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marsrogers · 2 years

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love me again (funeral blues pt. 2) | tom holland’s peter parker x stark! reader (18+)

warnings: mentions of death, underage drinking/drug use, angst, harry osborn being an asshole, oral (f-receiving), handjobs, fingering, sex (piv), female orgasm, male orgasm, swearing

synopsis: Unable to come to terms with Peter’s rejection, you attend a party at Harry’s to take your mind off of things. Things only get worst...until they get better.

word count: 10.8k

note: this is a second part to this imagine! it makes sense to read this after reading the first part.

A/N: Apologies for the incredibly delayed update; life has inhibited me from writing as frequently as I wish I could. As for the important details of the imagine, I thought it would be fun to pair Gwen and MJ together, as it’s something I’ve never seen done before but seems fitting. Additionally, I have no face claims in mind for Gwen nor the other characters I made up, such as Grace and the other Midtown High girls. That being said: enjoy!

It’s been two weeks since your father’s funeral, and all you’ve done since the memorial is alternate between sleeping on your left and right sides, catch up on episodes of Criminal Minds, eat, and shower. To say that getting out of bed was a chore would be an understatement, and the lax attitude that your school had about your return wasn’t helping to pull you out of your funk. Then again, you suppose that your school was in no position to rush you back, seeing as to how your father had resurrected the missing half of the population. Plus, you’re sure that your dad’s generous donation a few years back that doubled the size of Midtown has something to do with their laissez-faire attitude.

It’s currently 9:30 am on a Saturday, and you’re not even sure why you’re up this early. This is undoubtedly the earliest you’ve risen from your slumber in weeks, and you can’t deny that it feels good to have somewhat of a regimented schedule. You’re even contemplating exiting your room to have breakfast with your stepmother and sister. Key word is almost. You try to push away the desire to emerge from solitary confinement, but it’s persistent. Something is encouraging you to escape from the limits of your room. So, a little less than an hour after waking, you find yourself downstairs, slumped over your kitchen island with a bowl of cereal in your hands.

Pepper screeches when she comes down the stairs and sees you sitting in the kitchen.

“Morning,” you mumble through a mouthful of cereal.

She screeches and jumps in place, her right palm flying to clutch her heart. “Jesus, Y/N—you scared me. I didn’t expect you to be up this early. Frankly, I didn’t expect you to come out of your room today at all.” The last part she mutters, but your acute sense of hearing allows you to take in her words.

You shrug in between, placing a mouthful of cereal into your mouth. “Couldn’t stay in there forever.”

She gives you a nod of affirmation, a sudden smile beginning to find its way to her face. She makes her way over to you, a freshly brewed cup of coffee in her possession. Coming to stand beside you, her hand gently finds its way into your hair and strokes it softly. From your peripheral, you catch the way her engagement ring sparkles in the light of the kitchen window. You suddenly feel sick.

“How’re you doing today?” She questions soothingly.

“I mean, I waited, like, fifteen minutes after waking up before I started crying, so progress, I guess?” You joke. Pepper frowns, continuing to card her fingers through your hair.

Your words trigger an instant change in her demeanor. She swallows thickly. “I just want you to be okay, Y/N.”

“I will be.” Your answer surprises you. You offer it without thinking about whether or not you actually mean it. You’re not really sure if you do.

She offers another sad smile. “I know, I know.” Her response brings about an awkward silence among you two.

You wait a few seconds before you stand up and decide to break the quietness. “Okay, I’m going to go back to my room.”

“No, no, please don’t leave,” she implores. You can see the sadness and loneliness in her eyes, which makes you swallow nervously. “This is the first time you’ve been out of your room fully in days. I don’t want the cycle to continue repeating itself. Why don’t you invite Gwen over?”

The Gwen in question was your best friend in the entire world, Gwen Stacy, and while you’d normally be inclined to spend any available time you had with her, the prospect of her inducing a trauma dumping session scared you. But Gwen kept you grounded and forced you to be pragmatic during the times when you wanted to be the most impulsive. She’d been there for you through breakups, traumatic missions, and death. And you’d been there for her through her similar calamities: shitty partners, overbearing parents, and identity crises. You knew that asking her to come over to spend the day with you would be enjoyable, but you just didn’t know if you were up to it yet.

You swirl the remnants of milk and tiny pieces of cereal around in your ceramic bowl, trying to decide whether or not you should oblige Pepper. She stares at you expectantly, hoping to coax a favorable answer out of you.

“Okay,” you ultimately surrender. “Fine.”

Pepper’s hand finds its way to the small of your back, and she beams at you. “It’s not for me, it’s for you. It’ll be good.”

So, you punch Gwen’s name into your smartphone and type out a message to her, practically begging her to come over. Instead of retreating to your room, you opt to spend time with Morgan for the first time in days. She’d forced you to watch Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug and Cat Noir with her, and while you’d initially been slightly agitated about it, you secretly enjoyed the show.

You toggle back and forth between paying attention to the TV and surfing through various applications on your phone. You await Gwen’s response in giddy anticipation, hoping she’s not too busy to spend time with you.

She replies about half an hour after you text her, and you can feel her excitement oozing through the phone. Her answer is a cheery one, typical of Gwen. You and she were opposites in that regard. Where she always took to finding the positives in every situation, you were a glass-half-empty kind of girl. You had gotten a little better at shaking that pessimism, but that change had occurred when things were different. The person you were now—the things you’d experienced recently—made you think it would be impossible to ever be the kind of happy Gwen was. You’d always envied her for that quality. Now more than ever.

When Gwen arrives at your house, it’s almost noon. You hadn’t moved from your place on the living room couch, and while Pepper would’ve normally scolded you for being dormant in one spot for so long, you could tell how glad she was to see you out of your room.

“Be right back, Morgana,” you ruffle your sister’s hair, then pull off the blankets you’d placed on your body.

Without a glance backward at you, she gives you a thumbs up. You walk over to the front door, open it, and come face to face with your best friend.

“Hey, girlie,” she offers you a sympathetic smile. You want to roll your eyes because how could your best friend be staring at you with as much pity as everyone else? “How are you?” She pulls you in for a hug, and you inhale the calming scent of her jasmine perfume and relax. Gwen is a perpetual presence of calm in your life, and when you give yourself a second to breathe, you observe how your heart rate slows down at the sight of her. You remind yourself that she cares about you, just as everyone who has been doting on you does.

“I’m okay,” you answer honestly, stepping aside to usher her inside your home. “I’ve been worse. I’ve been better.”

She nods understandingly, stepping inside the foyer of your home. “I get it.”

“I’m glad you’re here, though,” you admit. “I missed you a lot.”

“I missed you too,” she agrees. “You look good, Y/N/N.”

“I’m hanging in there,” you let out a shaky sigh. “Doing the best I can.”

“I’m glad you texted me,” Gwen links her arm with yours, leading you to your original spot on the couch. “If you had waited any longer, I would’ve come over uninvited.”

Morgan quickly pulls her attention away from the television screen, and her eyes light up at the sight of your best friend. “Gwen!” She squeals, finding her way into Gwen’s arms. Despite only meeting the blonde a few weeks ago, she’d automatically gravitated towards her. You couldn’t be surprised, though, as Gwen was indeed a real-life princess.

She kisses your sister on her forehead. “Hey, Morgan, how are you, babe?”

“Good, because Y/N is spending time with me for once,” she replies absentmindedly, attention turned back to the television.

You let out a sigh. You usually would’ve snapped at Morgan for such an inflammatory response, but you know that what she’s saying is true. You realize that you hadn’t been there for the first five years of her life, which was entirely out of your hands. But now that you had the opportunity to connect with your little sister, the grief you felt completely inhibited you from doing so. You had to give yourself some credit for getting out of bed today, though.

“I’ll be better, Morgan, I will,” you promise. “I’m sorry.” You mumble the last part, feeling the tears start to sting your eyes.

Gwen instantly notices your change in demeanor and opts to change the subject. “So, Morgan, what are we watching?”

Your sister launches into a rant about her show of choice, but you tune her out, your mind automatically wandering to the person it always wanders to: your father. The aching pain in your chest for your father had managed to subside over the last few days, but unfortunately, it had been replaced with an ache for someone else: Peter. On the day of the funeral, you’d spent the subsequent hours after your incident with said teen superhero crying into Gwen’s arms on your bathroom floor. By the time Pepper had found you, almost everyone had already left your home. She’d observed your mascara-stained cheeks and red eyes and chalked it up to your mourning. In a way, she was right, but not about the person you were grieving. You weren’t sure how you’d even explain the whole Peter situation to her. You hoped it would resolve itself before you had to.

A few hours more of monotonous cartoon watching passed until Pepper relieved you, making up an excuse about you and Gwen having homework to do. The reality was that you hadn’t touched your homework in weeks. At this point, you barely cared if your status as valedictorian held up. You’d find it in you to worry about it at some other time.

When you and Gwen are finally alone in your bedroom, you collapse on your bed, and she takes a seat on the spinning chair at your desk. You turn on some Taylor Swift music as background noise while you and Gwen spend most of your time scrolling through your phone.

“I completely forgot that Harry was throwing a party tonight,” Gwen states after some time has gone by, typing something into her phone.

At the mention of a party, you prop yourself up in your bed. You may have been fighting a seemingly incurable case of insomnia, but it wasn’t strong enough for you to miss a social gathering. You were indeed your father’s daughter in that sense. “Party?”

“Shit, I totally should’ve mentioned something to you, but Harry told me that he already texted you,” she apologizes. “I didn’t think you’d be up to it. I’ll just hang around with you and tell him we’ll see him soon.”

You think back and try to remember receiving a text about a party from your aforementioned friend. Your memory settles on a message that you’d received a few days ago and absentmindedly replied to with a “thanks.” Frankly, it took a lot for you to respond to Gwen's messages, let alone anyone else.

“Fuck it, let’s go,” you proposition your best friend. “It’ll be fun. I need to get out of the house anyway.”

Your best friend regards you cautiously, examining your appearance. “You sure? Even Harry didn’t think you’d want to go. He texted me, like, so many times asking if I thought you were going to make it. I swear to God he even offered to reschedule it so that you could come. I bet he’s going to die if you do.”

Your stomach drops at Gwen’s implication. There was only one boy’s opinion that you cared about, and he didn’t even want to give you the time of day anymore. Frankly, you were unsure if he’d ever give it to you again.

“Yeah, I want to. I’ve been cooped up in this house for too damn long. Besides, I think this might be the only time that Pepper willingly and eagerly lets me go to a party,” you hum.

Gwen lets out an overjoyed shriek, and you wince. And while you’re more than eager for a change of scenery to clear your head, a larger portion of you hopes that a certain someone would swallow his pride and push away his contempt for you and Harry and possibly make a guest appearance at Harry’s party. You wish more than anything.

_____

It had taken practically three hours of preparation—mental and physical—until you left your house.

You let Gwen borrow a cute pale green mini dress purchased from a Marc Jacobs pop-up shop before the Blip. It brought out her eyes and accentuated her long legs. You knew her parents would’ve had a heart attack if they saw her dressed the way she was, complete with bright red lipstick and intricately drawn-on eyeliner.

You opt for a dress of the same style—a baby pink Chanel one that barely reached the tops of your thighs. You had a vague (salient) memory of Peter complimenting you in that dress some time ago, but you convinced yourself that that was not at all the reason why you’d chosen it for the party. Besides, you weren’t even sure if he was going. He wasn’t a partier and there was the very obvious issue of it being at the house of his mortal enemy, but you still had some hope!

Pepper had generously driven you to the party, a ride mainly consisting of her and Gwen chatting about arbitrary things. You tuned everything out, too busy searching for every strategy in your arsenal to assuage your budding anxiety.

When your stepmother finally pulls up in front of Harry’s apartment complex, you let out an audibly nervous sigh. Gwen swivels in her seat to examine you, then pulls your hand into hers.

“You’re okay,” she squeezes your hand. “This is supposed to be fun, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you affirm with a tiny nod. “Yeah, you’re right.”

She nudges you towards the car door. “Come on, let’s go inside.”

“Make smart decisions!” Pepper calls after you as you exit. You roll your eyes at her statement and keep your hand intertwined with Gwen’s as she leads you towards the apartment complex’s main entrance.

The elevator ride upstairs to Harry’s penthouse apartment is quiet. You could cut the tension with a knife. Gwen, ever the peacekeeper, does her best to mitigate it.

“This is the quietest I’ve ever seen you,” she jokes. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I miss the rowdy Y/N.”

You gnaw at your thumbnail. “I’m nervous, so nervous. I’m not even sure for what if I’m being completely honest.”

“If he’s here, you take it one step at a time. I guarantee you he’s not going to ignore you completely; he has a heart,” Gwen answers. She’d done a pretty good job not bringing up Peter thus far, but she knew you well enough to understand that most of your nerves were a result of wondering whether or not he would be making an appearance tonight.

You continue to chew on the tip of your thumb. “Mhmm.”

With a ding, the elevator stops directly inside the Osborn’s apartment. The party is clearly in full swing, with guests in every possible crevice. You let your eyes wander to Betty and Ned, who are chatting amiably. You nudge Gwen, and she gives you a smirk, her reaction a tacit affirmation of what’s budding between said duo. You take in a few other familiar faces but no one of genuine interest.

Stepping out into the foyer, you link arms with Gwen as you familiarize yourself with your environment. It’d been over five years since you’d been at Harry’s, and while you remember some things, the lack of time you had spent at his house before the Blip meant that you didn’t exactly know where you were going.

