peter.”

Peter says your name, it makes your heart flutter just for a moment when he does so, ‘“Goodnight.” But the two of you don’t leave, you two just stare at each for a little longer.

Your phone rings and you’re forced to look at it.

“My roommate, she gets antsy if I don’t come home exactly when I say I will.”

“I understand.”

You nod and turn to walk into the building. Before you go through the doors, you glance back to see Peter staring at the piece of paper before looking up at you, that same smirk on his face. 

God, you are so unprofessional.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Read Part 2 -> Hanging on the Telephone!

Oh my goodness this is my first fic on Tumblr! Please be kind and comment if you like, like if you prefer, reblog if you're like that, I won't judge. Always open for suggestions and to ~virtually~ meet others! I'm so new to this and I know I'm currently talking into the void but, whatever...Bye, thanks if you made it this far!!!

masterlist

[edgepunk]

sir that's my emotional support superhero

[glouris]

[hanasnx]

closure

MINORS DNI 18+ WARNINGS: sexual content | booty calling spider-man :)

PETER PARKER doesn't understand why he keeps letting you do this to him. Over and over again you tell him friendship is all you want, yet at the late hours of the night— since you know he's already up— you ask if he can afford a break. Like an idiot, he swings by. Doesn't even get the chance to take off the suit before you're shoving him down into a seat, straddling him to rub yourself all over his bulge.

"Hey, easy," he tells you, "you're gonna leave a wet spot." To protest you, his gloved hands cup the plush flesh of your backside, lifting you over him. That spider-strength has you weak in the knees, eagerly latching onto his neck over the cloth. A gasp emits from him as he maneuvers his erection from the confines of his suit and you mouth at his pulse point.

"Want- you, Spider. Need you." At the invoke of that nickname, he lulls his head back and you bite onto him in your enthusiasm. A delicious and low groan pours from his throat, from both the sensation and anticipation of being inside you again. Obediently, he lowers you, nudging your entrance with the head of his cock until he feels a give. You suck in a breath to feel that stretch, no one stretches you like Peter does.

"Fuck," he drags out the word, slowly reintroducing you to his every inch. Impatiently, you push down, as if you could ever hope to overpower him. The man has lifted buses. "Wait a second, baby, wait," His fingers dig into your skin, warning you that you're going too quick for your sake.

"I can't wait any longer, you took so long getting here," you whine, burying your nose into the crook of his shoulder. You can smell his sweat through it, the musk of recent exercise, prowling the streets of Manhattan looking for trouble. "Just fuck me already?"

Pete can't believe this is working on him. Yet again bowing to your whims because he's that desperate for your attention, that desperate for your touch. He can't lie, your impetuous begging for him and his dick strokes more than his ego, length twitching while half-seated inside you. "You want it that bad?" his tone betrays his hope.

"Yes! Yes, please, Pete," With your plea, your grip on him inflects with your syllables, rutting your body against him for any kind of friction, while his halt remains infallible. No matter how you wiggle, he won't let you sink further. At first it was to keep you from hurting yourself, now it's because he likes hearing your bargain for him. Those addicting lips glide up to his ear, and he can feel your breath on the shell of it through his mask. "Need my friendly neighborhood Spider-Man."

"You're gonna pull that card? Seriously?" his indignant question is adversely punctuated with a buck up into you and you cry out. It got you fucking wet. It spurs him on, working himself up to a steady pace as he fucks you. He can hear the sounds of the city through the open window, if sirens flew by right now he's not sure he'd have the strength to leave you.

Putty in his hands, your body acts as fluid as he uses it, and you're so grateful you reached out to him. Fucking a superhero is thrilling enough, but fucking Spider-Man has a perk you can't pass up. That spider bite may have gifted an extra couple inches to his cock, but you're more interested in his power to fuck you like a sex toy. Along for the ride, you bounce on him because he's moving you. Like you're nothing. Out of instinct, your lips clumsily find his on the cloth as you brush noses. Your tongue peeks out, the felt drying the tip and his lips shift under your touch.

Breathless and amused, he asks, "Are you trying to french me through the mask again?"

[dawndauce]

ah I love them, the friends. the buddies. pals. bros in love