#mcu!peter

[love-hs28]

Late Nights and Close Calls

Summary: You and Peter sneak a bottle of champagne from one of your dad’s - Tony Stark’s - parties at the Avengers Tower. Giggling and hanging out in your room, one quiet moment leads to you almost confessing your feelings to your best friend. 

Mcu!Peter Parker x Stark!Reader Fluff 1.2k Words Posted on: 2-19-2025

The bass from the party downstairs thrums through the walls of the Avengers Tower, muffled but insistent, like the pulse of New York City itself. You lean against the door to your bedroom, biting back a grin as Peter scrambles to follow you inside and shut the door behind him, cradling a stolen bottle of champagne like it was radioactive. 

“I can’t believe you actually went through with it,” you whisper, your voice tinged with awe and laughter. You walk over to your bed and flop down on the mattress, Peter quick to follow. 

He turns to face you, his boyish grin equal parts triumph and nervous energy. “What can I say? I thrive under pressure.” He wiggles the bottle in his hands. “Besides, it’s not like Mr. Stark’s going to miss one bottle right?” You know he’s trying to convince both himself and you of this. 

You let out a snort of laughter, crossing your legs as you got comfortable on your bed and as Peter sat next to you, leaning against the wall. “I sure hope not. We’re dead if he catches us. And by ‘we’, I mean you.” 

Peter smirks, a teasing edge in his voice. “Good to know where your loyalties lie, Stark.” 

You roll your eyes, but are unable to hide your smile as you reach and grab two mismatched mugs from your nightstand. One of them has a Spider-Man design on it that Peter had jokingly given you as a birthday present, and he secretly smiled to himself at the realization that you’d actually been using it. 

“Here. Fancy drinking glasses for our super-classy operation.” 

Peter chuckles and pops the cork with a loud pop, making both of you jump and laugh. Bubbles froth over the top, and he quickly pours some into the mugs in your hands, spilling more than he probably should. 

“To bad decisions and avoiding your dad’s wrath,” Peter says, setting the bottle on the nightstand to grab his mug from you, holding it up in a mock toast. 

“To bad influences,” you shoot back, clinking your mug against his. You both take a sip, eyes smiling at each other over the tops of the cups.

The champagne was sweet and fizzy, a little stronger than you had expected, but the warmth it brought to your chest was welcome. You scoot over you so you’re sitting next to Peter, your shoulders close enough to touch every time one of you moves. 

“This is way better than listening to my dad schmooze with a bunch of billionaires,” you say after a minute or two of talking, tipping your mug towards Peter and resting your head on his shoulder for a moment. 

“You mean you’re not interested in talks about stock portfolios and advanced AI?” Peter quips, raising a teasing eyebrow. 

You laugh, the sound light and easy thanks to the drink. “Not even a little.” 

The two of you settle into a rhythm of a familiar banter and conversation, the champagne loosening any nerves. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d laughed this much. Peter was good at that - at making you forget the weight of expectations, the constant pressure to be more than just the Tony Stark’s daughter. 

Somewhere in the middle of a story about one of Peter’s disastrous attempts to ask a girl to homecoming freshman year, you found yourself staring at him. His face was animated, his hands gesturing wildly as he spoke. The soft glow of the city lights through your window and your desk lamp cast golden highlights in his hair, and his eyes—warm and expressive—crinkled at the corners when he laughed. It was one of your favorite things about him. 

You didn’t realize you were smiling until Peter stopped mid-sentence, turning his head to meet your gaze. 

“What?” he asks, his voice softer now, the teasing edge gone. 

You shake your head, heart fluttering in a way you didn’t quite know how to handle. Damn, this champagne was making it hard to think… it totally wasn’t Peter that was causing your brain to short-circuit, right? 

“Nothing. Just… you’re really great, you know that right? I’m glad you're my best friend.” 

Peter blushes, looking at his mug and trying, but failing, to suppress a smile. “Thanks, y/n. I’m glad you’re my best friend too.” 

He turns his head to look at you again, and your breath catches, the words hanging between the two of you like a live wire. For a moment, you think he might say something more—something that you were also thinking, something that would change your friendship forever. 

Another moment of silence passes as you just stare into each other’s eyes. You get a sudden urge of confidence, thanks to the effects of the alcohol neither of you were very familiar with. 