The space was beautiful, though, decorated with expensive furniture and rare paintings and equipped with enough rooms for at least two families to reside. It reminded you a lot of your apartment, and now, you and Harry had another thing in common: no father around to make the home feel a little less large. Harry’s situation was much different than yours as his father chose to be absent, and yours had, well, died, but it was something that you figured he could empathize with you on in some capacity.

Walking through the halls of the penthouse and settling in the kitchen, you let your eyes rest on a picture hanging from the wall of Harry in his Midtown High lacrosse uniform, the smile he wears so cocky and confident that it’s almost blinding. Ever the New York socialite. It makes you giggle.

“Wonder where Harry is,” you ponder.

When you receive no response from Gwen, you glance over at her. “God, I didn't think MJ would be here.” You follow Gwen’s eyes to where MJ sits on a stool at the kitchen island, head resting on her palm as she scrolls through her phone. The blonde gapes at her crush, and you giggle at her frazzled reaction. It gives you some comfort to see that you aren’t the only one nervous to see someone you have feelings for. Yeah, you want what’s happening between you and Peter to work out, but Gwen deserves happiness more than anyone. She’d been subject to some shitty romantic partners, but MJ had the capacity to change Gwen’s perception of love. She had already started doing that.

“Go talk to her, loser,” you hip-butt her.

Gwen’s emerald eyes light up at your encouragement. “You sure? I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“I’ll be totally fine,” you assure her. That’s maybe 50% true, but you don’t want to give Gwen any more reasons to worry about you. Plus, you’re not a child and don’t need a babysitter. Most of the time.

“Okay, okay, I’ll see you later,” she squeezes your shoulder. “Keep me updated, Y/N, please.”

You give her a nod, your lips turning up into a smile. “Make smart decisions.”

Gwen giggles at how you mock your stepmom, then skips toward MJ, her curled blonde hair bouncing with each step she takes.

Distracted by your friend and her crush, you miss entirely the person approaching you from behind.

“Holy shit, you’re here,” a familiar male voice observes. “I didn’t think—oh my God, this is like the best surprise ever.” Your question about where the party's host was had finally been answered.

You whip around to face Harry, and you grin at him, as he pulls you into his arms. “Shit, Harry, didn’t think I’d get this reaction from you. Am I that important?”

“I’m so excited to see you,” he acknowledges. “And yeah, you’re pretty much the life of the party. You know that. Come with me.” And with that, he’s pulling you by your arm into another part of the house. You end up in the living room, where there are even more people than there were scattered throughout the house.

“Thank you for that compliment. I know the party was incredibly dull without me, but now I’m here, and you can officially start to enjoy yourself,” you tease. Harry rolls his eyes playfully and continues leading you on your original path.

You set eyes on more familiar faces. Some people from your classes that you’ve interacted with a few times here and there. Others are strangers, while some others look vaguely familiar.

“Everyone, look who decided to make an appearance!” Harry bellows, grabbing your hand and lifting it above your head to draw attention to you. People’s conversations halt as they stop to listen to Harry. “The one, the only, Y/N Stark!”

The room is silent for a good few seconds, people staring you up and down and whispering to their friends as the realization of who you are—or rather who your father is—sets in.

A few more seconds go by until you decide to break the awkward silence. “Well, what are you all staring at me for?” You laugh awkwardly. “Isn’t this supposed to be a party?!”

That’s all it takes for the crowd of moronic teenagers to erupt into raucous screams.

“You were right,” Harry calls to you. “You really are the life of the party.” You laugh awkwardly. Maybe this party wasn’t such a great idea after all?

_____

You end up having more drinks than you probably should have. When your head starts to pound, and the ceiling spins above you, you decide it’s time to slow down. You were pretty sure Harry was crossfaded, as he was much more talkative (and flirty) than usual—telltale signs that he wasn’t sober. You knew his vices of choice were weed and sometimes—only sometimes— coke, but he had sworn that he had kicked that habit. You weren’t sure what he was on tonight, but you were positive it was a combination of at least two substances.

So after stumbling with him back into the living room, tripping over your platform Versace heels a few times, and almost knocking over a few vases, you finally come to sit on a vacant couch.

“So, how’d you get your dad to agree to this?” You gesture around the room.

“Told him I was only having a few people over. He won’t know the difference, and either way, he’s halfway around the world,” he answers. “Plus, it’s not like he gives a shit about me anyway.”

“At least your dad’s alive,” you sigh (somewhat dramatically, you might add), and collapse on the couch behind you, your dress riding up slightly in the process. You observe how Harry’s eyes flicker over towards the tops of your newly exposed thighs, and while the attention would normally make you giddy, you feel the compulsion to pull the skirt of your dress further down your thighs.

Harry clears his throat awkwardly, but you watch as he examines you out of his peripheral vision.

“You, um, you look really nice tonight, Y/N. Like really, really, fucking pretty,” he blurts out.

“You already told me that, like, one hundred times, silly,” you giggle.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he answers awkwardly. “Just thought I’d tell you again.”

An uncomfortable silence settles between you for a few moments after the barraging of compliments that Harry paid you.

“Hey, I’m going to go to the bathroom,” you finally speak up, standing up abruptly and smoothing your skirt off.

Harry’s quick to respond, standing up at almost the same time as you do. “Yeah, yeah, of course. You good?”

You force yourself to smile. “Mhmm. I’ll be back in a jiff.” You watch how Harry regards you strangely at your awkward choice of phrasing, and you cringe as you turn away from him.

You stagger towards the bathroom, and when you arrive at the one closest to the kitchen, it’s packed, even considering how large it is— filled to the brim with girls doing various things like applying makeup, or smoking, or snorting illegal substances off the marble countertop. You’d pushed past two girls making out, hands groping each other wildly, not a care in the world for the fact the others were in the bathroom, too.

Not in the mood to be overwhelmed by a gaggle of girls, you exit the room as quickly as possible and go to find another vacant bathroom. In your slightly drunken stupor, it feels like it takes forever to walk down the halls of the penthouse, and you brace yourself on the wall with the palms of your hands.

Trailing down a long hallway that’s completely uninhabited, your hand closes around every door knob you come in contact with, but each time you open a door, you fail to find a bathroom. Pouting frustratedly, you decide that if the next door you open doesn’t lead to a bathroom, you’ll give up on the whole thing and return to Harry. Plus, it wasn’t like you actually needed to use the bathroom; you just needed a breather.

Setting your sights upon one last room, you absentmindedly tug the door open. Your mouth instantly falls open as soon as you do this.

The good news about the current sight before you was that you had in fact found a bathroom. The bad news was that you had stumbled upon two people in quite a compromising situation, one of whom was the person you’d been looking for the entire night. You never would’ve imagined walking in on with a girl’s legs wrapped around his waist as he kissed her fervently. They were practically dry-humping each other, and you were even sober enough to hear the tiny whimpers that she emitted.

It takes you a few seconds to process the scene that unfolds before you, and when it all finally resonates with you, you let your mouth fall open in shock. “What the fuck?”

Peter pulls away from his partner, who you finally recognize as a girl you had APUSH with during your sophomore year. You think her name is Kelly? Maybe Karen? Maybe Kristen? Even without the disdain that you currently held for her, you could objectively say that she was a bitch.

Peter’s eyes are the size of saucers, and a deep crimson blush paints his cheeks. “Y/N.”

“I can’t believe you,” you seethe. “You were rejecting me less than two weeks ago and now you’re hooking up with her.”

“I have a name,” Kendra? Kirsten? Chrysanthemum? snaps back at you, then turns to Peter, a perplexed look on her face. “She tried to get with you two weeks ago?”

“‘I have a name,’” you mock. “And he tried to get with me first. Can we talk about this outside? I don’t really want her knowing our business.”

Peter obliges you, and you make your way into the hallway together.

“I don’t really know what to say to you, Y/N,” Peter answers sheepishly.

Crossing your arms over one another you scoff. “You’ve said and done enough.”

“Y/N,” he sighs, then pauses abruptly, running an awkward hand through his hair. “After everything that happened at your dad’s funeral, I felt so shitty, we should’ve talked about us at another time. It was wrong of me to treat you that way.”

You instantly perk up at his apology, uncrossing your arms. “So what are you saying?” A large part of you is optimistic that Peter wants to try to work things out with you, but judging by his tone and disposition, you know your hopes are futile.

“I still don’t think it would be a good idea for us to be together,” he replies. “Things aren’t great right now for either of us.”

“But it’s okay for you to move on? If I would’ve walked in, like, five minutes later, you probably would’ve been fingering her,” you snap crudely.

“Who am I to tell you what to do with your life? Who are you to tell me what to do with mine? You should be able to be with whoever you want,” he replies back in the same tone.

A wicked smirk settles on your face as you analyze his words. “Oh yeah? Anyone? Well, then I guess I’ll see what Mr. Obsorn’s up to at this very moment.”

He gapes at you. “You’re being cruel.”

You pout tantalizingly. “You used to like it when I was mean to you. Now you don’t like it anymore? Strange.”

Peter’s already dark brown eyes flame so deeply that they almost turn black. “Fuck you.”

Already having turned on your heel to return back down the hallway, you let out a coquettish giggle. “Yeah, yeah, you already had your chance!”

You wait until you’re finally out of Peter’s line of vision to let the tears fall.

_____

It hadn’t taken much to convince Harry that you wanted to find yourself in some place more private. After your debacle with Peter you’d sauntered over to where he was, still situated patiently on the couch that you had both been occupying. It had only taken a few swishes of your hips, some hair tousling, and a kiss on Harry’s cheek before he had led you to his room.

You hadn’t been in his room since before the Blip when you’d been forced to work on a lab report together for AP Chemistry. Your purpose for being in his room now was clearly very different.

Within a few minutes of being alone, he’d pinned you against his bedroom door and placed his lips on yours. His hands had traveled straight to your waist, and before you knew it they were traveling even further down until they rested on your ass. The whole interaction was as lackluster as it had been the only other time you’d tried it with Harry, but you didn’t have the capacity to think straight.

He’d led you to his bed to make you more comfortable, taking note of your reaction every few seconds. You did your best to focus on the scent of his expensive cologne or how soft his hair felt as you tangled your fingers in it, or how comfortable his duvet felt underneath you, but none of this did anything to quell your nerves or, quite frankly, arouse you.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers gently into your ear, moving some loose strands of hair away from your eyes. “I’ve been thinking about doing this with you again forever.”

You cringe at his admission, but once again, do your very best to suppress the apprehension that you feel. This is obviously a terrible idea, born from impulsivity, alcohol, and anger, but you can’t will yourself to stop.

You try to relax as his lips trail down from your ear to your jaw and finally to your neck, sucking tiny patterns into your skin, while his hands trail slowly underneath your dress and up your thighs. His hands are soft on your skin, but his movements are abrupt. Instead of savoring the experience, it seems as though he can’t wait to get it over with. To get you out of your clothes so that something favorable can happen.

But all you can think about is Peter. How Peter would hold you so much more tenderly, how he would paint your neck red with his kisses, and how instinctually you’d part your legs for him so he could touch you where you needed him most. How he’d trail his hands over your ribs, kiss down your stomach, and use his tongue to make you cry out his name. And it’s at that moment when you decide that you can’t do this anymore. You can no longer make stupid, capricious decisions. You can’t be with Harry in any way that’s not platonic. But most of all, you can’t be without Peter.

Mustering up the courage, you finally pull away from Harry’s kiss. “Harry, I can’t do this.” You grab his hand soothingly, hoping that this will mitigate some of the imminent hurt he’ll feel.

He regards you with concern. “What’s wrong? Did I do something?”

“No, no, it’s not you, it’s me,” you squeeze his hand. Cliche much? “I just feel like maybe, this is not the right time to do this. We both were drinking and that makes things so much more confusing. And, like, maybe we’re rushing into this?”

You’re not prepared for the way that Harry’s expression instantly morphs from one of confusion into one of anger. “I’m confused—what are you saying? Y/N, I’ve waited for you for twelve fucking years.”

“Harry,” you caution, finally sliding out from under his grasp. You cross your legs over one another and prop yourself up a few inches away from where he sits. “I don’t understand why you’re getting so mad about this.” You knew it was better to play stupid than to try to console him and tell him that you knew full well why he was feeling what he was. It was obvious that you had led him on and clear that you’d been doing so for years. But couldn’t he at least cut you some slack, especially during this difficult time?

“I’m mad, Y/N because I’ve spent so much of my goddamn time trying to get you to like me, trying to make you realize that I’m head over fucking heels for you,” he snaps. “I don’t know how much clearer I could’ve been. Calling you every damn day to check up on you, buying you sympathy gifts, spending this entire night with you when I could’ve actually been hanging out with other people.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” you hold up your hand to signal to him to pause his rambling. “You’re telling me that you did all of that, so what—so I’d suck your dick? So I’d let you go down on me? Do you realize how that sounds, Harry.”

“Stop playing dumb. You’ve known all along how I feel about you. How badly I want you,” Harry laughs bitterly. “And you completely strung me along. The flirting wasn’t fucking one-sided, Y/N.”

“I wasn’t entirely sure,” you mutter, looking down at your lap in embarrassment. “And I was just being nice.” Even you realize how much of a lie that is.

“‘You weren’t entirely sure,’ oh please, look me in the eye and tell me that. Look me in the eye and say that to me with a straight face, Y/N,” he dismisses you.

Your lip quivers, and you let out a shaky breath. “Stop it, Harry.”

“Oh, you’re about to cry, Y/N?” He taunts. “I should be the one fucking crying. You’re pathetic.”

You quickly wipe at the tears forming in your eyes. “Harry—Harry, you’re being mean.” You were pretty sure Peter had just told you the same thing a few minutes ago, but that wasn’t important right now.

