#tom!spiderman x male reader

[rowniebow]

Fic where Peter and reader are already dating and Peter is distant because of his obvious job which leaves reader hurt and angry and starts becoming distant and detached with Peter which causes Peter to get mad and then they fight and peter blurts out “are you cheating on me?” Which causes reader to get furious and start yelling which catches peter off guard and reader leaves, can take the story where you want past this. sorry if this is long and confusing or doesn’t make sense (Tom or andrews pete but you can do Tom if it really matters) ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

it can be okay | tom!peter parker x gn!reader

pairings: tom!peter parker x gn!reader

cw: littol bit o angst but not much

word count: 3.4k+

an: went with tom's because i've yet to write abt his peter but i feel like he was left with so much turmoil after no way home, his peter fits well with this prompt...... ANYWAY thank you so much for requesting and i apologize for my absence, esp if u were waiting around for this ! i appreciate you, please stay safe! sry 4 long an

masterlist

⭒

you felt an arm wrap around your waist. warmth and pressure spread over your back. you flipped around to wrap your own arms around the man that had climbed into bed with you.

"sorry," his breath found its way to your ear and pulled the hair on your spine up. his quiet whisper held gravel in the smooth concrete of his voice. "did i wake you up?"

"yeah, i'm glad."

"oh, good. i'm glad i woke you, too. get more time to hear your voice."

you hummed, sleep fighting your coherent words.

"how was your day?"

"it was fine. i missed you for our movie night."

petter stuttered out several different sounds, none of them making any real words.

your eyebrows twitched at his struggle.

"i-i'm so sorry, sweetheart, i completely forgot. i-i-i-i got so caught up with homework i didn't even think... it's that stupid biology class! i always have so much reading to do for it.

"yeah, it's okay," you moved closer to him, desperate for as much of his warmth as possible. "school is more important than movies! let me know next time, though."

"of course," he kissed the top of your head. he lingered with an exaggerated 'mwah'. "i'm so sorry, sweetheart."

you hummed and slurred out a reassurance.

"go back to sleep now, sweets."

and it was okay.

⭒⭒

everything was so much louder when he wasn’t around.

the fridge’s song sung by instruments of kinetic energy hummed at the back of your head. the calm air against the glass window was practically visible with how loud it was. the dust that settled on the marble kitchen countertops and sunk it’s way into the fabric of your couch crunched and stretched the fibers of the masses. you couldn’t seem to turn the television up much higher than seven (you hoped the number might bring you luck to bring the man home).

sure, he’s missed nights that were supposed to be set aside for you two and his favorite star wars films. yes, you’ve noticed how he’s missed more than a few fairly important tests for his classes, causing him to fail (he was beginning to fall fairly far behind in his degree, but you weren’t going to comment on that. not yet, anyway).

but, he’d yet to miss out on a date.

he had yet to leave you waiting at your favorite shitty twenty-four hour diner in the middle of new york that was a forty minute walk from your apartment.

you wouldn’t deny to anyone other than peter that it bothered you a bit. your lip was raw and crumbs from a sad, newly empty plate of fries dusted your nicest clothes that you had put on just for him. your eyes wore heavy bags from how late you stayed up in hope that maybe he was just running a bit late.

however, when a bit late had become two in the morning, you gave up hope on that.

you looked outside at the nearly visible air and listened to the chill of the early morning crack at your window after you arrived back at your empty apartment at nearly three in the morning. you listened to the distant wind against the quickly moving vehicles. you listened to the retreating caw from a bird that didn’t sound like any you’d heard before. you listened to the dust float through the air and the television hum despite it being off. you listened to the deafening silence of the room and your mind.

cold three in the morning apartment air hit the back of your throat as you brought as much of the toxic oxygen into your lungs as you possibly could, and released it to be filtered and given to some other poor abandoned soul.

it was okay.

you understood his forgetful habits. you understood why he slept in and took so many naps. he has a lot on his plate. juggling school, and work, and the family issues that he’s mentioned from time to time.

it is okay.

maybe next time.

⭒⭒⭒

waking up alone after a warm night with peter seemed to hurt more than the missing arrangements.

the apartment's chill leaked under the blankets and burned your skin until you awoke. the emptiness of the space next to you in your bed was a sad physical representation of the emptiness in your gut.

the hole in your stomach that you awake with absorbs all the cereal you eat and leaves you feeling hungry for the rest of the day. it absorbs your joy and hope. it absorbs the warmth in your body (and especially in your smile).

your days are filled with sighs when you wake up with the hole of peter. with those deep exhales, you hope to breath out whatever haunts your stomach.

it sticks with you until the end of the day when you fall asleep alone. peter will climb in after you in the depths of the night and the ocean of your sheets. he'll whisper sweet nothings into your ear. he'll apologize if need be. he'll pepper you with kisses and hold you close.

and you'll be okay.

then he'll do it all over again.

⭒⭒⭒⭒

it just so happened to be next time.

he promised to make the last time up to you and promised to see you the next friday night for dinner.

so there you sat, leg bouncing under the table at a restaurant that was all too fancy for your taste but peter had insisted on.

you were on your third glass of an odd color wine (that really didn’t even taste good) and you were nearing the second hour of waiting.

“would you like to order yet, sir?” the waiter asked for the fifth time that night.

perhaps it was the alcohol that brought a sting to your eyes when you checked the time on your phone. but you smiled and shook your head and asked for the check instead.

looking at the number on the check, you nearly sobbed at how much three glasses of wine cost you. but you sighed and gave an eighty percent tip anyway as reparations for the waiter having to pity you all night. you almost sobbed, again, when you could hear a couple that had gotten there after you comment to one another about how long you’d been there.

cheeks warm with embarrassment, you made your way back to your apartment. the chill of the late night spring mildly helped cool you down.

the pity in the waiter's eyes and the couple's comments haunted you all the way home. only when you undressed into your sleep clothes and climbed under the covers could you manage to excuse peter's actions.

peter must have simply gotten caught up in homework. he must have just fallen asleep.

it's okay.

perhaps he got the days mixed up and forgot it was friday. or he got his hours for work wrong and he ended up having to work.

it is okay.

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

you truly didn’t mean to lean away from his kiss when peter tried to wish you goodbye that evening.

but you did.

you leaned away as if it were a stranger that was trying to kiss you. you truly didn’t mean to. you also knew that you truly felt as though it was a stranger trying to kiss you, though.

you knew it hurt him. quite honestly it hurt you, too. whether it was the pain in his features that hurt you or the fact that you felt that way.

either way, your actions hurt the both of you, and you knew you should apologize. you nearly did right then and there.

"are you cheating on me?" the quiet whispers of words that he choked out hit you like lightning. the frown in his lips and the way he avoided your eyes made your heart crack before you could process the words he spoke. his broken voice distracted you from the content it delivered.

you felt your eyebrows pull together at first. you felt the apology creep in your throat and nearly spill out.

his hurt was a new language for you to learn. it forced you to think over each word and remember the meaning of it similar to how you did in spanish class in high school.

and as the syllables set in and your brain wrapped itself through the vowels and consonants, you scoffed. maybe even laughed.

did he really just say that? did he truly feel like he had the nerve to say that?

"am i cheating on you?" a glare made itself comfortable in your features.

it's not okay.

"...no?" peter’s stuttered, hesitant disagreement made his regret in his words clear. but how could you just brush over his accusation?

"peter parker, i should be asking you that question."

"wha-what do you mean?"

"you're the one who's hardly fucking here. you’re the one that’s left me waiting until the morning for you to come around. you’re the one who ‘forgets’ anytime we agree to hang out.”

it is not okay.

“i-i didn’t-,”

“‘you didn’t’ what? remember? show up?”

his silence was as loud as it is when he’s gone.

“where are you all day, peter?”

so

“where are you at night?”

fucking

“where are you right now. are you even here?”

loud.

“get out.”

“what? no - no, please, y/n, you gotta trust me on this.”

nothing is okay.

“i trusted you to be here!”

“i know, and i’m so sorry, but - ah - i can’t tell you. you just-just gotta trust me!”

“no, peter!”

“please, i’ll make it up to you, i swear!”

“you’ve had plenty of chances for that.”

“c’mon, y/n,”

“no! even if you’re not cheating on me, you obviously don’t have time for me!”

“i’ll make time for you,”

“you really should have already been doing that.”

“i’ll make more time for you!”

“you don’t get more time in a day, and you’re not getting anymore from me, parker. christ- are you going to leave?"

"no! y/n, please, let me make this right, i-i can't lose you, too."

"fuck. i will leave then, jesus!"

"what?"

you slipped your shoes on, ignoring his words.

peter called your name as you opened the door.

"goodnight, peter."

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

you stayed at your parents house for a couple nights then came back to your empty apartment. the silence wasn't as loud as it normally was, but the intensity of the emptiness, both in the apartment and in the pit of your stomach, made up for the lack of overbearing volume.

you went about your life for two whole weeks with that emptiness haunting you. not a word from peter. about anything.

you went to your classes, studied in your room, went to work, came back and went to sleep: the college dream.

you hardly even noticed two weeks had passed with the way you had just been floating through the days.

with your mind blank without the joy and excitement of peter parker in your life, you filled it with the words from your humanities textbook to prepare for a final.

the jiggling of your apartment doorknob cut through the sound of the words in your head. your eyes immediately went wide. the air became thick as you heard the door squeak open slowly but surely.

your breath was stuck in your throat, but you found it in you to pick up your heavy textbook to toss if you needed.

you listened to the door creek shut and click closed.

perhaps someone just mistook your apartment for their own? maybe a new neighbor who's mixing it up? you're sure it's just a simple mistake and not some horrible, evil, scary, stronger-than-you criminal who wants to steal the little bits of items you have. certainly they won't murder you brutally, or kidnap you and sell you.

certainly not, right?

your mind ran wild with what-if's and dangers of the situation. what else was there to do in the face of danger, though? hide under your blankets and hope they don't come in?

no, you'd at least like to look death in the face before you go.

that didn't stop your racing heart and shaking hands, of course.

so you crept around your door frame and down the small hall that lead to your tiny living room. you could hear the person rattling through your pots and pans.

you stood behind the corner, telling yourself it'd be fine.

you can do it. just go and ask what's going on. you're sure this is probably just some huge mix up.

"hah!" you huffed as you turn the corner and toss the heavy book at the person.

they immediately turn around and catch the flying pages. your heart drops to your stomach. your only weapon failed.

"y/n? i didn't know you were home!"

your heart manages to repair itself in your chest as the voice and face process in your mind. "peter?" you practically shriek. "what are you doing here?" a breath (that you were fully aware you had been holding) left your lungs, your hands finding their way to cover your face from the stress.

"i-i-i didn't know you'd be home, i'm sorry,"

"so you sneak into my apartment when i'm not home?" the glare you sent him reminded him how snappy you get when you're upset.

"no, no, no, no, no-!"

your questioning glare had him pause his denial.

"well, yes,"

you groaned.

"but listen!"

"i don't want to listen to you when you just broke into my house, peter!"

"well, the door was open-,"

another groan.

"okay, yeah, i can...see...that..."

"leave, peter!"

"wait, wait, wait! okay, listen," he took a deep breath. "i can explain myself-,"

"which part: when you forgot about me constantly or when you broke into my house?"

"all of it! i can explain and i just want you to know that i haven't been telling you for your own safety."

"what the fuck are you talking about?"

"just-just come with me."

"where?"

"it's a surprise!" his apologetic smile willed you to trust him.

you stared at him. his waves framed his face - his hair seemed to grow a lot in the last two weeks. his eyes were a whirlpool that sucked you in.

"jesus, peter." you shook your head, but found some shoes and a jacket to slip on anyway. the bright smile on peter's face made you want to forget about everything.

you followed him down the stairs to the quiet, three in the morning college town streets on a tuesday.

"how far away is it?" you asked. your eyes followed a plane as it blinked through the sky.

"kind of far," he moved in front of you to block your path. "but," he sung his vowel. "i know a quicker way to get there!"

"do we need to take the subway-?" you looked around, only for peter to wrap an arm around your waist. "what-?"

"it's going to be a little scary but you gotta trust me."

"what are you doing, pete?"

"you gotta hold on okay?" he guided your arms around his neck. "trust me, okay?" his sweet enchanting smile encouraged you to trust him despite everything. that didn't stop the groove between your brows from forming, though.

"what-?"

and you were in the air. screaming, obviously. you could hear his reassurance and apologies, willing you to keep holding on.

after several minutes of being in the air and coming to the consensus that you wouldn't fall even if you tried with peter's death grip on you, you took a glance around at your setting.

the street was far below you. cars and lights from down below smiled up and laughed at your fear. apartments on the thirtieth floors were eye level but passed so fast that you couldn't see who resided in them.

"isn't it nice?" peter whispered. he was your only lifeline; the only thing keeping you from falling to your death. "it's so peaceful up here." his quiet words didn't calm your racing heart or sooth your stressed features, but it brought you to stay present until your feet hit the solid ground again.

your legs shook you until your knees met the surface you stood on.

"sorry-,"

"what was that, parker?" you sparse breath made your voice come out as merely a squeak but peter knew all too well that you would be screaming at the top of your lungs if you could.

"it- well- i- uhm," the wind helped you push yourself off of your knees and back to sitting like a normal person rather than someone who thought their feet wouldn't ever touch the ground again. "i'm not really sure how to say this i-i-,"

"peter, i swear to god-,"

"i'm spider-man!" you looked up at his avoiding eyes that were as wide as yours. as if he couldn't believe he actually said that.

"excuse me?" you said after several moments of silence passed.

"i-i'm spider-man," his quiet voice was nearly drowned out by the blowing wind.

you laughed.

his eye brows came together in frustration. "why are you laughing?"

"you're not spider-man."

"i just swung us to the top of central park tower and you're going to deny that i'm spider-man?"

your smile slowly faded as you noticed where you were. that he was right. you were among the stars, the moon within inches of your fingers. the street glowed up at you, laughing once more. the usual honking screams from the cars could not be heard from how high you were. all you could hear was the growl of the wind and peter's shy voice.

"oh my god,"

"no-no, don't freak out!"

"i'm not freaking out, i never freak out. you're just spider-man and that's a thing and we're on top of the central park tower and i could totally fall right now but i'm not freaking out."

you were freaking out.

"doesn't spider-man have webs or something?"

peter stuck out his hand, and a white web came tumbling out after your hand that rested on the ground you still sat on. he tugged at the string that stuck itself to your hand and pulled you up with it. you stumbled into him, his hands steadying your shaking.

"that's insane."

"i know, and i'm so sorry. between juggling school and work and this, it's really difficult to keep track of everything. this doesn't have a schedule and gets in the way of you a lot more than i'd like it to."

"i-i guess i get why you didn't tell me."

a breath left through peter's lips. "i-i put together this as an apology, though." he motioned behind you to yet another thing you didn't notice throughout the stress of it all.

a blanket laid out with food from your favorite take out place scattered all over it. small electric candles flickered around the setting providing as the only light that wasn't coming from the city down below along with his laptop that was glowing and set up to browse through netflix for something to watch.

"i'm really sorry. i'm sorry i'm never there. i'm sorry it's taken me so long to see you again. i'm most of all sorry that i can't change it."

your eyes met his once again.

"if how i am is too much for you, i completely understand. you deserve someone who will treat you as good as you deserve and who will show up. but i want you to know that i miss you, and love you, and i will keep trying so hard to show up."

"you love me?"

"i-i-," peter's sure eyes suddenly fell to the floor and his hands found the back of his neck. "i mean, yeah," he stuttered. "but like it's okay, like, i get it, you know? i don't-,"

all the fears of being at the top of the central park tower and dating spider-man and what it means to date spider-man left you mind. all you could think about was how much you really did love peter despite his absent habits. maybe even more so now that you knew this huge secret and what that secret told about him as a person.

so you kissed him.

the heavenly feeling of his lips was something you didn't know you missed as much as you did. as soon as your lips met, tears pricked themselves at your eyes but you refused to let them fall.

you were okay.

peter was okay.

you were both okay.

it was all okay.