“Peter, I–” 

A loud boom from outside causes you both to jump, and your heads turn to look out your window, where you see an array of fireworks going off, some in the shape of Iron Man’s helmet. It was as if Tony was listening in on you and purposely stopped you from saying what you were about to confess.

Great timing, dad. Thanks a lot.

Peter laughs awkwardly, running a hand through his hair. “Your dad sure knows how to throw a party,” he turns to meet your eyes, but looks away quickly with a shy smile, still blushing from your almost-confession. 

You laugh softly, also avoiding Peter’s gaze and fixing your stare to your mug. “No kidding.” You didn’t know if you were thankful for the interruption or should yell at your dad later for setting off his stupid fireworks. Maybe it was for the better, though; Peter seemed to want to ignore it, so maybe you should too. 

What you hadn’t noticed, though, was that Peter had also been staring at you all night, just as much as you were staring at him, if not more. 

Thankfully, the effects of the champagne hadn’t quite faded yet, so the awkwardness between you two faded as quickly as it had appeared; something that always seemed to be happening to the two of you. 

You bump your shoulder against Peter’s. “Wanna head back out there?” 

Peter smiles at you, taking a sip of his champagne. “Nah, I’d rather stay here with you. Besides, I think it would be pretty obvious that we’ve been, you know, having fun up here.” 

You blush at the accidental insinuation that Peter had just made, but you knew he only meant that you had been drinking. He seemed oblivious to it though, so you decided not to make a joke about it and spare yourselves any more awkwardness. 

“True,” you say with a soft laugh, “I’d rather be here too, anyways. You don’t totally suck to hang out with.” 

Peter laughs softly and it’s his turn to bump your shoulder with his, the slight contact almost making you shiver. “Yeah, yeah, you’re not so bad yourself.” 

You spent the next hour or two doing the same thing you always did—making each other laugh and testing the hell out of Peter. And, even though neither of you said what you were really thinking, it was okay. You knew there would be other moments—other nights like this where the words might finally spill out. 

For now, this was enough.

Thank you for reading! My first mcu!peter fic yay!! I have lots more in my drafts lol, so lmk if u wanna see more of himmmm. Tom Holland was my first ever celebrity crush and I am a MASSIVE Marvel fan, so this Peter holds a special place in my heart :) Again, thanks for readin and I hope you liked itttt! xoxo

[jordiestardust]

peter parker playing with hot wheels on my thighs could fix me

[shellshocklove]

prologue: thick skull | peter parker

pairing/AU: band AU & post!nwh - college!peter parker x female!reader

summary: your band, crimson goblins, just booked its first ever gig. there was just one problem. you didn’t have a guitarist.

warnings: swearing, mentions of guns

word count: 3.4k

a/n: idk why i’m so scared to post this but my tummy hurts. hopefully it’s something you’ll all like. feedback as a comment, in the tags, as an ask or reply is very much appreciated, and they make me super happy! <3

series masterlist / main masterlist

“Guess what!” Harry bounced in his seat, while he leaned forward putting his empty oyster pail down on the coffee table.

“What?” Elijah mumbled through a mouthful of noodles.

You, Harry, and Elijah were all gathered at Harry’s penthouse for dinner, like you always did every Sunday evening since your first year of college. It had become a tradition most holy, and the consequences for skipping it so profound no one dared try after that one Monday morning Harry had to swim across the Turtle Pond in Central Park in the middle of February, with two cops angrily yelling at him from each side of the pond. After, when he’d stumbled onto dry land, teeth chattering, the cop had given him a ticket. And Harry had, quote “Almost frozen his balls off”, but afterwards he’d never miss a Sunday dinner.

“Thanks to yours truly–” he paired his dramatic pause with two hands pointing at himself, “Crimson Goblins are playing its first gig at The Living Room the third Saturday in January!” he finished with a smug smile.

You almost choked on your dim sum. You guys were playing a gig? Your first ever gig? And at The Living Room?