“And you’re a bitch,” he states tersely. “You need to leave.”

“Harry,” you plead, placing a hand on his shoulder. He shrugs it off abruptly, and your hand falls back into your lap. You can barely see through the sea of tears flowing from your eyes. “Don’t be like this.”

“Get out,” he spits.

You climb off of his bed as quickly as your legs will carry you, doing your best to remain calm. “Fuck you,” you choke out. “Every time you think about why we stopped being friends—every time someone asks you what happened between us—every time you miss me—I want you to remember this moment. I want you to remember that you treated me like garbage because I wouldn’t let you fuck me.”

Harry remains silent, facing away from you and offering you no reaction. Just as your hand is on the doorknob to leave, Harry calls out your name to stop you.

“Oh and, Y/N,” he begins. You stop where you stand but don’t offer him the courtesy of turning around to meet his gaze. Just by the tone of his voice, you knew that he wasn’t going to say something pleasant. “I know all about you and Parker.”

You’re not even sure that you’re breathing at that point.

“I bet your father’s rolling in his grave right now,” he lets out a sarcastic chuckle. “I mean, Jesus, what kind of whore hooks up with someone at her dad’s funeral?”

“Go to hell,” you snap back, grabbing the handle to his bedroom door and slamming it shut.

“Maybe I’ll see you there!” Harry calls back.

It hits you at that instant that Harry is the second boy to reject you in about two weeks. It seems that regardless of how much you beg or how much you solicit yourself, you can never seem to attain the attention and affection of anyone fully.

It stings that you’d expected Harry to never be like the other boys that you and your friends complained about. He’d always been so respectful, so caring, so patient. Now, he was treating you like a stranger, as though you’d done the most egregious thing known to mankind. If this was the way that Harry truly was behind closed doors, then frankly, you wanted nothing to do with him.

_____

After your blowout with Harry, you’d gone searching for Gwen all around the apartment, and with a misplaced phone, you couldn’t contact her to find out where she’d gone. When you finally found your phone, you saw that she had texted multiple times looking for you. The last text she’d sent you had informed you that she was leaving with MJ but that she’d looked all over for you.

So, you grabbed your belongings and exited the apartment as quickly as possible. You hadn't exactly planned out what you’d do after leaving though…

You spent a good half hour wandering around the streets of the Upper East Side aimlessly, letting yourself sob uncontrollably into your tweed Gucci jacket. You had undoubtedly ruined the white fabric with your mascara-stained tears, but you didn’t care enough.

You missed your father. You needed Gwen. Hell, you would’ve even settled for being comforted by Pepper. But ultimately, you just wanted Peter. You hated that he was all you could think about. Even after getting into a fight with him that night, you still needed him. You couldn’t part ways with him so quickly, and you knew he felt the same way. You knew that he was pushing you away to protect himself, and you understood that. But you knew now more than ever that you were ready to commit to him.

You knew that the way you had pushed him away in the past was beyond fucked up, and you knew that making him adhere to your time frame meant that he didn’t owe you anything. And, of course, there was the whole Harry situation. You regretted everything that had to do with Harry—not only what had transpired tonight. But maybe, just maybe, if you could go to him, and have a real heart-to-heart, then maybe things could be different.

Another capricious decision leads you to get on the train to Queens. You hadn’t been on the Subway in years. Your father had always denounced public transportation, explaining there was no reason for it when Happy was there to take you anywhere you wanted. Now, you certainly could’ve called your godfather to pick you up, but you didn’t want him to see you so defeated. Plus, you needed the time to think about what you’d say to Peter. How would you rectify this situation? If you could rectify this situation.

The trip feels so long and arduous—especially given the time—as it requires you to get off at various stations, sometimes walking for ten minutes at a time to catch the next departing trains. Part of you enjoys this, though, as it gives you time to think about how to approach this issue, and sober up too.

When you arrive in Queens, it’s 1:08 am exactly. You had texted Pepper and told her you were sleeping at Gwen’s. Hopefully, she didn’t question it.

You know the way from this station to Peter’s apartment. A walk that normally felt like a few minutes currently felt like hours. Finally, his apartment complex coming into your line of sight makes you wish that the walk could’ve possibly been a little longer. But you muster up all the strength that you have and enter the building.

The elevator ride upstairs has you wringing out your hands nervously and pacing back and forth. It feels like the exact same experience that you had earlier today going up to Harry’s apartment. This is the worst kind of deja vu ever.

The next few minutes feel like a blur as you walk to Peter’s apartment, doing your best to breathe and not to cry. You exhale shakily and finally let your knuckle come in contact with the wooden door that leads inside the Parker’s home.

May opens the door a few seconds after your knock, an incredibly shocked look on her face. Ever the beautiful woman, she has her long hair placed in a haphazard yet stylish bun. Glasses rest crookedly on the bridge of her nose, and she wears some comfortable-looking loungewear, notably a Star Wars t-shirt (that you’re pretty sure belongs to her nephew). She was obviously sleeping before you woke her up, and now you feel terrible. Even more than you already did.

“Y/N,” she states, blinking a few times to take in the sight of you. “What are you doing here, sweetie?”

“Um, oh, God, I’m sorry,” you breathe out nervously, feeling the tears starting to fall from your eyes for the umpteenth time that night. “I came here looking for Peter, but I just realized how crazy it was for me to come here uninvited in the middle of the night. I’m gonna go now. I’m so sorry for wasting your time, Ms. Parker.”

“No, no, Y/N, please, please come in. Talk to me, something is obviously wrong. Talk to me, honey,” she urges you, grabbing your arm to lead you inside her home slowly.

“I, um, I messed up really badly, and I’m trying to make it up to Peter, but I’m doing a shitty—I mean, I’m doing a really bad job, and he won’t forgive me. But I need him to. I need to talk to him so badly,” you ramble hysterically, your chest rising and falling in uneven, labored increments. “It’s just been a really bad night.”

“Oh, Y/N,” May coos softly, wiping your tears away with her thumbs. “It’s going to be okay. It is, honey, I promise. Peter’s taking a shower, okay? But you’re more than welcome to stay here and wait until he finishes. Do you want to do that?”

“Yeah,” you nod abruptly. “Please.”

“Okay,” she offers you a concerned smile. “Come here, honey.”

She guides you over to the largest couch in the living room and takes you into her arms, rubbing comforting circles into your back. You will yourself to stop crying but you can’t. The tears feel like they’ll never stop.

Another fifteen minutes pass until you hear the water shut off in the bathroom. When it finally does, your heart jumps.

“You know,” May states gently. “I’m not sure what’s going on between you and Peter—even though I can probably make some assumptions—but I want you to know that he does care about you, and I’m sure he always will.”

“I don’t know. I feel like he hates me,” you mumble, wiping some more tears away from your eyes.

May laughs. “Never. He could never.”

You fiddle with your fingers nervously. “Yeah, I’m not so sure. Like I said, I really messed up. I don’t know how to fix it.”

May continues to rub your back soothingly. “Well, you’re here now, and that has to count for something.”

“I don’t even know what I’ll say to Peter,” you sigh.

“Just be honest with him. He’ll be able to tell when you’re putting up a front, but he’s not as stubborn as you peg him to be. Peter just wants you to know that you care,” May answers.

“I do care; so much,” you agree fervently.

The sound of Peter’s bedroom door opening brings your conversation to a halt. You hold your breath as you wait for Peter to appear. You have no idea how he will react or if he’ll even hear you out. You try to take May’s advice and praise yourself for even seeking him out. However, your anxiety berates you and calls you obsessed, desperate, pathetic. He already turned you down one time, so why are you continuing? You don’t even know.

May calls to him. “Hey, Peter, you doing okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m exhausted, though,” he yawns. You watch as he emerges from his room in nothing but a pair of loose plaid boxer shorts as he simultaneously dries his hair off with a towel. You subconsciously shift in May’s arms to get a better look at him, your eyes gliding across his taut abs and the cords of muscle that adorn his arms and hands. Your tongue instinctually darts out to wet your lip, but you do your best to quell the budding arousal that you’re experiencing. Now is certainly not the time for that way of thinking.

As he walks closer to you, you feel like you’re going to faint. You can’t remember the last time that you were this nervous.

When he finally does set eyes on you, you see many emotions flashing across his face: anger, confusion, hope?

“Hi, Pete,” you choke out, offering him a cautious wave.

“Y/N,” he states. You can see a tiny wave of concern flash across his face as he takes in your fully disheveled state. “What’s wrong?”

“So many things,” you reply through teary eyes. “So many things went wrong tonight. But, please, please, Peter, let me talk to you; please hear me out.”

“I’ll leave you two alone,” May announces softly. You pull away from her, and she gives you a knowing look as if to say, “You’ve got this!” She then slowly makes her way to her room; however, you’re pretty sure she lingers outside of it around for a few minutes.

Peter makes his way over to where you are on the couch, but instead of sitting, he remains standing with his arms crossed.

You swallow nervously before answering. “I know you say you don’t want to be with me. That you think it’s a bad idea for us to be together, but I can’t do this anymore. It’s killing me to be apart from you. I think about you all the time. I—I don’t know how much longer I can go on without you. And I don’t want to beg you to be with me, I know I look so pathetic coming here and pleading with you, but I don’t know how else to apologize.”

He stares at you blankly. “Y/N, the reason that I say we can’t be together is that I know how easily you change your mind. How easily you get confused and bored and how difficult it is for you to make sense of how your actions hurt others. In a relationship, that’s not okay. I just feel like—I don’t know, you have no regard for how other people feel sometimes.”

“You’re right,” you agree. “But you had no regard for how I felt tonight. You totally dismissed how I was feeling after I walked in on you and Kameron. Do you know how badly that hurt? The way that you made me feel is the way that you seem to feel when Harry and I do anything together..”

“First of all, her name is Keira. Secondly, I saw how you and Harry were at the party tonight. You were practically sitting in his lap begging for him to sleep with you,” Peter retorts.

“I didn’t go to the fucking party for Harry. I went to the party for you. I can barely get out of bed most days, but I got up today for you, and I made myself look pretty for you, and I went searching around Harry’s entire fucking apartment for you,” you sob. “And when you rejected me tonight, I made a complete fucking fool out of myself. I thought that trying to distract myself with Harry would make me feel better. But it didn’t—he hates me just as much as you do. He called me a whore and a bitch.”

Peter immediately sits next to you on the couch, his eyes filled with rage. Once again, seeing Peter in such a worked-up state made your thighs clench together. “He called you what?”

“He said I was a whore,” you repeat, wiping away some more tears. “He knows about us, and when I rejected him, well, he went off. Said all of these horrible things to me.”

“That fucker,” Peter mutters under his breath. “I’m going to kill him.”

“But I’m not your girlfriend, so you shouldn’t care,” you reply dryly.

Peter stares at you for a few seconds as though fully taking you in. Thoroughly analyzing your facial features and trying to understand the implications of your words. “Y/N, it’s impossible for me to stop thinking about you too. I’ve tried so hard to remind myself of what I said to you the day of your father’s funeral. Tried to force myself to stick to my words. But I didn’t mean any of that; I was an asshole. Hell, it killed me to reject you again tonight. And I do believe that we’re bad for each other; but not all the time. I do believe that this might not work. But maybe, just maybe, there’s a chance that it could?”

Your ears perk up at his words, but for once, you choose to keep your sarcastic remarks to yourself.

“I think it could,” you reply quickly. “I know it could. Because I want you, I want you so badly, and I’m willing to work for it. To work to make this good for the both of us.”

“Yeah?” Peter’s eyes flicker from your eyes to your mouth. “You sure?”

“Mhmm,” you nod enthusiastically. “More sure than I’ve ever been of anything.”

“Maybe we can try this and see how it goes,” he suggests, his hand having found its way to your cheek to stroke it.

“I’d like that,” you say. “I’d like that a lot.”

When he finally leans in to press his lips to yours, you swear you ascend to heaven. Where you had tensed up as Harry had kissed you, you relax under Peter’s embrace, letting him guide you through laying back on the couch and moving his hands to skirt up your thighs. You buck against him as his tongue moves in tandem with yours, and you tug at his wet curls.

“Wanna go to my room?” His fingers glide up and down your arm gently.

“Yes, please. But wait, don’t you think your aunt is going to be suspicious?” You inquire with a smirk.

He trails kisses from your cheek down to your neck down to your collarbone. “She’s asleep.”

“You’re positive?” You whimper, your arm resting comfortably around his neck.

He finally tugs you up from the couch and ushers you toward his room. “Spidey senses remember?”

“Is that what those are for? Not getting caught during late-night sex?” You giggle as he closes the door to his room behind you.

“We’re having sex?” He stares at you with wide eyes.

“Oh, God, shit, I just assumed?” You panic.

“Just messing with you, pretty girl,” he steps closer to you and grins. “I wanted to fuck you since the moment I saw you in this dress.” He grabs your hips to pull you closer to him, then kisses you softly again.

You feel like you barely blink before he has you on his bed, underneath him. You melt under his embrace, reveling in the feeling of his gentle kisses on your lips, your cheek, and your neck.

You bring his larger hand around to the small of your back so he can find the zipper on your dress. “I’ve been waiting for you to take it off me since I first saw you tonight,” you answer breathlessly.

He quickly obliges you, his fingers deftly pulling down the zipper to reveal your back. He plays with your spine, rubbing tiny circles into it, as he simultaneously uses his bare knee to spread your legs wider for him. You moan as his knee comes in contact with your wet center. You sit up momentarily for him to help you out of your dress, and you swear he looks as though he’s seen God when you’re finally out of the garment. You tuck your knees under your lap and straighten your spine so he can take you in. Your cheeks have a beautifully rosy glow, your chest rises and falls in uneven breaths, and your skin shines beautifully under the dim lighting of his bedroom. You watch as his eyes flicker toward your erect nipples, then down toward where you need him the most.

