#tom Holland x reader

[musingsofheaven]

SUGAR RUSH.

peter parker x afab!reader

fluff. heavy kissing. implied intimacy. teens being ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ teens. light suggestive vibes but nothing explicit. ♡

You're on your stomach on Peter's bed, your legs stretched out while wearing the hoodie you stole from his closet a week ago. The sleeves are too long, covering half your hands, but you like it that way. It smells like him, like detergent and that cologne he pretends he doesn't use. You've been living in it like a raccoon in a stolen nest. You're not doing anything right now, just waiting for your boyfriend to finish studying, with your mouth full of Pop Rocks that won't shut up.

Crack. Pop. Crack. It's funny, honestly. It sounds like a neck getting cracked in half—well, it can sound like fireworks too. It's annoyingly loud because your mouth looks like it's trying to pick a fight with physics.

Peter groans from his desk and doesn't even look at you. "You're so annoying." The words come out flat like he's already said them three times today. You know he doesn't mean it. Not really. He's just complaining. As always. It's his nature.

You chuckle, candy still fizzing. "You said I could have them." You roll onto your side just to get a better look at him, your lips pouting as if you're using them against him. His pen is tapping against his notebook while listening to the popping of the Pop Rocks.

"Didn't say I wanted to hear them every five seconds, baby." He pinches the bridge of his nose. Sometimes you wonder how he can even manage you. Maybe he's praying for patience and not getting any divine assistance.

You shift a little, cheek pressed against the soft fabric of his bed. "You can't even hear me over there," you say before scoffing and chewing deliberately, just to make a point.

"I can. It's like... background music. In my head." He spins slightly in his chair, just enough to throw a look at you over his shoulder.

You snort. "Dramatic." You drag the word out, milk it, trying to piss him off. Then you toss another handful of candy into your mouth like a kid.

He finally turns around the chair creaking. His hair's a mess, and there's a pencil tucked behind his ear like he forgot it was there. He crosses his arms and damn... those muscles are flexing. "I'm trying to study, and you're over here sounding like... I don't even know what to call it." His expression is all annoyed, but his eyes are warm. Tired, but warm. Not angry. Honestly? You love it when he gets like this, grumpy and soft around the edges.

You open your mouth real wide and go "Aaahhh," just to make the fizz louder. It's obnoxious. Truly. The kind of noise that would make people glare at you, and you're so proud of it.

Peter squints at you like he's in pain. "Why is my girlfriend like this?" He says it like a curse, like a prayer, like a man at the end of his rope who still wouldn't let go.

"Aw, come on, you love me." You say it too easily. It's not a question—something settled and obvious and unchangeable.

He exhales through his nose and walks over to you anyway, flops down next to you on the bed, elbow bumping yours. You hold out the package of candy. It rustles between you like a peace offering. Or a trap. He hasn't decided which yet.

He eyes it before looking back at you and your lips. "You're gonna shut up if I take some?" There's no heat in it, like the everyday tone he uses when you're being like this. Just a tired sort of fondness, like he's resigned himself to your antics and this weird little life you two have built. Annoyingly lovable, what he always says when you're asking for assurance if he still loves you even though you're playful.

You shrug. "Probably not." And you mean it. You're indecisive, and impulsive, with tendencies to be pushy. He knew that when he let you steal his hoodie the first time, and when you did things just to get his attention.

He sighs but takes a few and tilts his head back to chew. The sound bursts in the quiet like tiny firecrackers, and he physically winces, like he didn't think they'd be that loud. Hates the sounds. Obviously.

He looks at you like you just committed a crime. "Why does it... feel weird?" His face scrunches, and he's trying not to like it but also can't deny that it's kind of hilarious.

"It's fun-weird, not bad-weird." You roll onto your back beside him, shoulder brushing his, voice smug. "It tastes good though!"

Peter turns his head toward you and looks at your mouth. "You're ridiculous," he says softly, barely louder than the crackle. But he's still watching you, still close before he takes the Pop Rocks from your hand, gets enough from inside, and puts it in his mouth.

Then he kisses you.

Like... no warning. One second he's staring at your mouth like it's got all the answers to his questions, and the next, he's leaning in, slow but sure, like he already decided and you just didn't catch up yet. It's not aggressive, not rushed- it's soft, warm, and easy.

Your mouths meet soft at first. Just lips brushing lips, a little sticky from the candy's effect. But then the Pop Rocks crackle between you, loud and sudden, like someone just started a time bomb under your tongues, and everything jumps.

You giggle against him, nose bumping his, but he doesn't pull back. He just tilts his head and pushes in a little deeper. And, well, yeah, maybe that's when it changes.

Because now it's not soft. It's something else.

His mouth opens just enough for your tongue to catch him, and he tastes like cherry- you're sure it's from the candy. The candy's still popping, still snapping under your tongues, and it's a funny feeling. Literally. Your lips part wider, let it get messy, let it get loud. You lick into his mouth a little and feel him suck in a breath right through his nose.

And God, that's all it takes before he's kissing you back harder now, licking the taste of candy right out of your mouth like he's trying to shut it off. His hand finds your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek, gently and soft the way he knows you like. It's steady; he's holding you in place. His teeth graze your bottom lip, yearningly, just barely, just enough to feel it, and you groan, soft and surprised and too into it.

It's clumsy, yeah. Of course, it is. You're both grinning too much, breathing too hard, lips swollen already, and the candy still going off like a fucking broken record. But you don't stop. Neither of you. Because it's fun and silly. Because it's stupid. Because it's so much better than it should be.

Peter pulls back eventually, breathing hard, his lips pink and wet, a little sugar stuck at the corner of his mouth again. He licks it away automatically, and your stomach flips.

"Okay," he says, voice low and just barely wrecked. "That was..."

He doesn't even finish the sentence.

You're already grabbing more Pop Rocks.

"Again," you say, out of breath but grinning. "C'monnn."

He laughs, but it's a little shaky now. "I'm gonna die."

"Mhm," you hum and press your mouth to his before he can say another word.

This time, it's not that gentle. It's full of tongues and teeth and stupid little moans pressed into each other's mouths, sugar and spit and heat all tangled up in a kiss that has no business feeling this good.

You taste like candy, and he kisses you like he’s starving for it.

𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓© 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍

𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝

[emmaslilblog]

Tarantula-Man // Peter Parker

ONE-SHOT

ABOUT: After your long-time crush Peter Parker invites you over for dinner one night, you accidentally discover his biggest secret. [ tomholland!peter x fem!reader. big fluff, quiet bookworm girl x nerdy guy ]

TW: A few allusions to sex. Overwhelming cutness :)

WORD COUNT: 5.1k

A/N: Had to give Tom Holland's Petey a turn! He's just such a softie I can't handle his cuteness. Anyway enjoy :)

DISCLAIMER: The gif is not mine! Also, I might have changed the setup/floor plan of the Parker apartment in order for this idea to work, so please forgive meeee

~~~

You've always had eyes for the nerd in the back of the classroom. Granted, everyone at Midtown School of Science and Technology has more than earned their right to the title of "nerd" - but this one's different from the others.

His name is Peter Parker. He's got the fluffiest brown hair you've ever seen, the softest chocolate eyes, the most perfectly chiseled chin and a smile to melt the hearts of all the world's monsters. Not to mention he's dashing in every way - muscular physique, capable talents, a shy nature and a respect for his fellow students. His best friend is a social outcast, but he's never afraid of getting targeted for it. He's an all-around good guy, and it's safe to say you've never liked anyone more.

But as the resident "quiet girl" of Midtown, no one has ever really looked your way. That's both a good and bad thing. On the bright side, no one ever notices you when you spend hours of your day sneaking peeks at the handsome Peter Parker. On the down side, however... no one ever notices you.

Until today.

It's early autumn. The leaves are falling in golden-tinted shades outside, the trees rustling in the breeze. You can see the sun through the window across the cafeteria, but the windows closest to you are shaded by the trees just outside. You're sitting on a bench, alone, in the corner of the cafeteria, feet kicked up next to you on the empty bench, a book in your hands as you take occasional sips from a carton of crappy chocolate milk. For the time being, your mind has drifted from Parker, settling on the words your eyes scan from the page. Catcher In The Rye, one of your favorite books. An old-timer, and one that's been banned in several places across the world, but the story is just so... thoughtful. And you love to think.

Just when you reach a "good part" in the scene - someone clears their throat.

Your head jerks up. None other than Peter Parker and Ned Leeds are standing on the other side of the table, lunch trays in hand. Peter's face instantly blushes, and you find yourself frozen.

"Hey, uh, Y/n..." Peter says, scrambling for words. "Uh, I, uh... Miss Jenson recommended you to, uh, help me with Calc. She said you have the highest consistent scores in the class."

You gulp down your social terror, and find yourself nodding. "I didn't know I have the highest scores," you tell him, trying to sound confident, "but, uh, yeah. Yeah, I can help you."

Peter beams. You fall for him all over again.

He nods to the table. "Mind if Ned and I join you?"

You smile, a little awkwardly. "I don't usually get visitors, but you guys seem pleasant."

He takes that as the yes you meant it to be. Together, Peter and Ned sit down across from you and set their trays on the table. You swing your legs down from the bench, scooting forward just slightly. You set your book face up on the table, and Peter's eyes dart to its cover. He smirks at you.

"Catcher In The Rye?" he reads. "Wow, I guess you really do have to watch out for the quiet ones."

You giggle softly, pulling the book closer to you. Shrugging, you respond, "Guess so. I dunno, I just like the language. Holden Caulfield's got a lot of useful clapbacks. Which I intend to use, should anyone try to insult me."

As Ned rips his chocolate milk carton open, Peter's eyes twinkle in a sweet smile. "Don't worry, I try to follow the Nice Guy Code. You won't have to go all Holden Caulfield on me, I promise."

You grin. Parker's turning out to be even better in person than you ever could have imagined. You sense there's more behind the "Calc Homework Help" excuse, but you don't want to get your hopes up. Whatever it is - whatever the reason he came to talk to you - you're finally in his presence, and that's more than enough to satisfy you.

For now.

~~~

It's been two weeks. Every day has been like a dream. When the first day was done, you convinced yourself it had been a one-time thing, since Peter had seemed to understand the concepts you were explaining to him and he'd stopped asking questions by the end of lunchtime. But when he returned the second day, Ned at his side, you figured something else was at play.

It took three days before you started - for some reason - seeing him in the halls way more often than usual. He started just passing by, waving to you and grinning each time he saw you. Then, on the fourth day, he ran up behind you (scared you a little bit, but that's okay), and started talking your ear off about The Great Gatsby, a book he figured you'd enjoy based on your taste in literature. You had already read his recommendation at least five times in your life, but you nurtured his excitement anyway. Any chance to be closer to him, to be in his presence, was a chance you would be a idiot to turn down.

On the fifth day, Peter showed up to lunch alone. Ned had gone somewhere else. That was when you allowed yourself to accept that something fishy was going on. You felt like you were a character in one of the books you loved - you could see something was off, but you didn't yet have the knowledge or insight to figure it out. Not fully.

You've hit the two week mark since Peter started seeking you out at Midtown, the first person in perhaps a year or two to do so. At lunch today, Ned finally came back and joined you both, but he kept his nose in his phone practically the whole time. You felt bad for him - tried to include him in conversation - but it was obvious he was there despite not wanting to be. Peter shrugged it all off.

You're at your locker, earbuds pressed deep in your ears and snaking down to the phone in your pocket. You're nodding your head to a beat only you can hear. You have a few minutes in between classes, so you've taken to organizing your (rather cluttered) locker space.

Someone taps on your shoulder.

You jump and spin around to see Peter standing there, face warped in a big grin, and your heart leaps in your chest. You tug one earbud out of your ear. The music stops.

"Don't do that, Parker," you tell him, breathless. "You scared the crap out of me."

He chuckles to himself, leaning sideways against the locker next to yours. You notice that he's standing very close to you. Closer than usual, even when walking down a crowded hallway. Your breath hitches in your throat when you look at him - his eyes are clouded with a depth you can't describe. Something's definitely going on.

"Sorry," he says, a half-assed apology. "I forgot you frighten easily."

A heat rises to your cheeks, and you force a frown. "What ever happened to watching out for the quiet ones?"

Those had been his words, said two weeks ago when he first joined you at lunch. It takes him a few seconds to realize what you're doing, and then he gives you a strange look, and somehow, you know exactly what he's thinking. He's wondering why you remember that so easily... and then he's wondering why you were paying so much attention when he was speaking to you.

Nevertheless, he forces a laugh. "Sorry," he stutters. "I, uh - sorry, that was rude of me. Please don't be mad, Y/n."

He's too pretty. If it's this hard to hold a straight face in front of him, you don't even want to know what holding a grudge against him would be like. You give in, and your lips curl into a smile.

"I'm not," you assure him. "Just... don't make fun of me for being, y'know, a scaredy-cat."

He reaches out, strong fingers grazing your upper arm just barely. Even with such brief contact, his touch sends shivers down your spine. When he pulls his arm back, you feel as though you've lost something. You can't describe it other than the feeling of loss.

"I won't do it again," he says. "I promise."

You force a nod, dragging your mind away from the thought of his fingers on you. What it would be like to feel him even closer to you. He just gave you a taste of the forbidden fruit, and you want more.

You clear your throat. "So, uh... might I ask why you approached me in the middle of the day? We have..." You lean back, squinting at the clock hanging from the ceiling down the hallway. "We have exactly two minutes before the bell rings. Where's your class?"

"Chem," he answers simply, waving your question away. "It's just down the hall. I, uh, I actually wanted to, uh... ask you something."

Your heart leaps.

"Oh?" you breathe, tilting your head to the side, pretending every muscle in your body isn't on edge. "And what's that, I wonder?"

Parker raises a hand to scratch the back of his neck. You recognize the movement from every love confession scene you've ever read. His eyes, big chocolate orbs, dart away from you and around the hallway aimlessly. He smiles at the ground. His cheeks go red.

"I..." he starts, hesitating wildly. "Well, I, uh... I may or may not have mentioned your name to my Aunt May. And she... well, she wants to meet you."

The thought of him bringing you up to someone you don't even know - him talking about you when you're not there, obviously in a positive light since his aunt wants to meet you now - makes your knees go weak. You feel faint. Is this really happening? Is he really doing what you think he's doing?

"I really don't want to put you on edge, you know," Peter continues with a shrug, "so if you're not interested, just... just, uh, say no. I won't be upset. But, um... Aunt May's cooking dinner tonight. For three. If you, uh, want to join." He gives you a crooked smile.

Inside your chest, your heart melts. You're speechless. This is actually happening. He just invited you to dinner. And you can think of only one thing to say in response.