You'd only been to the dingy underground club a couple of times, the first time when both Harry and Elijah had dragged you there to see some metal band whose vocalist was trying a little too hard to be like Bryan from Knocked Loose. But you hadn't necessarily minded that the singer had been a little bit of a try hard, because the music had been good, and besides, when you were getting pushed around in the mosh pit, your cheeks burning from the stretch of your mouth while the bass vibrated in your chest, the music didn't really matter. You’d been a sweaty mess by the time they’d played their last song, and your heart had been full of bubbling laughter. But now it was yours’s, and Elijah’s and Harry’s turn to be the background music to a sweaty mosh pit circling the sticky floor of The Living Room on a Saturday night.

“Harold…” you sighed, “how are we gonna be able to play a gig in a little over a month when Gwen quit last month? We can’t play without a guitarist”.

There laid a curse over Crimson Goblins, it seemed. You couldn’t for the life of you hold down a guitar player. You’d gone through about four other guitar players already, before Gwen said she wanted to join right after this semester had started. But then one day you couldn’t get a hold of her. And then a week went by. And another, without hearing from her, before you found three letters in your school mailbox, addressed to you, Harry and Elijah, signed in a curly handwriting “Gwen”.

Written out on three identical postcards (Greetings from Bogotá) she’d written you all a goodbye letter, saying she’d had somewhat of a mental breakthrough. College wasn’t for her, she’d written, then she’d quit, subleased her apartment, scraped together all her money, and hopped on the first plane leaving JFK. She needed a change of scenery– to find herself again.

At first, her letter made your stomach turn. Her mental breakthrough sounded more like a mental breakdown to you. So, you’d gone to her apartment, and just like she’d written in her letter, someone else was living there now. Then you’d sent her texts, checking up on her, and to your surprise she sounded completely fine. You’d had a long phone conversation, where she told you all about her breakthrough. She sounded okay! And you were relieved when she looked happier than ever in the Instagram stories she’d posted. You were happy for her – you really were – but now Crimson Goblins were down a guitar player, again.

“Yeah! What y/n said,” Elijah agreed beside you, his chopsticks pointing at Harry.

You loved Elijah, all 6’4 of him, and he was probably the bestest friend you had (even before Harry). You’d met on the first day of college as you were both majoring in visual art at Empire State University, a relatively new major at ESU, being only a few years old. You’d looked around at your new peers, finding it hard to pinpoint who you’d click with. But then your eyes had fallen on him, standing alone in the corner, and you’d known. 

He’d stuck out like a sore thumb, with his long black hair tied back in a low bun, he was dressed all in black, wearing a band t-shirt adorning some Norwegian death metal band you didn’t know (They were named Darkthrone, and later you’d learnt that they were his favorite band). Both of his arms and his neck were covered in tattoos, and towering over everybody, he looked like someone you shouldn’t mess with.

You quickly learned that, although Elijah was shy and quiet, he was also the sweetest, most loyal, talented, and sensitive person you knew. He’d had a turbulent childhood; he was half Mexican, and after a nasty divorce, his parents split up when he was around nine years old. After a round in court, his father ended up with sole custody of him, Elijah only being allowed to visit his mother once a year. The divorce had economically ruined his mother, and one summer when he was fifteen, she moved back to her family in Mexico. That one time a year he’d been allowed to see her, now reduced to zero.

His father owned a big-ish company, manufacturing and selling bespoke equipment to bigger corporations, like Stark Industries or Oscorp. Being his father’s only son, it was expected of him to someday take over the company, but Elijah had never been interested in anything related to his father’s company. He liked art, he liked music, he liked poetry – something his father hated with a scarlet rage. Elijah could never live up to his father’s expectations of him, like trying to wedge a star through the square hole of those toddler toys you’d see at the doctor’s office. But it didn’t stop his father from trying. The solution had been to ship him off to boarding school after boarding school. To places where they could teach him to be a “real man”.

You’d met his father once. He’d come to your class’ last art exhibition before the summer, last semester. You don’t even know how you would describe him. He looked like every other generic white man in his fifties: his hair was nothing special, it was just short. His suit looked like every other suit you saw walking down the busy streets of New York City every day… there was just nothing that stood out, that made him unique in any way, which was surprising given how you’d come to know his son.