“You’re the most beautiful person in the entire world,” he answers as earnestly as possible. Connecting your lips with his again, you bring his left hand to cup your right breast. His slim fingers instantly go to tweak your nipple, and you moan into his mouth. When he replaces his fingers with his mouth, you almost pass out. He’s barely even given you any stimulation, and you already feel like you might come. You let your hands play with his hair as he alternates between swirling his tongue on your left and right breast.

“Touch me, Petey,” you practically beg. “I’m so wet for you.”

Peter lets one hand travel down from your breast to your panties. He curses when his fingers come in contact with the soaked material. “Gonna take this off, okay? Lift your hips for me.”

“Yeah,” you agree. “Okay.” He tugs the material down your thighs, leaving you fully naked.

His hands rake over your stomach. “My beautiful girl. I really did miss you so much.”

His words alone are enough to make you cry, but when he drags his index finger from your clit down your opening, you think you might start crying real tears. “Peter, Peter, please don’t tease.”

“We’ll see,” he shrugs. “How badly do you want my fingers?”

“More than anything,” you plead. “Please.”

“Someone’s desperate,” he tsks. “Good thing I’m feeling generous.”

You could almost laugh at how submissive you’ve become to him. But it’s so hot to see him assert some dominance over you that you don’t mind it at all.

You yelp when he finally inserts his finger into your pussy. The wet, squelching sound, in combination with his rapid thrusts, makes your head fall back in euphoria. You let your hand travel down to play with your clit, and he adds a second finger, then eventually a third.

“You make me feel so good,” you cry out. “God, Peter.”

The stimulation of your clit in conjunction with the feeling of Peter’s fingers curling upward is heavenly. When he curves his index finger upwards to hit your g-spot, you let out a yelp, and your eyes widen. You’re so close and it’s only been five minutes.

“You gonna come for me?” Peter murmurs, speeding up his pace. You give him an enthusiastic nod, and when he leans forward to take your right nipple into his mouth, swirling it around his tongue, you let out one last cry and finish on his fingers, stifling your moan with your free hand.

“That was—that was good,” you offer Peter a blissed-out smile, reaching up to caress his cheek.

You return to kissing each other for a few minutes, moaning as your sensitive clit comes in contact with Peter’s boxer-clad erection. He finally pulls away to remove his boxers from his body. Your fingers glide across his abs as he strips himself of the last piece of clothing she wears.

He’s just as pretty as you remember—painfully hard against his stomach, at least over 6 inches, and pink tip leaking with precum. You have the urge to get on your knees and place him into your mouth and make him cry out your name. You take him in your hand and wrap your hand around him, letting your thumb brush across his tip and collecting some of his arousal on your fingertip.

He bucks his hips against your hand and groans out. “Jesus, babe.” You beam at the pet name he gives you. You set a comfortable pace, stroking him faster from tip to base. You take the opportunity to mark up his neck and play with his abs.

“Do you like the way I make your cock feel?” You purr in his ear. “You’re so hard for me. Can’t wait for you to be inside me.”

“If you keep doing that, I’ll come all over you,” he moans enthusiastically. “Let me fuck you.”

You separate for a minute for Peter to grab a condom from his bedside table. “I see you planned for this.”

“I was hopeful,” he shrugs with a tiny smile. Unwrapping the package, he’s quick to place the condom on himself.

“I want to ride you,” you assert when Peter pulls you back into his embrace. Peter kisses you again, this time much more slowly and sensually. You settle on top of him, rubbing your core against his cock. You moan into his mouth as he grinds himself against you.

“I missed you a lot, Y/N,” Peter repeats slowly. “I’m really glad we made up. I—I care about you so much.”

Your mouth falls open in pleasure when Peter slowly inserts himself inside your pussy. “Go slow,” you breathe out.

He grunts as he slowly sheaths himself inside of you. Despite being soaked, it takes you a minute to adjust to his size, as you hadn’t had sex in, well, over five years. Your fingers could only have so much of an impact on you.

When he finally bottoms out, you both share a collective moan. Peter brushes a few strands of hair out of your face. “So gorgeous.”

You lift yourself up slowly to ultimately land back on his lap again. “Peter,” you whimper. “Oh my God.”

You rise up and down more quickly on his cock, stifling your moans in his neck. When he starts to meet his thrusts with yours, your head falls back. Peter keeps a secure hold on the small of your back as he continues a consistent pace.

“Missed you. Missed your tight little pussy,” he moans into your ear. He licks and sucks at your breasts, marking them up with his teeth, and swirling your nipples under his tongue.

A comfortable silence arises between you two. The way that he stares into your eyes and cradles your body in his makes your stomach swarm with butterflies and your head go dizzy. When his hand goes down to your clit, you feel the familiar sensation building in your stomach. A look of desperation flashes over your eyes as Peter speeds up his thrusts, and allows his fingers to dance more quickly across your clit.

“Peter, Peter, Peter,” you chant. “I’m gonna—keep going just like that.”

One particular enthusiastic thrust makes you scream out, and your hand instantly flies to your mouth to cover it.

“You feel so good around me,” Peter grunts. “I’m close, too.”

The more Peter continues at the pace he’s established, the closer and closer you get to that very special precipice. And then, like an explosion, it hits you out of nowhere.

You shriek, rising up and down on Peter at an animalistic pace. “Peter, fuck, Peter, I’m coming. Oh my God, baby!” He presses his lips to yours quickly and moans into your mouth, as your pussy contracts, and you gush all over him. Your vision is enveloped by nothing but complete white, as you experience a level of pleasure that you’re sure you’ve ever achieved before. Making love to Peter after having resolved most of your problems makes you feel giddy in a way that you’d only dreamed about. To feel so loved and appreciated and worshiped by him are things you wouldn’t trade for anything.

That familiar look settles in his eyes after you’ve orgasmed, and you work to help him reach his own climax. “Y/N, shit, Y/N.”

“Come on, baby, give it to me, Peter,” you beg, repeating your past movements. “Come for me, Petey.”

With those words of encouragement, he lets out a choked groan that makes you moan out with him and buries his face in your neck as he explodes into the condom.

When he finally comes down from his high, he helps you off of him to lay next to him. Grabbing a washcloth from the bathroom, he helps you clean yourself up and then settles into bed next to you.

“Hi,” you say softly, moving some curls away from his forehead.

“Hi,” he iterates, his hand coming to rest on your hip.

“I’m so sorry for everything. I know I’ve said that already, but Peter, you mean so much to me,” you state sincerely. You can feel a lump forming in your throat at your admission. “I understand that it took so much for you to forgive me, and I understand that you didn’t actually want to in the first place. But I can’t be without you in my life. I just need you to understand that.”

“It was killing me to be away from you, too, Y/N. Like I told you, I missed you just as much,” he replies softly.

“All I’ve ever wanted was to be with you. I hope you realize how much I truly mean that,” you tell him. “I only pushed you away because I was afraid of losing you. I thought that if I let you be there for me, then you’d get tired of me and my problems. That you’d leave me.”

You register that you’re crying when Peter swipes away some translucent droplets from your cheeks. “I could never leave you. You are incredibly annoying sometimes, and so stubborn, and a little bit aloof, but that doesn’t stop me from caring about you like I do.”

You take the opportunity to bring your reunion to a close by wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him gently. “Goodnight, Pete.” You snuggle into his embrace, and he lets his head fall into your neck comfortably, his hands still rubbing languid circles on your back.

You sleep wonderfully that night—certainly the best you have in weeks. When you finally wake up around 11 am the next morning, you notice that Peter is still asleep next to you. Smiling softly at him, you rake your fingers through his curls and place a kiss on his forehead lovingly.

Untangling yourself from his sheets and letting your feet hit the floor of his bedroom, you rummage through his drawers for an oversized t-shirt to pull over your body. Tugging your panties over your legs, you also pull on some of Peter’s fuzzy socks to keep your feet warm.

In your exhausted but elated stupor, you barely have time to think about the fact that May is probably up and waiting for Peter in the kitchen.

It is a Sunday morning after all.

Dragging your feet to the kitchen, you let out a tired yawn.

“Good morning, Peter—oh wow, Y/N?” May yelps, almost dropping the coffee mug in her hand. “I didn’t know you stayed the night.”

“Oh, um, yeah, it was late by the time that Peter and I finished talking, so I just slept over. I hope that was okay,” you answer uncomfortably.

Her eyes rake over the outfit that you wear. She obviously knows what you stayed over to do. “No problem.”

You quickly pivot on your heel to walk back to Peter. “I’m going to go wake up Peter.”

May nods awkwardly, and you make your way back toward Peter’s room.

When you arrive back inside Peter’s room, you take a careful seat back on the edge of his bed. The action awakens him, and he turns to face you.

“Hey, baby,” you call to him gently. “Did you sleep well?”

“Because you were here, yeah,” he offers you a cheeky smile. “Why are you smiling so wide, pretty girl?” You blush at the nickname as he takes his hand in yours.

“Just happy,” you answer genuinely. You snuggle up next to him and let your eyes flutter closed. And for the first time in weeks, you register that you’d woken up honestly, indisputably happy, and naturally, just as you’d expected, Peter was the cause.

#peter parker x y/n #peterparker x reader #peterparkersmut #peterparker x y/n smut #tonystark #marvel #gwen stacy #harry osborn #smut #marvelsmut #tom holland #harry osborn x reader #mj #zendaya

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noobsquasher · 3 years

Note

spiderman just fucking the hell out of me in his suit and being extremely cocky and flirtatious pls 😭 love u

The Suit Stay's On

Part One

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: smut, degrading, praising, unprotected sex, swearing, Dom Peter, rough sex, etc

Summary: After many months of wondering what sex with Spiderman feels like, you finally get to experience it.

Note: Peter Parker x female reader

All characters in this story are 18+

Enjoy :)

Read part two, here.

------

Working as an assistant for the Avengers came with some pretty good benefits.

The pay was great, you even got your own room at the Avenger’s Tower. The only thing was that you ran errands for the infamous Tony Stark. The man was insane, but you still got to hang out with the world-famous Avengers.

Although you knew some of the Avengers, Tony wouldn’t let you mingle with all of them. Especially, the masked ones. The ones with their hidden identities.

Spiderman had always fascinated you.

The way how he was effortlessly swinging across the city of New York, using his strong and durable webs to get him to his destination or to fight crime, really turned you on.

I wonder what those webs can do…

His suit also showed his alluring muscles. The way how his biceps poked out his suit… fuck… staring at the masked hero made your panties stick to your pussy.

“So… who is this Spiderman? Is he cute?” You asked Natasha while you two ate lunch together.

“He’s alright. Young.” She spoke.

“Young… like 22? 24?”

“Early twenties.” She replied.

“Oh… what’s his name?” You asked, prying to see if Natasha would reveal anything about your current crush.

She glared at you, giving you the side-eye before she dived back into her salad.

“Oh, come on… what about his zodiac sign?” You asked again.

“Y/N- you know I can’t say anything about him. If Stark wanted you to meet him, you would already.”

“But Nat! He’s- he’s just so hot!”

“Who’s hot?” Someone asked.

You turned around to see Peter, the intern.

“Mind your business, Parker.” You snarked before you took a bite out of your sandwich.

“What? I can’t know what you two are talking about? It’s my lunch break too.” He spoke, grabbing a seat across from you.

“Y/N here is talking about her newest crush, Spiderman…” Nat spoke, a slight smirk on her face.

“Spiderman? What about him?” Peter questioned.

“Nothing.” You blurted.

“Don’t act like you weren’t just gawking over him!” Nat teased.

“Natasha!” You yelled, not wanting Peter to know about your crush since he did work with Spiderman as well.

“You like Spiderman? Since when?” Peter asked, now highly interested in this conversation.

“Since he saved my life? I told you two about what happened like a year ago…” you spoke softly, remembering the traumatizing moment.

You were held at gunpoint, a masked vigilante about to pull the trigger if you didn’t hand him your purse.

You threw it on the ground, crying, begging him not to hurt you.

You were young, you still had your life to live. Flashes of your family and friends filled your eyes.

Was this the day I die?

Suddenly, a man dressed in red and blue attire swings in front of you, pushing the criminal onto the concrete.

You gasp, backing away as this strange individual kicks away the gun in the thief’s hands, tying him up in what looks like webbing, and pinning him to the ground.

You stand in shock, tears stained on your face as you stare at the person who just saved your life.

They grab your purse, slowly walking towards you.

“Hey… it’s alright… your safe now. Here.” He hands you your purse, all your valuables still inside.

“T-thank you… thank you so much…”

“No problem. Are you alright? You look pale…” he spoke softly, his voice comforting you.

“I’m- I’m okay. I’ll be alright…”

“Okay… good. I’m gonna get his ass to jail, you stay safe alright?” He spoke, his hand on your upper arm, squeezing it slightly.

“Uh… yeah… I’m- what’s… what’s your name?” You asked, intrigued by who just saved you.

“Spiderman.”

Ever since that day, the name Spiderman has stuck to you.

You wondered who he was. You assumed he must be good-looking, his voice, the curves of his body making your assumption correct. And his kind heart. You knew he was a sweetheart. Someone who would die for a stranger at any time of day, no matter the circumstance.

You fell for him.

And you didn’t even know what he looked like.

Sometimes, his name would slip out while you touched yourself.

You just imagined his thick cock, fucking your brains out until you can’t walk anymore. Fucking you so hard that you lose vision in your right ear and hearing in your left eye.

That hard.