⭒ taglist ⭒

@fadedver @1ischai @djmalik52 @garlicforthewin @cryinked @armand0alg0 @softboi14

please dm me if you would like to be taken off of the taglist

[justice-maul]

Can I request Tom's peter parker x male reader

Peter hasn't seen his bf for a while and when they finally meet they try to have sex and make out but are getting interrupted by the avengers every single time. Getting Peter annoyed little by little until he finally reaches his limits and tells the avengers to leave them alone since he is going to get fucked by his bf and doesn't want any interruptions

With a breeding kink, eating out peters ass, playing with peters pecs, praising kink

Thanks :)

«Temptation» Tom!Peter Parker x Top Avenger Male Reader

Word count: 1,366

Author Note: thank you anon I love this request so far it’s one of my favs! English isn’t my first language!

WE WERE JUST AT 400 A FEW DAYS AGO AND NOW I HAVE NEAR 800 FOLLOWERS?!?! YALL ARE THE BEST I LITERALLY LOVE YOU GUYS SO MUCH ❤️

Warning(s)⚠: Sub Peter, breeding, rim job, breast/pec play, nipple play, p in a, and of course, praise

It’s been so long since Peter has seen let alone touched his boyfriend, with the constant missions you two weren’t able to do anything together but finally, you two were both free and he was desperate to just feel you…

You two were in his room on the bed with Peter in your lap straddling your waist, his hands rested on your shoulders, your lips on his just as desperate to taste him as he was eager, you gently sucked his lip between your teeth, nipping at his bottom lip signaling him to open his mouth just enough for your tongue to slide into his warm wet mouth

But suddenly there’s a knock on the door and both of you are forced to pull away as Tony comes in to grab Peter for yet another time-consuming project, and it wasn’t the first time the Avengers had cock blocked both of you

Last week you were on top of him your hands trailed down his pants and felt up the fat of his ass as he let out a soft noise of pleasure in your mouth before Sam sent you a text to help him train. After a mission, Peter and you were desperate to feel each other as he palmed your cock but Steve sent out a message to all the Avengers for a long meeting

You can see that it was starting to get to Peter so one day as you two were on your couch in your bedroom you gently gripped his thigh moving your hand deeper in between as you began to kiss his neck in order to calm down his nerves, he let out a little whine as he’s been needy to just feel any sexual contact these past few weeks

Your lips gently sucked on his neck, pressing in hickeys to his skin as you began to leave light bites along his nape letting your teeth graze his skin causing him to let out louder noises but just as your hand moved to his pants one by one the avengers all came into the room

You saw Peter’s hands clench into fists as he watched all the Avengers swarm into your room and began to talk as if you two weren’t even there trying to spend time together alone and he couldn’t help but just snap, finally reaching his limit and stood up

“All of you, get out NOW!”

He yelled, it was unusual to see Peter yelling at anyone but it was clear he was pissed. “You have been bothering us all week can’t you leave for one day?!” He snapped and slowly the Avengers began to leave and he slammed the door shut behind them making it clear that he didn’t want anyone to disturb him

He let out a sigh of relief and turned back to you and you couldn’t help but just chuckle and you grab his waist pulling him in against your body and smashing your lips against his and soon you two were on the couch again making out, your hands snaked up his sweater lifting up right above his chest and began to gently grope his pecs

"Your body's so beautiful baby" You whispered against his lips causing him to shudder as your hands felt up his pecs gently squeezing and groping the fat, Peter was always incredibly sensitive and his chest was one of his weakest areas, especially his pink little buds

You pushed him against the couch getting in between his thighs as you began to grope his chest, feeling the supple skin against your fingers through his sweater was already driving you crazy and causing him to make the most pornographic noises only by you just you barely touching his chest

“Keep making those pretty noises for me sweetheart," you manhandled him on his knees with his ass raised in the air and removed both his pants and underwear, his sweater being the only piece of clothing left. He hid his face on the armrest as you grabbed handfuls of his cheeks

You waste no time in spreading his plump ass making his pink hole twitch as your breath fans over it jerking forward when you press your tongue flat against his rim and you began to take long strips along his hole making him whine pathetically which turned into a string of cusses as you pushed your tongue inside his slick heat

You can barely make out anything he was babbling but you continued to fuck his hole with your tongue, pulling back for a moment, you licked your own fingers, coating them in saliva before pushing two inside of his heat, your tongue joining them, spreading him open while enjoying the way he arched his back against your face

Your cock throbbed and harden between your legs, leaking precum into your boxers as it begged for attention when you finally were able to scissor and put three fingers inside him, is when you decided he was ready and pulled your fingers out of his cunt unbuckling your belt

When Peter saw you pull out your hardening length he felt a wave of nervousness and excitement coursing through him as you gently flipped him over on his back. Slowly, you began pushing into him inch by inch, “You're taking me in so well Peter, just relax for me baby, I’ll always take care of you,” you continued to praise him even as you bottomed out letting him adjust to your size

“I’m ready… you can start moving now…” he said nervously but you both knew when it came down to it he wasn’t shy about wanting your cock at all “Fuck, you feel so good,” you groaned feeling his tightness wrap around you, you began moving slowly inside of him his eyes locked in yours the entire time as you made love to him

“You’re so fucking beautiful Pete,” you added, your voice full of praise making him moan softly “I can’t believe I get to be with you like this…” Wordlessly, Peter pulled you into a passionate, heated kiss. You moaned into his mouth feeling your passion for him growing with each passing moment.

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer as you continued to thrust into his sloppy hole. "Fuck, baby, you're so fucking sexy," you whispered against his lips making him whimper. "I can't get enough of you." You deepened the kiss, your tongue tangling with his. Peter’s brain turning to mush as he whispered “I love you” over and over again, against your lips

“I love you too baby, M’gonna fill you up so fucking good, gonna make you mine…” your voice thick with lust as you began to thrust harder and faster, slamming your body into his with each movement making him babble and moan loudly from your length dragging along his heat

“Come on baby, let me hear you scream,” you added with your eyes locked on his “Let me hear how much you want it.” He yelled out wordless moans, screaming for your cock so loudly there was no way the Avengers hadn’t heard you two now but neither of you cared at the moment

Your hips moved faster, fucking into him relentlessly “Gonna cum, gonna cum, f-fuck!” You felt him tighten around your hardness making you groan loudly as he screamed, your thrusts becoming sloppy as you both came together, feeling your cum gushing out of your cock filling him up, and his shooting out over his own stomach

“Feel so full…” he said breathlessly, you put a hand over his lower abdomen and pulled out, watching as his cum seeped out of his messy hole, “That was just what I needed,” he said panting and resting his head on the armrest as you chuckled and gently helped him to the shower to get you both cleaned up.

Let’s just say when you guys both came out of your room no one made eye contact and made sure to always ask you two if you were busy before bothering either of you, some of the Avengers made jokes about it (especially Tony) and every time they did Peter would groan and hide us head in his hands making you laugh

If you want more… check out my Masterlist

[supercap2319]

Peter: "The kitchen doesn't have any snacks!"

Y/N: *Who is drinking a Capri Sun* "What are you talking about? I'm right here. The best snack in the whole kitchen is standing before you. Bow, peasant."

[nouearth]

12 Months

peter parker x male reader.

series: 12 Months. part i.

summary: where you couldn't possibly imagine to find love and sanctuary anywhere else, you somehow find it in the presence of a boy named peter.

wc: 4.3k. genre: angst. warnings: loner!reader, sad!reader, implied abuse, implied bullying, high school senior year, slow-burn.

a/n: i'm trying something new with my writing! mostly not using all lowercase because it became a pain to type on my phone, LOL. but i welcome you guys to my fully planned series! it's exciting, but especially kind of scary since school is coming up. i might put off requests to focus on this, if it does well, but if not, i'll slowly update. i guess the reader kind of hits close to home, a little too close, since i've been feeling some type of way recently. nonetheless, i hope you enjoy the first part!

SEPTEMBER.

The big hand of the clock flicked closer to the end of the day, the small hand circling around the circumference to pass time. 

Conversations of peers were usually drowned out with the help of your earbuds. The gentle strum of acoustics would counter the excitement of the students’ well-being; friends opinionated in after-school activities, athletes talked about the upcoming game with your rival school, artists boasted over the amount of commissions they’ve received overnight.

For the first time, you heard it all, and took it all in with an inhale, then silence as you stared at Peter Parker. The earbuds were slotted into your ear canals, but today, the wired nubs were worn to merely dull your surroundings as you awaited the intercom to bid the occupants of the building farewell for the day. Your leg shook, bouncing your book bag atop of it, and you held it steady when you hugged it close to your chest, chin resting at the strap. It appeased the throttle in your chest, but every time the classmate opened his mouth for a laugh, it swelled painfully larger. A pump to the husk of a balloon, a breath to the bubble of blue raspberry bubblegum, a vapor to the particles of billowed smoke, it continued swelling and roped your anxiety along for the journey. A part of you needed to talk to him, but the other part begged for reconsideration. 

At some point, you forgot to breathe. Feeling blue in the cheeks, you finally exhaled the caught nerves. They drew out of you in shivers, spaghetti boiling in bubbling water if the warmth of your breath could change matter. While the man listened, then talked within his small group of friends, chairs and desks were gathered around to form a circle, you examined him cautiously. If Peter was to turn his head and meet the affection in your gaze, you were lucky to have the window by your side to turn back to, feigning interest in the clouds, the sky, the breeze in the trees. Until then, his smile unmasked pearly whites that rivaled the lights that illuminated the classroom. His russet hair was pushed back, wavy locks that were brushed simply so people could easily follow the pattern with one glance. 

“Gooooood Afternoon, Midtown!” The intercom blared, and a warning from your teacher hushed your classmates into a sea of scatters. “Before we send you kiddos off, we would like to remind all of you that the Midtown Tigers will be playing against Weston’s Sea Hawks tonight! Show your support by attending the game and cheering for our team. Let’s show those dirty hawks that tonight will be the night that we can bounce back from our 18th consecutive loss!” It continued with its usual announcements of bus delays and afternoon activities before finally blaring that cathartic bell.

Footsteps crowded the halls, and your classmates joined its symphony in heavy to light strides. While you watched, your pace slowed deliberately as Peter’s friends bid him farewell. You overheard them asking him if he was going to join them in the mall, but he declined, blaming his absence on his aunt. They left one by one, until the only occupants were you, your teacher, and Peter.

“Peter?” You were up on your feet, approaching him from the back of the classroom as you slung the bag over your shoulder. Your voice cracked from the parched of your throat, mousy in performance, and you were unsure if Peter heard you. Your mouth opened again to call to him again, but he turned with a friendly smile, raising his brows in interest, and they closed.

“Oh, hey!” His face lit up when he saw you, or maybe you were convincing yourself. Not even your reflection looked at you the way Peter did. You were even surprised he recognized you. Cared to remember you. He hurriedly threw his books into his backpack before swinging it over his shoulder, meeting you in the middle of the row of desks. “What’s up?”

“I…” You’ve only spoken to him twice. The first was a mere greeting, and the second was a painful answer to his worry. 

Are you okay? Yes.

The beating in your chest hiked in rhythms, compelled gravity to rob your voice, but you were conscious enough to steal it back, softly speaking. “I just want to thank you for… last year. I never got to… properly thank you. So, thank you…” You were intoxicated by the amount of times you said those appreciative words, but gratitude sobered you up, offering the latter a small, grateful smile. 

“Oh…” The smile on Peter’s face simmered into a relieved line. He then nodded towards the door for you to follow him, and you did, silently by his side. “You don’t have to thank me, (M/N). I did what anyone would do.”

Everyone let it happened, except for you.

The hallway was quick to clear as students rushed to spend the remaining hours of their Friday without any regrets. The silence was deafening except for the squeak of your shoes and the whispered gossip between faculty members, and for a place you often labeled as your personal hell, it wasn’t so bad when it was purged of those that spawned that definition in your life.

Maybe you were walking slower, or you were keeping with Peter’s pace, or the hallways had undergone construction to stretch the floors, or the awkward silence between the both of you that blurred your perception, but the travel from your classroom to the exit of the building was a journey.

“Is he still bothering you? I don’t know if he’s in your other classes, but he’s not in mine, so…” Peter spoke up, alluding to the classmate who called you disgusting names, shoved your books to the floor, stole the change of your clothes during gym. And you wished it would stop there, at the actions of the cliché bully trope, but it never did. He pushed the door open, politely letting you out first, and you stepped into the warmth with a small thank you,’ and continued walking with him. Summer cicadas harmonized in their greeting.

“No, not anymore.” You lied, dropping that hand that once held onto the padded straps of your backpack to your side. The dark color of your pants masked the bruise on your wrist when you shoved it deep into your pocket. “I have him in a few of my classes, but luckily he’s preoccupied with his friends.”

“Geez, you got his friends too? That’s… gotta be a loud classroom.” He laughed, and you joined in to delude yourself, and Peter, into thinking everything was okay.  

The sound of multiple engines running within the yellow busses reminded you how incredibly enamored you were with Peter. By now, motors would’ve been buried by earbuds, and the walk wouldn’t have been so deafening to your ear canals. But hearing Peter’s voice soothed the damage, and you wished you had a playlist of him saying your favorite words, reading your favorite novels, rescuing you with worried comfort. You wanted to continue the conversation, change the subject, but you never knew how, so it fell to silence. Again.

“I’ll see you around, Peter.” You spoke softly again, paused when you and Peter reached the end of the sidewalk. You were familiar with Peter’s route. He lived in the opposite side of your street, and the curved path to the right practically led him back to his apartment. All he had to do was follow the beige pavement. “…and thank you, again. It means a lot.” A genuine smile, one that you haven’t been able to sprout for weeks, months you could argue, and Peter’s breath hiked.

“Of course…” It took his breath away. The cloudy day was drawing in the last of its colors, but the rare hint of your teeth, the curve of your lips, made the sky above him, behind you, bloom in the softest blues, yellows, and whites. Selfishly, he wished you smiled more, because the release that was pulled from him evened the astonishment of a child seeing stars for the very first time. 

“I’ll see you around, (M/N).”

OCTOBER.

The workload in your classes had picked up, and with the part-time job at the local bookstore, you were envious of customers who had finished their backlog of novels. Mainly working adults. Still, there was never enough hours in the day to immerse yourself in the world of a brave protagonist, slaying off demons and dragons in the pursuit of love. You never got to finish the fantasy novel you were reading, but you’d imagine it ended with the hero beheading the fire-breathing behemoth, and its head would be pridefully worn on a stick like cotton candy. Cheers erupted when the character returned, then roared when their love blessed them with one thankful kiss.

The ladder was anchored to the wooden, though creaky, floors as you held your breath from inhaling dust. When the door was pushed open by curious passersby, particles of dust sailed with the draft that was invited in, and you coughed into the crook of your arm whenever one floated into your throat. Though, you couldn’t be too annoyed. It also provided a test to see if the Halloween decorations could withstand the wind as they sat on hooks that were nailed into the ceilings. Spirals of orange and black ribbons roped cartoonish gravestones, black cats, pumpkins, skulls, ghouls, all the mascots of the holiday, from above. The draft animated them in gentle swings, delicate arcs that cooled the confined space of the bookstore, but as far as you could tell, none of them had landed on the ground.

“Looks great, (M/N)! I think we’re good on the hanging decorations!” Your manager, Anna, gave the metal ladder a strong pat before tending to the fallen dust. It shook in fear, and you did too, immediately clutching to the fly to stabilize it.

“Any else? We still haven’t decorated the windows.” You climbed down cautiously, making sure she was in your line of sight because for all you could know, she could be an omen.

“The stick on the ones I got suck, so I was thinking that we’ll decorate it on Halloween? Before opening?” She said, opening the door after to sweep out the culprits of your coughing fits. 

“Sounds good.” You collapsed the extension of the ladder once you stepped off, folding it into a thicker shape, and nodded before returning the ladder to its rightful place in the storage room.