The only thing you had remembered about him had been his eyes. Those lifeless blue eyes had looked so different from Elijah’s warm, honey brown, it had been a drastic shock. How your sweet Elijah had come from that monster of a man was a mystery to you. The only thing he’d inherited, as far as you could tell, was his height. He’d stopped by Elijah’s tapestry (maybe tapestry was the wrong word. It was more like a woven 3D sculpture hanging from the ceiling made entirely of yarn depicting a chaos of red), looked at it, moved through it, and nodded. That had been it. He’d shook his son’s hand, and then yours’ and asked if “that was all?”.

You hated that man, you really did, but without him you wouldn’t have met Harry. It was through his father’s business connections that Elijah had met Harry. They’d been acquaintances ever since they were children, but it wasn’t until they met again at ESU randomly one autumn morning during your first year that they’d rekindled their friendship. And that’s how you’d met Harry.

Being one of ESU’s most sought after, and popular, rich boys’ friend, had not been at all how you’d imagined your college career to go. Harry majored in business – which he hated. He didn’t have much of a science brain, so his father had encouraged him to go into business instead. The parallels between Elijah’s and Harry’s father/son relationships were strong you quickly understood as you got to know them both better.

Where Elijah could be solemn and sensitive, Harry was the opposite – always the life of the party, with a flair for the extravagant. But as different as they were, there was still one more thing both Elijah and Harry had in common other than overbearing fathers, and that was your band: Crimson Goblins. It had somehow along the way become a way for them to let out all their frustrations, with Elijah drumming hard on the drums, while Harry screamed his feelings into the microphone.

“Oh, don’t you worry about that, younglings” Harry liked to call you and Elijah that, even if you were both born months before him, “I have that all sorted out”.

You were just about to ask what he had ‘all sorted out’, but before a word left your mouth you heard what you thought was gunfire outside.

“Did you guys hear that?” you asked, “Was that a gunshot?”. You got up from the couch, walking over to the floor-to-ceiling windows of Harry’s penthouse, looking down at the streets below.

“It was probably just a car” Harry tried to brush off. You were about to object, but before you could speak a word, you heard a series of loud bangs, followed by people down below running away from something.

“No, Harry! It was defini– FUCK!”.

Scared, you jumped away from the window. A set of white mechanical eyes looked back at you. Spider-Man was looking back at you. He’d swung in from god knows where and landed right in front of your face, sticking to Harry’s window. Staring back at him, his shoulders shook, and his eyes emoted what you could only describe as, without seeing his mouth quirk at the corners or hear the mystery man’s laugh, a chuckle.

Coming up behind you Harry pulled you back into his body with a reassuring arm around your shoulder. Spider-Man’s gaze shifted from yours to Harry’s, and you swore you could see a hint of recognition in the white.

Then you heard the bang of another gunshot, but this time it was much louder. That seemed to remind the masked vigilante about why he’d landed on Harry’s window. He lifted his hand to his temple in a salute, looking straight at Harry, before he pushed back off the window in a free fall.

You twisted out of Harry’s grip around your shoulders and leapt towards the window. Looking down, you saw how Spider-Man swung from the buildings before he landed right in the middle of the shootout below.

Joined by Harry and Elijah, you watched as he took out gunman after gunman. He moved with a delicate precision in his moves, it was like watching a dance. A dance his enemies didn’t know. One by one they hit the ground. Taken out by the not so friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.

It was over so quickly. It seemed like Spider-Man hadn’t had much of an adversary force against him. You watched as he moved towards a man crawling towards a black car. The man, the only one left standing (or sitting? Limping?). Spider-Man grabbed him by his jacket, pushing him hard against the car. He pushed him so hard, you could see a dent form in the shape of the man. Then Spider-Man hit him, repeatedly.

An ice-cold chill traveled down your spine at the sheer violence. Off in the distance sirens yelled. You wanted to look away, but it was impossible, the violence of the act almost hypnotizing you. He pulled back occasionally, screaming something in the man’s face. When he didn’t get the answer he wanted, another punch came swinging.

The avenues below lit up in red and blue, as what looked like a whole precinct arrived. At the sound of the sirens moving closer, Spider-Man threw the man to the ground, the same way you would throw a sack of potatoes. Then he shot a web and swung away, vanishing in the December night.

You three stood watching the drama unfold down below in silence for a while. The police had arrived too late to catch the vigilante in red and blue and were now left with the clean-up. When the last ambulance had driven away, Elijah spoke, breaking the silence, “I think it’s over now”.