Even with such a kind heart, you knew he had a bit of cocky-ness to him.

You had seen him again. Working for the avengers got you more chances to get to know him, get to know the man behind the mask.

He was charming. Sweet. Caring.

Even though your interactions lasted not more than 5 minutes, he still somehow left a mark on you.

Oh, how you wished he fucked you in that tight suit of his.

So, now you were madly in love with who Spiderman was, and you needed to get to the bottom of it.

“I remember, yeah you um… you told me.” Peter spoke, playing with his food as he gazed at you.

“Yeah well… he’s cute. I like him. And I need to figure out who he is! The other day I spoke to him, and he was being so charming to me. Flirting with me! I just know he likes me or something! I dunno… it may be a long shot, but I just need to… I just need him inside me… I know… too much information, but I’m being honest here people.” You explained, not making eye contact with Peter.

Natasha let out a laugh, glancing at Peter's shocked face.

“I’m sorry! I’m just being honest!” You defended.

“You… you want… him inside- inside you?” Peter mumbled, now nervous.

“Yes. No questions asked. I’ll do anything for the man. If he wants me on my knees, he doesn’t need to ask twice.”

Peter started coughing, out of nowhere. His hand was on his chest as he tried to get his act together.

Natasha was now smiling and giggling like a manic.

What the hell is up with these two?

“Well… I’m telling you right now Y/N, I’m most definitely positive that Spiderman likes you back. At least a little.” Natasha spoke.

You gave her a little grin.

“Yeah… he likes you. I can… I can tell.” Peter spoke softly.

“Well, since we now know he likes me, I’m going to come up with a plan that ends up in Spiderman fucking me senseless.” You spoke, a devilish grin on your face as you thought about this filthy plan.

Little did you know, Peter was coming up with his dirty plan too.

Tony Stark was known for throwing huge, fabulous parties. Whether it was someone’s birthday or just a regular Thursday, he would plan extravaganzas in a heartbeat.

It was Saturday night.

You had the night off since you were attending this random party Stark was throwing at his penthouse above the tower.

You knew the avengers would be there.

Usually, Spiderman would barely show up, if anything he would stay for 15 minutes and then leave, but tonight, your gut was telling you that he was going to be there.

You put on your best dress, did your makeup for the first time in a while, fixed your hair, and put on your most uncomfortable but sexy high heels.

Spiderman would see what he was missing out on.

You walked out to the bar, nearly tripping as you stepped around party guests.

Fuck, should’ve never worn these damn heels.

“Hey Nat, lemme get a tequila shot please?” You asked Natasha who was playing Bartender tonight.

You never knew why she liked being behind the bar, but she seemed to enjoy mixing drinks and talking to random socialites.

“Yup- Woah… Y/N! Wow… I might just take you into my bedroom right now…” Natasha flirted, gazing at your outfit.

“Oh stop!” You giggled, liking her compliment.

“Who are you dressing up for?” She asked, pouring the liquor into the shot glass.

“You know who…”

She glanced at you, a smirk on her face as she handed you your drink.

“Let’s hope he shows up tonight, Y/N. You look too pretty for him not to see you. If he doesn’t show, I’ll be runner up.”

You laughed, playfully rolling your eyes.

“I’ll keep that in mind Romanoff…”

A couple of tequila shots later and you were stumbling around the penthouse, looking for a place to sit down.

“Damn, these fucking heels!” You complained as you walked outside, towards the balcony. Thankfully, nobody was outside, so you had the entire balcony to yourself.

You sat down on the bench they had, slowly bending over to take off your shoes. They had been killing you all night. Not only did your feet hurt, but your heart did too. Spiderman didn’t show up.

Heels tossed to the side as you leaned back on the bench, gazing at the magnificent skyline of Manhattan.

You closed your eyes, resting your inebriated body as you got comfortable, feeling the wind pass by your skin.

Suddenly, the wind stopped.

You opened your eyes, confused.

“What the-”

Your mouth was left wide open as you stared at the person standing in front of you.

Spiderman.

“Hey… what are you doing out here? You are missing the party.” He spoke, gazing down at you.

“I- I um… I’m tired. My heels- they- the heels are hurting my feet.” You stuttered.

Shit, maybe I need another drink, so I won’t be so fucking nervous around him.

He chuckled, moving, and sitting next to you on the bench.

“Why- why aren’t you at the party? This is an Avenger’s event. You’re an Avenger, right?” You spoke, admiring his arms.

Fuck, I want him to choke me.

“Had some things to take care of. But I’m here now, aren’t I?” He spoke, his head slightly tilting as he admired your outfit.

How your beautiful breasts spilled out that tight dress of yours.

“Dressed up for me?” He teased.

Your eyes widened.

“Uh… uh… I um… no… no. I didn’t. I dressed for the party!” You blurted.

Damn woman, you forgot how to speak?

“You dressed for the party?”

“I did.”

“Hm… that’s a shame… thought you got all sexy for me since you have a crush on me.” He chimed.

You swear your heart stopped.

“Word got around that you like me. Said you wanted me inside you. I don’t even have to ask if it’s true, because with the way your heart is fluttering and how your panties are about drenched right now… I can confirm you dressed up for me, and me only.”

Yup. My heart stopped.

“I- I um… who… oh gosh…” you mumbled, now terrified that Spiderman knows your secret.

“Got you all nervous now? You weren’t nervous when you said that you’d be on your knees for me in a heartbeat.” He teased, his fingers gliding across your thigh as he talked.

You gazed at him, wanting no more than for him to just fuck you.

“No more chit-chat, Spidy. Yes, I like you. Now, let’s get on to the part where you fuck me. Show me what those webs do.” You voiced, a new sense of confidence washing over you like a wave.

He smiled under his mask.

The next thing you knew, you were naked on your bed, pussy soaked as Spiderman himself stroked his thick cock as he admired your bare body. Precum leaking from the pink tip.

“Such a pretty pussy…” he soothed, using a thumb to rub circles around your clit.

Peter’s mouth watered at the sight of your slick folds.

So wet, just for me.

Spiderman was stubborn. He told you that he would only fuck you if he wore his suit. You desperately wanted to see his face, see who would be inside you, but he protested.

Regardless, you would still get dicked down by the person who made your breath hitch by just standing.

Thankfully, Peter recently installed new mechanics onto his suit that allowed him to remove the bottom half of his suit without taking the entire thing off. It came in handy when he needed to pee, or when he was about to fuck you senseless.

Plus, Peter being in his suit made him feel even more confident, his dominant side coming out in an instance.

You’ve never seen a cock that big. It was how you imagined it, thick, veiny, and hard.

“Fuck spidy… is it gonna fit?” You asked, concerned.

I know I said that I wanted him to split me open with his dick, but not literally!

He chuckled.

“I’ll make it fit.”

Suddenly, he impaled you. His thick cock filling you up. You gasped, holding onto your bed with much force. You’ve never been this full before, the feeling was overwhelming. All you could do was gasp for air.

“So tight…” he whispered to himself.

You opened your eyes watching as he thrust in and out of you, his huge hands on either side of your body, holding you tightly.

Oh, how I wished I could see his face. See how good my pussy fucked him.

Peter’s face was scrunched up, lines forming between his eyebrows, lips in a tight line. He was taking in how good you felt, how his tip grazed across your cervix with each pound he made into you.

You told him to fuck you, and that’s exactly what he was doing.

Your moans filled the room, profanities and incoherent sounds escaping your mouth as your body jerked harshly.

Peter watched as your breasts jumped up and down, moving to his rough movements with ease.

“Oh fuck! Spidy! Oh. My. GOSH!” Your screamed eyes rolled to the back of your head.

"If you keep making those sounds, I'm not going to be able to stop myself." Peter spoke, continuing his thrusts.

“Don’t stop! Oh gosh- don’t!”

His thrusts increased, finding a rhythm. The steady rocking of his hips, fingers gripping on your thighs, causing the tips of your fingers and toes to curl.

“Spiderman!” You cried out, tears beginning to fill your eyes.

Suddenly, he picked you up, holding you tightly as he moved you over to the wall, not even taking himself out of your pussy.

Pinning your back against the cold surface, he held you up as he continued his rough thrusts.

Peter was moaning, cursing, grunting, pulling, and tugging at your skin, fucking you with such force, he thought that he would break you.

“Talk like a slut, you’re gonna get fucked like one.” He groaned into your ear as his hand wrapped around your throat, choking you slightly.

At this point, you were now cock drunk. You couldn’t even correlate what the man was saying as his cock tore you up from the inside, out.

You could only focus on how fucking full you were. You could feel him in places you never knew existed. Tears fell on your face each time his cock grazed your cervix. Your makeup was now ruined. It felt so good, you didn’t want him to stop. You wouldn’t even be mad if he fucked you into a casket.

It sent Peter into a frenzy when he watched as your mascara ran down your face. You were a babbling and crying mess, and he couldn’t be prouder.

“You asked for this princess. Don’t go crying now.” He spoke, his thrusts beginning to get sloppy.

“So- so good! I’m- I’m- I’m gonna… fucking cum!” You cried, teeth chattering.

With a few more thrusts, you found it harder to breathe. Your entire body shaking, your fingers gripping onto Peter’s suit. You were about to burst.

“Cum princess. Cum all over me.” Peter groaned.

He didn’t need to speak twice.

Walls clenched around him as your head jerked back, harshly banging against the wall. You didn’t care, your jaw-dropping orgasm took the pain away in an instant. It felt even better than heaven, you swore you saw actual stars above you.

Peter watched carefully as he mentally recorded your orgasm. He watched as your jaw shook, how your legs wrapped around him tightly, and how you let out the loudest roars he’s ever heard.

He would save this moment for later.

He let you cum undone on his cock, making sure you finished before he pulled out letting you down gently on the floor.

“On your knees.” He demanded.

You swore you would get on your knees, no matter what.

Peter didn’t care that you couldn’t even think straight, he wanted you to live up to your words.

“Hurry up, I’m gonna cum.” He moaned, stroking his thick cock with his shaky fingers.

You got on your knees, body shaking with aftershocks of your orgasm.

You gazed up at him, soft whimpers leaving your mouth as you sniffled, your tears now staining your face.

“You look so pretty when you cum, you know that?” He praised.

You couldn’t even speak. You just looked up at him.

“Mm, fuck… I’m gonna cum! Shit- I’m gonna let out a load! Show me those pretty tits, princess.”

You grabbed your breasts, pushing them up for Peter to cum on.

“Shit!”

White strands of his warm cum came blasting like a cannon. He wasn’t kidding when he said he would let out a load. He painted your breasts, marking you as his territory.

His moans ran around the room, eyes rolling back as he continued to cum.

Shit, how much cum does this man have stored in there?

Finally, he finished.

Heavy breathing filled the room mixed with your soft whimpers, cum dripped off your hard nipples.

“Oh, princess, you couldn’t look more perfect… fuck…” Peter groaned, admiring how you looked like his complete mess.

“H-help me… up…” you spoke softly.

He helped you up, your legs about to buckle as he quickly moved you to your bed.

He grabbed some napkins that you had on your nightstand, and he gently cleaned up all his cum from your breasts, even the cum on your floor.

He threw away the drenched napkin, before making his way back to you. You were sitting on the edge of your bed, naked and in shock, basking in the aftereffects of what just happened.

“You alright?” He asked softly, his hand on your cheek.

“I- I don’t think I’ll be able to walk.” You replied.

He chuckled.

“Yeah… you should take a couple of sick days…”

A couple? More like an entire month.

“You know… you could make me feel better if you just showed me your pretty face?” You spoke softly, trying to convince him.

“…Maybe next time princess. It would ruin all the fun we just had.”

You glared at him, rolling your eyes.

“Say, would it make you feel better if we went for round two? I bet it can.” Peter spoke, with a grin.

———

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qxldnya · 3 years

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I was at a restaurant earlier and I literally sat there and airdropped the spiderman no way home teaser trailer to the whole restaurant 💀

IT MATTERS NOT WHAT YOU'VE DONE BUT WHAT YOU DO WITH WHAT YOU'VE DONE FOR OTHERS -Noah Centinero

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modernstoner · 3 years

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Blood red, snow white| P.Parker

(a/n): Hello bitches, I found this in my draft and this was originally "hero x villain" but I changed it to Peter and (Y/n) because I write Peter Parker fanfics, enjoy<3

Summary: Peter loves you, but your the villain.

Warning: blood, angst

w/c: 360

The weather was cold, little drops of snow falling down the sky, making Peter shiver. Peter had unsheathed his swords in an instant, ignoring the chilly wind.

Peter had fallen for your naïve words before but not this time. You eyed Peter’s stance, almost lazily, while he glanced at the sword on your hip.

Why hadn’t both of you bothered to attack?

Each breath you took turned into smoke. Peter breathed steadily as you crossed your arms, probably waiting for a reply.

“Why would you even love me?” Peter sighed, pinching his nose, looking around the snowy forest.

“I don’t know. I loathe you, I hate you and I wish you’d never lived. You are like a poison that is eating me inside out but I can’t help but love the thrill.” Your words were laced with pure venom.

“It means you love rivalry. You don’t love me because you can’t.” Peter said. Saying those words almost broke him but he didn’t dare to show any kind of emotion.

Your gaze hardened but Peter swore something had crumpled inside you. He shrugged it off as a fleeting thought, convincing himself that it’s part of your plan.

Instead, you dropped your swords and started walking towards Peter, slowly. He was obviously confused, gripping tightly into his swords.

You pressed your palms against Peter’s swords, seemingly unconcerned by the blood it drew. “Then finish me. Finish me.” You said, fearless.