"What time?"

~~~

You must have spent close to three hours preparing for dinner with Peter and his Aunt May. Your shower took over an hour (you frantically made sure to shave every hair exposed on your legs, not wanting to take any chances on Peter's toleration level), and then you spent half an hour scrolling through Pinterest for eyeliner design inspiration. In the end, you settle with your usual school makeup, plus a slightly darker shade of lip gloss and a smattering of rosy eyeshadow. From your meager closet you elect a black skirt ending just above your knees, a gray buttoned blouse, and a black cardigan. While lacing your white Converse, you hyperventilate for a terrifying fifteen minutes. Then you say goodbye to your parents and leave your apartment on foot.

Peter's apartment complex isn't far from your own - just a few blocks. In an endless city like New York, that's a simple distance. You brought a little bag of homemade chocolates for the Parkers to share, and you spend the entire walk switching the strings of the bag between sweaty hands.

When you arrive in the lobby of the apartment complex, no one is there to welcome you, and it alarms you a little bit. Your heart beats louder and more aggressive in your chest, throat tightening as you try to swallow away your anxiety. You sent Peter a text when you left your apartment, and another five minutes out from his, but he hasn't responded. Hell, he hasn't even read your messages. You begin to wonder if this is a good idea, if he suddenly went back on his offer. You can't blame him - you aren't the most interesting or the most beautiful girl at Midtown. You aren't the cream of the crop. You're just... you. And if things aren't going like he said they would, then maybe it's time to accept the Midtown boys as a mere passing moment in the era of your life.

Just when you've convinced yourself it's time to turn around and go home, you hear a ping! from your back pocket. You whip your phone out at dastardly speed.

Peter :))) : sixth floor incase i forgot to mention :P

You smile to yourself. Instead of quieting, your heart skips a beat and then continues faster. You head over to the elevator. It takes a millennium for the thing to descend to the ground floor after you push the button, and even more time to begin its agonizingly slow ascent to the sixth floor.

Ding!

You exhale deeply. Sweaty fingers straighten your skirt at its edge. Then you urge your feet forward onto the carpet, looking for the number of the Parker apartment.

Before you feel properly prepared, you stop in front of a maroon door. The door. You stand frozen for a long moment, double-checking the number against the one Peter texted you earlier. You're definitely in the right place - now it's just a matter of screwing up all your courage. After taking the deepest breath of your life, you reach up to knock on the wood.

It swings open before you can touch it.

Standing in front of you is a gorgeous woman looking to be in her mid-thirties, maybe slightly younger. She's wearing a black and white striped long-sleeve, with dark navy jeans that hug her waist as if she's eighteen. A pair of circular glasses sit on her nose, a headful of dark brown hair flowing down and over her shoulders. If not for those instantly recognizable chocolate brown eyes, you would have believed you'd knocked on the wrong door.

When Aunt May sees you standing there, her face erupts in an enormous smile. She leans against the doorway, one hand resting loosely on the doorknob.

"Y/n!" she greets happily. "Pete didn't tell me when exactly you'd be coming. I was just going to get the mail from downstairs."

You giggle. "You call him Pete?"

Aunt May smirks, an expression far too mischievous for a woman reaching her middle age. "Just one of his many nicknames," she answers. Before you can react, she grabs your shoulders and pulls you into a crushing embrace. "He told me you were adorable, but I have to say, you still surpass my expectation."

Wrapped in a strange hug by a woman you've never met before, you can't help but smile. Your heart flutters in your chest - Peter told his aunt you were adorable. Who knows what else he's said.

Aunt May pulls away, regards you kindly. Then she ushers you into the apartment. "I'll be right back," she assures you. "Pete's in his room doing God knows what. Go terrorize him for me."

She winks at you, then disappears into the hallway, letting the door fall shut behind her. You can hear keys jingling as she walks to the elevator.

You take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Your eyes flicker around the apartment, bag of chocolates gripped tightly in both hands. The Parker living space is a good size, strewn with modern furnishings and knick-knacks and decorations akin to the personalities of Peter and his lively aunt. On the far wall, you spy a pinned-up painting of a cow in a pasture, the artistic level of a kindergartener. You giggle to yourself at the sight, gaze moving over object after object, then falling on a stream of light emanating from a slightly opened door at the end of a short hallway. You can hear the rustling and creaking of someone moving around - it's got to be Peter.

You gulp down your rising nerves. "Peter?" you call out. You step forward, then stop and listen. The movement has ceased entirely. "Peter, it's Y/n. Aunt May let me in."

A moment of silence. Then a strange scraping sound - like boots on a wooden dresser. You don't know why he hasn't answered yet.

After setting the bag of chocolates on the island, you defy your growing apprehension and direct your slow steps toward Peter's room. Wild thoughts of an intruder swirl around your mind, but you push them away. That can't be possible - Aunt May was here not two minutes ago.

You're in front of his bedroom door now. The movement has stopped again, replaced by a silence only broken by the thumping of your rapid heartbeat. This is the setting of something horrific - or would be, if you were a character in a novel. But you're not. You're retrieving Peter Parker from his bedroom. For a dinner with him and his aunt. That he invited you to. Nothing out of the ordinary is going on.

"Peter," you say, your voice shaky, "I'm coming in."

He doesn't answer. You give him several long moments, but all is silent. It's like he's disappeared into thin air.

Biting your lip, you push his bedroom door open all the way. The white wood creaks, and you step forward. Just a typical teenage boy's bedroom, moderately messy with a few open Lego sets and clothing items and a blue hoodie at the edge of his bed and a Playstation controller on the floor near a dresser. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Until your eyes drift to the ceiling.

Peter is glued to the ceiling as if by magic. He's wearing some sort of red and blue costume. He's staring at you, unblinking, as your eyes widen in terror.

You stumble backward and open your mouth to scream, but Peter jumps down to the floor in a soft thump and presses a soft gloved hand to your mouth. He's frantic, but you are horrified - what the hell is happening? Your mouth is covered, and you can't scream anymore, but you can't get the image of Peter clinging to the ceiling out of your mind. Peter shushes you quietly, his free hand reaching out to close the door behind you. It clicks shut.

"Please," Peter urges you, "please don't scream. I - I didn't mean to - I didn't know you'd be up here this fast. Please, Y/n, I -"

You rip Peter's hand away from your mouth and stumble on your feet, your back meeting the closed door. Your eyes are rimmed with tears, lungs struggling to pull in air, but you're able to hiss one thing at him: "What the fuck?"

Peter sighs deeply, fingers pulling at his hair in frustration. If you were less terrified, you would marvel at how flawlessly the red and blue suit hugs his form. The pattern looks like a spider at the center of his chest, legs stretching up and down across his figure.

"I really hoped you wouldn't - Y/n, I really -" he stutters, tripping over his words. "I didn't mean to - shit."

You take a moment to focus on your breathing. He's obviously angry. You obviously just walked in on something very private and possibly very dangerous. But he's still the same Peter Parker. He's still the same sweet nerdy guy who invited you to dinner with his aunt. He's still the guy who approached you at lunch and made conversation when no one else would. He's still Peter, and you have no right to hold your shock against him when you are the one who invaded his privacy in the first place.

A tear rolls down your cheek. "Did I just screw us up?" you ask, voice astonishingly quiet.

Peter looks up at you, chocolate brown orbs meeting yours, and he exhales with a faux smile. He shakes his head. "No, Y/n, I just... well, I've just had a lot going on lately, and I... this is something even my Aunt May doesn't know anything about. You're, like, the second person to find out about this. Maybe the third, I don't know."

Once you convince yourself that he isn't going to hurt you, you leave the door. Your steps carry you forward, toward Peter, and he takes a step back, perhaps fearful you're going to slap him or punch him. But you don't. Even if you wanted to, you couldn't.

"I didn't mean to walk in on a secret," you tell him softly. Against your racing heart, you raise a hand, gently touching his... suit-thing with the back of your index finger. It's smooth, soft, almost silky, but strong beneath your skin. It must be a new kind of technology. "What is this... for? This... suit... thing?"

Peter opens his mouth to answer, but pauses breathless when you press your palm to his shoulder, running your skin across his strange outfit. "I, uh..." he stammers, watching you inspect him with eyes of that strange depth from before. "It's a crazy story. I don't know if you'll believe me."

You recall the vision of Peter clinging impossibly to the ceiling, and you shrug lightly. "Tell me anyway," you say. "I just saw you glued to the ceiling. Anything would seem plausible at this point."

Peter bites his lip. He leans closer to you, almost imperceptibly, and lowers his voice. "I was bitten by a radioactive spider, and it... well, it gave me some powers I'm still trying to figure out. I was, uh, messing with some of it when you got here."

You nod, doing your best to process the impossible. "And this suit..." you ask, tapping on the material beneath your fingers, "it'll help you... what, control these powers? Harness them?"

"Something like that," Peter says. He shakes his head, chuckling softly. "I can't believe you're still here, after seeing... you know, that."

You smile to yourself. "You looked more bothered by my intrusion than I felt. Would've been a shitty move to run."

The whole thing is ridiculous. You feel like you're in a dream. But at the same time, you feel more lucid than ever before. What you saw was real, and what Peter's telling you is even more real. You feel it in your gut. You just have to gather your courage and believe him. It's easy enough to believe your written stories, right? Why not believe the one Peter just told you out loud?

All of a sudden, you realize how close you're standing to him. With him leaning forward just slightly, and you merely a foot or two from him, you can practically feel the heat of his body on yours. The last time you were this close to a boy - let alone a boy you were actually interested in - was in seventh grade. The ensuing kiss was sloppy, awkward, and something you vowed to forget as soon as it was over. Now, standing a breath away from Peter Parker, you feel almost euphoric. Overcome with a sensation you can't describe. The suit makes him look hot - and you can't tear your eyes away from him.

He clears his throat, and you look up to his face. His cheeks are a little blushed. "I feel underdressed," he confesses.

You furrow your brows. "I didn't really dress up at all," you tell him. Your voice is just barely unsteady, trembling in a mix of adrenaline, leftover fear, butterflies...

Peter takes the gloves off his hands, dropping them to the floor beside him. His fingers raise to your shoulder, skin fluttering across the soft fabric of your black cardigan. You nearly melt under his touch. He's as gentle as a feather against you. "Maybe not," he says after a long pause, his breathing hitched slightly. "But you still... you still look gorgeous."

You freeze. Your heart pounds inside your chest, demanding to be let free. You feel dizzy all of a sudden.

"Makes me feel a little, um... a little inadequate," he continues with a soft chuckle.

Your voice crackles when you speak, lips parting in a soft haze of rapidly growing adoration and need. "Peter..."

Your hand drifts to his bare neck, and he shivers against your touch. His hand is tracing a sketch of your figure - where he started at your shoulder, he's now moving to your neck, your arm, down to your waist, grazing a spot that leaves you with little breath in your lungs. His other hand approaches from the other side, fingers ghosting your jawline. You can't breathe. He's looking everywhere but your gaze. His chocolate brown orbs are skimming every visible part of you, memorizing your figure like he's at a museum beholding a Monet creation. His movements are restless, determined.

Then -

"Can I kiss you?"

Peter's eyes glisten with a longing you can't quite describe. He wants it just as much as you do. He needs it.

"I know it's a weird moment," he says in rambling words, "after the - y'know, the - the ceiling thing, and, uh -"

Your fingers curl in his hair, pulling him to you. You shut your eyes just as his lips connect with yours.

His kiss starts slowly, softly, tentatively. You search for his determination, his hunger. He tastes fresh, like peppermint - the thought produces a blazing fire in your core. He had thought ahead. He'd wanted to kiss you even before you arrived, had even prepared with breath mints.

You open your lips, and that seems to be his cue - he meets your effort with shocking ferocity, diving back into you like he's starved of affection. His fingers dig into your waist, drawing your hips to his, and your arms snake around his neck, your nails dragging across the sensitive skin of his scalp. A noise escapes his throat at the contact - a mix between a groan, a whimper, and a moan - and his arms lock around your waist, holding you steadfast against him. Before you know it, you're stumbling backward, and your back hits the door. One of his hands travels down to your ass, and in permission, you kiss him with more hunger. More fire. His response is a light squeeze to your butt. The mint is all-encompassing now. His body is taut against yours like a lifeline. He's not going anywhere.

His lips leave yours, but you barely notice. Down he drifts, down to your jaw and slowly to your neck, peppering kisses as he goes. His arms are strong around you, and even as your knees buckle and your body melts against him, he holds you steady and safe and constant. When he nips at a spot just below your ear, you bite your lip so hard you taste blood, shutting your eyes and letting out a soft whimper. Peter holds you closer, tighter. You can't believe how good this boy feels against you.

"Come on out, lovebirds!" a voice calls from the kitchen. Aunt May. You both freeze. "Dinner's ready!"

When Peter straightens and meets your gaze, you know exactly what he's thinking. Since when did she get back?

He swallows, making sure you're steady on your feet before he pulls away. "Two minutes, May!" he yells through the closed door. Your jaw clenches. The euphoria is gone too soon.

"On the clock!"

Peter rolls his eyes. You straighten against the door, fidgeting with your skirt, your shirt, your hair, making sure everything is in place before you appear once again to May. Peter backs away, glancing at you before he turns around. You take the cue, spinning around to face the door. Your cheeks still blushed, you listen to the hum of fabric removal from his form. You wish you could turn around, view his perfect muscles without the shield of clothing, but that would be extremely rude and yet another invasion of privacy.

The question pokes at your mind for several long moments before you voice it. "Can we have a round two later?" you ask him. Peter stops moving, and you giggle softly. "When you're not stuck in that weird tarantula suit, obviously."

"Tarantula?" he repeats, giving a soft snort. "Ew, no. It's supposed to be a spider suit."

You hug yourself and shrug. "I think it looks like a tarantula... but spider it is. For a spider man." You laugh to yourself at the thought. You still don't quite believe the story, but it's alright. No harm was done. Peter's still Peter.

A pair of strong arms snake around your waist from behind, and your heart leaps in your chest. You tilt around to look at him over your shoulder, and on his chiseled face is a cheeky grin. A boyish grin. You melt at the sight of the boy you like love. The boy who just kissed you so hard you nearly forgot the fright you'd experienced minutes earlier.

"So..." you say softly, grabbing his hands and wrapping them tighter around yourself, "how about that round two?"

Peter snickers and kisses your hair. "After dinner," he tells you. "And then, maybe... maybe I'll take you out to get ice cream somewhere." He glances down at you, sees a smirk crawling across your face, and raises a brow. "Why the mischievous grin?"

You restrain a giggle. "I thought of an R-rated joke," you reply.

Peter's arms tighten around you. The kind of pressure that makes you feel immensely safe, but reminds you just how strong he is. He could throw you over his shoulder, no problem, if he wanted to.

"Do tell," he murmurs into your hair. Your heart skips a beat at the soft rumble of his voice.

You hesitate. "I was thinking of a dessert... but not ice cream."

His mouth curls into a sly smile. "Hm," he remarks. "I like the sound of that."

He leans forward, lips grazing your exposed neck. He presses a kiss at its base, hands holding you steady at your hips, and you close your eyes, drifting into the safety of his chest (now clothed in a regular shirt). Something tingles deep in your stomach, and you focus on the heated sensations as his fingers drift forward, drawing shapes on your hips, down to your thighs beneath your skirt...

Aunt May's voice cuts through the quiet and the tension. "I'll eat this whole meal myself!"

You regain feeling in your extremities, and you pull away from Peter, only for him to let out a little disappointed groan. You grab his hand and pull him toward the door.

"Come on, Tarantula-man," you tease. "I'm hungry."

Peter eyes you through narrowed lids, but only love shines through in those chocolate orbs. "You're never going to switch to Spider-man, are you?" he whines.

You smirk. "You wish."

The boy you've loved for years looks back at you, and this time, he grins from ear to ear. He's just as happy as you.

~~~

Masterlist

[waitimcomingtoo]

Built A Fire Just To Keep Me Warm

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader enemies to lovers

Synopsis: you and Peter are in the same friend group but never got along. That doesn’t keep him from making sure you never get cold

Masterlist

“Guys, why is it so damn cold in here?” You groaned and rubbed your arms up and down. The thought of sitting in your lecture class for the next hour with your professor with the dullest voice imaginable somehow made you even colder.

“I told you to layer up.” MJ shrugged. “But you never want to listen during layer talk. You know this guy always cracks the AC.”

“I always listen during layer talk.” Ned mumbled and threw his scarf over his shoulder.

You looked at your professor in the front of the room and then up at the vent above you.

“Why though? It’s the middle of December. My arm hairs should not be standing up.” You said and held your arm up for MJ to see.