“Have you met him before?” you asked Harry, turning towards him.

“Who?” Harry asked confused, “Spider-Man?”.

“Yeah! It looked like he recognized you” you said.

“What? Nooo” he countered.

He walked back over to the couch where he sat down, reaching for his pack of cigarettes. He fished one out, brought it to his lips where it dipped as he leaned over the table again for his lighter.

“He’s probably seen me on TV with my dad or something” he said as he lit his cigarette with a shaky hand.

“Do you need to do that now?” you sighed as you dropped down on the couch again.

“Just because you two quit, doesn’t mean I have to!” he blew his first breath of smoke teasingly in your face. You narrowed your eyes at him while you waved the smoke away from your face.

“What happened to solidarity man?” Elijah argued back, still leaning against the glass window.

“I’m sorry younglings! I did try! It’s not my fault I couldn’t last for more than a week” Harry apologized, “And I need one after seeing all of that”, he stressed cocking his head in the direction of the window, while taking another drag.

“But inside?” you whined.

“It’s my home… and Peter doesn't mind” he downplayed.

“You let Peter live here for free– I think he accepts whatever you do if it means he can still live here, all expenses paid”.

This time Harry narrowed his eyes at you, clearly offended, he said, “Peter’s my sugarbaby” emphasizing the ‘my’ with a hand pressed to his chest, “and I love him–” he was about to say something more, something witty, you could see it in the way the left side of his mouth quirked up a little. But before he could speak, he was cut off by the ding of the elevator, and Peter waltzing in shortly after.

He didn’t seem to notice you three. He flung off his backpack, where it hit the ground with a hard thump before he casually kicked off his shoes. The white cord of his earbuds snaked its way from his jacket pocket and up his body. You could just about hear a low steady buzzing coming from them, with how quiet you’d all become.

You didn’t know what your thoughts about Peter were, if you were being completely honest. He’d been Harry’s roommate for years. They’d shared a dorm together during your first year. But when the semester started again after New Year’s they’d moved out of their moldy dorm and into Harry’s penthouse.

Peter was always so anonymous. He stuck to himself for the most part, and you’d never seen him with anyone except for Harry. It seemed like he didn’t know or cared to get to know anyone else. Technically you’d known him for years, but you didn’t think you’d ever had a conversation with him alone lasting longer than two sentences.

Harry talked about him all the time. Telling you and Elijah stories, or funny things Peter had said. But you could never make the picture Harry painted of Peter match with the Peter standing before you now. Harry always told you, every time you’d make a face when he mentioned Peter’s name, that if you’d just give Peter a chance, you’d realize that you two are a lot more alike than you think. You didn’t know what Harry meant by that. And each time you asked he wouldn’t tell you, only saying that you should find out yourself. But you never did. Did that make you a bad person? Had Peter simply only given you a bad first impression? Was he actually the most amazing person on the planet, but you just never gave him a chance?

If you were being completely honest with yourself, the reason why you never tried to get to know Peter, was because he didn’t try to get to know you. He never looked your way, never initiated conversation with you, not even a hello. It hurt a little. The disinterest he exuded towards you. Maybe he just didn’t like you.

So instead, you just watched his life from afar. How he always seemed to be running late to class, every time you saw him on campus. And when you sometimes stayed the night at Harry’s place, he’d always come home late. You’d asked Harry once what kind of job Peter had, since he was out so late every night, and Harry had told you that Peter didn’t have a job. Nothing seemed to add up with him. And the more you asked Harry, the more he wouldn’t tell you.

“Hey, baby,” Harry said, “how was the library?”.

Peter had taken his earbuds out now, waddling tiredly into the living room where you were all seated.

“It was alright…” he trailed off when he noticed you and Elijah, “Ehm… I got my physics homework done, finally!”.

“Nice!” Harry took another drag of his cigarette before he put it out in the old jam jar he used as an ashtray, “I was just about to tell them about the thing”.

“Oh! Right” Peter nodded as he wrapped a hand around the back of his neck, rubbing it.

“What thing?” you were confused.

“I asked Peter to be our guitarist!” Harry exclaimed excitedly.

Now you were even more confused, “Does he even know how to play?”.