Your other hands curled over Peter's hand, so warm and soft. Peter ignored the burn of unshed tears in the back of his throat. You nodded, lacking the usual sinister glint in your eyes.

You were empty now, unsurprised and accepting of your fate.

Peter wanted to fling the sword away and rush into your arm, but the world was never easy. It could never be this easy.

“Go on.” You murmured, resting the tip of the blade against your sternum. “Do what you need.” So Peter did.

A trail of crimson in white snow leading to a crumpled, red pool around Peter's fingertips when pressure is applied.

The sword may have pierced through your chest, yet it pierced two hearts.

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webofstories · 3 years

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Class Time - Peter Parker *Smutish*

Summary: Peter teases you in class so you get him back.

Note: who next? This one is more of a short blurb!

Warnings: public touching, oral (male recieving), fingering, ALOT of dirty talk, edging

"Bet that feels good, doesn't it, princess?" He whispers in your ear, his bottom lip trapped in between his teeth as he "focuses" on the teacher.

You practically had sweat dripping off your nose as Peter flexed his two fingers inside you, making your eyes widened as you stifled a moan.

"Oh my-"

"Shhh sh sh," he says quietly, smirking cockily, "Wouldn't want the teacher knowing how good of my little whore you are now would we?"

You wanted to moan just listening to his words. He couldn't stop there, though. He had to up the anty.

Peter suddenly pushed his long, curled fingers as deep into you as they could go. This made your jaw drop and eyes flutter closed as your legs tightened around his hand. He smirked, watching you struggle to keep quiet. You were under his control.

You were sitting at the back of the class where you weren't visible to anyone else. The desks were two-seater tables with no visible area around the feet, which left for many days of being on your knees. But right now, Peter was loving the class time he was spending with you.

You grabbed onto his jacket, fist clenched tight as you took in heavy breaths. You knew he could smell how drenched you are and hear your heart beating out of your chest.

"W-What if we get c-caught?" Your voice was weak and barely audible as you bit back the instinct to scream his name.

Peter chuckled quietly, rolling his eyes. He curled his fingers more, making you squeak quietly before slamming your hand over your mouth.

"We're not," he whispers, "Cause you're going to be a good girl and take my fingers without making a sound. Right?"

You looked at him with wide eyes, but nodded weakly. Petet flexed his fingers inside of you again and you just wanted to unravel right then and there.

This wasn't fair- this was cruel. He kept edging you further and further but never let you cum. The second you peak your release, he pulls out, then slams his fingers right back into you. You were fed up.

"S-Stop." You barely mustered, biting your finger to keep from moaning. Peter's fingers deep in your cunt didn't listen.

"P-Peter-"

"That's not my name."

"I'm s-sorry, sir."

You were a stumbling, stuttering mess. He curled his fingers and began thrusting and rutting into you once again. It was driving you insane.

You went to grab the table to keep you from screaming but caused your pencil to roll to the floor. This caught to attention of others, so Peter stopped all movement and acted completely innocent but not moving his fingers out of your tight cunt.

You gulped, bending over to pick up your pencil as everyone looked away. This is when you saw the evident bulge in Peter's jeans, making you smirk.

Quickly, before anyone could see, you got under the table. You were careful to keep your chair quiet but you nearly whimpered as Peter's fingers pulled out of your walls.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Peter whispered harshly, watching you unzip his jeans. His eyes widened as you were quick to pull out his throbbing length, tip red and sensitive.

"Y/N, don't- oh shit." A moan nearly escaped his lips as you quickly started licking up and down his base then back up to his tip. You had to act fast so you didn't get caught.

You began to suck harshly on his tip, making Peter bawl a hand in your hair, pulling lightly. You moaned quietly against him, sending vibrations through his raging cock. He let out a breath of a moan, trying hard to contain himself.

Suddenly, you bobbed your head until he bottomed out touching your throat. This made your eyes water, but you pulled away, looking up at him innocently. He glared under the table, but choked on an inhale as you did it again.

You kept doing this, until he got closer and closer. Then, right as he was about to cum, you pulled away, slipping back into without anyone seeing. Peter was out of breath, panting as he realized what just happened.

"You just-"

"Edged you. Yep." You smirked, knowing he'd love nothing more than to grab you by the throat and slam you against the wall right now.

Peter scoffed, chuckling darkly to himself.

"This is our last period, princess," he whispers in your ear huskily, "Just wait until it's over. May is out of town so you're sweet ass is coming home with me. I'm gonna make sure you don't cum until the sun comes up."

Fuck.

#fluff #imagine #smut #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fluff #the avengers #tom holland smut #fanfic #marvel #peter parker smut #peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker fanfiction #peterparker #peterparkersmut

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cunaeparker · 4 years

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Asgardians and the Bum on 21st Street | P. Parker

A/N: hi yal!!!!! this kinda sucks bc i wrote it in october but i think its cute :)

Summary: Y/N has an uncanny ability to transform like her father, and Peter’s a lovesick boy.

Pairing: Peter Parker x Asgardian!Reader

Warnings: None, all fluff

Word Count: Approx. 2k

"Hey, hey... hey! You're going way too fast Peter, I don't even know what this sign means," Y/N whines, frowning as her eyes squint at the numbers and symbols in Peter Parker's maths textbook.

It doesn't make any sense to her. The midgardian concept of mathematics is insane. She doesn't understand it all all, when does it even come to play in daily life? She would never tell Peter this, but she did not think humans could be so technologically advanced in math and science.

Peter did tell her that mathematics is hard for most humans on Earth, trying to comfort the angry girl in her previous state of frustration and panic, though, she is pretty sure he said that out of pity.

But now, her nose crinkles in disgust as she stares at the equations, resorting to glancing helplessly up at the brown-haired boy leaning on her shoulder.

"How - ?" she asks, scowling as her eyebrows furrow. "This makes no sense, Pete."

"It's math," he responds simply.

"Well, how do I even do this -"

"The only reason you don't know this is because you're dumb," Peter teases, letting out a laugh at her tense state. He leans over to knead her clenched shoulder blades jokingly before she swats his hands away.

"Shut it, Parker," she mutters, poking his temple with the end of her pen (eliciting a small "Ow!") before she furiously erases the steps to solving the equation. "This is in, like, another fuckin' language."

Peter shrugs, leaning back against her shoulder and flipping through the pages of his textbook, mouthing something to himself before grabbing an adjacent neon highlighter and ripping off the cap with his teeth.

"You know," he starts, frowning a little in concentration as he highlights the page, "if you actually payed attention in the classes Bruce taught you, we wouldn't be here."

Y/N reaches up and flicks his forehead with her forefinger as memories from the failed catastrophe known as "Banner's School for Asgardians" flood her mind.

"Okay, dick," she chuckles, "Since when have you become so entitled?"

Peter shrugs again. "Since I became valedictorian, maybe?" He says, nonchalantly highlighting another formula as a small smile paints his lips.

She sighs, eyeing the boy in slight annoyance.

"Okay. Well, I suggest not getting on my bad side and I heavily recommend against it."

Y/N says it lightly, not really meaning it - though there is a threatening edge to her voice. She drums her fingers on the tops of his hands with a small smile, biting her lip. "I can probably make your eyes pop out, though."

"Yeah, okay," he says, letting out a soft chuckle as he puts his pen down and gently rubs his thumbs against her skin. "That doesn't make up for the fact that you're dumb though."

Ignoring him with a grin and an involuntary roll of her eyes, she puts her head on his shoulder and tangles their legs together.

"They don't teach this stuff where I'm from, you ass. We learn about other stuff that you would have no idea about."

She takes the highlighter cap out of Peter's mouth with a slight smirk, raising her eyebrows.

He scoffs and nudges her side.

"You'd learn about what, Y/N? Potions? How to fly a broomstick?"

Ah, the concept of sarcasm.

"Yes," she beams, laughing, "Asgard is Hogwarts, Peter. It's basically living in a fuckin' Harry Potter novel."

Ever since Y/N came to Earth, being forced to hang out with Peter in the Avengers Tower for the first few months resulted in him making her read Harry Potter. She didn't mind, though - she thoroughly enjoyed it in the long run.

She falls to his side with a little giggle and lays her head on his chest, nuzzling her head against his threadbare blue sweater and letting her fingers run lightly over it as if playing a piano song.

Peter's heart flutters but the close proximity comforts him all the same. He weaves his fingers into her hair and pulls her closer, a lazy closed-mouth smile on his face.

"I would pay to see that shitshow," he hums, looking down at her round eyes. "Show me?"

"Definitely," she replies quickly, letting out a content sigh as she feels his calloused fingers slip through her hair, all motivation to study now thrown out the window. "What would you like to see?"

"Dunno', something cool."

"That's awfully bleak."

Admiration swells in Peter's heart at her quip, but he doesn't show it. Instead, he just shrugs lightly and places his head in the crook of her neck - trying not to smile contentedly at the feeling of her radiating warmth.

"Just make it cool," he shrugs, offering her a small poke to the side before adding, "Laufeyson."

"Okay," she says, frowning a little as she thinks. She absentmindedly trails her fingers down his stomach and pushes up his hoodie, tracing out little circles on his toned abdomen. Thankfully she doesn't notice his rising heart rate and how his breath hitches in his throat as soon as her fingers touch his skin, though a small blush crawls up onto his cheeks at the feeling of her cold fingers.

Personal space has never been a concept she has fully grasped, but Peter doesn't mind.

His thoughts are interrupted by a large gasp coming from her lips when she realizes what she wants to show him. She hums happily, still tracing her fingers lightly on his skin.

"Now here's a party trick for the masses," she smirks, relenting her touch on the lovesick boy and instead moving up to sit on top of him with both her legs on either side of his body. "Okay, Parker— watch this."

"O-okay...?" Peter stammers, eyes wide as a vivid pink blush stands out on his cheeks, taken aback by her sudden change of positioning. "Are you gonna start -"

And then she lets out a small gasp. Choking out a small breath and a tiny whimper as she falls forward onto Peter's chest, body convulsing slightly, his breath hitches in his throat. The first thing his mind goes to is reminiscent of the most uncompromisable of positions— like the one she currently is in. It's definitely not that, he thinks, a quick blush colouring his cheeks. But his mind also goes into override. Is Y/N having a seizure? A stroke? A fucking orgasm? Especially while straddling his fucking waist?

She squints her eyes shut as if in pain, grimacing and shaking atop him in pure concentration as a veil-like white comes over her, sheer and thick.

Peter's eyes go wide.

Feeling light and fuzzy and slightly nauseous, she thinks intensely on your main goal.

Concentrating so hard she thinks her brain is about to blow, inhaling sharply as she arrives, almost there, nearly reaching her destination; the gorgeous young girl lying exhausted on Peter Parker's chest turns suddenly into an old man in a crisis lying exhausted on Peter Parker's chest.

It seems that she has turned into the scary old bum living near the alleyway on 21st Street.

The one that Peter is absolutely petrified of.

So when he shakily looks up at the old man on top of him, grinning crazily as its black gums and foul smelling breath protrude themselves onto him, he can't help but to let out a shriek.

Y/N - homeless man - chokes out a loud laugh.

"Peter! It's just me!" She exclaims, reaching down to cup his face to try and make him feel more comfortable.

But it doesn't. Because her voice doesn't sound like her voice and instead sounds like a ragged pair of lungs damaged due to decades of smoking. Old and decayed, it just freaks out the poor boy more.

"Wh-what? Y/N this is really weird," he says uncomfortably, drawling out his words with confused wide eyes as he stares at the person so close to him in terror. "This is really fucking weird."

She smiles and leans down next to him, temporarily forgetting she looks like a homeless bum. "I know, Pete!" she giggles, unsettling the brown-haired boy further. "I got this trait from my dad, but he can transform way better than I can. S' pretty cool, though."

"Y-yeah," Peter chuckles nervously, the overwhelming smell of smoke and putrid breath hurting his lungs. "Cool. But can you turn back into Y/N now? Please?"

She laughs.

"Sure. You asked for this though, remember?" she challenges, smirking; though in a few seconds she's back to normal, still straddling Peter's hips and chuckling lightly as her soft hair falls onto his forehead.

He can't help but to let out a small relieved sigh. An old man sitting in an awfully... compromising position does tend to unsettle people.

"Thank God," he breathes, smiling lazily as he wraps his arms around her back and pulls her closer to his chest. "You're really weird, you know that?"

Laying down on her side, putting her head on Peter's chest, she says: "Don't point it out. I know."

"Yeah. I know too," he says quietly, putting his face into her hair with a long sigh. Inhaling deeply, he breathes in the scent of her coconut scented shampoo, relishing warmly in the lovely difference between the old bum's smokey scent and Y/N's.

It's comforting. It's intoxicating.

Lost in the feeling of warmth and home and comfort, sleep enveloping the room in a warm glow as streetlights flow into the window, deep sighs and hums of contentment echo throughout the room.

Peter weaves his fingers through her hair and tangles their legs together, smiling sleepily as she lets out a little sigh.

"Y/N?"

"Yes?" she hums quietly, rolling over to look into his brown eyes.

"You're weird."

She rolls her eyes and whacks his arm, laughing softly as Peter's brown eyes follow hers.

"And you call yourself a spider...?"

Silence.

"Nice one."

"Thanks, I've learned from the best."

Peter just pulls her closer, smiling lazily, sleep taking it's hold on the two young adults lying in a bed in the middle of an apartment in the middle of Queens, content.

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slytherinbae88 · 3 years

Text

can you guys give me any ideas

hey besties, can anyone send in requests please i really bored atm and have the urge to write but dont know what to write so if you guys could send an idea i could write in that would be amazing thankyou.