“Doing anything fun for Halloween?! Parties?!” Anna’s voice boomed despite the door muffling it. The natural luminous of her voice was something you usually cowered away from, especially when she called for you in front of customers. Luckily, the store was closed, vacant of any witnesses to the flare of your cheeks. Cardboard boxes stacked atop of one another, and for some reason, you were suddenly determined to face your procrastination head-on. “Horror movies?!”

“Uh…” The volume of your voice was still muted despite forcing yourself to make it sonorous. It came out in staggered breaths as you flattened the boxes with your weight, stepping on them at the crease and fold, until you were able to fold them into neat, flat shapes. “Not really! I usually don’t do anything for celebrations.”

“Seriously?” The sound of sweeps came closer to you. They sounded like laughs, almost as if they were mocking you. When you looked up, it was Anna’s fretted expression that reminded you that they were just sounds. No one was here to hurt you. Laugh at you. 

It was just you and Anna. And sounds.

“Mm-hmm.” You simply answered, packing the flattened boxes into a trash bag before storing it back to where the stack previously harbored. The room felt bigger now. You exited after switching off the lights, and took Anna’s broom to sweep up the fuzzy stray materials of cardboard. 

“How come?” Her shoulder supported her leaning stance as she pressed to the wall, watching you diligently work with crossed arms. She gasped out of realization. “Oh no—did something horrible happen on Halloween? Is that why you don’t celebrate?!”

“No, nothing like that!” You laughed. It was always genuine with her. Anna was at least twenty years older than you, but she still kept the youthfulness of a child. You were envious of it. 

“I just…” Big sweeps to walnut flooring kept your mind at ease. The thick hairs brushed evenly, catching lint in the hay. They clung protectively onto the strands the more you brushed, the harder as well. It reminded you of nights, lonesome in your bed. No matter how hard you tried to remove those pesky lints, they always stayed. Always found a way to intrude. “—don’t have parties to go to.”

Nor did you have friends to watch movies with, or a willing family to celebrate with if all plans fell through. It’s been you since you can remember, and you’ve gotten used to it. Though, you’d never admit that to her.

The trail of your voice and the mindless polishing of walnut immediately foiled your discreet speech, but Anna knew better than to prod. From the day you came in for the interview, she remembered the timidness of your slouch, your pattern of speech, your orbs. One could argue that they were nerves, universal tremors one every eighteen year old got when applying for their first job. Then, she trained you. It was just you and her, and the shelves of delicate books. Over the next few weeks, Anna learned that you were as frail as the old spine of donated hardbacks. 

Her knowledge of you only sank surface-deep, barely a scratch or a wound. At one point, she thought it was because of her personality: chipper as a mourning dove, loud as her neighbor’s lawnmower on Sundays, but compared to how she met you five months ago, it delighted her to see progress. Slowly but surely, you opened up to her. She knew your favorite color, your favorite meal, your favorite novel, and she was no longer insecure. There will be a time when she’d meet the root of your soul, and if it took a month, a year, or another, she’d wait.

“Everything okay at school?” She’s been meaning to ask. It was an exciting time for a new business, but incredibly stressful as well. Most never made it after six months, especially within an industry where independent bookstores have become increasingly difficult to sustain with the presence of technology. Anna was just fortunate enough to have seen such quick growth.

Anna took the broom from your hand, stashed it back in the storage room, then guided you to a table for two near the entrance of the store. It was her favorite spot because she loved seeing the wonderment of her customers when they left with the book they couldn’t find anywhere else.

“Yeah,” You quickly answered and offered her a simple smile, devoid of any purpose but to pacify her worries. It worked on your parents, and you liked to think that it worked on Anna as well. “Well, they’re doing some construction in the school gym. I heard that they’re planning to add a room for—“

“That’s great, (M/N), but…” Her arms remained crossed, below her chest, and she nodded to the bruise on your cheek. Purple bloomed high on your cheekbone. Occasionally, it throbbed whenever a draft hit your frail skin. You assumed it was its way to kiss it better, and so you would let it in seek of sating the empty feeling in your stomach. “That. I meant the bruise…”

“Oh—“ Out of instinct, your hand reached up to dab at the purpling skin. Numbed at the first layer, but you pressed deeper, and you hid a jolt with a sudden clear of your throat. “Uh… cat— got me. My mom always said to never play with strays.”

It was a lame excuse and you knew it. Anna did too. Before you could see her face scrunch into a stew of concern, you turned the bruised cheek away and looked to the heights of the sky, out the window, and wished you could fly into the night.

On Halloween, the promotion regarding a sale on donated books, though only paperbacks, if you wore a costume propelled the place to a considerable height. The small size of the store felt even smaller, even more so as Anna’s playlist Halloween music blared in the wall stereo. The sound waves and chatters of excited customers confined you, and you shrunk yourself in corners where it would be coldest. Anna took care of the crowd of patrons, while you assembled the paperbacks in a neatly order within the shelves. 

Anna didn’t expect you to comply in participating in the event of Halloween, so the elation in her face was immediately framed in your mind when she hugged you tight, bruising enough to beckon the former bruise on your cheek to reappear, in your Where’s Waldo outfit. Simple, but you were a simple man.

“Excuse me?” An inquisitive voice tore your focus from arranging the novels in alphabetical order. You were kneeling to fill the lower shelf that was too low for anyone to comfortable browse through, but maintained the position as the crowd seemed to have closed in on you. “Do you know if this book qualifies for the sale, or is it paperback only?”

You looked up through your artificial glasses, and the size of your eyes matched the roundness of your frames when it embarrassingly didn’t take you very long to uncover who was under the layer of green face paint. “Peter?”

“O-oh! (M/N), you work here?” His eyes also widened, but he was sober enough to reach his hand out for you to grab onto. “That’s fitting, I guess. You always went to the library during lunch—I-I mean, not that I watch you or anything. I just— happened to notice…” The heat from your palm jumped onto Peter’s when you held on and pulled yourself to your feet. You weren’t sure what to respond to first, but the closed distance between you and Peter was distracting. A fleeting feeling in your chest, and it still overstays it welcome when you backed a step away. 

Peter’s never been so close to you. He could smell the scent of ocean mist that he likened to previous shopping trips ago. His aunt may would drag him to the nearest retail store and he’d spend every second of the agonizing trip smelling laundry scent boosters while she stocked up on the pantry. He laughed to himself. You seemed like the type to use those.

“Thanks, uh…” You carefully took the hardback in your hand, examining it with several cycles of flips. It was in mint condition. Usually, a poorer state allowed an extra discount. “The sale is only for paperbacks, but…” Your eyes scanned the room. Fewer people now. Anna was still busy entertaining those that came to participate in the costume contest, a sudden endeavor to drive engagement.

“I can make an exception.” There was a swell in Peter’s heart when you gave him a smile, an uncertain small one, but nonetheless, a smile that warmed his insides. He wouldn’t have minded if he had paid full price anyhow, but he also wouldn’t reject the opportunity to save money. 

He followed your steps to the back, away from the engaged crowd, and stilled as you began checking him out. “Just one book?” You looked up, and his lips were already parted as if he was about to say something, but he nodded instead.

Another moment of silence as you took his card after applying the sale to his book, and your fingers drummed to the beat of the music to fill it out, awaiting the receipt to print out. Whenever you had the courage to look at him, he was immersed in the ambiance of the bookstore. Smiling to himself, to Anna, to the laughter of the crowd, and you couldn’t help but hide one yourself, to the ground. When Peter faced you again, you quickly looked away in time, and the receipt rolled out in one smooth motion.

“How are you? Is it always this busy? I’ve never heard of this place.” Peter had a habit of stacking multiple questions with his own observations, with statements, with more questions. Rambles, people would call it. He was attentive, curious, and it all made him the more endearing.

“I’ve been doing okay. Tired, mostly. Miss Wilson’s been keeping me up though.” It was your attempt at a joke, and luckily, it landed when Peter laughed in agreement, elated as if he’d been waiting for the culprit of all-nighters to be of subject.

“Right?!” Peter shook his head when you asked if he wanted a bag, and continued, tucking the book in his armpit when you returned it to him. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. I love her—she’s awesome. But chill out on the essays! An essay about our essays is a task sent from the devil himself.”

A chuckle escaped from your lips, and a wider smile brimmed your face in support. For the first time, you felt compelled to talk, to engage into conversation.  “Yeah, I missed a few deadlines, but she’s pretty lenient with late work, thankfully.”

“Really? I have a feeling it’s because it’s you! You’re probably her favorite student since you always get the right answers when she calls on you.” He laughed again to escape the awkwardness of his compliment. Subtle, but he hoped you took it pridefully.

Peter looked to the side to see if anyone was coming to conclude their purchase for the night, and was delighted to see the hardwood floor left unattended. “Are you doing anything after this? It’s Halloween, so I imagine people are probably out partying or something.”

“I’m not really a party person.” You nodded to assure yourself, mindlessly rearranging the supplies around the desk to avoid the gaze of his eyes. It sucked you in once, couldn’t look back even if you tried. It was only when Peter turned himself away that you were no longer staring into warm chestnuts. “I only dressed like this since I’d probably look a little out of place if I showed up in my usual uniform, haha.”

“You look cu—“ Peter hurriedly cut himself off, frantic before smiling again. “Nice. You look nice.”

“Thank you,” You returned his smile, soft in form. “What about you? Are you doing anything?”

“Well, I’m not a party person either—oh! There’s this new horror movie that came out a week ago! I’ve been dying to see it,” Peter sparked, gently bouncing on his toes as hope frayed within his words. “If you’re free, would you want to watch it with me?”

“Oh—“ For the first time, you had the option to say ‘yes’ or ‘no,’ and for some reason, Peter was always at the crime of your firsts. “W-what time? I’ll have to see if it’s okay with Anna if—“

“Let me see…” Light reflected off of Peter’s faced as he searched on his phone, but a buoyant smile that revealed his teeth shined brighter. “One showing at eight, another at ten, and one final one at midnight!”

“Is… midnight okay?” You hesitantly asked, and Peter brightened.

“Midnight is perfect.”

When you left from work, you didn’t bother to call for your parents. It would’ve gone to voicemail anyhow. Instead, Anna took the excited initiative to drive you to the theater despite your assurance that walking would’ve sufficed.

Nonsense! I’m getting my coat. Hold on! Stay right there!

The mystery of what held the rest of the night for you frightened you to the core. What if everything went downhill from here? What if Peter never showed up? What if this had been a prank all along? During the car ride, you breathed, and breathed, and breathed.

And then, breathed. 

Inhaled.

Blew in one continuous breath.

Inhaled.

Your chest ran steady again.

That night, Peter made you feel normal. As normal as someone like you could be. 

You didn’t plan on getting your fingers buttery, but Peter assured you that his  popcorn wasn’t going to finish itself. You shared your sour gummies in return. Peter jumped when a ghost flew to the screen, and you did the same from his own erratic movements. You watched the film through half-closed eyes, peeking between the cracks of your greasy fingers, prepared to be startled by the sound of a door closing, and you laughed silently to yourself because it was silly when you flinched to a cat scurrying away.

While you focused, the structure of your nose and lips, your entire side profile, were handsomely illuminated by the flickers of the screen and Peter took in the animation of your presence, a behemoth contrast of the you he’d known silently for years; the you that kept to himself, ate at lunch by himself, did group projects by himself, studied in the library by himself, walked home by himself. It was pathetic, many would heckle to their circle of friends. Peter overheard the tease and taunts, and he wanted to defend you in those moments. But he couldn’t, not until he knew you.

When you felt the air thicken, you turned to Peter and his gaze unfurled the heavy cloud between the two of you until it vanished into smoke. It sucked you in; his eyes. And you stared wide-eyed, bewildered and lost in the sea of broken stars the screen illustrated in Peter’s orbs. They twinkled with every cut of the scene, sparkling under the terror of the performer’s haunting, until they no longer didn’t when he turned away. 

Crimson blanched and wilted into his face, radiated even in the dark when you followed and turned back to the screen. You felt your cheeks rivaling in swatch.

For the first time, you weren’t scared. 

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. and if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

[crims0nwritess]

The cat rule

___________________________________________

Peter Parker x Male!Reader

___________________________________________

Summary: Tony needs Peter for a mission, unfortunately he cant go

Warnings: None

Word count: 393

___________________________________________

You were currently asleep, arms thrown around Peters neck and head resting on his chest, Peters arms were wrapped around your torso and his hands were slung up so he could run his fingers through your hair, your legs were tangled together as Peter softly pet your head and listened to your soft snores.

After a while of this, you two relaxing together quietly, Peters phone rang, in an attempt to not wake you up, Peter, in a moment of quick thinking, grabbed one of his web shooters from his nightstand and webbed his phone, that was sitting on a desk on the other side of the room, pulling it towards him and catching it expertly.

"Hello?" He asked quietly as he answered the phone.

"Hey kid, you busy?" Tony asked.

Peter looked down at the sleeping boy on his chest, he pulled the phone back up to his ear and responded.

"Not technically, why?"

"Great, I need you for a mission, me and the old man are in the city and theres a situation, a spidey situation, so get on your suit and meet me at the bank" Tony explained.

"Oooh, no can do" Peter said.

"Excuse me? I thought you said you weren't busy" Tony asked.

"Im not, but, theres another thing, Y/N is currently asleep on top of me, soooo yeah, ask someone else, pretty sure Wandas not doing anything right now" Peter said.

"I asked YOU, Y/N being asleep is not an excuse, now get your goddamn suit on and come here, now" Tony said.

"Hey, lemme ask you a question, do you know the cat rule?" Peter asked.

"The what?" Tony asked.

"The cat rule, if a cat falls asleep on you you're not allowed to move" Peter explained.

"You see, Y/N is like a cat, he hates mondays, likes cuddles, and knocks stuff off of tables, both on accident and on purpose, so, I apply the cat rule to him as well, so, legally, I cant get up and wake him up, which means, I cant help you, sorry old man"

"Peter that is not-"

"Yeah? Uh huh, sorry cant hear you, bye!" Peter said.

"PETER DO NO-" Tony said, cut off as Peter hung up and carefully set his phone on the nightstand, running his hands through Y/N's hair and smiling smugly.

[qsphyxias]

idk if your requests are open but i was wondering if you could write a (tom)peter parker x male reader fluff because i really enjoyed the other ones that you have written 🫶🫶🫶🫶 much love

if you read yaoi and/or bl regularly as a woman, get the fuck out of here!

synopsis ; peter parker x male! reader

warnings ; male (he/him) reader, cussing, (tom holland) peter parker, established relationship

note ; love me some classic peter parker fanfiction - and thank u for requesting!! not sure how long this has been sitting here for whoops

words ; 0.8k +

"Hey, boyfriend." You snickered, hanging your head over him. Multiple strands of hair followed your sudden movement — blocking your view of him, or rather, his view of you.

He looked up at your face and pushed the strands of your hair to the side of your face without thinking much of it. The smile he beamed right back at you made you feel as if he was trying to move away curtains that revealed a most breathtaking view — you, his wonderful boyfriend.

As cheesy as it sounded, the way you looked at him and leaned down made his mind play one of the most righteous theme songs of the Star Wars trilogy. The feeling of your face against his hand, the desire to just hold you and never let go, the heat of his blood rushing everywhere, it was scary. Peter could hardly think straight when you let a small smile shine through your expression, where was he supposed to look? What was he supposed to touch?

As if on instinct, Peter's hands that were once placed on either side of him on the bed, took action and slid up your waist to gain a little bit more control once he saw you close the distance a bit more by resting on your elbows instead of your palms when hovering over Peter.

His grip caught you by surprise, who knew he could be so initiating?

"Is... Is that okay?" He murmured, watching your expression, terrified he was maybe too assertive this time.

He already went through this struggle with where to touch, back when he thought he only liked girls — but now, it's different. Despite all those experiences, It's like he had to relearn everything about the boyfriend world. It's not the same, because this time, he's the one with the boyfriend, not so much the one having to worry about his role as the only boyfriend in the relationship.

And Peter really doesn't want to fuck it up with his boyfriend.

To his shock and awe, you snorted, dismissing all his worries with one single breath.