“Does he know how to play? Of course he knows how to play!” Harry countered enthusiastically, “Peter said he’s been playing guitar since he was ten! Right, Peter?”, Peter gave him a confirming nod, “He just hasn’t played in a while so he might be a little rusty”.

A little rusty? You let out a sigh, dropping your head in your hands for a second.

“We are so fucked,” you let out in a groan, but Harry waved you off.

“We are not fucked,” he corrected you. You looked up at him, raising a sarcastic eyebrow. You guys were so fucked.

“The gig is in like a month, Harry– how’s he gonna have time to learn all the songs with finals soon, and Christmas and New Year’s?” you asked him.

“I’m gonna help him y/n! Don’t worry! We already started practicing last night” Harry tried to reassure you.

You were not convinced, and with Peter’s body language, he didn’t exactly exude confidence, you were honestly a little scared for your band.

“You don’t even know how to play Harry, how’re you gonna be any help to him?” Elijah sighed.

“What’s with all of this negativity guys? You should be thanking Peter for stepping in!” Harry said, shaking his head.

He was about to go on a dramatic spiel, you could sense it. “Here we are, hopeless and lost, drowning our feelings in Chinese food. No hope in sight for our little band. And then Peter comes in, saving the day and the band! And you’re complaining? I’m shocked you guys! I really am! And no, I’m not mad at you– I’m just really really disappointed” he wiped a nonexistent tear from his eye.

Behind you could hear the heavy sigh coming from Elijah’s mouth before two heavy hands landed on each of your shoulders.

“Peter,” he said, “I’m sorry! Of course you’re more than welcome in our band! If you still want to– we would love for you to be our guitarist”.

You watched as Peter slowly looked from Harry, who was nodding his head enthusiastically like a dad cheering on his son from the sidelines at a soccer game, to Elijah, and then to you. Locking eyes with him, you felt like the wind got knocked out of you for a second. His gaze lingered on you for a moment before he said,

“Yeah… ok! I’m in”.

next: one

tagging some mutuals (ignore me 🤪): @hollandweather​, @luciwritesstuff​, @userholland​, @t-lostinworlds​, @mayal0pez​, @lnmp89​, @melodicheauxx-lacritiquexx​, @silkscream​, @peterdarlingg​, @justapurrcat​

...

[oncasette]

𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐂. send in a character + a scenario for a blurb

and i might spend all summer with her on my mind

with peter parker. summer romance with him omg shut up.

college!peter x out of state!reader

peter knew he thought about you. all the time, actually. more than he knows he should, and definitely when he knows he's supposed to be thinking of other things.

like his chemistry lab, or his econ final, or not face planting into the wall in front of his face while he's swinging. you know, other things. yet, every time he attempts to refocus, his train of thought seems to veer further off its tracks. they stumble into dangerous territory, into thoughts of how pretty you'd looked in class that morning or how soft your skin looked or, or how desperately kissable you looked when he caught you looking up at him from across the library later that afternoon.

he doesn't even think he realized how much you occupied his thoughts, truly, until after the term had ended. until it all clicked, and he realized he wasn't going to be seeing you again until september. that, this wasn't like high school anymore and, instead of living a couple of blocks away like his old friends had, you were flying back to your hometown in two days and he'd be thousands of miles away.

"hey, peter," you stop him in the quad.

"yeah?" he asks, begging and pleading and hoping you don't see the way his cheeks have flushed in the ten seconds since you'd gathered his attention.

"keep in touch?" you say, fingers twiddling with a piece of paper you'd torn from your planner. it's just the corner, barely smaller than the palm of your hand when unfolded with your phone number scrawled across it in a glitter gel pen.

you're already starting to step past him when his mouth starts to form syllables again. "you wanna- yeah, oh- yeah, definitely, keep in touch."

"see you in the fall, peter," you call over your shoulder, only a foot and a half away from him at this point.

"yep, fall," he squeaks out.

[teabag-of-mischief]

Don't imagine exhausted Peter Parker breaking his arm and trying to hide it from the media as he goes outside etc. because he doesn't want anyone to write anything about him ever again and just be left alone

[love-hs28]

LOVEEE

𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫

Parings → Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings → language, kissing

Summary → Peter and you are making out, but your cat, Snowball interrupts, leaving Peter adorably frustrated.