“Maybe you should wear a jacket.” Peter interjected, making you all look at him.

“What was that?” You asked him. Ned signaled for him to stop talking but Peter had a point to make.

“I was just saying. You know this professor always has the AC on. But you always come to class in thin shirts and then complain that you’re cold.” Peter said. You sat up in your chair so you could fully face Peter and narrowed your eyes at him.

“So?”

“So,” he mimicked your tone, “You know its going to be cold in here. But you still never wear a jacket. Maybe you should put one on next time so you won’t have this problem.”

“And maybe you should mind your business. I wasn’t even talking to you.” You grumbled and slumped down in your chair. Peter watched you rubbing your arms to keep warm and rolled his eyes a little.

“You were talking to the group.” Peter pointed out. “I’m in the group. So it was my business.”

“No, I was talking to MJ.” You stated as your annoyance for him grew.

“You said “guys, why is it so damn cold in here?”. That implies you were asking all of us.” Peter corrected. Ned and MJ exchanged a look as you glared at Peter.

“Okay, but I didn’t say ‘Peter, I’m really cold. Please give me your professional opinion on how to prevent that’. I was just making an observation.”

“But that’s not really an observation though, is it?” Peter asked. “It’s a declarative statement. We were in Linguistics together. I’m surprised you don’t remember that.”

“Oh my God.” You groaned. “Why do you have to be such a know it all?”

“I don’t know. Why do you insist on wearing the flimsiest shirts to class and then complaining that you’re cold?” Peter retorted.

“There’s about to be an active threat in this classroom.” You mumbled under your breath.

“What do you mean?” Ned asked you.

“I mean I’m about to beat Peter up.” You told him.

“Knock it off you two.” MJ warned. “Can you guys go one day without going at each other?”

“Tell Peter that. He started it.” You reminded her.

“I don’t care. I don’t want any bickering at my party tonight.” She said. “It can’t be like Friendsgiving. Because that was giving enemies instead of friends.”

“If you don’t want any fighting then you’ll have to uninvite Peter.” You told her.

“I can’t. He’s the only one with an ID. We need him for the alcohol.” MJ replied.

“I’m right here.” Peter pointed out

“Unfortunately.” You mumbled.

“Speaking of alcohol, I can’t go with him to get it.” Ned cut in. “My Lola has a sixth sense for this kind of thing. If I even look at a bottle of alcohol, she’ll know about it and strike me dead.”

“Then you’re going to have to go with him. I’ll be busy setting up.” MJ told you.

“What?” You whined. “I don’t want to go with him. Why can’t he go alone?”

“Again, right here.” Peter stated and waved his hand.

“Because of the Buddy System.” MJ answered. “Remember when we sent Ned alone to the bodega to get Sun Chips? He almost got kidnapped.”

“The only reason the man didn’t take me was because he thought my choice of chips was disgusting.” Ned whispered.

“That’s valid.” You shrugged. “I wouldn’t kidnap you either.”

“Can you guys just go together this once? For me? For little mixed drink loving old me?” MJ pleaded and held your hand to her heart.

“Fine.” You sighed and rubbed your hands up and down your arms. Peter watched you doing this and then looked up at the vent above you.

“Don’t act so excited about it.” Peter mumbled to you.

“I’m not.” You scoffed and gave him a look.

“I was being sarcastic.”

“So was I.” You said as Peter got up out of his seat.

“Where are you going?” You asked him.

“To pee. Is that allowed?” He sassed you.

“Go piss girl.” Ned called after Peter as he walked down the steps of the lecture room, earning many stares from other classmates.

“Ned, no.” MJ whispered. “That’s not relevant anymore.”

“Oh shit. Um, mama a hawk tuah diva behind you?” Ned asked to try and fix his mistake.

“Just stop while you’re ahead.” MJ replied with a pat on his knee. She then turned to you with a devious smile.

“Peter totally likes you.” She whispered.

“What?” You laughed. “No he doesn’t. We’re barely even friends. I only tolerate him since he’s friends with Ned. And I mess with Ned heavy.”

Just then, Peter came back from the bathroom and stopped at the professors desk. You watched them curiously but you couldn’t hear what they were saying. When Peter walked away from the desk, your professor went over to the thermostat and turned the AC off. You felt the vent above you stop spewing cold air just as Peter came back to where you were all sitting. He didn’t look at you but his cheeks were pink as he sat down. MJ and Ned hadn’t noticed what happened so you leaned over to him to whisper.

“Why did you do that?” You asked him.

“You said you were cold.” He shrugged, still without looking at you.

“So? Why do you care if I’m cold?”

“I don’t. I was cold too. Not everything’s about you.” He said quickly. You decided to drop it but you found the interaction strange.

Later that day, you and Peter kept a distance between you as you walked towards the nearest corner store. You had your arms folded to keep your hands warm and Peter was fighting the urge to comment on your lack of preparation for the cold.

“Do you have the list?” You asked Peter as you neared the store.

“I do. But it just says “alcohol” so we’re going in blind.” He answered. You couldn’t help but laugh at MJ’s lack of instructions as you rubbed your arms up and down. Peter noticed this and was about to offer his jacket when you reached the store. Instead, he held the door for you and you smiled in surprise.

“Thanks. Let’s just get what we need and get out of here.” You said, feeling awkward now as you walked past him into the store. You were never really alone with him so you weren’t expecting him to be so civil. You split up and went down each isle to collect a few token party items. As you browsed, you kept feeling Peter’s eyes on you but you never looked up to check.

“They don’t have MJ’s favorite vodka here. She’s gonna kill us if we don’t come back with it.” Peter came up to you to tell you.

“Damn. We could try the store two blocks down. They usually have it.”

“All right. Let’s go.” Peter said and nodded towards the door. As you started to walk to the next store, the frigid New York air hit you and sent a chill through your entire body. You shuddered and blew hot air on your hands before holding your arms to keep warm.

“Are you cold?” Peter asked you.

“Of course I’m cold. It’s brick out here.”

“How come you never wear a jacket if you’re always cold?” He asked. He didn’t sound accusatory, just curious.

“Because I thought we were just running to the store by the dorms. I didn’t think I’d need one.” You replied. Peter fought every instinct in his body that told him to stay silent and unzipped his jacket.

“Take mine.” He offered and held it out to you.

“What?” You laughed in surprise. “No way.”

“Come on. Don’t be stubborn. You’re freezing. Just take it.”

“I’m not taking your jacket. I’m fine.” You insisted and continued to shiver.

“Just take the damn jacket.” He sighed and put it over your shoulders. You wanted to be stubborn, but you more so wanted to be warm. You gave him a look and slipped your arms into his jacket. You instantly felt better and smiled a little at your new protection from the cold. Peters jacket hung a little big on you but kept you perfectly warm.

“Thank you.” You said timidly. “But aren’t you cold?”

“Nah.” He waved his hand. “I run hot.”

You had reached the next store by that point and he opened the door for you once again. You flashed him a quick smile and went inside to get the drinks for MJ. You found it quickly and joined him at the cash register.

You hugged Peter’s jacket tightly around you as you walked back to the dorms together. He felt better now that he wasn’t watching you freeze to death and you felt better now that you were safe from the bitter wind. You dropped Peter off at the boys dorm before going back to yours and MJs room. As soon as you walked in, you were hit with a familiar scent that made you suspicious. You looked around the dorm until you found what you were looking for.

“Oh, hey. You’re back.” MJ smiled when she found you.

“What’s this?” You asked and pointed to the mistletoe taped to the ceiling of the kitchen.

“Nothing.” MJ said quickly. “It’s basil.”

“You have basil taped to the ceiling?” You asked skeptically.

“I’m Italian.” She shrugged.

“No you’re not. I’ve eaten pasta you’ve made. It was like chewing a pen cap. There’s no Italian in that blood.”

“You got me. It’s mistletoe.” She admitted. “Arranged beautifully due to my floral arrangement class, may I add. I hung it incase you wanted to kiss any boys tonight.”

“I knew it. You’re still trying to set me up with Peter. It’s never going to work so give up now. Now matter how much basil you hang up.” You said and snatched the mistletoe down.

“You fight it but my lesbian instincts tell me that you guys are meant to be.” MJ said and held her hands up in defense. “And you better hang that back up because that was my only bushel of mistletoe.”

“The same lesbian instincts that made us get on that bus to Long Island? I can never un-go to Long Island, MJ. You did that to us.”

“It was dark. All the buses looked the same.” She defended herself. “But trust. My instincts are right about this one.”

“They’re not.” You stated. “I don’t like Peter like that. I don’t even like him as a friend.”

“Okay. Sure. I believe you. Nice jacket, by the way.” She smirked before walking away. You looked down and remembered you were wearing Peter’s beat up winter jacket. You quickly followed her into the kitchen area to continue the conversation.

“That doesn’t mean anything. I was cold.”

“Yeah. I bet he was too. Especially after he gave you his jacket.” She said smugly.

“He said he runs hot.” You insisted.

“Yeah. Hot for you. Ayo.” She grinned and held up her hand for a high five.

“That’s not getting a high five.” You said flatly. “There better not be any more surprises. Don’t try to intervene tonight, okay? Peter and I would never work.”

“I thought you said you and Peter would never happen. Now you’re saying it just wouldn’t work? Sounds like someone’s having a change of heart.” MJ clicked her tongue as she finished setting up for the party.

You rolled your eyes at her and didn’t respond as you helped her put out snacks. While setting a bowl of chips out on the table, you caught a whiff of Peter’s cologne coming off the jacket. You instinctively smiled at the scent before you caught yourself. You had never thought about it before, but now that MJ put the idea in your head, you couldn’t help but wonder if there was a deeper reason that you and Peter never got along.

An hour later, the party was in full swing. You made your rounds and greeted people as you filled their cups up some more. You would never admit it, but you were a little disappointed to not see Peter in the crowd yet. MJ noticed you searching the room every so often and took a place by your side.

“Looking for Peter?” She asked with a smug expression.

“What? No. Like I care if that doink shows up. I’m looking for Ned. He’s supposed to bring the…. Sun Chips.” You lied to cover up what you were really doing.

“Right, right. Of course. And how do you feel about Sun Chips?” She asked sarcastically.

“I need some air.” You said quickly and walked away from her. To get away from the crowd, you went out to your room and crawled out the window to sit on the roof. You hugged Peter’s jacket tightly around yourself and stared up at the night sky. The sound of the party coming through your open window sounded a million miles away. You drew your knees to your chest and rested your chin on them as the cold wind sent a chill through your body.

“Hey.” You heard behind you, making you turn around. You saw Peter coming through your bedroom window and come join you on the roof. You got a new feeling in your chest as he sat beside you.

“Hey.” You smiled softly at him. He returned the smile before an awkward silence settled between the two of you. You didn’t know how to interact after he was nice to you on your trip to the store.

“Thanks for walking through my bedroom with your dirty converse on.” You said to break the silence.

“Like my shoes were the dirtiest thing in that room. I’m pretty sure I saw a rat eating your homework.” He mumbled. You stared at each other as you both tried to read the situation. You were bickering like usual, but there was a playful sense to it this time.

“That’s just our third roommate, dummy.” You replied, adding to the teasing nature of the conversation.

“Ah, I see.” Peter chuckled before looking down shyly. The awkward silence returned but you found yourself hoping he didn’t leave.

“How come you’re out here? You’re not having fun?” He asked after a beat.

“It got a little overwhelming in there. I needed some alone time.”

“Oh, I could go.” He offered and went to stand up.

“You could stay.” You said and stopped him from getting up by placing your hand over his. You watched Peter turn bright red so you quickly withdrew your hand. It was quiet again and you both looked anywhere but each other.

“How come you’re not in there with Ned and all them? Didn’t you just get here?” You asked to break the silence.

“Oh, yeah. Ned and I just got here. But I walked by your room and I saw the window open. I was going to close it until I saw you out here.” He answered a little too quickly.

“Why were you by my room? The party is in the kitchen area.” You wondered. Peter was flushed again and a smile tugged at your lips.

“Were you looking for me?” You asked in a quiet voice. Before Peter could deny the allegations, a gust of wind hit the two of you. You shivered and rubbed your hands together to stay warm.

“What’s wrong?” Peter asked you.

“You know what’s wrong.” You said with a slight roll of your eyes. Instead of pointing out that you were purposefully outside on the chilly roof, Peter took both your hands in his. You watched him curiously as he rubbed his hands up and down yours to generate heat. It occurred to you both at the exact same time that this was the first time you’d ever touched. You locked eyes with him and thought he’d let go, but he instead leaned down to blow some hot air on your hands to warm you up.

“Thanks.” You said softly. “That feels better.”

“You’re welcome.” He said in just as timid of a voice. The awkwardness returned and you turned away from each other to avoid it.

“I’m sorry about before. In class, I mean. It was none of my business. You can wear whatever you want.” Peter said after a minute.

“It’s fine.” You waved your hand. “Maybe you kinda sorta possibly had a point. I knew it would be cold. I should’ve worn a jacket. Besides, we always go at each other like that. Don’t be sorry.”

“You’re right. We do always fight.” He agreed. “Do you ever wonder why?”

“Oh, um. I don’t know.” You shrugged. “I assumed that’s just how we are.”

“Yeah, it is.” He nodded. “But how did it start? Did we just meet one day and decide we hated each other? I was trying to think about it the other day but I couldn’t remember.”

“Well, I remember MJ telling me she made a friend in her floral arrangement class. Which I told her not to take, by the way.”

“I told Ned the same thing.” Peter sighed. “I said it was a waste of time and credits. He didn’t listen. But he did make me a beautiful bouquet for my birthday.”

“MJ failed so she got me a gift card to Staples.” You replied, making Peter laugh.

“Why Staples?”

“I don’t know. I’m pretty sure she found it on the ground.”

“Did you ever use it?” He asked.

“I did. And guess what I got.”

“Staples?”

“Yep.” You nodded, making him laugh again. You never realized it before, but Peter had the kind of laugh that made you want to say the most random things just to hear it again. His eyes crinkled when he laughed or smiled, another thing you hadn’t noticed before.

“I remember Ned introducing me to MJ, and then MJ introduced me to you. But I don’t remember how our dynamic started and why we fight all the time.”

“Hm.” You hummed. “It’s funny.”

“What is?” He wondered.

“The one time we’re alone together is the one time we’re not fighting.” You pointed out.

“You’re right.” He smiled shyly. “Funny.”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward this time. You felt like you were talking to a completely different person than who Peter usually was. This version of Peter didn’t get under your skin or make you roll your eyes. This version was sweet and warmed you up from the cold.

“You kept my jacket.” Peter pointed out, making you flush in embarrassment.

“Oh, you can have it back.” You said and went to take it off.

“No, no. It’s okay. I want you to keep it.” He insisted and pulled it back around you. For extra measure, he zipped it up to your chin before patted both your arms. You smiled at the action and tilted your head down so the jacket would cover your chin.

“It looks better on you anyway.” He added without looking at you. You picked your head up and looked at him but he was busy fussing with the her of his shirt.

“Thanks. It’s really warm.” You said in a soft voice.

“Good. You need it. You’re always cold. And never prepared.”

“We can’t all be hot.” You replied. “Run hot, I mean.”

“Did you just call me hot?” Peter asked with a devious smile.

“Shut up.” You groaned. “You know what I meant.”

“I wish I had your problems. My hands are always sweating because I’m always so hot.” Peter said as he looked at his hands.

“Gross.” You grimaced. “Keep that to yourself.”

Peter looked sad as he didn’t realize you were joking. You found yourself feeling bad that you hurt his feelings despite all the times you intentionally tried to hurt them.