"Peter, your heart's made of pure gold, isn't it?" You sighed as you fully relaxed into your new boyfriend's arms, letting your arms slide underneath the small of his back and lock softly.

With your eyes closed, and ear against his heart, Peter could comfortably wear his expression of pure exasperation as he settled into your embrace — not having to worry about you reading his face.

"Uh," Peter leaned his head back against the pillows to think, causing his throat to relax under the pressure of gravity — producing a scratchy tone in his larynx, once could only describe it as infatuation-inducing. "Well, maybe. I mean, I let you be my boyfriend, didn't I? I must be a saint!" He joked, a complete 180 to his previous attitude as he attempted to lighten the heavy romantic tension. A smile adorned his face with ease as he looked down at you for a (hopefully) good reaction.

You opened your eyes to playfully glare at him, "I take back what I said; your heart's made of pure lego — it's completely evident."

Peter feigned offence, "Hey, what makes you say that?" getting a bit more comfortable, he rolled over to face you instead of having to crane his neck down, keeping his hands flush against your back throughout.

"The way your joints click and clack, the way you get all stiff and plastic-like when you get nervous, the way you're practically indestructible — not to mention how much space you allow Lego Star Wars to take up in your heart; there's lots of things, Peter. " You laughed near the end of your mini-speech, fiddling with the the collar of Peter's shirt right in front of your point of view.

"And hey, you're basically built like Lego Batman with those 12-pack abs. Not that I'm complaining..." Peter flushed at the blatant flirt directed at his body.

"I did not come here today to be berated, s/o." Peter chose to ignore the last thing you said, "and I do not get 'plastic-like' when I'm nervous." Peter frowned, to which you chuckled.

"You came here because you missed me, be honest." You corrected.

"Well... Yeah, but you don't have to say it out loud." He mumbled, his shy expression breaking into a grin when he saw you smile first.

"Why not? it's true, isn't it?" You closed the distance between the two of you even more, chest-to-chest, stomach-to-stomach, lips-to....

Your eyes fluttered shut as you leaned up to kiss him, shuddering when you felt his hand rub your back with a gentle force, pulling you impossibly closer to him to fully close the distance.

As the two of you kissed, Peter held you close and vowed to himself in his head, to always protect you. Because to protect you, means he'd be protecting precious moments like these.

[clarks-letterman]

lost in reality | perv!peter parker x gender-neutral!reader

a/n — this is not what i usually post! there was going to be more smut but i didn't know how far to go with it, so if anyone wants to see something more extended, let me know! (Peter is a bit of a perv in this but i tried to make him get his comeuppance) gender-neutral, i think

warnings — smut! 18+, some brief facefucking, gore (sorta mild, but don't read if you don't like it!)

summary — Peter uses the reality stone to practice his pickup skills. With such a powerful device at his disposal, what could go wrong?