#peterparker #tomholland #fluff #smut #ao3 #peterparkersmut #pterparkerfuff #fanfic #blurbs

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marvelblahh · 4 years

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Has this been done yet??? Here’s a fresh meme for y’all

@spideyyeet @spidey-swift @tom-lan @xoluvx

#peterparkersmut #bucky barnes #spiderman ps4 #peterparkerimagine #peter parker fluff #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #spiderman #avengers #fresh memes #ffh spoilers #lauras memes

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rafes-girl4ever · 2 years

Text

high by the beach

!smut , daddy kink , smoking , influences , aftercare ,weed , cumming on the stomach , female recieving head ,wrap it before you tap it !

“y/n baby get your pretty ass in here” peters stoned mouth said and of course you listened to him “coming daddy” you said as you rushed from your room to the sitting room in your pjama pants and crop top “how can i help daddy?” you asked him “princess come here and sit on daddys lap while i roll my joint” peter rolled the joint and began to smoke he grabbed you closer to his body keeping you close “ you want a hit baby?” peter asked “yes please daddy” you opened your mouth for him to put the joint in and you pursed your lips around the edge and inhaled and then exhaled no problem “thats my girl” peter said proudly taking the joint into his mouth and inhaling and then before he exhaled he pulled your mouth to his and exhaled in your mouth and then you exhaled thru your nose “peter?” “yes baby” “maybe this is the weed but can we fuck now daddy” you asked “god baby thought youd never ask” peter said as he took you off of his lap and placed you on the couch , he began to take your pj pants off and then your panties “holy fuck darling your soaking, who made you this wet baby?” you blushed and avoided eye contact “y-you did peter” you stuttered , peter grabbed your chin and said “i want you too look at me do i make my self clear?” you nodded “do i make myself clear?, tell me” “ y-you m-make yourself clear daddy” you said looking him in the eyes “good girl now let me see if i can make you cum with my mouth huh baby?” “please daddy , please” peter the began to kneel down and then slowly began kitten licking your pussy he started of slow going faster and faster and then sucking your clit “holy f-fuck peter ima cum , ima cum mhhh” you said trying to grind on his face but his strong hand keeping you down “its ok baby you can cum, common baby come for daddy” you eyes rolled back while you came and shouted peters name “you ok baby?” peter asked you, and you just giggled and smiled and said “mhh daddy please put your cock in me please i need it so bad” peters erection was as big as it could get at this point and god was it leaking pre cum, peter began to stand up and take his pants and underwear off . he lifted your legs and held them up and began thrusting into you “fuck daddy your so big” peter began thrusting harder “holy hell baby your so wet and good for me , this is the prettiest sight ive ever seen darling” “omg peter im so close” you cried while peter put your legs around his waist while he leaned down and started sucking hickies on yo lets getur neck your back arched as you came you screamed peters name your sure everyone in the town heard it “holy fuck peter” you whimperd “omg y/n im gonna cu-”peter was cut off as he pulled out and came on your stomach “you alright baby” peter asked “ofc im fine that was amazing peter” “common then lets get you cleaned baby” peter said as he put on his underwear and lifted you to the bathroom to get a towel and wipe the cum of your belly once he did all that he lifted you to the bedroom and put his shirt and boxers on you and put you into bed and then he got in with you and kissed your for head “i love you sweetheart” peter said “i love you too petey “ you said as you turned around to kiss your lover boy . hope you enjoyed im gratefull for all comments ,reblogs , likes and requests <3

#peter parker #tasm!peter x reader #peterparkersmut #Smut #aftercare #tasm #andrew garfield #the amazing spider-man #spiderman #weedporn #weed

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noobsquasher · 3 years

Note

your smut, holy shit like ma’am they’re the hottest fucking things i’ve ever read😩

Let Me Make It Up To You

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: oral sex (reader receiving), praising, degrading, swearing, etc

Summary: After Peter feels bad for ignoring you for his new video game, he makes it up to you.

Note: Peter Parker x Female Reader

All characters in this story are 18+

Also, thank you all for 1000 followers! I truly appreciate all the love <3

------

You regretted getting Peter that stupid video game for his birthday.

He has been playing it for the last couple of weeks now, screaming every time he gets shot at or when he’s doing some sort of heist with his gamer friends.

It got to the point where he blatantly ignored you whenever he was playing the game.

You sat next to him, hand on his thigh as his fingers furiously moved on his gaming controller. You wondered how he moved his fingers so fast on the controller, remembering each button by heart.

It just proved how long he’s been playing this damn game.

But you couldn’t help but imagine his long digits, inside you, pumping and curling as you moaned his name like a song.

The familiar wetness between your legs started to form as you gazed at him, breathing slowly heightening.

“Ned! Ned, we have three stars! Fuck- the cops are shooting! Get 'em!” He yelled into his mic.

Your hand started moving up, caressing his thigh before you got to the jackpot, his cock.

Hand over his clothed cock as you rubbed it, instantly hardening in your palm.

He groaned.

“Babe… babe I’m playing.” He whispered, moving his mic.

“I don’t care…” you spoke back, his cock now poking through his sweatpants.

“SHIT! OH NED! I FUCKING DIED! OH!!” He screamed, frustrated because now he needs to restart the whole heist again.

You could hear Ned screaming over the mic, aggravated.

“Y/N, now I gotta start this shit again!”

“Oh, I’m sorry! I just want to spend some quality time with my boyfriend, but he wants to play his stupid fucking game instead! I’ll leave you alone then!” You argued, standing up to walk away.

He quickly grabbed your hand, stopping you.

“I’m- I’m sorry. I’m sorry baby…” he spoke softly, removing his headphones and moving his controller to the side.

“I’m sorry… please stay… please. I’ll hang out with you.”

“You seem to care more about that game, Peter.”

“No, I don’t. Not right now. I’m sorry. Lemme make it up to you…” he said, standing up and holding your waist tightly, pulling you closer to him.

“You wanna make it up to me?”

“Yeah… let me take care of you…” Peter whispered before your lips crashed into one another, teeth clashing, tongues dancing.

Your anger quickly escaped as soon as his soft lips hit yours, his large hands squeezing your ass as your lips smacked. You couldn’t help but let out a groan, enjoying the feeling.

He smoothly moved you onto his bed, lips attached to your neck, leaving love marks.

His hands went under your shirt, cupping your breast as he rolled your bud in his palm, getting yet another groan from you.

“Let me make it up to you…” he mumbled in your ear, sending chills down your spine.

Swift with his movements, your shirt and shorts were quickly thrown to the side.

Trails of kisses and love bites were left on your soft skin, stopping to suck on your sensitive nipples before he made his way down to your drenched panties.

“Fuck Peter…”

He looked up at you as his thumb rubbed your clothed clit.

“You are always so wet for me princess… shit… I love that about you.”

Your body was already shaking with just the slight touch of his thumb on your bundle of nerves.

“Gosh… I’m not even inside you and you're already shaking. Such a needy slut, aren’t you?”

You whimpered, hands gripping his sheets.

“Please Peter…”

“What is it? Use your words.” He teased, thumb leaving your clit.

You whined, missing his touch.

“I can’t read minds. What is it?”

“Just! Just eat me out! Please… please baby…” you begged, tears about to form if you didn’t get what you wanted.

“Good girl. See, just a few words can make a wish happen.”

“Oh, Peter you talk too much! Focus on my clit!” You yelled, getting frustrated.

He glared at you before he suddenly got on top of you, hand holding your neck tightly.

“Is that any way to speak to me? Tell me? Is it?” He spoke, tone deep.

Oh, you pissed him off now.

“No… no… I’m sorry. I’ll be nice. I’ll be a good girl.”

“Will you? Or will I have to fuck you till you cry so you can obey me?”

“I’ll be a good girl. I promise.” You assured.

He gazed at you before releasing his hold.

He then kissed along your jawline, making way to your ear.

“You better live up to your word. You don’t wanna see me punish you for being a bad girl. I like sluts who obey me.”

His filthy words made you shutter, your panties saturating even more.

Finally, his head made way to your needy pussy. She was begging at this point.

Fingers hooked your panties as he slid them off.

He took a deep inhale of your soaked cunt, admiring how a few words and kisses from him got you so riled up.

Fingers went as he parted your folds, taking a peek inside you.

“My pretty pussy…”

Suddenly, his lips attached to your clit, fingers sinking into you.

You gasped, the intense feeling overwhelming you.

He sucked, slurped, and sipped your pussy. As his tongue twirled around your little bundle of nerves, his fingers worked in and out of your slick folds.

Peter was most definitely a multitasker.

“PETER!” You screamed as he ate the soul out of your pussy. He was devouring you as if you were his last supper.

“Taste so sweet…” he spoke before he dived back into you, his fingers curling inside you.

Your hands gripped his curls, head jerked back as your eyes rolled and back arched.

You were about to snap.

“I’m- fuck- I’m gonna- OH MY GOSH!” You cried, your orgasm hitting you like a huge tidal wave. You didn’t even have time to finish telling him you were gonna come as you literally saw stars. Legs shaking as you nearly ripped Peter's hair out. Tears trailing down your face.

You thought that Peter should earn a reward for his ‘god tier’ pussy eating.

Peter continued to go, gulping down your juices as if he was dehydrated.

“P- Pete- Peter… Peter- FUCK!”

“Gimme another one…”, he dived back inside you again.

You screamed, entire body shaking.

Peter loved how he made you look like a shaking, babbling mess. It turned him on heavily, he had to hump his bed to get some form of relief from his strained cock.

“Pete! Oh my gosh…” You cried again, clit now abused.

With how good this man was eating you out, how could you say no to another orgasm?

Your moans filled his room, curse words rolling off your tongue. His tongue sliding in between your folds, collecting your juices at the tip, soaking into his taste buds.

Your body jerked, back-arching, eyes rolling to the literal back of your head as you had your second intense orgasm.

You were completely out of breath by this point, and Peter didn’t stop obliterating your clit, his fingers still pumping you.

You nearly passed out when he curled his fingers again, hitting your sweet spot with much love.

“Good girl… that's my baby…” he praised, thumb circling your throbbing bud.

Incoherent whimpers escaped your lips as your chest rose and fell at a quick pace.

“Another.” He demanded.

“No… no… I can’t…”, your voice shaky.

“You can. Give me another…” he prodded.

“Please… oh gosh!” You wined, tears falling.

“You're giving me another one.” He spoke strongly before his lips connected back to your swollen folds.

You couldn’t protest Peter and his need to pleasure you. He was super stubborn and there was no point in arguing with him.

He continued to obliterate your swollen clit and already penetrated hole for a little more before your third orgasm of the day happened.

Screams tore from your mouth, scraping your vocal cords.

By now, you were a complete mess.

Hair was all over the place, entire body shaking, brain scrambled as Peter used you as a personal play toy.

You stared at the ceiling, the high of your orgasm leaving you in a vegetable-like state.

Peter finally stopped playing with your sore slit before he climbed on top of you, grinning as he saw the state, he left you in.

“You alright, princess?”

You gazed into his chocolate eyes, breath heavy. You tried to say something but forgot how to speak.

“On a scale of one to ten, how good would you rate my pussy eating?” He teased.

You glared at him, groaning.

“An 11? Wow… I’m impressed with myself.”

You were too exhausted to laugh. All you could do was shut your eyes and try to catch your breath.

You felt him wipe your sweaty forehead before he kissed it.

“I love you.”

Before you fell asleep, you heard him play his game again.

“Hey man, yeah sorry. I had to eat my girlfriend out or else she would break up with me.”

———

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spiderwars101 · 4 years

Text

I have a really interesting Winter Spider idea brewing in my head rn. (Peter would be of age ofc) and it will take place during WW2. Anyone interested in hearing about it?

#winterspider #buckybarnes #buckybarnessmut #peterparker #peterparkersmut #spiderman #steve rogers #captain america #the winter soldier #ww2 #avengers #marvel #superheroes #fanfiction #smut #aesthetic #fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #sebatian stan smut

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modernstoner · 3 years

Text

Cheater| P.Parker

(a/n): Hola bitches, I deeply apologize for not being active much. I started a new school so I’ve been very very busy and sad. Enough about how pathetic I am, enjoy<3

Summary: You suspect Peter is cheating and your suspicion is right.

Warning: angst. asshole! Peter

w/c: 711

~*~

"Do you still love her?" You asked Peter as he walked through to your shared bedroom.

Peter came home late, again. It was 1 a.m and you waited for him all day.

He didn't even take a glance at you just walking straight to the closet, taking off his black tie. "What are you talking about?" He sighs, his tone was pure annoyance.

You stood there, debating if you should ask him again. "Michelle. Do you still love her?"

This time Peter froze, turning his body to look at you, in the eyes. "A-Are you accusing me of cheating?"

You shook your head. "I didn't say anything about cheating, Peter. I asked if you still love her." Your voice was harsh and cold, hiding all the sadness inside.

"No," Peter answered, going back to change his suit.

You were unconvinced. Lately, for the past few months, Peter had been working late. You first didn't suspect anything but he started to come home with a different cologne.

And, Tony Stark was having a nice fancy formal party at his big mansion and of course, he invited Peter and you, but the thing is; Peter didn't tell you.

You found out about the party while scrolling through Instagram. There was a video and behind it was Peter, dancing with an unknown female.

After that, you found a lipstick mark on one of his white collar when you were doing laundry.

It broke your heart into millions of pieces.

"Really? Are you sure?" Now, you were more demanding. You can feel Peter get angry but he didn't dare to show it.

He ignored you, quickly changing his clothes into his pajamas, going to the bathroom that is connected to the bedroom.

You followed him, crossing your arms, leaning against the door frame, watching him brush his teeth.