You were sitting on the couch with Peter, your head resting comfortably on his shoulder as the movie you had been watching played in the background. It wasn’t long before Peter shifted, his arm wrapping around your waist to pull you closer. The familiar warmth of his touch made you smile, and you tilted your head up to meet his gaze. His brown eyes twinkled with affection as he leaned down, pressing his lips softly against yours.

The kiss started slow, gentle, as if savoring the moment. But soon, it deepened. Peter's hands slid up your back, pulling you closer to him, and you responded by tangling your fingers in his soft curls. His lips moved with yours in a rhythm that felt so natural, and you could feel his heart beating faster as you both got lost in each other.

“Mm, I could kiss you forever,” Peter murmured between kisses, his voice low and slightly breathless.

You giggled softly, giving his bottom lip a playful tug. “Forever?”

“Yeah,” he whispered, pressing his forehead against yours as his thumb gently brushed your cheek. “Forever sounds pretty perfect.”

Your lips met again, this time more eagerly. You felt Peter shift beneath you as you straddled his lap, his hands resting on your hips while yours roamed across his shoulders and down his chest. He let out a soft groan, his fingers tightening their grip on you, pulling you impossibly closer.

Just as things were getting more intense, you felt a sudden soft brush against your ankle. You ignored it at first, too focused on Peter’s lips and the way he made you feel. But then it happened again, a little more persistent this time.

You broke the kiss with a laugh, glancing down to find your fluffy white cat, Snowball, weaving between your legs and staring up at you with wide, curious eyes.

“Snowball, seriously?” You muttered, leaning back slightly. Peter let out a small, frustrated whine as you pulled away, his lips chasing yours.

“Babe, come back,” Peter pouted, his hands still on your waist, trying to pull you back down. “He can wait.”

You bit your lip to suppress a laugh, gently petting Snowball with one hand while trying to calm Peter with the other. “He’s just being curious. He probably wants attention.”

“I want attention!” Peter exclaimed dramatically, his hands moving to your thighs as he rested his head on your chest, nuzzling into you. “Your cat always gets in the way at the worst times.”

“He's jealous,” you teased, running your fingers through Peter's hair soothingly.

“Jealous?” Peter scoffed, raising his head to look at you with those puppy-dog eyes. “Of me?”

You nodded playfully. “Yup. You’re hogging all my affection.”

Peter pouted even more. “Well, too bad. I’m not sharing.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at how cute he was being. “Oh, really?”

“Really,” he said firmly, then suddenly wrapped his arms around you and flipped you both over so you were lying beneath him on the couch. You squealed in surprise, but Peter silenced you with another kiss, his lips moving insistently against yours.

You felt him smile against your lips before he broke away just enough to murmur, “Now, where were we?”

Before you could answer, a loud meow interrupted the moment once again. You looked over to see Snowball sitting at the edge of the couch, staring at both of you with wide, accusing eyes.

Peter groaned loudly, burying his face in your neck. “He’s doing it on purpose!”

You giggled, trying to push Peter off of you gently. “Maybe he needs something. I should check—”

“Nooo,” Peter whined, refusing to let go. “Don’t leave me. We were in the middle of something important!”

“Peter, he’s just a cat,” you said through your laughter, but Peter shook his head stubbornly.

“I don’t care. This is our time, not Snowball's. He’s had you all day!” Peter lifted his head, pouting dramatically. “He gets you 24/7. I only get you for a little bit before I have to go on patrol.”

You rolled your eyes affectionately, cupping Peter’s face in your hands. “You’re such a baby sometimes, you know that?”

Peter grinned, clearly not minding the teasing. “I only whine because I love you.”

“And because Snowball interrupted your makeout session?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Exactly!” Peter nodded enthusiastically. “He’s a total cockblock!”

You laughed, pulling him down for a quick kiss. “Alright, alright. Let me just give him a treat, and then we can pick up where we left off.”

Peter sighed dramatically but let you go, rolling onto his back and throwing an arm over his eyes as if he’d just been told the world was ending. “Fine. But hurry. You’re leaving me all alone here with my broken heart.”