words — 3.7k

~~~

A mesh of red and blue ambled to the quarters of the Avenger's compound. No rush nor worry affected Peter as he kept one foot light over the other, heading into each step, furthering him down the hallway. It was another neighborhood saved and another day where he would be free from the thoughts of letting his powers go to waste, and his life could finally regress into normalcy for the start of the new day. While he had a kick in his step from how smoothly the night had gone—and how much his mentor acknowledged the fact—Peter felt the need for something a little more caffeinated to help him instead.

As Peter returned from his latest venture, taking no rush to get to his room, you were on your way out of the resident android's room. In your hand, a pad of Stark Industries-branded notepad paper with all but one of the Avengers' coffee orders scribbled down filled it. You would not be in Vision's room with the question of coffee being the reason, something he was physically incapable of drinking, but Wanda frequented the room, and it was likely that she was in there. You were right to assume that, and now, you planned to check the door just further down the hall to see if Peter was around.

It turned out that you did not need to go far; the bright colors of his suit caught your eye the second you stepped out into the corridor. Anything resembling Peter's mood of being on top of the world was gone, and so was that little kick that pushed him further—you could almost see him lose it in his eyes once he saw you, even from afar. You approached him with one thing on your mind, the pen and paper used to record everyone's order at the ready.

"He-," he cleared his throat before lowering the pitch of his voice, "Hey."

"He-," he cleared his throat before lowering the pitch of his voice, "Hey."

"He-," he cleared his throat before lowering the pitch of his voice, "Hey."

There was an awkward silence between the following words until you reminded him by tapping your pen to the side of the notepad to draw his attention to it and speaking up, "Your order?"

"What?" He was already blowing it. Peter glanced down to his red-spandex feet and then back to you, his voice returning to its natural pitch, "Oh, yeah, uh—"

Peter paused. He realized he did not know what he wanted, and while you found the evident attempt to appear cool somewhat endearing, you could have already been heading out to get coffee for everyone by now. Almost by reflex, you started to tap the pen against the nearly completed list of coffee orders ranging from simple menu items to oddly specific modifications to non-existent drinks. And in seconds, the pen slipped from your grasp and unceremoniously landed on the laminate of the hallway floor.

"Shit," you reached down to grab the ballpoint, but Peter stopped you.

"I'll get it."

He attempted to bend over, only to find his hand stuck to the wall. Peter quickly stood straight, subtly tugging his hand away from the wall without tearing a new hand-shaped hole in the plaster and paint. In his panic, Peter's hand stuck itself to the wall, and no matter how hard he tried to pull away from it, his hand wouldn't budge. That left you to get the dropped pen, reaching for it without the trouble of spider-centric powers messing with you.

You looked to Peter, scribbling down his name next to Tony's order, "I'll just get you what Tony gets and leave you alone with your hand. See you later, Peter."

With that, Peter was left alone and sufficiently embarrassed as you strode down the hall, and, finally, his hand let him free once you were gone. He scuttled to his room in a bout of shame and locked the door, heading to his mirror with a plan to practice asking you out. It was a simple mirror resting on the opposite side of the wall that had betrayed him, even if it was an inanimate object that could neither sway nor influence his spider abilities. He planned on using the reflective rectangular sheet as a stand-in for you but decided to change himself into something that didn't remind him of the awkward encounter he had moments ago.

Now, he stared at himself in the length of the full-body mirror, dressed in a tee sporting Midtown's gold and navy-blue colors and a simple pair of beige cargo pants. It was more on your level, casual clothes that were unlike the striking symbolism of his superhero suit. Peter hoped it would make him feel more comfortable talking to you, as he wouldn't discern the need to be perfect in everything he does around you. He could be Peter.

The first words he spoke to himself in the mirror were natural, not meant to sound broody or cool. It was how he usually talked: voice cracks and diffidence-galore, "Hey, I was wondering if you wanted to swing me to get coffee with you?"

Peter realized his slip-up and started the question over again.

"Oh my God, that's so funny that you get coffee!" He placed a hand over his chest with a fake smile to match, "I love caffeine and wanted to know if you would drink me. I mean, drink it with me?"

“Hey, I was just in the neighborhood—saving it, and all. Coffee, you-me? Then, we could come back here for. . .” He paused, knowing that he could never be that smug with you—he could barely get his powers to work! How would the Parker-Charm not blow up on ignition? “Okay, dial it back, Pete.”

"I'm hopeless," Peter let his head fall, staring at the floor. He could hardly watch himself fumble in the mirror, but the glint of a red sheen in the mirror pulled him back—the reality stone, sitting on one of the few bookshelves resting against the walls of his room. This one housed various meticulously assembled Star Wars-themed Lego sets, and the stone quickly became an amenity on the set of Boba Fett's Starship. Could he use it for this, of all things? If he did use it, it would only be for a couple of minutes. For practice, he told himself.

Many people would probably ask why a teenager would have one of the most mighty pieces of rock sitting on a shelf in his bedroom, and well, Peter wouldn't know the answer himself as to why he was allowed to keep it. According to Tony, he was a good kid, and the rest of the team knew he wouldn't use it for anything malicious, like obliterating half of all human existence. So, it was a souvenir, a relic that Peter never utilized for anything apart from letting it be some seriously cool decor and a piece he constantly bragged about to his only two friends.

He turned away from the mirror, retrieved the stone from its entrapment in the plastic bricks, and returned to his full-length reflection. The jagged edges dug into the soft inside of his palm in retaliation to the pressure as he squeezed it with a closed fist. With a single thought—one that held details of nearly everything about you—a soft ring of smoke formed a couple of feet away from him on the carpet. His heart thrummed as it quickly moved upward, revealing your form as it went. After a few moments, the puff of smoke faded as it rounded your head, topping off the manifested version of yourself.

Nothing could compare to the real you, but this was close.

The imagined version of you standing before Peter looked like the spitting image of you, almost to the point where, if dressed the same, it would be impossible to tell the two of you apart. Almost. But, there was one thing that let Peter tell the visually deceitful version of you apart from the real one: he couldn't hear a heartbeat. He figured that, while you looked the same on the outside, the inside was missing a few vital features of the real you.

Regardless, Peter struggled to remember that information since your lesser interpretation was still stunning enough to make his heart sink into the never-ending pit in his stomach. His feelings got the better of him, and Peter started his practice in err from the moment he opened his mouth.

He held the stone tight, waving his other hand to you, "Hey—hi, do you know who I am?"

"Yeah, you're Peter." You stated it as if he should have known that already, and he noted it. From what he could tell, you had at least some part of the memory of your actual self, so maybe this version of you could provide an accurate reaction to asking you to get coffee with him.

"Okay, cool. Cool. Yeah, that's. . . cool," Peter trailed.

"Why do you keep saying cool?"

The only problem was that you were real. Unduly real. Down to the slightest mannerisms that anyone but Peter would be able to catch when they spent time with you, and with your stunning looks and perfect quirks brought about by the stone, Peter could remember everything about you. He could hardly hear the absence of your heartbeat from his' sonority, ultimately distracting himself from his original intent.

"So, what did you wanna ask me?"

"You. . . you ask a lot of questions. But, I wanted to know if you could—"

Peter was finally going to get the words out, albeit to someone who was only pretending to be you. He wouldn't have to worry about finishing that project he procrastinated on—this would be his big success of the day. But his web-shooter had gone off erroneously across the room, spraying against the walls and pouring onto the floor from its canister. He jumped away from the source and nearly dropped the stone in the process.

Peter's mind was fleeting, even his rehearsal was going wrong, and he immediately thought of an old trick for speaking to people that he hadn't needed since a young age—he imagined you in your underwear. He didn't mean for it to happen, but if he thought it, the stone made it a reality for as long as he held the little rock. He watched as a red puff of smoke took your clothes into the air, vanishing from your body in less than a second. Underneath, a simple pair of boxer briefs clung to your nether region. Maybe it wasn’t all about the practice to Peter. His mind had thought of this, so it couldn't be that bad to indulge in it.

"Could you come over here?" He asked, throat dry. He needed to feel you to confirm he had not gone completely insane from one too many hits on the head. Peter defeatedly took a few steps to his bed, sitting down on the edge of it. "Please?"

His heart pounded with each step you took, accepting his wish to draw near. Peter could not help but watch your vulnerability follow ostensibly close behind. In just one beat, you stood directly in front of him. He watched your knees rise and fall on either side of his legs as you sat on his thighs. Peter felt the warmth of your presence, the surprising weight of you on his hairless and sinewy thighs, even if you were empty inside.

Peter was bristling, brown eyes wandering over your exposed form. His body felt immovable, no matter how much he wished to drop the stone and watch you vanish. His head was the only thing not to freeze, the rest of his body turning into a well-sculpted monolith. His jaw moved with a bit of tension, "I didn't ask you to do it like this."

"No, but you thought it."

"How did you. . . ?"

"You thought that, too."

Peter realized that he was practically having a conversation with himself, just through the guise of your face. The details became more apparent; the color of your eyes, the set of your mouth, and the same smile lines appeared as he thought about its utter perfection. He connected that now, asking you to come closer only worsened his issue. Your presence over his prominent bulge made it push the limits of its cotton confines. Slowly, his marble arm broke from his reserved mold, and an empty hand cupped your cheek the same way he had always thought about doing it. He would use both, but one was occupied with creating his living dream. Then his hand slid away and around to the back of your neck, your hair brushing his chewed fingernails and overly scraped knuckles.

He knew that guiding you into the kiss was redundant as he could think about it, but this was far more passionate. As he brought you close, the thought of your smell and the feeling of hot breath joining in concordant timing against each other's skin started to fill his head. At the touch of your lips to his, Peter kissed like someone who had nothing to lose. Like he didn't have the responsibility of seeming to have it all together placed foremost. Like he could be a needy and desperate mess for more than a passing swing around New York. Only now, and only because of you.

His impetuous thinking decided that taking care of his problem now would mean that he could resolve everything else later. He needed to take care of it now; it was the only thought running through his head. Desire.

Breaking away, Peter silently commanded you to slide off your boxers and get on your knees. He caught a glimpse of you as you followed his direction, surprised by how his mind subconsciously filled in the gaps for everything he had never seen.

Your hands worked in a way that left their presence unknown until they were hooked into the band of his boxers, easily tugging down on the well-worn stitching to free Peter's springy dick. He watched your eyes ogle it and how you took it into your hand without a second thought, and while he filled your hand well, he couldn't help but think about his inadequacy. He had seen his teammates' sizes after sharing training sessions with them. Not that he was looking on purpose, but mostly out of insecurity. Peter already paled in comparison to the heights and builds of the others, and while he was far from small, they didn't make him look all that great. Peter started to wonder if the stone affected him in the same way it did you.

With a single thought, he decided to test it. He watched his shaft grow bigger and chub up with a thicker girth. Your hand could barely wrap around it as it had with his true size. It felt like an innocuous veneer to gaining the confidence that he never had. As a result, he was eager to get you on him and make you squirm like one of the criminals he spun webs around.

In seconds, your lips formed an imperfect circle and took the head of the arachnid, and the rest of him, as if it were nothing. Your lips brushed his decent smattering of hair around the base of his cock without convulsion. This version of you had a throat that fit around him like a cock-sleeve, hugging his girth without any of the need for restraint.

"No gag reflex? This is better than any toy I ever made."

Peter's hands found their way back to the rear of your head, controlling the pace at which you took him for his own pleasure. The sheer feeling of something far better than lubed-up rubber made him go wild.

At a certain point, he couldn't remember when his mind started to break reality further than he thought until he was suddenly yanked back to it. Peter started to feel effervescent guilt towards his actions. This is what he wanted, but not how he wanted to get it. Quickly, Peter felt the heavy weight on his chest return, the need to right himself by putting an end to this. He hated that he changed himself to impress something that wasn't even you. He wondered what his mentor would think, what you would think, or how you would react. A small shift inside him sent that weight toward his hand, the one he held the stone in, and it went from its dormant glim keeping the illusion alive to a bright shine, creating something new.

"Get off, get off, please," Peter asked, thinking the words in his head as hard as he could to free himself from his twisted fantasy. You let his stiff, unrelieved dick pop out of your mouth and got off your knees.

"What's wrong, Peter?" He had thought that, too. What was wrong with him?

He could barely stand to face you, but he needed to acknowledge you to make you leave. When he did work up the nerve to look in your direction, the guilt glared back at him. He felt like a creepy monster for even thinking it was a good idea to give in to his urges. The feeling overtook him so much that he didn't even realize your gradual change.

At first, it was your face. The pleasureful expression turned into a sour one, eyebrows funneling together and your upper lip upturned. But, the features of your face pressed forward as if they were made of putty and someone was trying to claw their way out. They stretched out and ballooned until they burst, leaving you headless. Your body went without a head for a few seconds before the more seasoned details of his mentor formed in your absence.

He kept his hand flat, wicking it away from his body and the rest of his arm with the hope that the stone would fall off, but his powers had already made that choice for him. Then, he thought of his suit, his web-shooters, and the communicator that could signal Tony. If he drew attention to the issue, it would resolve itself, but could he successfully explain everything as if it were the typical morning paper arriving at the doorstep? He could try, or at the very least, lie. But that would never solve this issue, though, not in the long run.

Peter formed a mental map of the fastest route to his closet in his head and decided that his backup web-shooters might be strong enough to hold the illusion down and give him time to pry the stone from his nonreciprocating palm. He turned, locking eyes with the monster as it started changing again.

Peter looked on in horror, the stone shining its brightest and shading the monster in terrifying red like a stop sign you see at the last minute when your heart sinks at the thought of being crushed. The soft tear of wet, stretching flesh and its stringy reformation flushed his ears as the beast before him grew. The harsh snap and sound of bones splintering from the fattening weight pierced his sensitive ears; nothing new to him at this point in his life, but he had never heard so many cracks and gushing wounds. Yet, through all the bodily changes, Peter never broke his stare with the amalgamation of his worst thoughts. Its eyes never left him, either. The cold and frighteningly dead stare of non-existent emotion didn't phase him until he heard a heartbeat, one that he believed came from the creature itself.

However, it wasn't the monster's—it was yours, heavy-thudded blood-pumping. The real you and your usually pleasant voice calling for his response. From the other side of the door, he heard you pleading for him to answer and affirm that he was okay. He figured that you must have overheard his distress and the ensuing raucous.

Peter reached for the stone but stopped. Everything was gone. His suit still sat in a messy pile on the floor, but the webbing was gone from the walls. The stain on the carpet was no longer there, and his pants were the only thing absent from his body, but nothing left the confines of his boxers. Had all of it really been in his head?

He quickly answered the door without any precaution, seeing your face still intact.

"Hey, I got you something different than Tony's. I was in line and remembered when you drank out of his cup by mistake and spat it all over the counter. Are you okay? I thought I heard a girl screaming."

“Thank you, and it wasn't a. . . never mind. Do you want to come in and hang?”

“Yeah! But get some pants on first, Spidey. I can't have my thoughts get to me.”

[noamm7]

the new boy

paring : peter parke (tom holland) X male reader

cw : fluff

summary : Peter introduces the school to the new boy (you) and a friendship with something more begins to blossom.

You were slowly adapting to your new life since you moved with your mother and stepfather. Today was your first day in a new school, and while you were nervous, you were also excited to meet new people and make friends. As you entered the grounds of the school, a sweet-looking boy approached you.

He was smaller than you had imagined, wearing a shirt with a Star Wars design on it, he had brown hair, and seemed timid and kinda jittery, but in a cute way.

"Hey, uh... I just wanted to welcome you... I'm Peter... Peter Parker, and I've been here since first grade, and I'm considered a good student, so... they They I was asked to show you around and stuff..." he whispers "I'm really not sure what to say"

"Hey, eh… nice to meet you Peter, my name is Y/N… and as you probably know I… am new here…" you say with a brief smile.

Peter suddenly noticed he was lost in your smile. It was so radiant and expressive, like the light of the sun had been repressed and now radiating from your face. Peter was caught off-guard and blushed for a moment before becoming stunned, unable to avert his gaze. He was then able to recover himself and continue the conversation, avoiding the awkward moment.

"Well, uh... yeah, I guess I should introduce you to the school now, right?"

"Ah, yeah, sure, I would appreciate that." Peter nodded his head in affirmation "All right, follow me, I'll show you the classrooms and other areas of the school."

As you and Peter walked around the school, you had a blast chatting about all sorts of things you had in common. You discovered that both of you loved reading and collecting comic books about superheroes, building complex Lego sets and even playing similar video games.

You could feel a spark of friendship igniting between you, and it was so nice to have someone to talk to and forge bonds with over shared interests.

✁ ..time cut..

Finally, you two arrived at the end of the tour of the school. Peter had showed you all the classrooms, hallways and areas of the school. You realized that you two shared many interests and you were feeling more and more connected. It was now time for you to part ways, at least temporarily, since both of you had to head back to class.