"You're not going to answer my question?" You asked, slowly starting to become mad.

Peter spit out his saliva, cleaning his face with his towel. "No, because your question is bullshit."

"Just answer the question, Peter." You raised your eyebrows and Peter walked past you.

Peter scoffed. "I'm not in love with Michelle, (Y/n). Gosh! Who do you gotta be so possessive and jealous?" He threw his hand in the air, rubbing his jaw.

"I'm possessive and jealous? Are you seriously saying that I'm possessive and jealous because I asked you a simple q-"

"That is not a simple question! You're accusing me of cheating." Peter's started to raise his voice.

"Because you are cheating, Peter! I know that Tony invented both of us but you didn't tell me and went out with some woman!" You exclaimed at him, watching as his face fell.

"That woman is my friend!"

"Friend as in mistress! You invited your mistress to that party."

“I invited her because I know how much you dislike parties.” Peter excuse was an obvious lie.

You loved parties, especially when it’s a party with Peter. You were holding backs tears now. “Just tell me the truth, Peter. I know that woman is Michelle and I know that you two had sex because I saw the lipstick mark in your collar.”

“W-We didn’t have sex.” He mumbled under his breath.

Another lie.

You scoffed, sucking the inside of your cheeks. “Really? Then explain the lipstick that I found on your collar.”

Peter closed his mouth, looking down at his feet in shame.

“Fine. Answer again. Do you still love her?” Your voice was now quiet.

He struggled to let out a word. “No.”

“Okay. Do you love me then?”

Silence. Pure silence.

That was it. You got your answer. “’Was I not good enough for you?”

“N-No! You are good enough, it’s just me w-”

“If I was enough, why did you cheat?” You gave up holding back that tears, it started to come out of your eyes.

Peter stayed silent which made you realise that Peter never loved you. He just used you to get over Michelle. He made you believe that he cared for you.

“Wow. Someone you thought loved you was just actually just using you.” You sniffled, wiping off the endless tears coming form your eyes with your sleeve.

“I’m s-”

“I don’t need your apology.” You said. “All I want was for you to love me.”

#peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #peterparkerxreaderangst #peter parker x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tomhollandxreaderangst #tom holland imagine #peter parker imagine #peterparker #tomholland #tomhollandxreadersmut #peterparkerxreadersmut #peterparkersmut #tomhollandsmut #peterparkerangst #tomhllandangst

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webofstories · 3 years

Text

Masterlist

Tom Holland

Never Hurt You (Fluff/Angst)

Dog Sitting (Smut)

A Day In Paradise (Smut)

Backseat (Smut)

Peter Parker

Cheetah Marks (Fluff)

Thoughts (Smutish)(Pt. 1)

Thoughts (Smut) (Pt. 2)

What I'd Do For Her (Angst/Fluff)

Did He Just Call Her Baby? (Angst/Fluff)

Class Time (Smut)

Class Time pt. 2 (Smutt)

Yes Ma'am (Smut)

Arvin Russell

What's Mine (Smut)

Rules (Extreme smut)

A Fool Like Me (Smut)

Distraction (Smut/Fluff)

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ofspiderweb · 4 years

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peter + mj as aladdin + jasmine

#quackson #anime #spider man #peterparkersmut #tom holland #marvelsmut #spider man ps4 #marvel #tomhollandsmut #tomdaya #zendaya #fanart #mcu fanart #mcuedit #alternate universe #petermj #michelle jones #mj #peter parker

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cunaeparker · 4 years

Text

bedheads & flowers | tom holland x reader

i saw this pic and HAD to make hcs - it’s so simple yet so cute :’)

hes such boyfriend material aweh

warnings: there’s a little bit of sex kinda but its not smut more like the morning after

as cliche as it sounds, tom always knew he would have a soft spot for you the moment his eyes met yours

you were dancing happily to the music in the university bar, hands swinging up above your head as your hips swayed sensually, lips tugged upwards into a cunning yet genuine smile that had him weak at the knees

he had heard of you through multiple friends he had met during filming, hence why he was at the stuffy bar - to meet up with them

and miraculously, he didn’t get completely plastered

which opened up new opportunities to talk to you

( without slurring his words embarrassingly )

(( which seemed to happen too often ))

“so, you come here often?” tom had asked, giving you a dazzling smile as he scooted into the booth that you were now situated at, taking a sip of his beer and gazing at you curiously through his lashes

you hesitated for a moment and you’re sure you looked a little blacked out because god this random uni kid that just sidled up beside you was attractive

his unruly chocolate brown curls that had obviously been raked through messily by his fingers were ... captivating

so was his defined jawline and lovely cheekbones

but you regained your composure as soon as you lost it

you subconsciously sat up a little straighter, raising an eyebrow

“am i supposed to say the pick-up line, or...?” you joked, lips twitching into an amused smirk as you tilted your head to the side and scrunched your nose a little

tom’s mouth nearly fell agape and his eyes regarded you with awe

he rarely had anyone reply to him in a way that wasn’t an irritating giggle or a painfully obvious beg to be taken home

he chuckled and took a sip of his rum and coke, eyes scanning you subtly

he noticed that you looked even more gorgeous up close

your sheer white top and natural yet dramatic looking makeup accentuated your defined features perfectly

“there is no pick-up line,” said tom ruefully, a laugh rasping lowly in the back of his throat

you inferred that his laugh was perfect

“at least you’re being honest,” you admitted

and at your quip tom looked positively radiant

after the night you met, tom had bravely asked you out on a date and you complied happily tom thought it was the alcohol in both of your veins giving you liquid confidence because usually he would never ask anyone out the first initial meeting in fears of being rejected or only used for his fame

but, you were the exception - and surprisingly turned up to his local pub a week and a half later wearing a casual rugby t-shirt and jeans

a big change from your night-out attire

but, it was so simple and effortless it made tom fall for you harder, if possible

“you look really nice,” he had said kindly, pulling out your chair for you

and he swore it, as soon you sat down, your face began to glow

“thank you,” you smiled, heart swelling with appreciation “It’s a big change from the last time i saw you, yeah?” you continued with a small laugh, “i don’t look like a whore.” tom scoffed and shook his head

“you never looked like a whore.”

you beamed

you were really surprised at how genuine tom was, and it was a nice change from all of the disrespectful men that seemed to gravitate towards you, unfortunately

“thanks,” you said, peering at him admirably from over the rim of your water glass. “you’re more genuine than emma’s lips.”

tom’s eyes widened and his lips quirked up into an awe-filled smile, brows furrowing slightly at the bluntness of your statement, but only before choking out a laugh

emma was one of your closest friends and she was the one that had dragged you out to the bar that night, but, she was notoriously known for her addiction to lip fillers and botox

it was awful

but you unashamedly admitted it

and from that moment on

tom knew he would be absolutely infatuated with you

and he was

in literally

every

possible

way.

“hey, my girlfriend loves that band.”

“you know, y/n is really good at playing that instrument - she can play, like all of these songs.”

*proceeds to list about fifty songs*

“we watched that show; it’s kind of fucked but my girlfriend liked it so i recommend.”

CUE TIGER KING

“my girlfriend makes these sick cookies, mate, i’ll give you the recipe -”

tom’s friends were all aware

all aware

of the fact that he was completely smitten

but it was simple and unadulterated

pure

almost like puppy love in its late stages

because his friends all saw how much you loved each other, that was obvious - it was just a matter of admitting it

it was infuriating to them

especially to harrison

because after living with tom, he heard enough of his rants and speeches about you in the first place

he loved you like a little sister

you were witty and snarky and brilliant, and if that wasn’t perfect for his best friend he wouldn’t know what was

which is what made it worse

tom was painfully oblivious yet too analytical and it was gruelling

he knew he loved you - and he was pretty sure that you loved him too - but he just didn’t know how to admit

in typical tom fashion, like the tooth-rotting romantic he was, he had to set the whole ordeal up perfectly

nothing but the best for his girl

so, on a saturday at about 4pm, when he was thankfully back home in london, he was struck with an idea

“harrison, i’m going to take her out on a date and do all of her favourite stuff, and then hopefully she’ll feel the same.”

“mate, i’ve heard you shag more than a few times. i’m positive she feels the same.”

tom paused and felt a small influx of embarrassment, but shrugged it off

“yeah, but that’s different.”

“okay. do whatever then,” harrison said absentmindedly, shoving a piece of apple into his mouth

he went back to playing his mariokart

leaving a love-struck tom to sit alone on the old beanbag with a small, excited smile on his face

“perfect.”

but then

of course

filming.

luckily, he was able to bring you with him in his travels, and he hated pulling you away from your friends and family for him, but when he brought it up nervously, stutter and all and clammy palms, you had only smiled softly, brows furrowing into a sympathetic line

you took his hand in yours and squeezed gently

“i’ll go wherever you go,” you whispered

and that was all the confirmation he needed

so now, he found himself lying in bed on a lazy sunday morning, bare legs tangled with yours

it was a day off from filming and he had the option to go to a cast & crew party, but he decided against it because a) saying he was exhausted would be an understatement and b) he’d much rather spend the time with you, alone in his trailer

the sun streamed down onto your face as you slept and you looked so content

your eyes were closed and fluttering, probably in a stage of r.e.m sleep, breaths even and deep

occasionally your lips would turn down into a pout and you would smack them together, frowning slightly as you adjusted, but your position would stay the same - arms latched around tom’s bare waist and radiating delicious warmth

your legs were tangled with his too and he took the time to notice how hot you seemed to run

like his own little space heater

tom regarded you silently with a small smile, propped up on his elbow as his fingers gently weaved through your tangled hair, trying his best to avoid your marked up neck courtesy of last night

little snores were escaping your lips and your body shook slightly

you were the definition of serenity and peace

which was damn ironic because rarely, you were any of those things

but now as tom’s fingers raked gingerly thought your hair he felt such an overwhelming amount of love for you it stuffed his ribcage so full he thought it would it would burst

it was like a rapidly growing flower; branching out and blossoming with every new realization

he felt it surge through him in copious amounts and realized that in all the time you’ve known each other one thing remained constant:

you were his everything and he was yours

suddenly with a small inhale of breath, your eyes opened

they flit upwards to look at tom with confusion, eyes heavily-lidded and riddled with drowsiness as you frowned sleepily, but only for a moment

a small smile twitched up the corners of your mouth and you yawned

“good morning, bedhead,” you hummed, voice raspy and laced with levity as you reached up a hand to run a hand through his knotted curls, poking good fun at the state of his hair thanks to your tenacious tugging from last night

tom rolled his eyes and rolled over on top of you, elbows planted beside your head and legs resting in between yours

he was fully aware of what you said and couldn’t help the closed-mouth smile that managed to poke through his lips

“you’re a dick,” he snorted, flicking your forehead

“but your dick is amazing.”

he paused

“you can’t respond with a compliment,” tom frowned, “that defeats the whole purpose.”

“what purpose?”

“the purpose of arguing.”

“we’re arguing?”

another silence

“you’re so difficult.”

“i know,” you smiled. “that’s why you love me.”

you reached up to press a kiss to tom’s forehead that was hovering over yours, eyes crinkling and nose scrunching up with unadulterated happiness

tom beamed and he could barely wait any longer

it took all of his self control to just

hold

for

minute

he had told you that he loved you so many times since the start of your relationship but its never held the proper amount of genuinity he would’ve liked it to hold

which is why he’s going to do it

... now

like, right now

wait

his heart pounded and hammered inside his chest and his pupils dilated

he really hoped you couldn’t feel the erratic beating of his heart

and tom frowned because that’s absolutely absurd, he can’t be this nervous around a girl he’s been dating for months

...right?

maybe?

yeah, probably

yeah

he unconsciously bit his lip and furrowed his eyebrows

and refrained from noticing how analytical you were being of his mannerisms

you frowned and reached out a hand to tuck an unruly strand of hair behind his ear

“you okay, tom?” you asked, concerned, leaning forward to connect your forehead to his

you closed your eyes and breathed steadily but tom wasn’t feeling the same contentedness as you

he instead felt a surge of warmth come from your body at the simple touch and couldn’t believe how flustered he was getting from something so simple

hell, you two literally just had sex not even twenty-four hours ago and he didn’t know why he was being so weird

so, he instead opted for a shaky laugh

“no, no - i’m fine,” he assured, smiling tightly, but at the way his voice cracked as soon as it passed his lips he grimaced

god that’s painful

but, you knew he was acting off

you frowned

“tom,” you said, “what’s up?”

it was simple, but there was a threatening edge to your voice

you raised an eyebrow an awaited his reply

and jesus - he looked conflicted

his eyes looked as if they were telling two completely different stories and you could see them flicker back and forth in some unsolicited squabble

you cupped his face with your hands and frowned again

“tom,” you repeated, more sternly this time, “are you okay?”

“nothingjustiloveyouandireallywanttomeanitandidontwanttoruinit.”

a small stunned silence passed

but, seconds later, a genuine smile broke out onto your face

you laughed

“you’re my perfect little peter parker,” you beamed. “act just like him.”

tom flushed and a speckling of colour rose onto his freckled cheeks

“i know i act like an awkward teenager, no need to tell me,” he grumbled, though his words were lighthearted because he had finally just gotten it off his chest

his admission

he didn’t know if you understood or not - his words were spoken inhumanly fast - but he did do it in the first place, which did help

“but - tom?” you spoke, gaze softening as you began rubbing small circles with your thumb onto his cheekbone

“yes?”

“i love you too.”

tags: just taggin’ a bunch of mutuals :)

@quackeroos @chaoticpete @parkersbliss @holedflaws @eridanuswave @lost-space-ranger @andromedaaaaaaaaa

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