“I was just kidding. Let me feel.” You quickly assured him and took his hand. You ran your fingertips along his palm to see what he was talking about while Peter stayed perfectly still. You let out a soft laugh which sent chills up Peter’s spine.

“What do you think?” He asked in a quiet voice.

“It’s like touching a Swedish fish that’s been in a toddlers hand for too long.” You replied, making him laugh as well.

“Thank you. That was a really lovely description.”

“Seriously, how do you walk around with these things? Do girls ever complain when you hold hands?” You wondered as you slipped your hand into his. He instinctively rubbed his thumb on the back of your hand as the comfortable silence returned. You stayed like that for a moment, holding each others hand on the cold rooftop. The only warmth Peter had was from your hand so he wasn’t letting go anytime soon.

“Aha! Holding hands!” MJ suddenly exclaimed from behind you. And was standing in your room and pouting at you through your open window. You turned around and quickly dropped Peter’s hand.

“What? No we’re not.” You scoffed and stood up. Peter felt an overwhelming wave of disappointment wash over him as you left the roof to follow MJ. It hurt him that you were so quick to drop his hand and deny what was happening, and even quicker to leave him.

“Lesbian instincts.” MJ said as she tapped the side of her head.

“Shut up. We weren’t holding hands.” You insisted as you led her back towards the party.

“I may be a little drunk right now but I know what I saw.” She stated. “And you can’t deny something I saw with my own two eyes.”

“What did she see?” Ned asked as he came to your side.

“Nothing.” You said quickly. “She didn’t see anything.”

“Nothing except her and Peter practically having full on intercourse out on the roof.” MJ replied, making Ned gasp.

“Oh my God.” You groaned. “We were not doing that. We were just holding hands.”

“So you admit it!” She clapped her hands at the confession and nearly fell over.

“Girl, how are you so drunk already?” You asked her. “The party only started an hour ago.”

“Not the point.” MJ held up a hand. “Why were you and Peter holding hands? I thought you hated each other?”

“Peter doesn’t hate her.” Ned laughed like it was ridiculous. You were about to question what made him sound so sure when you realized you had left Peter out on the roof. You left MJ and Ned behind and quickly ran back to your room. The window was shut but Peter was nowhere to be found. Guilt building up in your stomach now, you went back out to the party and searched the crowd for him. When you didn’t see him anywhere, you went back to the kitchen to find Ned.

“Did Peter come in here? I can’t find him.” You asked him.

“You just missed him.” Ned answered. “He said he wasn’t feeling well so we wasn’t going to head back to our dorm.”

“He left?” You asked sadly. You looked at your front door before looking at MJ for help. She tapped the side of your head again and you knew what you had to do.

You ran out to the hall but didn’t see Peter anywhere. The hum of the elevator gave you an idea where he might be. You got to the elevator just in time to see the doors closing. Without thinking, you wedged yourself in between them to get them to open back up. They bounced off either side of your body but opened up enough for you to get inside. Peter caught you as you stumbled in and helped you stand up straight.

“Oh my God. Are you okay?” He asked as you held your aching body.

“I think I just went down a cup size.” You wheezed out.

“Why didn’t you just tell me to hold the door?” Peter asked through a laugh.

“There was no time.” You waved your hand. “I had to talk to you. You’re leaving?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m not much for parties.” He lied.

“Neither am I.” You told him as you stared into his eyes. He stared back and you could see a sadness in them that you knew was probably your fault.

“Before you go, I just wanted to apologize for before. I shouldn’t have run out on you like that.”

“It’s okay.” He shrugged. “We did look pretty incriminating.”

“We did.” You agreed. “And MJ was thrilled to see it. She has this dumb idea that we only pretend to hate each other to cover up the fact that we like each other.”

“She thinks that? Wow. That’s quite a theory.” Peter said as a blush painted his face a warm pink.

“Right? I don’t know where she gets it.” You shook your head and slid down the wall of the elevator. Peter decided to see the situation out and sat down beside you. Neither of you had pressed any buttons so the elevator stayed in place.

“Ned has a similar theory, actually.” Peter told you. “He thinks I’m totally in love with you and I don’t know how to express it outside of teasing you or making sure you’re warm.”

The silence that followed Peter’s statement was almost more incriminating than the hand holding. In your head, you replayed every time he had done something to keep you warm. Just the week before, Peter had wordlessly dropped a blanket beside you during a movie night at his dorm. Another time, he insisted you drank the tea he brought to class because he decided he didn’t like it anymore but didn’t want it to go to waste.

“Also quite a theory.” You said to break the silence. “But wait, if you run hot, how come your dorm has been perfectly toasty everytime MJ and I came over this winter?”

“It’s not usually like that.” He admitted. “But I take out the space heater when you and MJ come over because I know you get cold easily.”

“Oh. Well thank you.”

“For the teasing?”

“For keeping me warm.” You corrected. Peter flushed again and looked down at his lap.

“It’s all right. Winter will be over in a month. You won’t need me to keep you warm anymore. Then we’ll go back to being enemies.” He said without looking at you. You could hear a sadness in his voice and moved a little closer to him.

“You’re not my enemy. I just never really liked you.” You admitted.

“Yeah. I had a feeling. But how come?” He asked with genuine curiosity.

“Well, because I got the feeling that you never really like me either.” You shrugged. “Once our friend groups merged, you and I were just kinda there. We never really gelled like Ned and I or you and MJ.”

“Yeah, we didn’t.” He agreed. “The only times we would talk to each other is when we were fighting or something. That’s the only reason I kept teasing you.”

“Because you wanted to talk to me?” You smiled teasingly. Peter didn’t smile back and just stared into your eyes.

“I didn’t know how to talk to you.” He said quietly. “I never wanted us to fight. But if we didn’t, then we would never talk. And I really, really wanted to talk to you.”

The way you had felt about Peter just that morning had completely changed for the better. You were now hanging on his every word and desperate to hear what he had to say next. You turned a little to face him better and tilted your head to the side.

“What did you want to say?” You asked him. Peter’s eyes darted around your face and eventually landed on your lips.

“That I think you’re really cool. And really pretty. And really smart. Even though you never wear a-“

“Don’t say it.” You cut him off by leaning in the rest of the way and kissing him. Peter turned his body so that he could slip a hand in your hair to kiss you back. He took the chill right out of your bones as he kissed you as if he’d been waiting his entire like to do so. You pulled him closer by the collar of his shirt and kissed him until you ran out of breath. He had a dreamy smile on his face when you pulled away. You smiled shyly and sat back down on the elevator floor. Peter started to sniff the air suddenly and looked around.

“Do you smell basil?” He asked. Your smile dropped and you looked up to find the source of the smell. Sure enough, taped to the ceiling of the elevator was a makeshift mistletoe MJ had crafted out of basil and ribbon.

“Freaking lesbian instincts.” You muttered and stood up to snatch the basil down.

Tag list 🏷️ 🧥

@thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling

@whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings

@imyourliquor-youremypoison @andreasworlsboring101

@peterparkoure

@justcallmehitgirl @jackiehollanderr

@emmamarshmellow @unbelievableholland

@sovereignparker @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @eridanuswave

@solarxmoonchild @canyouevencauseicant

@quaksonhehe @lovelessdagger

@thesuitelifeofafangirl @marshxx @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie

@maybemona

@alexxcorona113 @lethal-wisdom

@pandaxnienke

 @officialsimppage @itsemohours

@tomholland85

@olixerwxxd @leilanixx

@whereismytelephone @so-very-asleep

@spideyspeaches @hihiweezing

@mathletemadison  

@dhtomholland @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @prancerrparkerr @blackwidowisthebest @imawhoreforu

@hallecarey1

@ciarahollands

@nellabella @boogywoogywoogy

[ptergwen]

imagining a blurb where peter sleeps over at readers dorm for the first time and they haven’t done anything yet but he wakes up with morning wood and he’s trying to make it go down but she wakes up and helps get rid of it 🤭

the situation

ask box  |  taglist  |  blurb masterlist  |  main masterlist

w/c: 1,271

warnings: 18+ content! oral sex (m receiving), language

a/n: oh absolutely! i liked this one so much it became a full oneshot, happy reading friends (also i was so tempted to use a gif from That scene in far from home iykyk)

you wake up to peter shifting around behind you. he was here late last night, so he ended up staying over. you'd naturally been squished together in your small dorm bed, but neither of you minded. you took the opportunity to cuddle throughout the night.

at some point, you ended up with your back to peter, causing you to be pressed up against him. it was no surprise when he woke up hard. he doesn't want you to wake up to it, though. you've only been dating for a few weeks and haven't done much beyond make out. this isn't the most ideal way to introduce more into your relationship.

peter tries to wiggle out from behind you so he can go to the bathroom and deal with his situation. of course, he'd slept closest to the wall, which makes things a little difficult. he feels you start to stir.

"hey, go back to sleep," peter whispers, squeezing your waist. "where are you going?" you mumble. you look at him over your shoulder. "just the bathroom. i’ll be right back," he kisses your shoulder. "mhm. i know what you're gonna do in there," you give peter a lazy smirk. he scrunches up his nose.

"you, uh... felt that?"

"kind of hard not to."

"sorry," peter chuckles. "don't be. it's just, like, morning wood," you reassure, rolling over to face him. "i could help you take care of it, though," you search peter's eyes. his brows raise, a small smile playing on his lips. "are you sure? don't feel like you have to." his hand settles on your hip, his touch light.

"i don't feel like i have to," you echo. "i want to. do you want me to?"

peter nods, vigorously.

you grin and push at peter's chest, prompting him to lie on his back. he helps you on top of him. he tilts his head up and captures your lips in a slow kiss. you let your lips slot with his, your legs coming to rest at either of peter's sides. his bulge presses into your center. a noise of relief falls from his lips, making you giggle. you break the kiss and move further up his body so you're positioned over his torso instead.

"not that. i have another idea."

"what is it?"

"i'm getting to it."

you take peter's face in your hands and kiss him again. he eagerly kisses you back. he bunches up your top so he can wrap his fingers around your waist. his tongue slips into your mouth, thumbs running up and down your sides. you're starting to get a bit needy yourself, but right now you're focusing on peter.

"one sec," you breathe. you grab your water bottle from your desk and take a few sips in preparation. peter leans in for another kiss when you're done, but you start to make your way down his body, fingers trailing along his abs as you go. you feel them flex underneath your touch, his breathing becoming faster. your pinkie dips inside his boxers and brushes over his lower abs.

"what are you- oh."

you stroke peter's cock in your hand, sitting on your knees and smiling up at him. he takes off his boxers to make things easier. you look into his eyes as you lower your head, hand still wrapped around his cock. peter bites his lip and holds your gaze.

his eyes flutter closed when you swirl your tongue around his tip. you do this a few times, then bring your hand to the head of his cock and stroke downwards, using your spit to coat his length. peter moves a hand down to support the back of your head and encourage you to do what you both know he's waiting for. you let your lips wrap around peter's cock, taking him into your mouth.

"fuck," peter pants, his head falling back against the pillows. you fit as much of him in your mouth as you can, your hand staying at the base of his cock to stroke what doesn't. you begin to bob your head up and down, almost instantly earning a moan from peter. he carefully pulls your hair out of your face and holds it back for you.

you glide your tongue against peter's length every time you move your head. the sensation of it, combined with being in your mouth, drives him absolutely crazy. you can tell by the way his cock twitches and the little noises he makes. your mouth and hand continue to work him, and his eyes are screwed shut in pure bliss when you peek up at him.

"baby..." peter breathes out. you hum in response. "i’m close, really close. where do you want me to finish?" he asks. you stop sucking him off briefly to answer, and for a bit of air.

"in my mouth."

"you wanna swallow?"

you hum again. you continue to stroke him and lick along his length so you don't lose momentum. peter looks down at you with hooded eyes. he lets go of his makeshift ponytail for you, instead stroking your hair gently.

"that's hot. i didn't know you were into that."

"with the right person."

peter smiles, a genuine smile even in the lust filled moment. you return it before taking his cock into your mouth again. you challenge yourself to go a little further this time, until he's just hitting the back of your throat. peter groans at the feeling.

you find your same rhythm from before, repeat your same movements, and it isn't long until peter is reaching his high. his hips buck up and he holds your head in place, instinctively pushing into your throat, but he stills his hips before he pushes too far.

"fuck, y/n/n. is this okay?"

you respond by opening your mouth wider, letting more of him in. with your permission, peter spills down your throat, a series of short, breathy moans leaving his lips. he waits until he's finished to pull his hips back. you swallow the rest of the cum that fills your mouth. peter holds your face in his hands, looking down at you in awe. his thumb brushes over your lower lip, which curves into a smile.

"better?" you ask. "way better. let me just..." peter puts his boxers back on with rosy cheeks, as if he wasn't just in your mouth. "c'mere."

you crawl towards the top of the bed. peter grabs your hips and sits you in his lap, pressing his lips to yours in a sweet kiss. you smile into it. one hand is on the back of his neck, the other in his hair. this morning is the first time you've seen it curly, since it's usually gelled back. you like the way peter looks when he's just woken up.

"it wasn't too soon for us to do that, right?" peter asks quietly. "because i don't wanna rush anything." he sets a hand on your thigh, eyes finding yours. "i don't think so. we both wanted to, and it was my idea anyway," you remind him, playing with his soft curls. "okay, just wanted to make sure," peter grins.

"i appreciate the help, by the way," he says lowly. his fingers trail along your thigh. "yeah," you murmur, looking down at his hand.

you really like the way peter's touch feels, too.

his hand is traveling higher, and his smile has been replaced by a smirk. you press your forehead to his, lips ghosting over his and breath fanning across his face. his nose nudges yours.

"how about i return the favor?"

tags

@spidermans-gf @sacharinee @thollandsgirl2013 @pettypeety @girlinlovewithlove @marvelgurl @superlegend216 @angelinabelovedballerina @moniffazictress11 @superlegend216 @doubledizzy22 @mystic-writings @just-lost-inbetween-worlds @lnmp89 @starlight-starks @hollandsangel @ellebutnotwoods @tayyx @valluvsu @ronweasleysslut @winchestersgirl222  @fishingirl12 @raajali3 @niktwazny303 @thismessymasterpiece @alina02 @itsjanedeluca @idkeverythingistakennn @prancerrparkerr @urfayevorite @getwellsoontana @deanswifeyy @marvelita86 @uhhhj13iguess

[im-sleepdeprived]

can you do one where peter gets hurt a little bit and gets all whiny and crap and the reader is trying so hard to stay focused. LOVE YOUR STORIES BRO!!!!!

I LOVE THIS IDEA !!! it’s definitely such a peter thing to do. here’s a short, cutesy little thing, i hope you like it and im sorry it took me so long to get back to you💞✨ !! warnings are just peter being a big whiny baby whose desperate for affection, small mentions of injuries, 1,3k wc <333

“Ow!”

“Peter, be quiet! Stop whining, I’m almost done.”

“I’m in pain, baby,” he whined. 

It hadn’t been a surprise to be disturbed by a knock on your window, Peter usually stopped by after patrol which was why you’d started leaving it open for him. But when he hadn’t slid the window open after those few soft taps, you’d gotten a little worried. 

So you’d gotten out of bed to open for him, only to find your boyfriend perched before you, mask off, pouting heavily at you. 

Of course, you’d helped him in and gotten him laying across your bed so you could start to clean him up. You’d started keeping a first-aid-kit at hand since you’d found out he was Spider-Man. It had been of great use. 

But it hadn’t taken you long to realize that his wounds, as far as his usual patrol wounds went, weren’t bad. Not at all. In fact, you were positive that he could’ve gone home, slept the rest of the night, and woken up good as new as if nothing had happened in the first place. Maybe your boyfriend had forgotten that he had super-healing abilities. 