“Well, I guess it's a temporary goodbye... I really enjoyed showing you around... and I really liked you... I mean... meeting you... sorry...” Peter says feeling his cheeks start to heat up "Okay that's cute" Peter squints his eyes and turns even redder than he was, you laugh a little at his reaction and then continue talking "I felt the same way, thank you for taking the time to do this” You say with a brief smile "You're welcome... well I should get to class. I hope to see you later!" Peter speaks with a small smile on his face.

Before parting ways with Peter, you quickly thought of something and called him. "Hey, hey, before we part ways, do you think we could go out to explore the city this weekend? I don't know much around here, so if you could go with me and show me some fun places... if you want, of course." Peter looked at you for a moment, seemingly a little surprised, then smiled and nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, sure, it's a great idea, I'd be happy to do that." Peter answered, with a big smile.

"Perfect," you say with a smile "Then... I guess I'll see you at lunch, right?" "Yeah, of course," Peter replies, nodding his head and giving a smile "I liked getting to know you Peter." You say with a smile "You're a cool guy." Peter felt a wave of warmth and happiness wash over his mind and heart "Ah, I..." he said, becoming even more flustered "I... I say the same, it was a pleasure getting to know you too, Y/N." Peter replied, smiling and unaware of just how red he was getting.

“See you at lunch, then," you say, glancing over your shoulder with a brief wave and turning to find your class. While Peter stands there, with an infatuated smile on his face, not realizing just how red he was getting.

It was certainly set to be more than just a great friendship between these two young boys.

ac : Sorry guys this was longer than I thought 😭😭 I hope you liked it ❤️‍🩹 who knows, we might have a second part of this story…

[d3adbr3inc3lls]

Tom!Peter Parker x Reader | Headcannons + Oneshot

A/N: I don't know how to write confession scenes, (I'm a hopeless romantic if you remove the 'romantic' part because I've had no experiences with romance) but I tried my best.

Peter is a hopeless romantic.

He'd always steal glances at you whenever you were in class, turning away when his spidey senses told him that you noticed him.

He had a whole list of date ideas if the moment ever came.

Peter knew that it may not happen, but he still liked to update the list whenever he saw a cool place where he could take you.

If he wasn't going to use it, he could always give some of the places to Ned if he needed them, but he mostly kept them to himself.

Especially any places little people knew about.

10/10 thinks of scenarios that would most likely never happen (not unless one of you actually make the first move)

When he does confesses, he has everything planned out.

Sitting down next to him, he lifts his hand to the sun, checking how many fingers fit under the it to give him a rough estimate of something.

“5 more minutes until the sun sets,” He breathed out.

How he knew this was beyond you.

Perhaps he learnt it whilst being in extension something?

Yeah that’s definitely it.

He flicks his gaze at you. He had come here early to make sure the two of you didn’t miss the sunset.

This had to be perfect.

The silence between the two of you was comfortable as you gazed at the waters, the warm oranges of the sun being reflected below.

Hearing Peter sigh, he shifted closer, not enough to invade your personal space, but still closer.

It wasn’t long before the sky was painted with vibrant pinks and oranges,

"There's been something-"

Peter pauses, closing his eyes he lets out a soft exhale, trying to pull himself together before opening them, his chocolate ones meeting your vibrant ones.

"I've wanted to tell you something."

You couldn't help but stare at him, the warm tones of the sunset kissing his face, making him look like an angel sent from above.

With the amount of lives he's saved, he might aswell be one.

He holds your gaze, taking something out of his pocket, only glancing away as it almost slips from his hand.

You freeze as you watch him quickly snatch the object, not giving you any time to process what it is. You've always known his reaction speed was quick and sometimes you swore that he wasn't human.

"I- It's-"

He stammers a bit, his awkward personality seeping back in as he looks at the sunset, only sneaking a glance when you follow his gaze towards the blazing star.

"It's okay if you don't feel the same, but-"

Another deep breath escaped his lips. His chocolate doe eyes meeting your gaze as he fidgets with the object in his hand.

Taking your hand in his, he turns it so the palm is facing up and places the object in his hands into yours.

Closing your hand, his eyes flicker to the object, which you could feel is packaged in something,

"I like you- I've liked you for a while now, and- are you free this Saturday,? We could go to that one Cafe you always talk about-"

[marrziy]

Peter Parker (Tom Holland) x Male Reader

"Vem Relaxar de Ladinho"

• Filme: franquia Homem Aranha do MCU.

• Personagem: Peter Parker.

• Sinopse: M/n não sabe o que leva Peter a esconder o motivo de suas deixas imprevisíveis, ele simplesmente some e nunca dá justificativa. Em uma dessas escapulidas repentinas, ao retornar, Peter brota com hematomas e um humor nada amistoso. Mesmo que M/n não saiba o porquê e com Peter se recusando a abrir o bico, ele se dispõe a ser a válvula de escape do namorado, o abordando com uma proposta tentadora e um tanto arriscada.

• Sobrenome do M/n: Collins.

• Narrador: 3° pessoa - presente.

*história antiga e não revisada*

M/n está escorado no batente da porta do banheiro, observando Peter agachado, procurando algo no armário da pia. O Parker bagunça tudo ali dentro, impaciente, só parando com a desorganização quando encontra o que tanto buscava. Peter se ergue com um pacote de algodão nas mãos. Ele ignora M/n, evitando uma possível discussão, focando totalmente em seus ferimentos.

Collins se recusa a aproximar-se, não por receio ou coisa do gênero, mas sim por ele saber que Peter, com sua paciência inexistente, iria o tratar com ignorância, e M/n sendo M/n, acabaria por mandar o Parker ir tomar naquele orifício, iniciando um bate-boca desnecessário no apartamento.

Mas ao ver o namorado abrir a caixinha de papelão, ou melhor narrando, ver o namorado destroçar a embalagem, fazendo vários gominhos brancos se espalharem pela cerâmica, M/n se vê envolto na necessidade de pelo menos questionar o porquê de tanto estresse.

— Peterzinho, fala comigo... – M/n se aproxima, segurando o queixo de Peter e virando o rosto dele para si. Há hematomas em sua face, alguns arranhões e marcas, nada muito grave, mas com certeza não ignorável. — O que aconteceu? Alguém fez isso com você? – só de imaginar que alguém possa ter ferido seu namorado, o sangue de M/n ferve.

— Não. Ninguém fez nada. – o Parker se irrita com a presença do Collins, não por algo vindo dele, mas sim porque Peter detesta ter M/n presenciando esse seu lado de emoções tão desreguladas. — Não é nada demais, só... – Peter segura o pulso de M/n, afastando sua mão de seu rosto. — Só me deixa sozinho. – o Parker diz, forçando um sorriso e amenizando o tom, tentando transparecer uma certeza que convença.

— Vamos supor que isso seja verdade... – o Collins se vira para a pia, pegando um dos vários gominhos de algodão ali jogados após Peter descontar suas frustrações em uma simples ação. M/n não está disposto a deixar de roer o osso, independente da dureza. — Se não foi nada, então fez sentido você chegar aqui soltando fogo pelas ventas, ter batido a porta da sala com tanta força que quase a fez passar reto pela tranca, ter vindo ao banheiro pisando tão fundo no chão que deve ter feito o teto dos vizinhos de baixo tremer e agora estar aqui, mentindo pra mim? – M/n borrifa álcool no algodão, entregando para Peter, o encarando nos olhos, esperando por nada, mas querendo uma justificativa.

Peter pega o algodão enquanto retribui o contato visual. Ele fecha os olhos e suspira pesadamente, tentando se acalmar e analisar as variáveis, mas fica no mesmo terreno. — Eu pedi pra você sair. – Peter exibe uma feição neutra, mas sua fala seca e voz rígida revelam que ele não está disposto a investir em um esclarecimento.

M/n aperta os dedos das mãos, transparecendo o descontentamento no ato. — Tá. – M/n engole o "vai pro caralho então, porra!" que quase atravessa seus lábios. O Collins se vira e se afasta, achando melhor deixar Peter sozinho, na esperança de que ele esfrie a cabeça por conta própria.

Parker, encarando o próprio reflexo no espelho, se martiriza por querer contar, mas ter o empecilho de sua identidade secreta o impedindo.

Ele não poderia simplesmente desabafar sobre ter topado com uma gangue de ladrões mutantes tentando roubar um banco e ter comprado a missão de os impedir, mas acabar levando um sacode e ter os deixado fugir graças aos próprios poderes, que resolveram falhar naquele momento, sem antes revelar ao namorado que ele é o Homem-Aranha!

— Seu... Arrombado! Idiota fudido! – Peter xinga a si mesmo enquanto cuida de seus ferimentos. — Que dia de merda! – ele sussurra, colocando um band-aid sobre o corte em sua bochecha.

. . .

May Parker conhece bem o sobrinho, ela sabe que o melhor a se fazer é esperar o garoto se acalmar antes de dialogar. A mulher havia observado a situação sem se intrometer, planejando conversar com Peter no dia seguinte.

— Meninos, eu vou me deitar. – ela avisa, bagunçando o cabelo do sobrinho e lhe dando um beijo na testa antes de direcionar-se ao quarto. — Qualquer coisa é só gritar, mas por favor, evitem. Eu quero dormir. – May para no corredor e gesticula um "boa sorte" mudo para M/n, que consegue ler os lábios da mulher e captar a mensagem. Peter encara tudo aquilo sem entender, mas dá de ombros e volta a arrumar o sofá.

O plano do casal era passar a madrugada de sábado agarradinhos maratonando sitcoms na tv. Brooklyn Nine-Nine já iluminava o ambiente escuro, com o último episódio da sétima temporada pausado na Netflix.

M/n propôs que deixassem para outro dia, quando o clima não estivesse tão esmagador, mas seu namorado, se sentindo culpado pela forma como o tratou, tentou se redimir e o convenceu a ficar.

Acontece que Peter, mesmo com a boa intenção, não consegue fazer a frustração do dia passar e permanece incomodado, mas agora ele está decidido a não descontar sua raiva em mais ninguém.

Do lado de fora, a chuva fraca contribui para o aconchego. M/n usa um blusão branco e um short de pano fino. Ele quase se arrepende da escolha do pijama quando uma corrente fria passa por suas coxas, mas uma ideia atrevida ilumina sua mente. M/n pensou em uma maneira interessante de usar a pele exposta.

— Deita primeiro, fofo. – o sorriso escancarado de M/n passa despercebido por Peter. — Eu vou ser a conchinha de dentro.

Peter dá play no episódio antes de deitar no sofá. Ao se acomodar no estofado, ele abre as pernas e bate a palma da mão no espaço livre, chamando M/n para se juntar a si.

O Collins imagina seu plano se concretizando e sente os pelos do corpo eriçados. Ele vai trocar o mau humor do namorado por exaustão e pernas bambas.

Peter usa uma camiseta azul com o escudo do Capitão América estampado no centro e uma calça xadrez vermelha de tecido flanela. O traje despojado logo se revelaria um detalhe sem propósito.

M/n se joga no sofá e cobre os dois corpos com uma coberta fina. Peter fica curioso quanto a empolgação do sujeito.

Com o episódio rodando, Parker abraça a cintura de M/n, puxando ele para mais perto, conectando as costas do namorado ao seu peitoral e fechando a conchinha ao prender o quadril de M/n entre suas pernas. Peter aconchega o queixo no vão do pescoço de seu amado, assistindo ao episódio sem disposição para rir da comédia do seriado, que costuma lhe roubar gargalhadas em seus dias comuns.

Já M/n sequer dá atenção ao que passa na tv. Se Peter pudesse ver o rosto do namorado, iria encontrar uma feição travessa, similar a expressão de um vilão de desenho animado bolando um plano contra o mocinho.

O Collins leva uma mão para trás, com um pouco de dificuldade para tatear graças ao pouco espaço. Sem rodeios, ele passa pela barra da camiseta de Peter, adentrando o tecido, tocando a pele quente do namorado com seus dedos mornos, acariciando cada gominho do abdômen até chegar no peitoral firme.

— A-amor, o que você tá fazendo? – Peter questiona, mesmo tendo a resposta em evidência. — A gente não pode fazer isso aqui! – ele sussurra com sua voz mansa no ouvido de M/n. Peter sente receio, mas a adrenalina é o gás que leva seus gestos a contrariarem seus pensamentos valorosos, é o que o leva a ignorar que ele está no sofá da tia. Parker agarra os quadris do namorado com firmeza, os deixando estáticos enquanto ele esfrega sua ereção crescente na bunda de M/n. — Porra... – Peter suspira em desistência, chupando o pescoço convidativo de M/n enquanto se pressiona contra ele.

— Relaxa, você não vai me comer. – Peter morde o pescoço de Collins com força, em um ato de revolta pela resposta contraditória que recebeu. M/n não deixa barato e torce o mamilo esquerdo de Peter, acariciando o biquinho amarronzado na sequência. — Você acha que merece me foder depois de ter me tratado daquele jeito? – eles conversam sem olhar um para o outro. Atrás há um Parker de expressão sofrida, se contorcendo graças a carga repentina de exitação, e na frente, um Collins de sorriso convencido, se divertindo com a situação. — Sem contar que você é uma vadia barulhenta. Se você meter o pau em mim, com certeza vai acordar a sua tia com seus gemidos escandalosos.

— Por favor! Eu prometo ficar quietinho! – com a boca aberta, quase pondo a língua para fora, Peter suspira pesadamente. Ele abaixa a mão até a barra do short de M/n, atravessando o tecido e apertando a carne da bunda do Collins. — Só a cabecinha! Deixa?

— Você acha mesmo que eu caio nessa? – M/n ri da fala do namorado, parando de acariciar os peitos de Peter para agarrar seu pulso e tirar sua mão de dentro de seu short. — Me obedeça e talvez você goze essa noite. – a voz autoritária de M/n faz Parker estremecer. Peter sente que qualquer coisa vinda de M/n é lucro, um simples toque do rapaz o convenceria a fazer qualquer coisa nesse momento.

— É o que eu mais quero! – a voz manhosa de Parker deixa a cueca de M/n apertada.

O Collins se pega pensando em como Peter se rendeu rápido aos seus estímulos, ele gosta desse efeito que tem sobre o parceiro. M/n dedilha lentamente até o cós da calça de Peter, ansioso para ter o pau do namorado em mãos, já que recebia uma prova da exitação dele em sua bunda, com Peter esfregando o membro na traseira de seus quadris.

Peter inspira profundamente no pescoço de M/n, decorando o tom floral de seu perfume. Sentindo uma onda de calor o rodear, o acastanhado levanta a camiseta e a deixa estendida, segurando o tecido acima do peitoral, e com a mão livre ele também levanta a blusa de M/n, esfregando seu abdômen despido nas costas nuas do namorado, ambos sentindo o corpo um do outro.

M/n puxa a calça de Peter para baixo, trazendo a cueca junto, apenas o suficiente para que o pau do namorado se liberte das peças. O Collins fantasia com a expressão de Peter, mas se contenta com isso, tendo em vista que a movimentação é limitada no sofá e que para tudo funcionar, eles precisam estar de ladinho.

Mas M/n não resiste e vira o pescoço o quanto pode, encontrando Peter de olhos fechados, seu peito subindo e descendo enquanto ele impulsiona o quadril para frente, esfregando o pênis teso na bunda coberta de M/n.

— Porra... Eu te amo! – Peter expressa, sua voz fraca e rouca chicoteando o ouvido de M/n entre arfares longos.

— Você consegue falar um palavrão e a coisa mais adorável do mundo em uma frase e ser sexy e fofo enquanto tá de pau duro. – M/n faz mágica para alcançar os lábios de Peter enquanto está de costas para ele, dando um selinho rápido no namorado. — Eu te amo mais! – M/n se sente privilegiado por ter Peter nessa posição, somente para si.

O Parker sorri com a fala do parceiro, mas logo sua expressão se contorce, com ele franzindo as sobrancelhas e abrindo a boca em um gemido pausado quando M/n agarra seu pau, fechando a palma na cabecinha e descendo até a base, espalhando seu pré-sêmen por sua extensão. — Caralho! Isso!

M/n se assusta no momento em que a voz de Peter se eleva. Ele não mentiu quando disse que Peter é escandaloso. — Peter, se controla!

— Foi mal! Eu nã-não consigo segurar! – o Parker leva uma mão até os lábios, abafando os próprios gemidos.

M/n estica o braço livre até a mesinha de centro, pegando o controle e aumentando o volume da tv. "É melhor reclamarem do som da televisão do que de gemidos." é seu raciocínio.

— Eu amo sua voz manhosa fazendo esses barulhinhos gostosos, amor. – M/n aperta o pau do namorado, o sentindo pulsar violentamente em sua mão. Peter joga a cabeça para trás, mordendo o lábio inferior com força. — Mas você não pode gemer sem precedentes. As paredes são finas e mesmo que May tenha o sono pesado, eu imagino que você não queira arriscar, não é?

Peter leva as duas mãos aos lábios após os avisos do namorado, indo a loucura com a palma macia de M/n deslizando pelo seu membro, subindo da base até a ponta em um ritmo delicioso. Seu pau está úmido com a quantidade abundante de pré-porra que escorre da cabeça avermelhada e que é espalhada pela mão veloz de M/n por todo o seu comprimento. — Puta merda! – Peter deixa escapar quando M/n se inclina para trás, encaixando a ponta do seu pênis entre a parte interna das coxas.

— Você não vai foder a minha bunda, mas pode se divertir com as minhas coxas. – M/n enuncia, sua voz rouca alugando um triplex na cabeça de Peter. O Collins levanta a barra do short até expor cem por cento das pernas.

— Pode deixar. – Peter esfrega a ponta do nariz no pescoço do namorado e morde o lóbulo de sua orelha, o fazendo suspirar e se contorcer em anseio. — Eu vou me divertir demais.

M/n solta um gemido consideravelmente alto pelo contato das mãos ágeis e selvagens de Peter em seu quadril. O Parker agarra o corpo do namorado com tanta força que M/n consegue sentir as unhas dele através de suas vestes.

O acastanhado puxa M/n de uma vez, o fazendo colidir contra sua pélvis. O pau de Peter desliza com facilidade por entre as coxas unidas do Collins, no primeiro contato já umedecendo as pernas do namorado com sua porra.

Peter começou a gemer afoito ao dar início as investidas, iniciando lento e potente, fazendo o corpo de M/n alavancar para frente a cada novo impulso, tornando cada um deles memorável ao corpo necessitado.

M/n força as pernas uma na outra ao ponto de eliminar qualquer vão entre as coxas, obrigando o pau do Parker a criar o próprio buraco que fodia, deixando a fricção mais intensa e prazerosa. — M/n... porra... – Peter se embola ao falar, não conseguindo formular uma frase completa sem que os gemidos cortem a fluidez das palavras. — Eu... Eu amo o se-seu corpo! Eu amo vo-você todinho!

O estado ofegante de Peter e sua voz manhosa poderiam fazer M/n atingir o clímax sem qualquer estímulo físico. — Eu também amo cada fibra sua...!

Com o calor cada vez mais intenso, M/n se livra do cobertor que aninhava seus corpos, e é instantâneo o arrepio que samba por cada célula do rapaz quando ele tem a visão da cabecinha molhada do pau do namorado surgindo após seu comprimento se alojar entre suas coxas.

As pernas do Collins não acomodam o pênis de Peter por completo, e pensando nisso, M/n faz uma conchinha com uma das mãos e a leva até onde a cabeça atrevida do cacete de Parker fazia presença. Peter libera gemidos cada vez mais altos e suas estocadas são desesperadas. M/n sabe que ele está próximo de gozar, e essa foi sua maneira rápida de impedir que a porra do namorado jorre onde não deva jorrar.

M/n sabe que Peter morreria de vergonha caso seu gozo manche o sofá.

O herói fode aquelas coxas com tanta voracidade que quase expulsa o parceiro do sofá com suas estocadas brutas. M/n sente os dentes de Peter afundarem em seu pescoço, e com a voz abafada, Parker avisa antes de um gemido longo e rouco escalar sua garganta. — Eu vou gozar! Eu... – As pernas de Peter fraquejam e seus movimentos se tornam desregulados e inconscientes quando jatos de porra vazam da fenda de seu pau, encharcando a palma de M/n com o líquido quente e esbranquiçado.

Peter dá mais cinco impulsos fortes, liberando todo o gozo que suas bolas pesadas acumulavam. Ele puxa o pênis e M/n faz questão de contrair as coxas quando Peter afasta o quadril, extraindo um último gemido intenso do namorado.

— Isso foi...

— Bom pra caralho? – M/n pergunta, ficando de frente para Peter e enchendo o rosto dele de beijinhos afobados, ao mesmo tempo em que levou a palma gozada discretamente para baixo, a limpando na calça de Peter sem que ele perceba. "A porra é dele mesmo." M/n pensa.

— Foi muito mais do que isso! Eu tô tão relaxado agora... Amor, foi perfeito! – A voz do Parker está mansa. Ele bota o pênis de volta para dentro da calça e se aconchega no sofá, abraçando o corpo de M/n e os cobrindo novamente com a coberta. — E a propósito, obrigado. – Peter beija os lábios do namorado antes de fechar os olhos, se rendendo ao sono após recuperar o fôlego. — Eu sei que você fez por mim, mas eu quero te recompensar... – O acastanhado sabe que o parceiro não gozou e ele planeja nivelar essa dívida no dia seguinte. — Você não quis liberar o rabo, mas amanhã o meu é todinho seu...