You laughed again, shaking your head as you climbed off the couch and grabbed a small treat from the kitchen for Snowball. “I’ll be back in two seconds, drama king.”

As you gave Snowball his treat, you could hear Peter mumbling to himself on the couch, still sulking. “I just wanted to kiss my girlfriend. Is that so much to ask? But no, of course Snowball had to ruin everything.”

You returned to the couch and sat beside Peter, who immediately pulled you back into his arms, resting his head on your shoulder. “Finally. Now where were we?”

You smiled, leaning in to kiss him once again. "Right about here."

‎∗ ࣪ ˖༺ 𓆩☆𓆪 ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

[kamwashere]

“Every Deadpool has a Peter!”

[vinamari]

How it feels going to bed after reading some words

It was angst

[anyalikeslasagna]

may not love the new stuff but marvel KNOWS how to fuckin cast

[rainydayathogwarts]

Bed side drawer - Peter Parker

summary: when Tony finds a box of condoms in Peter's bed side drawer, he doesn't expect Peter's girlfriend to walk into the room, causing an awkward interaction. a/n: my toxic trait is that i always imagine tasm!peter even tho it's in the avengers universe 0.6k wc

When Peter walks into his bedroom, the first thing his eyes lay on is the box of condoms in his mentor's hand. Tony Stark smirks from where he sits on his mentee's bed, drinking the cup of coffee Aunt May had so graciously prepared him. Peter's eyes go wide, flickering between his open bed side drawer and his mentor, and he dives across the room to get the box from him. Peter nearly hits his head against the wall when Tony tosses the box in the air, catching it in his hand when it falls down again. Peter's face flushes red as he scrambles back up, straightening his bed sheets where he haphazardly landed on them, mouth gaping open. Peter can hear you laughing with his Aunt May in the living room about another one of May's stories. She always had to tell you about the stories of how smitten he was with you, an attempt for your relationship to last forever. He needs to get that box before you walk in because that was not the situation he imagined you'd meet Mr. Stark in. He refused to let it happen.

Peter tilts his head to the side with desperate eyes, begging "Please give me those Mr. Stark." Tony grins teasingly, saying "You know these only work when there are two people involved, right?" Peter doesn't have time to react before the door to his room opens again and you walk in, saying something about the story Aunt May had told you before your eyes land on the older man in the room, prompting you to go silent. Oh no, Peter thinks. Tony quickly's eyes quickly scan you where you awkwardly stand in the doorway, and the obvious mortification that settles on your face at the realisation of who he is.

"Oh."

"Oh." Tony's tone is suggestive, and completely different from yours. He stands up from Peter's bed, slowly making his way across the room to you. His eyes flicker between you and Peter, the box of condoms still in his hands as you shoot a hand out in front of you, smiling nervously and saying "Hi, I'm y/n." in a lowsy attempt to ignore the box laying in the man's hand, eyes glancing down to it a couple of times. Tony shakes your hand, introducing himself, before asking "And who might you be y/n?" Gulping, you glance between your boyfriend, whose face has flushed a dark shade of red, and the avenger standing in front of you. "I'm Peter's girlfriend." You state, eyes widening as Tony puts the box of condoms in your hand.

"There are two people involved then..." You hear him mutter under his breath, but it's nothing as embarrassing as Aunt May walking into the busy room and observing the situation, attention immediately caught by the box of condoms that you throw at your boyfriend in a panic. The box hits Peter's chest and falls on the floor, and neither of you make a move to pick it up whilst you smile awkwardly at May, who follows Tony out of the room. You huff when they walk out, turning around to dig your head into Peter's chest in humiliation. Your boyfriend hugs you close, rubbing a hand on your back, and he's happy you can't hear Tony say "That girl seems too sweet to be having sex with your nephew." or his Aunt May's scoff of "Yeah until you come back home after a night with your friends and hear everything through those walls. She really knows how to talk dirty."

[jaemongus]

i heard that the marvel are rivals

[wynnd-citrus]

Tony and his PPs (forgot to post this one too)

[spideysquirrel]

dumbass

[thatonedudeinthecorner]

Obsessed with the fact that the spideypool dynamic can be watered down to “miss you pookie bear” “oh lord” mindset

[peterpcrker]

SPIDER-MAN: NO WAY HOME 2021 | dir. Jon Watts