Or maybe he just liked the way you babied him.

“Oh, are you now?” You asked, glancing up at him with a raised brow. There was really nothing for you to do other than wipe the few cuts and scratches with antiseptic and place small bandaids over them. He just enjoyed pestering you.

“Yes,” he said so seriously, you almost laughed. This Peter was a stark contrast to actually-injured-Peter, who would do everything he could to assure you he was fine when he was literally bleeding out before your eyes. You didn’t like that. At least this was funny. 

“Petey, baby,” you laughed softly, adjusting a small bandaid on the high of his cheekbone where he’d had a small scrape. “You’re actually pretty put together tonight. Must’ve been a pretty quiet night, hm?”

“No,” he sighed dramatically, grabbing the wrist by his face gently, keeping you close to him. “No, it was horrible sweetheart, I’m gonna need extra care tonight. You know, to help the trauma.”

Shaking with laughter, you leaned in and pecked his cheek, right beside the cut you’d just bandaged. “The ‘trauma’, Petey? Really?”

A large, dopey grin broke over his face as you pecked his cheek and he squeezed you wrist a little. “There. That’s perfect, such a big help sweetheart, you have no idea what you do for me. You make the pain bearable, pretty girl.” 

You rolled your eyes affectionately, pressing another kiss to his cheek. “There, all better?” You asked him as you pulled away where you were met with a scowl.

“Y/N, honey, I’m suffering! I’m knocking on death’s door, angel! Give me something!”

You absolutely lost it at that, falling back onto the bed in a fit of giggles. “I can’t help you when all you do is whine!” When you opened your eyes, Peter was hovering over you, trying to keep his little facade of being upset and in pain, which was fruitless with the large smile blooming on his lips.

“You’re so mean, you know that?”

“Oh really? I’m the mean one?”

“Yes! You just found out your boyfriend, the love of your life, your future husband, the father of your future children—”

“What?!”

“—is dying, and what do you do? You laugh!!”

Another laugh escaped you, this time the sound infecting Peter as well. “I-if you’re dying, doesn’t that mean you won’t be my husband or the ‘father of my future children?” You manage out between laughs.

Peter gasped offendedly. “I…I…” he tried to defend himself to no avail. You’d caught him. 

You laughed even harder. “It’s okay, Petey. I’ll tell my future children all about you.”

He didn’t seem to like that very much. In one swift motion, his hands were on your hips, picking you up as he laid back on the bed again, his back pressed against the headboard before he plopped you down onto his lap.

“Oh hi,” you grinned at him, loosely looping your arms over his shoulders, his own hands coming to rest on your waist.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he murmured, his eyes soft and loving as he looked up at you.

Leaning down, you pressed your forehead against his. Peter’s hands tightened on your waist, tugging you closer till your chest was pressed against his. 

“I have another wound you haven’t patched up for me yet.” He spoke softly. 

“Yeah?” You asked, fully expecting him to be playing a bit, the smile already starting to tug at the corners of your lips. “Where, sweetie?”

He smiled right back at you, sticking his hand between where your chests were pressed together and pressing on the spider emblem on the center of his suit, making the fabric deflate with a soft breath and flood around him.

Pushing the suit away for him, you noticed a scratch on his chest you hadn’t realized was there before, making you frown. It wasn’t deep and it wasn’t bleeding, but it was long and a harsh shade of red, the skin around it tinged pink with irritation, and it definitely could’ve used a cleaning. 

“Petey, baby, why didn’t you show me this before?” You asked softly, shifting in his lap as you leaned over to grab the kit again. 

Peter sighed, biting back a smile. This was exactly what he’d needed, that soft, gentle voice of yours you used on him whenever he stopped by bruised and banged up. “Why, you think it’s bad sweetheart?”

“No, no, thank god…” you muttered as you got to work on the scratch. “But I bet it burns. Does it hurt, honey?”

“Yeah,” he answered, letting out a soft groan for show as he leaned further back against your headboard. One of his hands left your waist and found it’s way to your hair, playing with the strands and giving one a gentle tug every now and them. 

“Peter,” you grumble, refusing to look up at him.

“Your hair is so soft.” He murmured in awe, as if he’d never seen anything like it before. 

“Genetics.” You deadpanned. “Now stop distracting me, I’m trying to help you!”

“You are helping me, pretty girl. Just watching that gorgeous face while you bandage me up is doing half the healing already.” Another tug to your hair. 

You swatted his hand away before poking his side with a soft smile. “No bandages for this one, sorry Pete. I’m just gonna have to heal you with kisses.”

“That sounds great,” he beamed widely. “Your kisses make me heal way faster than bandages, trust me, I speak from experience.”

Ignoring him, you leaned down and peppered a few soft kisses along his chest, staying beside the cut but never kissing the wound itself. You could feel his breathing stutter, the rhythmic movements of his chest turning irregular beneath your lips. 

Peter hands on your waist tightened, his grip pushing you down on his lap. “Baby…” his voice was a soft, desperate thing, a deepness in his tone that made your stomach flip. Well that wasn’t right. 

You sat back up, picking up a leg to swing over and slide off his lap but his hands on your waist slid down to your thighs quickly, stopping you.

“What’re you doing, pretty girl?” The utter betrayal on his face almost had you second-guessing what you’d done for something way worse. “Why’d you stop?”

“You’re hurt, Petey,” you answered simply, “we’re not doing anything tonight.”

“W-what? I’m not hurt, no, I’m fine! I’m perfect!”

“Really? I thought you were at death’s door.”

“Oh that…Yeah, no, he sent me away. Said it wasn’t my time.”

“Right, of course,” you murmured, nodding your head with all seriousness.

“Your kisses were working,” he stated sincerely, “you have to keep going!”

“Whatever you say, handsome.” You smiled, leaning in to press your lips to his. 

[deniable-masterpiece]

i just want a fic where peter gives off this vibe but he has the biggest AND I MEAN BIGGEST cock swinging between those legs and knows how to use it

[httpvomitello]

hello again beautiful person :)

could I please request Tom Holland Peter Parker x gf reader where reader wakes up in the middle of the night and can’t fall back asleep

so she asks FRIDAY to call Peter to come to her room and he walks across the whole compound with the messiest bedhead, squinting cause he can barely keep his eyes open to come cuddle reader back to sleep?

thank you so much, have a lovely rest of your week💕

Hiii again, wonderful person. I hope you like it and also have a great week too! ~ ♡♡

In the Middle of the Night .｡*･ﾟﾟ

Summary: When you wake up and can’t sleep, one call is all it takes to summon your very sleepy (and very adorable) boyfriend Peter Parker from across the compound… bedhead and all.

peter parker x f!reader

(Part 2)

You blinked at the ceiling in the dark, tangled in the sheets that suddenly felt far too cold and too big without anyone beside you.

It had been one of those nights. You’d fallen asleep just fine, only to bolt upright two hours later with your heart racing, your mind buzzing with every unfinished thought and old anxiety you hadn’t sorted through during the day.

You’d tried everything — flipping your pillow, sipping water, counting backward from 100 — but the silence only made things louder in your head.

You turned toward the window, watching the city twinkle faintly in the distance.

“FRIDAY?” you whispered.

The AI’s soft voice filled the room instantly. “Yes, Miss Stark?”

You hesitated, then bit your lip. “…Is Peter still in his room?”

A pause. Then: “He is. Asleep.”

You didn’t even try to feel guilty.

“Can you… wake him? Tell him I can’t sleep.”

Another pause. “Of course.”

Peter was in the middle of a very confusing dream involving a raccoon with Steve Rogers’ voice and a mechanical cupcake when a soft chime filled his room.

“Mr. Parker,” FRIDAY said gently, “Miss Stark is requesting you in her quarters.”

He sat up too fast and nearly face-planted off the bed.

“Huh—what? S-she okay?”

“She’s fine,” the AI assured him. “She just can’t sleep.”

Peter blinked blearily in the dark, hair sticking up in all directions. His hoodie was half on, half twisted around his torso, and he still had a sock hanging off one foot.

“Okay. Yeah. Gimme a sec.”

He stumbled to the door, forgetting both his slippers and how light switches worked, before finally navigating the hallway with nothing but the glow of emergency lights and pure boyfriend determination.

You heard the door slide open a few minutes later, and then came the softest voice:

“Babe?”

You looked up from your pillow.

There he was — your knight in wrinkled sweatpants.

His curls were a mess, his eyes squinty with sleep, and he had one arm in his hoodie sleeve and the other completely forgotten, dragging behind him like a cape.

You smiled, heart melting instantly. “Hey.”

He blinked at you. “You okay?”

You nodded. “Just… couldn’t sleep.”

Peter walked toward the bed like a zombie. “Should I punch a nightmare?”

You giggled. “No. I just… wanted you here.”

That woke him up a little more. He softened as he reached the bed, crawling under the blankets without a word. He immediately pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you with that gentle strength you loved so much.

“You should’ve called me earlier,” he mumbled, already halfway back to sleep. “I’m your certified cuddle provider.”

You buried your face in his chest, the warmth of his body chasing away the chill of the empty bed.

“You walked here like a sleepy little gremlin,” you whispered.

Peter hummed, fingers brushing over your hair. “Gremlin in love.”

You laughed quietly. “You forgot your sock.”

“…Knew I felt unbalanced.”

He held you tighter. “This better?”

You nodded against him. “Perfect.”

There was a long pause.

Then Peter whispered, half-asleep, “Tell your dad not to shoot me for this.”

You smiled. “He already knows. FRIDAY told him.”

Peter groaned into your hair. “Betrayed by technology.”

You snuggled closer, your eyelids finally growing heavy.

“Thanks for coming,” you murmured.

Peter pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his voice barely a breath.

“Always.”

[shortnspidey]

SLIM PICKINS

Peter Parker X female!reader || WC: 5.7K

SUMMARY: Safe to say your love life was nonexistent. You’d tried everything, swiping through dating apps like it was your part-time job, smiling at strangers on the subway, even letting friends set you up with guys. Still, nothing. Just awkward dates, ghosted messages, and a lingering sense that love might just be a myth. But maybe, just maybe, the problem wasn’t you. Turns out, slim pickins didn’t apply when the best option was right under your nose.

WARNINGS: Established friendship, friends to lovers, idiots in love, angst, fluff, cursing, self-depreciating thoughts, set after the events of Spiderman: Homecoming, Me Before You reference, steamy kiss but no smut!

A/N: About time I wrote something about the man that this blog is named after! Figured I’d combine both with this story, based on the song below! I related a little too much to this, cause let's be so real the dating world is the worst right now! 😭 Hope y’all enjoy!! Divider by @sister-lucifer <3

➩ main masterlist

➩ peter parker masterlist

For you, Valentine’s Day had to be the worst day out of the entire year. Everywhere you turned, couples were practically glued together, gripping hands like the world would end if they let go, feeding each other overpriced chocolates in the park, giggling over heart-shaped lattes like it was the most original thing ever. The city seemed to ooze affection: pink lights in every café window, pop-up flower stands on every corner.

So you did what you did every year, opted out.

No red, no pink, no cheap paper hearts. Just your regular hoodie, headphones in, head down, ready to get through the day like it was any other Friday. That was the plan for tonight too: takeout, a rom-com you’d pretend not to cry over, and your faithful pint of Cherry Garcia ice cream. That was the plan. And you were sticking with it, no matter what. The slam of the lockers nearby snapped you out of your daydream.

You blinked, realizing you’d been standing there too long, caught in your own mental version of a black-and-white breakup montage. You turned toward the sound, already half-expecting to see more heart-shaped nonsense or a couple caught mid-makeout, but it was just your best friend, Peter Parker. He was stuffing books into his backpack like he was late for something, hair a little mussed, sleeves rolled sloppily to his elbows.

He looked like he hadn’t slept much, which, with Peter, wasn’t exactly breaking news, especially not lately, ever since he scored the Stark Internship. You’d noticed the late nights, the new bruises he never explained, the way he sometimes winced when he thought no one was looking. But there was something different about him today. A kind of restless energy buzzing just beneath the surface, like he was waiting for something, or holding something in.

Before you could get too caught up in decoding him, a familiar voice broke through your thoughts. “Sup, loser.” You turned just in time to catch MJ smirking at you, her hands tucked deep into the pockets of her oversized army jacket. Her hair was pulled back in a haphazard bun, earbuds draped carelessly around her neck like a lazy accessory. You couldn’t help the way your mouth twitched into a smile.

MJ had a way of grounding you, dragging you back to earth in the best and most sarcastic ways. You closed your locker with a metallic clunk and slung your backpack over your shoulder, matching her stride as the two of you headed toward the cafeteria. “Any pink-plans later?” MJ snickered, bumping her elbow into yours with just enough force to make you stumble a step. “You know I hate Valentine’s Day as much as you do, Michelle.” You groaned, theatrically.

“Just checking. Can’t have you catching feelings and making me participate in some disgusting heart-themed Pinterest night.” She narrowed her eyes, mock-serious. “Because I will burn it all down.” You held your hands up in mock-surrender. “I believe you,” You laughed, tugging the sleeve of your hoodie over your knuckles. “It’s the worst holiday. Manufactured affection, forced gift-giving, fake declarations of love… hard pass.”

“See, this is why we get along,” MJ smiled hooking her arm around yours. “We’re both deeply cynical with emotionally unavailable tendencies. Can’t forget out motto, expect disappointment and we’ll never be disappointed.” You shrugged. “Actually, I prefer to call it realistic,” You replied, shooting her a grin. “And emotionally self-aware.” MJ raised a brow, amused. “Sure. Keep telling yourself that.”

You pushed open the doors to the cafeteria, immediately greeted by the smell of questionable pizza and the sight of pink streamers crisscrossed along the ceiling like some kind of Valentine's-themed crime scene. Someone was handing out candygrams near the front doors, each one tied with a glittery ribbon and a little plastic rose. You felt your stomach twist at the mere thought.

You noticed Peter had already found a seat by the windows, half-heartedly poking at something on his tray. He looked up just then, as if he felt you looking. His eyes caught yours, wide, doe brown, and tired. But there was something in them. A flicker. You weren’t sure what it meant. MJ followed your gaze, then glanced sideways at you, suspicious. “Please don’t tell me you’re catching feelings for Parker, of all people.”

You scoffed, a little too fast. “What? No. Don’t be ridiculous.” She didn’t look convinced. In fact, she narrowed her eyes in that signature MJ way, like she was two seconds from dissecting your soul under a microscope. At this point, you were pretty sure she could read your mind. The smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth was dangerously knowing. “You’ve got that look.” She stated matter-of-factly.

You folded your arms across your chest, the universal defense mechanism of a person absolutely guilty of something. “What look?” You challenged, raising a brow with as much faux confidence as you could muster. “The maybe-my-best-friend’s-cute look.” She deadpanned, her eyes flicking toward Peter again like she was collecting evidence. “I don’t have a look.” You insisted, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “You do. In fact, it’s happening right now.”

You flushed instantly, heat instantly rising to your cheeks. Your eyes darted away, landing on the nearby vending machine with sudden, exaggerated interest. But MJ wasn’t letting you off the hook so easily. Before you could protest further, she looped her arm through yours and practically dragged you toward the lunch table where Ned and Peter were already seated.

Their conversation, coming to a suspiciously abrupt halt the moment you and MJ got within earshot. Peter’s eyes flicked up to meet yours. He straightened a little in his seat, pushing his tray forward like he’d just been caught doing something he shouldn’t. Ned looked equally guilty, but less subtle about it. “Y/N! MJ!” Ned called out with a wide grin, waving you both over as if you hadn’t been on a direct path to the table already. You didn’t question it.