M/n revira os olhos, sorrindo abobado com a fala do parceiro. Ele com certeza vai sonhar com isso irá cobrar a promessa de Peter.

. . .

A chuva isolada da noite passada é substituída pelos raios quentes do sol imponente. Os feixes da luz natural invadem a sala e incomodam os olhos sensíveis de Peter. O herói acordou cedo, mas não moveu um músculo desde seu despertar. Ele encara as costas de seu amado, pensativo sobre algo.

— Amor, acorda! – O Parker chega a uma conclusão. Ele balança o corpo de M/n, torcendo para que a coragem repentina não suma com a mesma velocidade que veio.

M/n resmunga, abrindo os olhos e se deparando com a visão embaçada de um Peter sério. — Que foi? – a voz grogue do Collins questiona.

— Eu Homem-Aranha! – Peter já tinha a frase pronta, mas fala tão rápido que acaba engolindo algumas palavras.

— O quê? – M/n não entendeu nada. Ele estreita os olhos, como se isso fosse o ajudar a ouvir melhor.

— Eu sou o Homem-Aranha! �� Peter repete, agora com clareza.

— É o quê? – Uma terceira voz surge. Dessa vez foi May a questionar. A mulher estava bebendo água na cozinha e acabou ouvindo a última frase do sobrinho. Agora o líquido se encontra no chão, junto aos vários cacos de vidro do copo que ela tinha em mãos.

~ . • 🍎 •. ~

[tenthcrowley]

[PETER]: I can't reach that either. It's the fiftieth time you ask, (Y/N).

[Y/N]: Please! You're taller than me!

[PETER]: No, I'm not!

[Y/N]: PLEASE. PLEASE. PLEASE. PLEASE. PLEASE. PLEA-

[PETER]: FINE *shoots his web at the cookie jar to drop it in Y/N's hands*

[Y/N]: HAH. I KNEW YOU WERE SPIDER-MAN.

[PETER]: WHAT?

[bjtch-craft]

"Can I make it up to you, please?"

Peter Parker x Black! Male reader

✩ Summary: Peter gets into an argument with the reader but makes it up to him...

✩ Word count: 2k

✩ Genre: Angst to Smut

✩ Request: Yes or No

✩ Warnings: Smut, crying, over stimulation (if you squint you'll see it), and (LIGHT) choking!!

✩Authors note: Sorry for disappearing for a while. School started again, and I wanna d!e already!!! Anyways this is my first attempt at writing smut, and it's so totally not proofread! So if there's any mistakes, please comment them so I can correct them.

"I don’t understand why you’re so mad at me!"

 

"Peter, I’m not fucking mad at you!"

 

Peter takes a deep breath and rubs his eyes with his wrist before placing them on either side of him, softly gripping at the sheets.

 

"Then why are you yelling at me?"

 

"I’m not-!" [Name] cuts himself off after hearing his tone. "I’m not yelling at you; I'm just... worried. Okay? Worried that one day you’ll meet your match or run into some crazy obsessed fan." He finishes his sentence with a softer tone.

 

"Well, you don’t have to be! Okay?"

 

"I know, but..."

 

"Is this about MJ?:

 

[Name’s] worried look is wiped away by Peter’s accusation and a look of shock forms.

 

"W-what? No!"

 

"Because it feels like it is! Is that why you meant by an obsessed fan?" Peter says, putting up air quotes while saying "obsessed fan. " 

 

"That’s not what I meant!"

 

"Then what did you mean? Because to me, it seems like you’re upset; I’ve been hanging out with her more often. Jealous even."

 

"Oh my God, Peter, you’re un-fucking-believable! This isn’t about her or anything else; this is about me! And my concerns! You don’t even know how many times I’ve seen you go up against some big and how terrified I've been! Terrified that you’ll get seriously hurt or worse."

 

Peter lets out a scoff.

 

"So you’re just being overprotective now?"

 

[Name's] jaw dropped at the sentence that left Peter’s lips. He wasn’t sure how to react.

Peter and [Name] never argued, and even if they did, they’d get over it within a minute or two, but for some god-forsaken reason, Peter was being an absolute dick.

The energy in the room increased by ten as both of them (mostly [Name], of course) could feel the anger begin to sink in even deeper.

 

"Peter. What. The. Fuck! Is wrong with you today? I don’t know why you’re being like this!"

 

"Like what?"

 

"Like a dick! I don’t even know why you’re arguing with me; I’m just telling you my fucking concerns, and you have the fucking gall to call me jealous and  overprotective."[Name] says, dragging out the word "Gall". 

 

"And I’m just telling you how I feel too!"

 

 

[Name] didn’t know how to react; he felt hurt and could feel a sob begin to make its way up his throat. He gulped it down (that didn’t work; he ended up still crying later, but that’s later) he began to pull at the bottom of his shirt while looking at the floor.

 

"Peter… Can you leave?" [Name] said quietly.

 

"W-what?"

 

"I said," Can you leave," please?"

 

"Okay. Fine."

 

And with that, Peter stood up and made his way out the door, leaving [Name] standing there in silence, a tear threatening to fall from his eye. It wasn't an empty threat, and the tear fell. And fell. And fell. And fell.

 

Soon the sun set behind the tall buildings of New York, and the moon rose, casting a small bit of light into [Name's] room. [Name] sunk into his bed as he stared up at the ceiling, a million thoughts rushing through his brain.

 

Are we over?

 

Why was he mad at me?

 

Should I say sorry?

 

Should he say sorry?

 

Is it my fault?

 

No, it's his fault.

For sure.

 

Tap tap tap. [Name] sat up softly and looked towards his window, expecting to see the source of the sound. But there was nothing…

 

"Am I hallucinating? Can you even hallucinate sounds?" [Name] thought aloud.

 

Now, you can actually hallucinate sounds, but this wasn't a hallucination. Tap. Tap. Tap. [Name] got up from his bed, crept towards the window, and slid it open.

 

"Hello…? Why'd I say hello? That's basically a death wish if this was a horror movie. "

 

"Hi!"

 

[Name] jumped back from the window with a yelp. Before creeping back towards it and looking out it once again, but this time staring down to see a familiar blue and red suit.

 

Peter stood on the building's brick wall, looking up at [name], his arms crossed around.

 

"Can I come in?"

 

"Yeah…" 

 

[Name] backed up from the wall as Peter climbed inside with a smile on his face.

 

"Do you have anything I can change into, babe?"

 

[Name] let out a scoff.

 

"Babe! Don't babe me, dude. Are you seriously going to pretend that our argument didn't happen?

 

"Sorry! I thought you'd be a little calmer. But do you?"

 

[Name] walked to his closet, pulled out a sweater, made his way toward his dresser, grabbed a pair of sweats, and threw them at Peter.

 

Peter changed and threw the suit in a corner before sitting down on the mattress. And a somewhat awkward energy filled the room.

 

"I'm sorry… I am. I don't know why I was being such a dick! But I'm sorry for what I said." Peter looked down at the floor, unable to look at his boyfriend.

 

"Peter…"  

 

[Name] wasn't sure what to say, and in situations like this (awkward, scared, and nervous), he often coiled his already-curled hair around his finger.

 

"I feel like such a shitty boyfriend."

 

[Name] placed his hand on Peter's cheek. "You're not a shitty boyfriend, though... You admit when you're wrong and understand why 6 wrong. That's legit one of the many reasons why I love you!"

 

Peter looked up at [name], nuzzled his face into his palm, and planted a soft kiss on his palm. [Name] ran his thumb over his pale cheek. It was a sweet moment that didn't last very long.

 

[Name] softly ran his thumb over the corner of Peter's soft lips. Peter adjusted his head and planted a kiss on the darker-skinned boy's thumb. [Name] smiled down at Peter.

 

"I love you, Peter..."

 

"I love you too."

 

[Name] pressed his finger against Peter's lip. He got the hint and opened his mouth, letting his boyfriend's thumb in. He looked up at [name] with innocent eyes as he bobbed his head up and down on his thumb.

 

"Jesus..." [Name] whispered out.

 

Peter came off his finger with a pop, his face turning a light pink.

 

"Can I make it up to you, please?"

 

[Name] nodded his head softly and backed up as Peter got up off the bed and kneeled in front of him.

 

"You can say no at any time, and I'll stop," Peter said with a smile.

 

"Same to you."

 

Peter reached up and pulled down [Name's] basketball shorts, dropping them to his ankles. Peter reached up and gently groped at the bulge in the other boy's boxers. Peter pulled them down with ease.

 

Peter stroked it gently, causing a soft whimper to release from [Name's] mouth as Peter's soft hands glided over his cock. Peter grabbed the base of [Name's] cock and gently licked the tip before taking it into his mouth. Peter looked up at [Name] as he slowly took more into his mouth, gagging a bit as he made his way towards the base.

 

[Name] reached down and placed his hand in Peter's hair, holding his head in place, making Peter gag as drool pooled out of the corner of his lips.

 

"Fuckkk! Peter, your mouth feels so  good."[Name] moaned out.

 

Peter let out another gagging sound and tapped the side of [Name's] thigh, signaling for him to let go. And [Name] did Peter come off his cock with a pop and look up at him with a smile, a rope of drool connecting [Name's] tip to his lips.

 

"Are you okay, Peter?"

 

"Yeah. Fine." Peter said as he began to slowly stroke [Name's] dick.

 

He placed it back in his mouth and began to go back down on it. He bobbed his head up and down in a repeating motion as he reached into his sweats and pulled out his own cock and began jerking himself off.

 

Peter came off his dick and kitten, licked the tip, and placed it back into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it.

 

"Agh, Jesus Peter" [name] whimpered out.

 

[Name] placed his hands on either side of his head and slowly began pulling his head further down on his shaft.

 

"I'm going to go a little rough. Is that okay with you?"

 

"Mmmm," Peter hummed in response, causing a soft vibration on [Names] dick, making him let out another moan.

 

[Name] gripped a handful of Peter's hair and began to pull his cock out of his mouth before slamming it back down his throat. Peter, still stroking his own cock, reached out and grabbed at [names] thighs for support.

 

[Name] strengthened his grip on Peter's head and began slamming his cock down Peter's throat harshly, causing drool to pool out of the corners of his lips.

 

"Ohhh God! F-fuck!"

 

Peter whimpered and whined around the length as tears filled his eyes, threatening to spill.

 

"MM~ MMM~" Peter whined out.

 

Peter jerked himself off at an even faster rate, chasing his climax. And he chased it, cumming all over his hands and floor.

 

"Aww, Pete...."

 

[Name] pulled his dick out of Peter's mouth, leaving him gasping for air.

 

"F-fuck~" Peter said in between breaths.

 

"Are you okay, Pete?"

 

"Mhm."

 

"You came... kind of fast."

 

Peter's pale face turned a soft pink as he ran a hand through his hair, looking down at the floor.

 

"Do you want to, like, you know, go all the way? You don't have to say yes." [Name] said, reaching down and lifting Peter's chin up to look at him.

 

"Yes, I want to do it."

 

[Name] reached down and pulled Peter up by his arm, smashing his lips against his. [Name] kicked off his shorts and boxers and began walking them toward the bed, lightly pushing Peter down. Peter reached out and gripped the collar of [Names] shirt, pulling him down with his lips, never breaking contact.

 

[Name] broke the kiss, placed a soft kiss on Peter's cheek, and started making his way towards his neck. Kissing down his jawline before softly biting his neck.

 

"Fuck~" Peter moaned out.

 

[Name] began sucking on the flesh and biting at it before licking over the bite. The warmth of [Names] tongue made Peter blush even more, making his already pink skin turn a deep scarlet. [Name's] hands traveled down Peter's body, slipping them up his shirt and feeling him up.

 

[Name] reaches out from under Peter's shirt and takes his cock in his hand, gently tugging at it. Peter let out a soft whimper at the feeling of [name's] warm hand.

 

"Is this okay?" [Name] says speeding up the pace.

 

Peter bites down on his bottom lip and nods his head.

With his other hand, [Name] begins to pull Peter's shirt up and begins placing soft kisses on his torso, making his way toward Peter's cock. Peter pulled his shirt off, making [Name] let go of his cock.

 

[Name] delicately kissed Peter's tip, spat in his hand, and began jerking him off once more. The sound of wet noses and whimpers filled the room.

 

"Does that feel good, Peter?"

 

"Mhm-ahh~ Fuck~!" Was all he could whine out as [Name] ran his thumb over his tip in a particularly hard motion.

 

[Name] let's go of Peter's cock and steadied himself on his knees, grabs the bottom of his shirt and pulls it off.

 

"Let me know if it hurts or if I'm going to be rough, okay?"

 

"Okay." 

 

[Name] placed Peter's legs on his shoulders and steadied himself on the mattress before lining himself up with Peter's hole. Peter reached out and felt around on his boyfriend's bedside table until he felt a familiar wrapping.

 

"Here."

 

Peter handed him a condom. [Name] opened it and slid it over his dick and pushed into Peter slowly, wanting him to adjust to his size before moving.

 

Peter gripped the sheets and twisted them in his hands as he let out a soft moan.

 

"F-fuck~" 

 

[Name] reached out and grabbed Peter by the waist and pulled him down on his cock. [Name] bottoming inside of Peter as he looked down at him to see his arm covering his face, his face somehow even pinker.

 

"Does this feel okay?"

 

"Mhm."

 

"Can you uncover your face? I want to see all the pretty little faces you make, Pete."

 

Peter's cock twitched at this, and a drip of precum made its way down his cock. Peter did as he was told, took his arm off, and looked up at the curly-haired boy.

 

"I'm going to start moving, okay? Let me know if it's too much or if you want to stop. I won't be mad, I promise!"

 

"Okay, I will."

 

[Name] began to roll his hips in and out of the pale boy, starting off with a slow pace to ensure he didn't hurt him. [Name] decided to test the limits and pulled out of Peter, making him let out a breathy gasp at the loss of friction before slamming back into him and producing another loud moan from him.

 

His face contorted into a mixture of pleasure and pain as his hands shot out and grabbed at [Names] shoulders as he rocked his hips into Peter.

 

"Aghh~ C- Can you go a little  harder?'

 

[Name] listened to his question and sped up the pace, filling the room with the sound of a headboard banging and the sound of skin against skin. [Names] hands roamed down Peter's thighs until they reached his cock, took it in his hand, and began once again jerking him off at an irritatingly slow pace.

 

[Name] placed his other hand on the back of Peter's head and leaned in their lips inches apart. [Names] thrust slowed for a second before stopping all together.

 

"Why did you stop?" Peter said, his voice barely above a whisper.

 

[Name] closed the gap between them. Peter kissed back almost instantly and placed his hand on the back of [Names] head, tangling his fingers in his curls. [Name] began to thrust into him slowly and more gentle as the kiss deepened.

 

[Name] grabbed Peter's hands and placed them above his head, holding them in place and breaking the kiss in the process. His thrust quickened, and once again, the sound of skin against skin filled the room.

 

"Fu-fuck~ ugh!" [Name] moaned out.

 

His thurst became even harder as he chased his high. Peter could feel tears starting to fall from his eyes, not from pain but from pleasure. It was all too much. His ccok standing up straight twitched and shot ropes of cum all over his abdomen, painting that area of his body glossy white.

 

"I'm not too far behind," [Name] grunted out.

 

His thrust became sloppy, losing the rhythm as he tightened his grip on Peter's wrist.

 

"F-fuuck~"! 

 

He let go of Peter's wrist, pulled out of him, and made his way to the floor. Peter got the idea quickly and knelt before sticking his tongue out as [Name] jerked himself off.

After one or two strokes, he came, shooting his load over Peter's face. Blotches of white landed on his lashes, chin, nose, forehead, tongue, and hair.

 

Peter swallowed the cum that had landed in his mouth and smiled looking up at [name] innocently.

"Jesus Christ, Peter, you're so pretty."

Authors note part 2!!!:

Okay so y'all I'm thinking of doing an Olivia Rodrigo type of story with Bad Idea, right? Should I do this???

Link to the song in case y'all haven't heard it yet!!!

[kanataka-san]

(Y/N): you picked up a fight with the wrong person

Villain: who? You?

(Y/N):*shakes his head pointing behind the masked man*

Villain: *turns around but sees noone then hear click behind him*

(Y/N): now, be a good boy and hand me your weapon, police is already on their way.

Spider man:*hanging in the corner of the old bulding watching his boyfriend* wha the f-

[supercap2319]

"I can't believe this." Y/N said, shocked at the sight before him. His boyfriend was naked as the day he was born, leaving nothing at all to the imagination while wearing slippers.

Peter gave him a small smile and blushed slightly. "That I'm naked for you?"

"No. I can't believe you're naked while wearing my slippers. Those are my favorite slippers. Take them off now."

Peter frowned. "Wait, I'm literally naked for you on a silver platter and you care about your slippers?"

"You're darn right. Those are my SpongeBob ones." Y/N said.

[darksilver-hoziersversion]

Unrequited love that stays Unrequited.

Paring: MCU!Peter Parker x Male Reader

Warning: Very sad... I guess?

Word count: 3042

Summary: This is during the No way home movie... All (Y/n) wanted was to be with his best friend. But fate has different plans for him, and it's going to crush him.

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

Peter and (Y/n) had been close friends since their childhood. Ever since they met, they have been inseparable best friends. (Y/n) was the first person to know that Peter was Spider-Man, the first to know when Peter was sad, angry, or confused. In short, (Y/n) was the person Peter always ran to when he needed someone, and Peter has always been there for (Y/n) too.

Until Peter fell in love with MJ, the smart, pretty, curly-haired, quirky, and adorable girl. (Y/n) was happy for Peter that he had finally found someone he loved and cherished. He was happy that Peter finally found the person he could kiss with, hold hands in public, smile with, but it hurt to see him with someone else, especially when (Y/n) had been in love with him, for as long as he could remember. Watching Peter look at MJ with love and passion, the way he looked at her like she was a goddess made from the finest galaxy who had hung the moon. It made (Y/n) drown in jealousy.

When the time comes that Peter needs (Y/n)'s help, because the universe was collapsing. Of course (Y/n) said Yes without hesitation, he'd do anything for Peter Parker.

As (Y/n) was writing in his notebook, there was a knock on his door. "Just a sec!" he shouted, but the knock came again, and this time, he stood up to open the door. He was stunned to see Peter standing there with a small smile on his face. "(Y/n)," Peter greeted, and (Y/n) managed to stammer a response before inviting Peter inside. The shorter one gestured for his best friend to come inside. He still couldn't believe Peter was here. His face was messed up, covered in different shades of color with a little bit of blood on his forehead.

"Just-- sit, and I'll get something to clean you up." (Y/n) stumbled out of his room to the bathroom to grab the supplies without question.

***

Mj gazed around the rooftop, searching for Peter. She scanned the area, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. "This is where he always comes when he needs to clear his head," she murmured to herself. "He has to be here." She informed, then looked at the other Peter, they had asked where her Peter usually goes when he wants to be alone. She was certain it was this place.

"Well. He isn't here." Peter with the jacket stated, "Perhaps, you could ask someone? Does (Y/n) exist in this universe?" He tilted his head in curiosity.

"(Y/n) (L/n)?" Ned beamed. "Yeah, of course he does! He's our best friend too. Thought he stays away from this side of life. You know, the dangerous part of life. but he does help Peter after the fights and stuff. He's like our doctor.

Older Peter nodded, a small smile on his lips. "That sounds like (Y/n), alright."

"Wait, you know (Y/n)?" the other Peter interjected, looking almost stunned.

"Sure do. He's my boyfriend," Older Peter replied with a grin.

"He's your what?" Ned asked, flabbergasted, his eyebrows raised.

"He's mine too!" the taller Peter exclaimed, his eyes widening in surprise. "We've been together for 10 years." He beamed happily. "I fell in love with him in your universe," he clarified, pointing to the older Peter. "Well, not me exactly, but a version of me. You get the idea."

The idea that Peter Parker could fall in love with (Y/n) across any universe warmed his heart, but he couldn't help feeling perplexed as to why the youngest Peter was merely friends with him.

"I should, I should call him." Ned reached for his pockets and immediately dialed (Y/n)'s Phone. "(Y/n)! Hi. Um. Hi!" Ned greeted, his voice weavers a little. "So... Is Peter with you...?" He slyly ask.

Ned nodded when he got answer. "Can we go there?"

The other two Peter looked at each other, anticipating an answer.