You slid into your usual spot across from Peter, MJ settling beside you with her book already reopened like she had better things to do than acknowledge everyone at the table. “Any plans tonight?” Ned asked casually, his tone too light to be anything but bait. “I’ve got a date with Ben and Jerry,” You smirked as you unzipped your bag. “And my bed.” Peter let out a laugh, which seemed to have caught him off guard, because he immediately coughed to cover it up.

Ned, fully aware of your annual anti-Valentine’s crusade, turned to MJ next. “What about you? Anything?” MJ didn’t even glance up from her book. “Why would I want to celebrate a holiday that promotes codependency and glorifies capitalist manipulation through artificial affection and overpriced florals?” You snorted, choking on the sip of water you’d just taken.

Ned nodded solemnly, clearly used to this answer by now, and launched into an explanation of the new Star Wars LEGO set he’d started building, a massive replica of the Millennium Falcon that, according to him, required “Jedi-level precision.”You half-listened, eyes occasionally drifting to Peter, who had been oddly quiet ever since you sat down. You shouldn’t have been surprised, because that’s when MJ struck.

“What about you, Parker?” She drawled, finally looking up, her tone all faux innocence. “Any Valentine’s Day plans we should know about?” You looked over at him just in time to see the tips of his ears turn pink, spreading color across his cheeks. Peter didn’t look up, just stabbed at the contents of his tray like they were suddenly a tactical threat. “Stark internship,” He muttered, shrugging. “Same as usual.”

You tilted your head, studying him a little more closely. That restless energy from earlier hadn’t gone away. If anything, it had doubled. His foot was bouncing under the table. His fingers were tapping an uneven rhythm on the plastic edge of his tray. Something was definitely off. MJ gave you a barely-there glance from behind her book. Just a flick of her eyes. But the message was loud and clear nonetheless.

He’s hiding something.

You engaged in idle conversation with Ned, letting him drag you into a very passionate rant about why Rogue One was the pinnacle of Star Wars cinema. You nodded along, offering a few “totally”s and “yeah, that makes sense”s, but your mind kept drifting. Not because Ned was boring, far from it, but because Peter had gone almost completely silent which was completely unlike him.

Normally he’d be adding sarcastic comments, laughing at Ned’s over-the-top dramatics, maybe even jumping in with a nerdy side tangent of his own. But now? You were lucky to get a grunt, or a tight-lipped smile. One-word contributions. Maybe two, if you were lucky. You wanted to ask what was going on with him, but the shrill screech of the final bell cut through the room. Backpacks zipped. Chairs scraped. People moved like a tide.

You waved goodbye to MJ and Ned, slinging your bag over your shoulder and weaving into the current of students heading to your last class of the day. That’s when you heard it, soft, just behind your shoulder. “Hey.” You turned to find Peter keeping pace beside you, his stride just a little too quick, like he’d hurried to catch up. His hair was ruffled from where he must’ve run a hand through it, and he was fiddling with the strap of his bag, knuckles flexing, fingers twitching.

You’d known him long enough to recognize the signs: Peter Parker was nervous. “What’s up, Pete?” You asked, eyebrows rising slightly, your tone casual even though your heartbeat was beating hard against your chest. He glanced around, eyes flicking to the packed hallway, then back to you. He opened his mouth, closed it, then forced the words out before he could second-guess himself. “D-Do you want to, maybe, go out with me tonight?”

You stopped walking. Hard. If Peter hadn’t gently guided you out of the flow of foot traffic, you might’ve been flattened by the stampede of couples hand-in-hand and girls with teddy bears bigger than their torsos. The contact, his hand on your forearm, steady and warm, sent a current of heat straight through your veins. You blinked at him. “What?” He looked like he might combust on the spot, rubbing the back of his neck, his smile twitchy and nervous.

“I mean, like… you and me. Dinner. Tonight. I thought maybe we could, you know, go out.” Your stomach twisted, not in dread, but in that dizzy, disorienting way when the world shifts without warning. “Did MJ or Ned put you up to this?” You asked, the question out before you could filter it. Your walls were going up fast, automatic. Peter’s face fell for a split second, but he shook his head quickly. “What? No—no, this was my idea. I wanted to do this. I’ve actually been… thinking about it for a while now.”

You studied him, trying to find the punchline, but apparently there wasn’t one. Just Peter, standing there with his wide, hopeful brown doe eyes, flushed ears, and slightly crooked smile that always showed up when he was trying not to panic. He placed both hands gently on your shoulders, grounding you with a reassuring squeeze. “Only if you want to,” He whispered softly. “It’s okay if not. I just… I thought maybe…”

You looked at him, really looked at him and all those pros and cons you’d silently compiled over the last few seconds since he had popped the question suddenly lit up like neon signs in your mind. Pros: he knew you better than anyone. He made you laugh when you didn’t want to. He always saved you a seat, even when he said he wasn’t going to. He looked at you like you were… something more.

Cons? Honestly? You couldn’t think of a single one. Your lips tugged into a small smile, mind already made up, like it was the easiest decision you ever had to make. “It’s a date, Parker.” You watched as his entire face lit up, the tension in his shoulders vanishing like fog in sunlight. “Really?” You nodded once, biting back a grin of your own. And before you could blink, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your cheek.

Soft. Quick. Chaste, but it lingered. Just long enough to make your breath catch in your throat. “I’ll pick you up at five!” He called out, grinning ear to ear, already backing into the crowd. You stood frozen for a moment, students weaving around you, your cheek tingling from where his lips had been pressed. A date. On Valentine’s Day. With your best friend. Who you definitely, totally, absolutely did not have a crush on. Right?

It’s safe to say your closet was a war zone within minutes. Clothes clung to hangers like they were taunting you, while others were flung across your bed, draped over the back of your chair, or pooling on the floor like casualties of indecision. Denim, florals, sweaters, skirts, none of it looked right. Your makeup, usually tucked neatly away in drawers, was now strewn haphazardly across your vanity.

Lipsticks without caps, eyeshadow palettes cracked open, brushes rolling toward the edge like they were trying to make a run for it. You stared at the mess, chest rising and falling a little quicker than normal, fingers twitching uselessly at your sides. This wasn’t supposed to be this hard. It was just Peter. And yet, nothing you owned seemed to fit whatever it was that this night had become.

Anything you imagined yourself wearing was either too formal, too stiff, too casual, too “I tried way too hard,” or worse, “I didn’t try at all.” You held up a red sweater, squinted, then tossed it aside moving onto the next potential piece. You groaned, flopping back on your bed and burying your face in a pile of unfolded laundry. “This is so stupid." You muttered to yourself. But it wasn’t, because despite your best attempts at denial, your heart had been in overdrive ever since that kiss on the cheek.

Your fingers had brushed the spot absentmindedly at least a dozen times since. Now, every time you looked at the clock, a ripple of panic surged through you. You sat up, blowing hair out of your face, and tried again. Eventually, you landed on something simple but flattering, a soft-knit top in your favorite color and a pair of jeans that hugged your curves just right. You didn’t look like you were headed to a gala, but you also didn’t look like someone who was about to binge another rom-com in sweats.

Makeup came next, light, effortless, like you woke up like this even though you'd definitely sweated through at least one hundred outfit meltdowns already. A little mascara and eyeliner, your go-to gloss, and just the tiniest dab of blush to make you look alive. When you finally looked in the mirror, you paused. It was still you. But it was the version of you who, for once, didn’t dread Valentine’s Day.

The you who maybe, just maybe, was looking forward to this.

You were done getting ready by 4:00. Too early, probably. But you couldn’t help it. You re-sprayed a little perfume behind your ears. Lip gloss reapplied twice. By 4:30, you were already perched on the edge of your bed, checking your phone even though there were no new notifications. None at all. You told yourself he’d show up early, maybe even knock on the door at 4:45 just to be polite.

You checked the mirror one more time, tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, and tried to act normal. Totally not spiraling. Then it was 5:00. Okay, technically not late. Not everyone was obsessed with punctuality. Maybe he got caught on the subway. Or traffic. Or… whatever Peter usually got caught in. So you cut him some slack. At 5:15, you refreshed your messages for the third time, just in case your phone was glitching.

You checked your ringer, turned it off airplane mode, then turned it back on airplane mode, because that’s what desperate people did when they didn’t want to believe no one was texting them. 5:30. The silence started to feel heavier, the kind of silence that didn’t feel empty, just abandoned. The kind that pressed on your chest, slow and suffocating. 5:45. You peeled off your jacket and let it slump onto your desk chair.

You kept the rest of your outfit on, though. Some stubborn part of you still hoped for the sound of footsteps up the stairs. For a sheepish knock and a “sorry, I got caught up.” 6:00. Your legs had started to go numb from sitting so still. Your phone sat face-up on your bed, taunting you. The city outside your window buzzed with life, laughter echoing from the sidewalks, couples walking hand-in-hand on their way to overpriced dinners.

The world was moving, and you were frozen in place, still waiting on someone who clearly wasn’t coming. By 7:00, your heart sank low into your chest, too exhausted to hold itself up anymore. You let out a breath that felt like it’d been stuck in your ribs for an hour. Your eyes stung, but you blinked fast, forcing the tears back with everything you had. You didn’t want to cry over this, not tonight. Not over him. Still, your throat felt tight as you stood up, walking slowly toward your door.

You reached for the purse you’d hung by the hook hours ago, so sure you’d be needing it, only this time, you quietly placed it back in your closet. Your boots echoed against the floor as you kicked them off one by one. You didn’t bother turning the lights on. You shut off your phone instead, one last look at the blank screen before pressing the button and letting it all fade to black. You peeled off the outfit you’d picked with such careful hope.

The top you thought he might compliment. The jeans you felt just confident enough in. You wiped off your makeup, the mascara smudged slightly beneath your eyes from tears you swore you weren’t going to cry. But you did. You climbed into bed in a hoodie and sweatpants, bundled beneath a blanket like it could protect you from the hurt clawing through your chest. It wasn’t just that he didn’t show. It was Peter who didn’t show. Peter, who knew how hard dating had always been for you.

Who knew how much rejection chipped away at you more than you let on. Who was supposed to be the one person you could trust not to leave you hanging like this. You'd put yourself out there. For him. And he had forgot. Your tears were quiet but steady, slipping down your cheeks and soaking into your pillow. It wasn’t loud sobbing, no, it was that low, ache-deep kind of heartbreak. The kind that made your chest feel hollow and your throat burn and your brain whisper I should’ve known better.

After a few minutes of wallowing in self-pity, you swiped at your cheeks roughly with your sleeve and let out a bitter laugh. “Nope,” You muttered to no one. “Not crying over this. Not again.” You grabbed your laptop from your nightstand and queued up Me Before You. If you were going to cry tonight, it would be over Will Traynor, over Lou in those ridiculous bumblebee tights and her heartbreak in Paris.

That kind of pain made sense. Predictable. Scripted. It wasn’t supposed to feel this personal. You clicked play. And that’s when you heard it. A soft sliding sound, followed by the faintest thud of something landing just inside your room. Your heart jolted. The window. Your breath hitched in your throat as you slowly turned your head, blanket still pulled up to your chin. And there he was, Spider-Man. Climbing through your window like this was just a casual Friday occurrence.

Red-and-blue suit gleaming in the low light, a plastic bag dangling from one gloved hand. “Spider-Man?” You whispered, half a gasp. Half a question. Your voice cracked under the weight of surprise and disbelief. The white eyes on his mask snapped wide, comically so, like a cartoon. His whole body stiffened like he hadn’t expected you to be there, even though this was your room. “What the hell are you doing in my—”

You stopped.

His shoulders. His posture. The awkward, familiar way he froze like he’d just been caught sneaking in after curfew. Your breath caught. No, it couldn’t be. Something inside you shifted, recognition blooming like something you weren’t supposed to feel. He didn’t answer at first. Just stood there like a kid caught red-handed, one arm still holding the bag, the other halfway raised like he might wave.

You blinked, your stomach churning with something hot and bitter. “Peter Benjamin Parker,” You hissed, voice shaking as you sat up straighter in your bed, blanket clutched like a shield around you. “If that’s you behind that mask, so help me, God—” Silence. Then, his voice, muffled and hesitant, cracked through the air like a confession. “…Y/N, please, I can explain.”

You stared, eyes wide as he tugged the mask back and off his head with one hand still raised, almost like he thought you might throw something. You didn’t. You couldn’t. Not when you were suddenly staring at the boy you’d grown up with, the boy you trusted more than anyone else, standing in front of you in spandex and dried blood. God, you wished you had been wrong.

For a second, just one, your fury wavered. His face was bruised, his lip cracked open and caked with dried blood. His eyes, still soft and impossibly brown, carried this exhausted, haunted look that hadn’t been there a few months ago. Not really. You always assumed he was just overextending himself with school. Or the internship. But now it all made sense. The chronic exhaustion. The sudden strength. The sudden ghosting.

The constant injuries that came with vague excuses. How he’d somehow grown five feet taller overnight. It all just clicked. And yet, it didn’t stop hurting. You tucked your knees to your chest, arms wrapped tight around them, blanket slipping from your shoulders as you fought to keep your voice steady. “Y/N, please,” Peter coaxed softly, stepping forward. “I know it’s a lot to process—” You let out a scoff before you could stop it. “Understatement of the year.” You muttered, not meeting his eyes.

“I swear I was on time. I had everything planned. I even had Mr. Stark get us a reservation at that little Italian place you kept walking by after school, the one with the outdoor string lights and those little lemon desserts you said you wanted to try.” Your chest tightened. “I was on my way,” He rushed on, voice cracking with guilt. “And then this guy, some psycho in this rhino get-up, literally plows through Midtown. Police were nowhere close, and people were getting hurt, and I couldn’t just ignore it.”

He ran a gloved hand down his face, clearly exhausted, clearly frustrated with everything, including himself. “I’m not trying to make excuses,” He added quickly. “I hate that you thought I forgot. I hate that I made you feel like you weren’t a priority tonight. I’m so sorry. You don’t know how sorry I am.” You stayed quiet. Not because you didn’t have anything to say, but because you had too much to say.

You were hurt. Humiliated. Angry. And worst of all, underneath all of it, you understood. That’s what stung the most. You finally looked up at him, face unreadable, voice flat. “It’s fine, Peter.” That made him flinch more than if you’d screamed at him. “It’s not like you owed me anything, anyway.” You gave him a smile that didn’t reach your eyes. His lips parted like he was going to say something, but no words came.

You stood from the bed slowly, brushing past him toward your dresser. “You should go,” You murmured, not looking back. “You probably have another crisis to swing off to, right?” Peter shook his head so fast. “Y/N—” But you weren’t listening. The ache in your chest was suffocating, louder than his voice. Your own thoughts were clawing at you, stupid, stupid, how could you have thought this would be different—

Then, twip, a sudden tension yanked at your hip, and the world tilted. You stumbled, instinctively reaching out, and slammed straight into a broad, solid chest. One you knew by feel alone. Your hands found purchase on the firm muscle of his biceps, fingers digging in harder than you meant to. “Peter, what—?” You started, breath catching, eyes wide. But he didn’t let you finish. “It’s not okay,” He declared firmly, hands gently steadying you by the waist.

His voice was lower now, almost trembling. “It’s not okay because I meant what I said earlier.” You froze under his touch, blinking up at him, still trying to play catch-up as your heart sprinted. “I’ve been working up the courage to ask you out for months,” He swallowed thickly. “I planned everything, the dinner, the reservation, the speech, even the damn gift.” His voice cracked a little at the end. “I had this whole moment in my head. I was going to tell you how I feel tonight. I was going to tell you everything.”

He took a breath and stepped back just enough to gesture to himself, to the red and blue suit clinging to him like second skin. “This. All of it. I was going to explain. Because I didn’t want to lie to you anymore.” Your eyes darted between his face and his suit, your throat suddenly dry, your fingers still curled against the sleeves at his arms like your body didn’t want to let go, even if your mind hadn’t quite caught up.

“Y/N…” He whispered, eyes locked on yours, like he was searching for something in them, hope, maybe, or forgiveness. “You’re my best friend, but…” That pause. That heartbeat of silence. That sentence that shattered you before he could even finish it. “I don’t want to be just your friend anymore.” Your breath stuttered in your chest. And then— “Y/N, I love you.” He didn’t flinch. Didn’t second-guess. “I’ve always loved you.”

The confession was raw. It wasn’t poetic or perfect, it was real. Said with the intensity of someone who had run through hell all night and still showed up because you were the only thing that mattered. Your lips parted. But no sound came out. All the hurt, the disappointment, the unanswered texts, the hours spent alone tonight, none of it erased what he did, or how you felt.

Yet standing there in front of him, seeing the bruises he wore like a badge for a world that didn’t even know his name, and hearing those words… It made the pieces shift. Not fall back into place, but shift, like maybe they could. He took a cautious step forward, his hands rising again to hold you, not demanding, just asking. “I’m sorry I hurt you,” He repeated again, voice so soft it barely reached over the beat of your pulse. “But I swear, I meant every word. I love you.”

You didn’t answer.

Then, slowly, tentatively, your fingers slid from his arms to his chest, right over his racing heart. “Say it again,” You whispered. Peter blinked, surprised. “Please,” You all but begged, eyes stinging. And so he leaned in, forehead brushing yours, breath fanning against your lips like a promise: “I love you.” Your breath hitched at the words. Three of them. So simple, I love you, yet they cracked something wide open from inside you.

You stared at him, your heart hammering like it might tear itself out of your chest. His hands were still at your waist, thumbs stroking gently, grounding you. And then you surged forward. There was no hesitation, no overthinking, just raw emotion igniting like a match finally struck. Your lips met his in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was desperate, hungry. All the pent-up frustration, the hurt, the longing, the unspoken tension between you exploding into that one moment.

Your hands flew up to tangle in his curls as his mouth moved against yours like he’d been waiting for this, aching for this. Peter groaned softly, the sound muffled as your bodies pressed together, flush with heat. His arms wrapped fully around your waist, holding you to him like you might vanish. You felt the hard muscle beneath the suit, the way his chest heaved as your kiss deepened, mouths moving in perfect sync like you’d been made for each other.

You gasped softly as he walked you backward until your knees hit the edge of the bed, forcing you to lay down as he followed hovering above you, mouth never leaving yours, cradling your face in both hands now like you were something precious. Something fragile he’d nearly lost. The kiss softened then, still heated but slower, like he wanted to memorize the shape of your lips with his own.

Your fingers brushed over the bare skin of his jaw, and you shivered from the electricity dancing along your spine. When you finally pulled apart, barely an inch of space between you, your noses brushed, breaths uneven and mingling in the small distance. Peter’s eyes searched yours, glassy and warm and a little wild. “I’ve wanted to do that since freshman year.” He whispered, lips brushing yours as he spoke.

You smiled, thumb tracing the corner of his mouth. “Guess we’re both just as clueless.” He leaned in again, slower this time, like a promise: I’m not going anywhere. And this time, when his lips found yours, it wasn’t rushed. It was everything. Everything you’d waited for. Everything he’d been holding back. It was the kind of kiss that pulled the breath straight from your lungs and made the rest of the world dissolve.

His fingers brushed your jaw with delicate reverence, but the way his mouth moved against yours was anything but tentative. When you parted your lips slightly, whether in a gasp or invitation, you weren’t sure, he didn’t hesitate. His tongue slipped past your lips, tentative at first, like he was asking permission even as your fingers tightened in his curls. The kiss deepened again instantly, a slow heat building in your chest as your tongues met, exploring, tasting, hungry for more.

You let out a soft, involuntary noise against him, half gasp, half moan. You felt him react immediately, one hand sliding from your waist to your lower back, drawing you in closer until your bodies were pressed together from chest to knee. You could feel the tension in him, the restraint, even as he kissed you like he’d been starving and you were the only thing that could satisfy him. His tongue moved with yours, teasing and coaxing, a little clumsy but oh so Peter, earnest, sweet, passionate.

The kiss was messy, hot, addicting. Your fingers tugged gently at the ends of his hair as his mouth slanted over yours again and again, like he couldn’t get enough. And maybe neither could you. After what felt like hours, breathless, lips tingling and kiss-bitten, you finally parted, foreheads pressed together as you both tried to catch your breath. Your fingers were still curled into the fabric of his suit, heart thundering against his chest.

"Kinda leaving me hanging here." Peter huffed, his voice rough with affection as he reached up to brush a stray lock of hair from your flushed face, his knuckles grazing your cheek in a touch so gentle it made your heart stutter. You raised a brow, eyes flicking to the plastic bag now lying abandoned on the edge of your bed. “Is there ice cream in that bag?” Peter blinked like he’d just remembered it existed. “It’s probably melting as we speak.” You grinned, and he smiled back, soft and shy, like he couldn’t believe this was real.

“I love you too, Parker,” You whispered, the words landing between you like a spark catching dry tinder. His whole expression changed, like something sacred had just been handed to him. He leaned down again, lips parted, clearly intent on sealing the moment with another kiss. Only you pressed a finger to his mouth, stopping him with a teasing smirk. “But you’re definitely not off the hook.” His brows lifted in amused surprise.

“I demand a re-do. No interruptions this time. And a lot of Cherry Garcia ice cream to make up for tonight.” Peter laughed, the sound boyish and breathless. “You’ve got yourself a deal, pretty girl.” His voice dropped just slightly, low and fond, as he leaned in close again. “As long as you’ll also do me the honor of being my girlfriend.” You tilted your head, pretending to consider it, even as your lips twitched. “What does that entail?” You asked, faux curiosity laced in your tone.

The smirk that stretched across Peter’s face was positively wicked. His nose brushed against yours as he whispered. “Whatever you want it to.” That was it. You surged up and met his mouth with your own, kissing him again almost as if sealing the deal. His hands cupped your jaw, tilting your head as your mouths moved together with a new urgency, less frantic than before, but somehow deeper. More intimate.

Like now, with everything out in the open, there was nothing left to hold back. His tongue found yours again, slow and sure, as you pulled him closer, your fingers accidentally pressing against the spider emblem on his chest. You gasped when the suit loosened around his torso, revealing the defined lines of his chest and abs. The surprise only held you for a second before you pulled him in again, fingertips skimming eagerly across his skin. The bag with the ice cream lay long forgotten, but you didn’t care. You had something better.

You had him.

And maybe, just maybe, Valentine’s Day wouldn’t be so bad after this.

In fact, it might just become your favorite day of the year.

Thanks for reading! likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! Feeling generous? Leave a tip!

[swirledyouintoallmypoems]

★ video games

peter parker x fem!youtuber!reader smau

summary: while she’s a fan of spider-man, she doesn’t know peter parker’s a fan of her.

notes: hii i know it’s been a while guys but the mcu obsession came back with a vengeance after watching thunderbolts so now i’m gonna do some fun stuff - first time writing a smau on here so i’m excited!!

★

pparkerphotos

Liked by tonystarkofficial, mjjones, and 932,780 others.

pparkerphotos 📸

Tagged: nedleeds

Load 20,311 comments…

tonystarkofficial And how many of these pictures were taken when you were supposed to be on missions?

pparkerphotos none of THESE photos were taken on missions mr stark

nedleeds dude you have to send me that picture of us

pparkerphotos will do asap

steverogers You’re getting very good at photography, Peter.

pparkerphotos THANK YOU MR CAPTAIN AMERICA SIR 🫡🫡🫡🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🔥🔥

user63 bros casually got captain america in his comments

samwilson Delete this nobody gaf lil bro

torres.joaquin i care

pparkerphotos thank you 🔥🔥

torres.joaquin always got ur back king 🙏💕

samwilson This is all kinds of betrayal…

user24 HEYYY that’s so close to my apartment

user913 spiderman ur literally the goat

ynln hmu if you ever want a job as a boyfriend

user55 omg not her shooting her shot 😭😭

user02 y/n ur sooo funny ily pls don’t explode ❤️

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★

ynln

Liked by pparkerphotos and 430,291 others.

ynln new york or nowhere ❤️❤️❤️ (new video soon i promise!!)

362 comments…

user55 YESSS SO EXCITED!!!! ILY Y/N ❤️

user360 when r u gonna stream again i miss ur gaming vids :(

ynln this weekend hopefully!!

user12 snl mentioned??

pparkerphotos hey so about that job you mentioned…

user6 OMG??? HAS Y/N SEEN THIS??

user904 @ynln GIRLL LOOK AT THIS

user78 WAIT I SHIPP

user24 peter are you a y/n fan??

pparkerphotos absolutely been a day 1 subscriber

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★

ynln added to their story 13 mins ago.

Story comments ->

user29 OMG IS THAT WHO I THINK IT ISSSS????!!!

user111 YESS OMG ❤️❤️

pparkerphotos oh 😔

user55 PETER’S COMMENT? ITS NOT HIM?

★

pparkerphotos

Liked by nedleeds, tonystarkofficial, natromanoff and 992,103 others.

pparkerphotos spider-man half the time, best boyfriend ever the other half ❤️❤️

Tagged: ynln

31,006 comments…

ynln peter parker >> spiderman

pparkerphotos y/n l/n >>> peter parker

ynln NO??

samwilson He’s right wdym

user55 OMGGGG PETER X Y/N 💕💕💕

user28 IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THISSS

tonystarkofficial Congrats, kid. Happy for you.

pparkerphotos thanks mr stark 👊👊

ynln HELLO SIR

torres.joaquin yoooo dude

nedleeds DUDE?!?? WHY WASNT I INFORMED

pparkerphotos oops? love u bro

user913 just fell to my knees 🥀🥀🥀😢

steverogers Very nice, Peter! Can’t wait to meet her.

ynln HELLO CAPTAIN AMERICA 🫡

steverogers Hello.

ynln ily pete ❤️❤️❤️

pparkerphotos ily more ❤️

user111 @ynln SPIDERMAN CAMEO IN YOUR NEXT VID??

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★

a/n: this was super rushed but wtv i thought it was cute.. steve rogers next maybe??

[ironinc]

Distracted.ᝰ.ᐟ

Peter Parker x F!Black Reader. (Smut/NSFW)

˗ˏˋ You decided to take a break from your day and play a online game with your friends, but before you can even start, it's impossible to concentrate when your boyfriend, Peter Parker, is being so distracting. He offers to let you sit on his lap while you play, not realizing his intentions aren't nearly as innocent as he pretends they are.

──── .✦

Very explicit & detailed. | A/N: Posting back to back since I just posted a story about someone that wasn’t in the marvel universe! Also Peter is aged up to 22 in this, and you’re 21. | WC: 2,187

(Sauntering definition: walk in a slow, relaxed manner, without hurry or effort:)

✮⋆˙

The hum of your gaming PC filled the room, the monitor's glow casting a soft light over your desk. You adjusted your bonnet, pulling it down a little as you settled into the chair, your boyfriend’s oversized shirt billowing around your thighs. 

Peter—your Peter—leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest, that infuriating smirk playing on his lips. He was wearing a plain white wife beater and grey sweatpants, the fabric clinging to his muscular frame in a way that made your breath hitch. His thighs—God, his thighs—were on full display, and you couldn’t help but bite your lip as your eyes lingered on them.

“You sure you’re not just stalling so you can keep staring at me?” he teased, his voice low and amused.

You rolled your eyes, though your cheeks flushed. “I’m not stalling. I’m warming up.” You gestured to the screen where your character stood idle in the game lobby, your friends already chiming in over the headset. “Besides, if you’re just going to stand there and look all… that, then maybe you should leave me alone.”

Peter chuckled, pushing off the doorframe and sauntering toward you. Sauntering. Because of course, he did. He rested his hands on the back of your chair, leaning down until his breath ghosted over your ear. “You’re the one who couldn’t stop talking about my thighs this morning,” he murmured, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. “Now you’re kicking me out?”

You swallowed hard, trying to focus on the screen. “I’m trying to play a game, Peter.”

He hummed, his lips brushing against your neck. 

“I’ve got a better game for you.”

Before you could protest, his hands were on your waist, lifting you effortlessly out of the chair. You let out a small yelp, your hands flying to his shoulders as he settled into the seat and pulled you onto his lap. The heat of his body seeped through the thin fabric of your shirt, and you could already feel his arousal pressing against you.

“Peter,” you hissed, glancing at the monitor where your friends were still chatting, oblivious. 

“I’m live. They can hear me.”

“Then don’t make too much noise,” he said, his voice dripping with mischief. His hands slid down to your hips, pulling you closer until you could feel the hard length of him against your bare core. “Just sit on my lap while you play. I promise I won’t move.”

You shot him a skeptical look, but the way his pupils were dilated, the way his breath hitched as you shifted slightly—God, you didn’t stand a chance. “Fine,” you muttered, reaching for the keyboard. “But if you ruin my game, I’m kicking you out for real.”

He grinned, his hands resting lightly on your thighs. “Deal.”

You unmuted your mic, trying to ignore the way Peter’s warmth felt against you. “Sorry, guys. Had to adjust something,” you said, your voice steady despite the flush creeping up your neck.

“You good?” one of your friends asked.

“Yeah, all good,” you replied, focusing on the screen. For a moment, it almost worked. You were able to push Peter’s presence to the back of your mind—until his hands started to wander. His fingers traced slow, teasing patterns up your thighs, and you could feel him growing harder beneath you.

“Peter,” you whispered, your voice tight. “You promised.”

“I’m not moving,” he said innocently, though the smirk in his voice betrayed him. His hands slid under the hem of your shirt, brushing against your bare skin.

You bit your lip, trying to concentrate on the game, but it was impossible with his fingers inching closer to where you wanted them most. 

You quickly muted your mic, turning to glare at him. “You said you wouldn’t move.”

“Technically, I said I wouldn’t move,” he said, his hands cupping your ass. “You can move if you want.”

You groaned, your head falling back against his shoulder. “This is not fair.”

“Life’s not fair,” he said, his lips trailing along your neck. His hips shifted slightly, and you couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped your lips. 

“But I can be generous.”

You shivered as one of his hands slid between your legs, his fingers parting your folds with practiced ease. “Peter—” you started, but your voice broke off into a moan as his fingers found your clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles.

“Shh,” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. “You’re still muted, right?”

You nodded, though you could barely think straight. His fingers moved with a precision that left you breathless, your hips rocking against his hand as you tried to stifle your moans.

“Good,” he said, his voice dark with desire. His other hand moved to grip your hip, guiding you to grind against him. “But I think we can make this more fun.”

Before you could protest, he unmuted your mic, his fingers still working their magic. “What’s the plan, team?” you asked, your voice trembling as you tried to focus on the game.

“Are you okay?” one of your friends asked, her voice laced with concern. “You sound… off.”

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, though your voice hitched as Peter’s fingers pushed inside you, curling in just the right way.

“Just—uh—got a cramp.”

Peter chuckled softly, his lips brushing against your neck. “Cramp, huh?” he whispered, his fingers increasing their pace.

You bit your lip, trying to keep your breathing steady. “Yeah, just—need to stretch.”

“Well, hurry up,” another friend chimed in. “We’ve got a raid to finish.”

“On it,” you said, though your vision was starting to blur as Peter’s fingers worked you closer and closer to the edge.

“You’re doing so good,” he murmured, his voice thick with praise. “But I think you can take more.”