"Oh." Ned looked downcast, nodding along to whatever (Y/n) said in the phone. When he hung up he took a deep breath and said, "(Y/n) says No. Peter said Yes... Then they were-- I don't know debating? They said we should wait here. They'll come here."

A few minutes later, Ned and Mj were chatting about different plans they could come up with, the two peter were on the roof incase the two arrives and their presence would scare them off.

"Hi." (Y/n) smiled, his cheeks red because of the cold wind. "I'm sorry we're late." He said, holding the bag of destroyed cures.

"(Y/n)!" Ned smiled back.

Then Peter emerged from behind (Y/n), his weary form swaying with burdened sorrow. With tears cascading down his cheeks, Ned and MJ rushed towards him, enveloping his frail frame in a tight embrace. Overwhelmed by the weight of his anguish, Peter crumbled into their arms, his anguished cries consuming the air around them. (Y/n) distance himself from them, giving the friends some space.

"I’m sorry." MJ said softly gently pulls back. "Peter, there’s... there’s some people here.

"What?" He looked around, then Peter leaped up, sensing them... Older Peter and the Other Peter stare down from the school’s tower, silhouetted by the moon.

Peter takes a protective stance, guarding his friends, as the two swing down.

"Hey, wait, wait-- whoa!" He exclaimed, shocked.

The other Peters’ faces say it all. Yes, we’re... you.

(Y/n)'s eyes widened in disbelief. Was this really happening? Were there two other spider people standing before him from another universe? Peter had filled him in on what was going on, but (Y/n) hadn't expected to witness it firsthand.

"Sorry... about May." Older peter said.

"Yeah, sorry. I’ve got some understanding of what it--" Other peter tried to interject.

"No, no, no... please don’t tell me that you know what I’m going through.

"Okay." Other Peter whispers sympathetically, nodding.

"She’s gone. And it’s all my fault. She died for nothing." A pause, then "So I’m gonna do what I should have done in the first place." Peter reaches for The Box in MJ’s hand.

"Peter--"

"Please, don’t! You don’t belong here, either of you. So I’m sending you home. Those other guys are from your worlds, right?"

Other Peter nods.

"So you deal with it. And if they die, if you kill them... that’s on you. It’s not my problem. I don’t care anymore. I’m done." then, sincerely "I’m really sorry that I dragged you into this. But you have to go home now. Good luck."

"Wait Pete." Peter reaches for The Box again, but (Y/n) gently pulls it back. He looks at Peter, "Just hear them out, please?" (Y/n) glanced at the two other Peter, which gave him a small smile in return.

"My uncle Ben was killed. It was my fault." Older Peter started, his face says everything.

"I lost..." Other Peter's voice cracked.  "I lost Gwen. My, um... she was my best friend, My MJ. I couldn’t save her. I’m never gonna be able to forgive myself for that. But I carried on, tried to, um... try to keep going, try to keep being the uh... that “Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man,” ‘cause I knew that’s what she would have wanted. But at some point, I just-- I stopped pulling my punches. I got rageful. I got bitter. but (Y/n) was there to pull me out." He glanced at him, whose eye's were wide "And I'm grateful for it. Always... When I said that those times were the worst, trust me on that Peter, I just don’t want you to end up like... like me."

"The night Ben died, I hunted down the man who I thought did it. I wanted him dead. I got what I wanted. It didn’t make it better. It took me a long time to learn to get through that darkness." Older Peter continued, a small smile on his lips as he remembered his time with his (Y/n)... he remembered his time with his own (Y/n), all the good and the bad ones. But amidst the suffocating darkness, (Y/n) emerged as a radiant beacon, illuminating his life with unwavering light.

Peter is reeling. Struck by their losses. Their regrets. Their warning.

"I want to kill him. I want to tear him apart. I can still hear her voice in my head. Even after she was hurt, she said to me that we did the right thing. She told me that, “With great power--”"

"Comes great responsibility.”

The three of them look at each other. How do they know?

"Wait, what? How do you know that?"

"Uncle Ben said it." Older Peter admitted.

"The day he died." Other Peter continued.

The three Peter Parkers stare at each other, overwhelmed by this uncanny connection. Bound together across universes by those words.

"Maybe she didn’t die for nothing, Peter." Older Peter guessed.

***

(Y/n) came to a conclusion by connecting the dot together that the new people they met was Peter, but Peter from the other universes. He wanted to celebrate the fact that the Multiverse Theory was real. But he couldn't, because everything was falling apart and he didn't know how he could help other than follow them around.

He felt small, useless by the fact that by the time they were in the Chemistry lab at school, everyone was working, his Peter instructed them on what to do while he just sits in the distance looking at them as they work. He wanted to approach Peter that was wearing a lab coat, ask him why he had mentioned his name... He wanted to ask what role he played in Peter's life, but he couldn't he didn't want to interrupt him, or any of them for that matter.

"Hey," a small voice chimed in from his side, causing (Y/n) to jump in surprise. Startled by the sudden appearance, he turned to face the source of the voice, his heart racing.

"Hi," he squeaked, attempting to conceal his nervousness with a shy smile. His palms grew clammy as he struggled to find his composure in the presence of this unexpected visitor.

"You doing okay?" the newcomer asked, their voice filled with genuine concern. A gentle smile adorned their face, casting a warm and reassuring glow that eased (Y/n)'s apprehension.

"Yeah... I think." He looked down.

"If it makes you feel better... I think you look pretty tonight." Peter offered, his words laced with sincerity. His (Y/n) from his universe loved getting complements and praises, even in the worse situation. It makes his (Y/n) feel a little lightweight.

(Y/n) let out a small laugh. A faint blush crept onto (Y/n)'s cheeks, his nervous smile transforming into a more genuine expression. "Okay, that's weird..." The smile on his face not leaving. "But thanks though. You're actually the first person who told me that I'm pretty."

"Wait, really? Not even--" his head turned, and saw MJ leans her head against Peter. Peter relaxes into her. "Uhm. I'm sorry." He suddenly said.

(Y/n) who was still looking at him, with a small smile on his lips said, "What for?" He tried so hard not to look at where Mj and Peter sat. He knew what he would feel if he did, and he isn't really fond of feeling jealous, because he knows he doesn't have the right to.

"Everything. If you ever feel small or empty, just know that everyone in this room loves you so much," Peter 3 said, his voice filled with sincerity and compassion.

"How can you say that? You don't even know me," (Y/n) replied, his voice tinged with sadness and self-doubt.

"But I do... Well, the other you, from my universe. I think you two are very similar."

"Yeah? What was he like?" (Y/n) asked, a glimmer of curiosity shining in his eyes.

"Smart, kind, funny, gentle, obsessed with Academics... Cute. He has this look that could make you give in and say yes, even if he asks for something so unhinged. You'd do anything for him," Other Peter described, a fond smile forming on his lips.

"That sounds nice," (Y/n) remarked, a mixture of longing and melancholy in his voice.

"He's also very good at kissing. Can't leave that out," Older Peter added with a mischievous grin.

(Y/n) startled, holding onto Other Peter's shoulder to keep himself from falling. "You guys have to stop sneaking at me like that!"

"Sorry, just a habit," Older Peter apologized.

"Oh, yeah. Very good at kissing," Other Peter playfully chimed in.

"Well... I wouldn't know," (Y/n) replied, rolling his eyes in a lighthearted manner.

"He's very sweet you know. And I am very In love with him... And seeing you here, alone... It just brought memories..." Older Peter confessed, a hint of wistfulness in his voice.

"Well, I'm sorry if my presence brought out darkness in your life," (Y/n) said, looking down, feeling ashamed and dejected. "I've always felt like I'm the problem."

"Hey, don't say that. You're not, and you will never be the problem. It's just, these so called dark time, happened because my (Y/n) wasn't there for me. And when he came into my life it was like the sun finally rose and stayed, providing me comfort and warmth,"

Peter 3 reassured him, his voice filled with genuine care.

"He's lucky, then. The two (Y/n). Very lucky. Because all I want is that," (Y/n) admitted, his voice breaking with emotion. "And... I could never have that. So, I hope he's doing great. I hope he doesn't feel what I feel now..."

"Good," (Y/n) nodded, appreciating the support and understanding.

"What have you always wanted?" Older Peter asked, his voice soft and compassionate.

"I don't know... I just want him to look at me. Like, you know..." His voice faded, and hands fumbling with the hem of his coat. "Like I'm his." His heart shattered, he knew that wasn't possible. He always convinced himself that Peter will never looked at him the way he wanted to be looked at. He tried to forget the thought that he was In love with his Best friend. So he went on countless dates, slept with some of them, but the feeling clung to him, and it seem it doesn't want to let go.

Peter 2 and 3 sat solemnly in front of (Y/n), their eyes heavy with disappointment. They had thought that every version of themselves fell in love with (Y/n). But in this universe, it seemed that fate had different plans.

Peter 3 spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "We don't understand it. We don't know why it had to be this way."

(Y/n) couldn't help but feel a lump form in his throat. It was one thing to know that the Peters from other universes were in love with him, but it was another to see the disappointment etched on the faces of the two in front of them. He knew that this wasn't their fault, that there was no way they could have predicted this outcome, but the guilt still lingered.

As they sat there in silence, (Y/n) couldn't help but think of the recent events that had transpired. The reveal of Peter Parker's secret identity and the betrayal of those they thought were their friends. It was all so overwhelming, and now, to add insult to injury, the universe had decided that he was not meant to find love.

Tears threatened to spill over, and (Y/n) couldn't bring himself to look at the two Peters in front of them. They knew that this was not their fault, that it was not the fault of anyone. It was just the cruel reality of the multiverse.

As they sat there in silence, the weight of the world heavy on their shoulders, (Y/n) couldn't help but wonder if they would ever find love. If they would ever find someone who would love them for who they were, and not just because of some cosmic coincidence. But for now, all they could do was take solace in the fact that they had the support of the two Peters in front of them, even if they couldn't give them the love he desired.

***

Finally, the fight was over. After bidding farewell to Ned and MJ, Peter turned to (Y/n), his voice trembling with a mix of sorrow and resignation.

"(Y/n)..."

"No," (Y/n) managed to choke out, his voice strained with raw emotion. "You can't do this, Pete. You can't take away the memories." His plea hung in the air, his tears on the brink of spilling over.

(Y/n), we have no choice," Peter's voice cracked, the weight of their predicament bearing heavily upon him.

It was so unfair. (Y/n) couldn't fathom the injustice of it all. He couldn't have the one thing he wanted, and now they were discussing erasing everything? It felt like a cruel twist of fate. Screw the universe, screw destiny. "I love you, Peter," (Y/n) confessed, taking a shaky step closer to his best friend. "But you can't just take my memories away from me. You're the best thing that ever happened to me. My life was a wreck before I met you. You saved me even before you became Spider-Man. The memories we shared are too precious to lose. I don't want to forget you." Every fiber of his being longed to kiss Peter in that moment, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. MJ was right there. Right there...

"I'm sorry, (Y/n). We have no other choice," Peter said, his words laced with sorrow. Without giving (Y/n) a hug or a comforting touch, Peter flew away, leaving him behind.

Tears fell on his cheek, his head turned to the two Peter, shaking his head. Peter 2 looked defeated, and Peter 3 was confused as to why every Peter in every universe would fall in love with (Y/n), as this universe did not, and all  Peter 3 could manage was to look a tad bit disappointed.

The last thing (Y/n) saw was Peter 3 giving him a reassuring smile. It was a smile that spoke a thousand words, conveying a sense of calmness and hope that everything will be okay. It was a smile that (Y/n) knew would stick in his mind for a long time to come.

THE END...?

[qsphyxias]

ꜱʜᴀᴍᴇꜰᴜʟ, ᴘᴀʀᴋᴇʀ! ꜱʜᴀᴍᴇꜰᴜʟ!

if you fetishize mlm/nblm relationships, get the fuck out of here!

synopsis ; you + pete are dating, and you're about to have the house all to yourselves— but peter has to wait to do so, and he gets impatient. basically.

warnings ; m! reader (he/him), cussing, suggestive, a bit unorganized, unedited so probably typos, you have parents (lol he doesn't), also tom's spiderman

note ; this was going to go so much more different than i wanted it to!! i wanted it to be like peter was texting you and he was outside your window and like, frustrated bc he did not know if you liked him, and then you told him to come over or something and idk WHAT IS THIS . inspidered by the song below

words ; 1.2k +

⊱ ───── {⋅𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕠𝕣 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 - 𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕚𝕒𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕚𝕘𝕖𝕣𝕤⋅} ───── ⊰

It was a nice, warm winter evening— or at least, it felt warm to Peter considering how much he was sweating that day. With a disgruntled string of curses, Peter whipped out his phone as he balanced himself on a lamp post, ready to text Ned and ask him if he remembered how to turn on the air conditioning in his suit.

Despite the gross feeling of his suit sticking to his thighs and pits, Peter continued to hesitate on sending that shameful text message. Not because it was the middle of December, or how Peter could not (or would not) tell Ned the very irrational reason why he needed those puffs of air in his suit— no, it was because of love, that's why! That's why he was sitting on a lamppost, worriedly watching you outside your house awaiting your incoming text message.

"God, I sound like an idiot. Oh god, I probably look like an idiot too." Peter grumbled, with his hands resting on his face and fingers set strategically, so he'd still be able to see through them, and into your bedroom window. Not creepy at all, no.

Before you harshly judge Peter's actions, (and rightfully so,) let it be known why he was doing it in the first place!

Just a couple of minutes ago, you two were texting (passionately)—as hormonal teenage boys do—until all of a sudden, you sent the following;

"My parents are about to leave to go check out some real estate property. They probably won't be back until 10 PM, at the earliest— wanna come over? I've gotta beat someone at Smash Bros."

What!? Peter was ecstatic, he was just about ready to go—having already slung on his pants and T-shirt with his webbing with one hand as he watched his phone screen with the other, like a hawk.

"Oh but, maybe wait a couple of minutes because my mom lost her phone and she'll probably take a few. I'll get you back with an update."

Nooooooooooo!

Oh, you. You... Evil, teasing, handsome, mischievous, terrifying you. If only you knew what you had just unleashed.

Despite your friendly reminder that Peter had to wait before he could smash you- I mean, play Smash with you, he did not care. Instead, he decided that a couple of minutes in the cold, waiting outside your room would be nothing to the spectacular Spider-man.

Also, because he made a giant webby mess in his room and he did not want to be home when Aunt May sees it.

And now we're back here; back to Peter sitting and waiting out on a lamppost, alone, and sweaty in the cold—which was ironic because he thought that his major problem of today would be the weather, not his hormones. He thought the latter would come easy, and oh boy, to say it did not.

"Ugh, come on S/o's mom! Find your damn phone already!" Peter moped as he watched your mom roam your room, searching for her phone helplessly—

—until, he saw it.

Her phone! Peter near jumped off the lamp post to try and catch your attention and point at the phone resting on the window sill, until he luckily realized that that was not a good idea.

Instead, Pete opted for whipping his phone out, texting furiously with his cold, but clammy fingers. "S/O!!! TELL YOUR MOM TO CHECK ON YOUR WINDOW SILL!!!!"

Wait, no, try again.

"Hey, you know I lost my phone last week and I actually ended up finding it on my window sill hahah, maybe check there?"

Nice and smooth.

Peter internally high-fived himself as he watched you pick up your phone from his angle. Followed by your sudden diversion of your attention to your window, then your gasp, and then your funny reaction of rapidly pointing at your window sill like a crazy person, where your mom's phone rested. With a relieved smile, your mom kissed you on your cheek and waved you goodbye, to which you turned red and—to Peter's dismay—closed the curtains. Gee, looks like you really hoped no one saw that exchange of mom kisses.

"Fuck!" Well this sucks. Now Peter can't watch you from your window like a— Ding!

A notification from you! Hooray! Who cares about the window, now he'll get to see the real thing!

"Thanks for the tip, bro! turns out her phone was in the exact location you just sent me— isn't that funny? Anyway, she's leaving soon, so you should probably start getting ready to leave."

Peter sighed, "If only he knew."

The familiar sound of an engine revving up caused Peter to perk up, now paying attention to the car that just pulled out your driveway which could be no other than your parents. Mission complete, Peter could now take action and tame his hormonal tendencies.

"All clear!" You quickly sent him, thinking there was no possible way he was as excited as you were-

Until a knock interrupted your thoughts.

You opened the door, shocked at the sweaty man you saw before you. "Peter?"

"Hi." With a smile like that, you could never have known he had just stripped himself naked and stuffed his suit into his backpack in seconds flat, prior to meeting you.

"But I just sent you the message? How did you get here so fast?" You laughed exasperatedly, ushering him in quickly before your parents could come back and kick him out.

"Love... finds a way?" He chuckled awkwardly, hoping he wouldn't have to explain his stalker-ish tendencies.

You could only shake your head, and laugh as you wasted no more time to pounce on him, letting him pick you up and bring you to the room he was just staring into not long ago. "Wow, strong too." You commented, to which he reacted bashfully.

You patted him on the arm, signalling your desire to descend from the soft pillows Pete calls his biceps. "Okay, this is getting demeaning— put me down."

The bed gave a good tiny bounce as you both settled onto the bed, with you getting comfortable just sitting on his chest. ""Love finds a way," huh?" Peter could only shrug, "Yup." not wanting to say anymore.

"So you love me?" You paraphrased his once thought-through quote, and replaced it with "disastrous gay blurbs."

"Love? Oh, did I say love?- I just meant- I mean, if you want- but I thought we were at the "like-like" stage? But I mean, if you're uncomfortable I can totally just-"

You interrupted him with a cackle, "Like-like stage? You did not just say that." A deadpan expression rested upon your features, something that screamed, "You are better than that." —causing Peter to flush even more than before. "Shut up." He muttered dejectedly, flopping face-first into your pillows. "I thought you were actually offended!" his words were muffled, but the true embarrassment laced in his words still came through.

In your defence, "I was!"

"No, you weren't," Peter corrected, "No, I wasn't." You repeated.

"You're mean." He stated, getting up from his fetal position and throwing one of your pillows at you. "But you love me." You reminded, a shit-eating grin decorating your features, laughing before getting a mouthful of pillow and suddenly, not laughing anymore.

"Correction, I "like-like" you." Peter climbed on top of you, you who had been pillow-beaten to death. "Ugh, back to the "like-like" stage, so much worse than the bro stage!" You feigned despair, a ghost of a smile still peaking through your grimace.

It only took seconds for Peter to make the decision he usually has trouble with— the decision to kiss you.

And let's just say, thank god your parents decided to overnight it at the real estate building.

⊱───── ❝ thank you for reading! ❞ ─────⊰