You barely had time to process his words before he was lifting you slightly, his free hand pulling his sweatpants down just enough to free his cock. He positioned you over him, the tip brushing against your slick entrance. 

“Peter,” you gasped, your hands gripping the edge of the desk. “You’re going to get us caught.”

“Then don’t make it obvious,” he said, his voice low and commanding. He lowered you onto him slowly, inch by agonizing inch, until you were seated fully in his lap.

You whimpered, your head falling back against his shoulder. “Fuck.”

“That’s the plan,” he said, his hands gripping your hips. He started to rock you against him, the pace slow and deliberate, but enough to make your toes curl. “But let’s see how quiet you can be.” 

You muffled a moan against your hand, trying to focus on the screen where your friends were still strategizing. But it was impossible—the way he filled you, the way his hands held you in place, the way his breath hitched every time you clenched around him—it was all too much.

“You’re doing so good,” he whispered, his voice rough with desire. “But I think we can push you a little more.”

He increased the pace, his hips meeting yours with a force that left you breathless. You quickly muted your mic again, unable to hold back the moan that escaped your lips.

“Peter,” you gasped, your hands gripping the desk for support.

“You’re going to make me—”

“Go ahead pretty,” he growled, his hands tightening on your hips. “Come for me, baby. Let me feel you.”

You couldn’t hold back anymore—the tension coiled in your core snapped, and you came with a muffled cry, your body shuddering against his. He followed soon after, his hips stuttering as he filled you, his breath hot against your neck.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was your ragged breathing. Then, Peter unmuted your mic, his voice calm and steady. “You good, mama?”

You shot him a glare, though your legs were still trembling. “Yeah,” you said, your voice surprisingly steady. “Just… stretching.”

Peter’s hands slide up your thighs, his grip firm as he lifts you off his lap with ease. The sudden shift leaves you momentarily disoriented, but before you can protest, he leans you forward over the desk, your palms pressing into the cool surface. The game is still running, and the chatter of your friends faints through the headset, but your focus is entirely on him.

“Shh,” he whispers, his breath hot against your ear as he moves behind you. The sound of his sweatpants sliding down to his ankles sends a shiver through you. His hands grip your hips, adjusting your position until your left leg is propped up on the desk, giving him better access. He could see how his cum was slowly dripping out of you. Making him ‘Tsk’ at the sight. 

The position is vulnerable, exposing, and intensely arousing.

His hand comes down on your ass in a sharp slap, the sound louder than you expected. You gasp, your body jerking forward, but his other hand holds you in place. “Peter—” you start, but he cuts you off with another slap, the sting making your breath hitch.

“Quiet,” he murmurs, his voice low and commanding. His cock slides between your thigh, already hard and demanding. “Let’s see how quiet you can be now. And this time, you can’t mute the mic. Let them hear you moan.”

Your heart races as he positions himself, the head of his cock teasing your entrance. You glance at the screen, where your friends’ avatars are moving around, oblivious to what’s happening. Your mic is still unmuted, and the thought of them hearing you—really hearing you—sends a jolt of both fear and excitement through you.

Peter doesn’t give you time to adjust. He pushes into you in one smooth, unrelenting motion, filling you completely. You bite your lip to stifle a moan, but it slips out anyway, a soft, breathy sound that makes his grip on your hips tighten.

“That’s it,” he growls, his voice rough with need. 

He pulls back almost all the way before thrusting into you again, the force of it making your arms tremble. “Let them hear. Let them know who’s making you feel this good.”

You try to stay quiet, but it’s impossible. Every thrust wrings another sound from you, a mix of moans and whimpers that you can’t suppress. 

Your friends’ voices chatter in the background, oblivious, but you can’t focus on the game anymore. All you can focus on is Peter, his cock pounding into you, his hands gripping your hips like he’s afraid you’ll pull away.

“Peter—” you gasp, your voice trembling.

“Say my name again,” he demands, his pace relentless. “Louder.”

“Peter,” you moan, your voice breaking as he hits a spot that makes your legs shake. You can hear it faintly through the headset, your moan carrying over the mic, and you freeze for a moment, wondering if your friends heard.

But Peter doesn’t stop. If anything, he seems more determined, his thrusts growing harder, faster. “Again,” he growls, his hand sliding around to rub your clit in tight, rhythmic circles. “Let them hear you.”

“Peter!” you cry out, your voice louder this time, and you can’t bring yourself to care if your friends hear. The pleasure is too much, too intense, and you’re teetering on the edge of another orgasm.

His name spills from your lips over and over as he fucks you, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. His fingers circle your clit faster, matching the rhythm of his hips, and you can feel the tension building, coiling tighter and tighter until it snaps.

You come with a cry, your body shuddering as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you. Peter groans, his hips stuttering as he follows you over the edge, his cock pulsing inside you as he fills you with his release.

For a moment, the only sound in the room is your labored breathing and the faint chatter of your friends through the headset. Then, Peter leans down, his lips brushing against your ear. “Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice thick with satisfaction.

You’re still catching your breath when one of your friends speaks up, her voice concerned. 

“Hey, you okay? You’re being really quiet.”

Peter smirks, his hands still on your hips. “Answer her,” he whispers, his voice teasing.

You hesitate, your cheeks burning, but you can’t bring yourself to lie. “Yeah,” you manage, your voice shaky but steady enough. “Just… got distracted for a second.”

Peter chuckles softly, his hands sliding up your sides. 

You took your left leg off the desk, now standing in front of your monitors. He took a couple of wet wipes out of your desk drawer to clean you up. 

“Distracted, huh?” he murmurs, his tone playful. 

You look behind you, and he's silently laughing at your 'plain excuses.'

"Shh," he hushes you with a sly grin. "You can lock in now."

He starts rubbing your bare ass gently, his touch sending chills down your spine. Softly, he kisses your skin, his lips leaving a trail of desire in their wake.

Then, in a voice that's both tender and teasing, he whispers, "God, I love you."

⋆˙⟡

OH LA LA LAAAAA😝😝 I loved writing this so much I could SCREAM!! I hope you all are doing well and enjoyed it!

(Credits: spiderevans on TikTok)

- I’ll see you soon ‹𝟹 (MasterList) ⋆˚࿔

[p3terparker]

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: peter is too shy to make a move on you

𝘄/𝗰: 0.7k

𝗮/𝗻: hi everyone i'm back from the dead after being gone for over a year as usual give me grace with this fic i haven’t written in forever but i’m trying 😭 i miss writing for peter so much ♡♡

it’s no secret peter is shy. ever since the beginning of your relationship, which was months ago, you were always the one to initiate things between you two. he was too shy to even hold your hand or start a cuddle session. you don’t mind that; in fact, you even find it quite cute how he starts to blush when you do something as simple as kissing him on his cheek. it’s endearing, but sometimes you don’t always want to be the one to make a move, which is why you had completely deprived him of any physical touch.

you can tell he’s bothered. he’s been staring at you as soon as you two sat on the couch together and put on your guy’s favorite TV show. he not so subtly coughs to get your attention, but you choose to ignore it as you hold back a giggle. it’s obvious he wants to cuddle, but you’re not going to give him what he wants unless he does it himself.

as the show progresses to the next episode, you finally decide to speak up after feeling his eyes on you throughout the entirety of the first episode.

“you need something peter?” you ask while looking away from the TV you were watching.

“what? oh um, no. why do you ask?” he stumbles over his words as a slight blush creeps over his face.

“because you’ve been staring at me ever since you got home” you giggle

“oh.. sorry” he murmurs out timidly while finally looking away from your face and towards the TV.

that was the last thing that was said before the next episode started and you were engulfed in the show you were watching again.

it didn’t take long for his attention to fall back onto you, staring at you in disbelief because you’re not giving him what he wants. it’s killing you inside to not just wrap yourself in his arms, but you have to stand strong. you continue watching your show for another 15 minutes before peter finally reaches his breaking point.

“why are you doing this to me?”

you pause the show and get a good look at him. he has a small pout and a look of sadness painted all over his face which causes you to feel a twinge of pain in your chest.

“doing what?”

“ignoring me”

“i’m not–”

“yes you are. you didn’t give me a hug or kiss when i got home and now you’re not cuddling with me like you always do” he cuts you off and lets the words pour out frustratedly.

you kind of feel bad but at the same time can’t help yourself from laughing at how frustrated he is over an issue he could’ve avoided by just making a move on you.

“you know you could’ve kissed me and cuddled me yourself, right?”

now he’s silent because you just called him out.

“yeah but… i don’t know how” he timidly says.

“what do you mean you don’t know how?”

“you make me nervous. you’re my first relationship and i don’t know how to initiate anything between us without making things awkward” he quietly states, barely able to make eye contact with you.

“aww peter, come here” you say while finally embracing him. you can feel the tension release from his body as soon as he lays his head on your chest.

“you could never make things awkward between us peter. and as for me making you nervous, do you know how nervous you make me? like seriously, you’re insanely hot and also have the sweetest personality ever”

“stoppp” he whines but gives you a look that tells you he secretly loves what you’re saying.

“alright alright, but i'm serious peter. nothing you say or do could make things awkward between us. you don’t know how much i want you to initiate something for once, i’m tired of practically wearing the pants in our relationship” you laugh while semi-joking.

you don’t know if it’s the entirety of the little speech you gave him or the comment about you wearing the pants in your relationship that caused a change in his demeanor, but suddenly he flipped your position to where he has you pinned beneath him on the couch and passionately kissed you.

“who’s wearing the pants now?”

[thollandsgirl2013]

𝐂𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐋𝐢𝐯𝐞

Parings → Tom Holland x Reader

Warnings → Embarrassment, teasing, suggestive content, swearing, fluff, chaos, Tom being dramatic, public humiliation, Instagram live, playful banter, secondhand embarrassment.

Summary → During an Instagram live, Tom embarrasses himself by getting too handsy, not realizing it’s live.

You weren’t even planning on going live, but boredom struck, and here you were—sitting in front of your vanity, phone propped up, chatting with thousands of people while doing your skincare routine.

“Okay, so this is the toner I’ve been obsessed with lately,” you said, holding up a pretty glass bottle. “It’s so hydrating, and my skin has been drinking it up like—” You paused as you tapped the product into your face, glancing at the flood of comments.

“Queen is blessing us with a random live? We won today.”

“Not me ignoring my assignments for this.”

“The skincare routine, finally!”

You giggled. “I love how invested you guys are in my skincare. Should I do this more often?”

The chat exploded with “YES!!” and variations of “Absolutely,” making you laugh as you moved on to serum.

You were mid-way through explaining how this particular product made your skin look “glowy but not greasy” when the bedroom door creaked open. Tom walked in, fresh out of a shower, towel slung around his neck, wearing sweatpants and a loose t-shirt, looking all soft and cuddly. His curls were damp and tousled in that unfairly attractive way.

A soft smile formed on your lips as you caught his reflection in the vanity mirror. “Hey, love.”

Tom came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and leaning down to press a kiss against your temple. “Hey, darling,” he murmured, voice raspy from sleep.

You saw the chat go wild.

“OMGGGG TOMMMM”

“PLS HE’S SO CLINGY”

“This man is in love, your honor.”

Completely unaware of the audience watching, Tom pressed another kiss to your cheek, then your jaw, moving closer to your neck. “Missed you,” he murmured.

You snorted. “Tom, you were literally in the other room.”

“I know, but I still missed you,” he whined dramatically, swaying you side to side.

The chat was eating it up.

“Tom is the clingiest bf ever confirmed.”

“He’s such a golden retriever lmao.”

Tom finally glanced up at your phone. “Are you recording a video?” He asked, tilting his head.

You opened your mouth to answer, but before you could, Tom’s hand slid up and—without hesitation—he gave your boob a playful squeeze.

S Q U E E Z E.

At the same time, he leaned in and whispered into your ear, “Fuck, you look so hot in this top.”

You let out the most unholy yelp known to mankind.

“Thomas!”

“What?” He grinned.

“I’m LIVE ON INSTAGRAM!”

The color drained from Tom’s face so fast you swore you could see it happening.

His eyes went wide like a deer caught in headlights, and then—without a word—he bolted. Full on, Olympic sprinter, ran out of the camera frame.

The chat absolutely lost it.

“OH MY GOD DID THAT JUST HAPPEN?!”

“TOM. THOMAS. THOMAS STANLEY HOLLAND. YOU DID NOT.”

“I CAN’T BREATHE LMFAOOOO”

“Poor Y/n is TRAUMATIZED.”

“NOT ON THE LORD’S INTERNET.”

Your jaw was still on the floor as you turned to the camera, completely flustered. “I—” You put your hands over your face, groaning. “That did not just happen.”

Tom was yelling from somewhere off-camera. “WHY DIDN’T YOU WARN ME FIRST?!”

“I DIDN’T KNOW YOU’RE GONNA DO THAT!!”

Your phone kept buzzing with comments, and then the real chaos began.

Harry: “I was so invested in the skincare routine. You had to ruin it, you idiot!”

Sam: “We did NOT need to see that, Tom 😐”

Paddy: “Does someone have holy water?”

Harrison: “Keep the freakiness for the bedroom, mate.”

Tuweine: “Did NOT expected that, T.”

Zendaya: “There are CHILDREN present HERE!”

Nikki: “Thomas Stanley Holland, you better behave!”

Your jaw dropped at that last comment. “Oh my god—your mum is in the chat.”

You heard a muffled scream from the hallway. “NOOOOO.”

Laughter bubbled out of you as the chat continued to go crazy.

“Y/n, go check if Tom is still breathing.”

“The way he ran out, I’m crying.”

“Nikki Holland coming in with the FINAL BLOW.”

Still reeling from what had just happened, you barely registered the nonstop buzz of notifications. The comments were relentless.

“Y/n, drag him back on camera. We need a public apology.”

“TOM GET BACK HERE.”

“He’s literally in his ‘cringe I wanna disappear’ era.”

You snorted, calling out over your shoulder, “Tom, they want a statement from you, Mr. Holland.”

From the hallway, you heard a muffled groan. “Tell them I’m dead.”

Rolling your eyes, you turned the phone slightly toward the open door. “Guys, he’s being dramatic.”

There was another flood of messages.

“Drag his ass back.”

“We demand accountability.”

“Not him hiding like a guilty puppy.”

Taking pity on your boyfriend, you got up and walked out of frame, finding Tom leaning against the wall, face buried in his hands.

You poked his arm. “Tommy?”

“I can never show my face on the internet again,” he mumbled.

You giggled. “Aw, c’mon, it’s not that bad.”

Tom peeked at you through his fingers. “Babe, I grabbed your boob. On live. While thousands of people were watching.”

You bit your lip to stop from laughing. “Yeah… yeah, you did.”

Tom groaned, dropping to the floor. “This is worse than that time I accidentally liked a thirst tweet about myself.”

“Oh, way worse.” You grinned, leaning against the wall next to him. “But at least you’ve given the internet something to talk about for the next decade.”

He whined, tugging at your hoodie, burying his face into your stomach. “I hate it here.”

You ran your fingers through his curls soothingly. “You’re fine, baby. I think they loved it. But you still owe an apology.”

“Tell them I’m deceased,” he mumbled dramatically, voice muffled against your hoodie.

You rolled your eyes before gripping his shoulders. “Nope. Get up, babe. You’re not getting out of this one.”

He whined. Whined. Like a toddler being told to share his toys. “Y/n, please.”

But you had no mercy. You grabbed his wrist, tugging him up onto his feet.

“Nooo—don’t make me go back there,” he whined as you dragged him toward the vanity, his feet literally dragging against the floor.

The chat absolutely lost it.

“NOT HER DRAGGING HIM LIKE A CHILD 😭”

“This is the funniest thing I’ve ever witnessed.”

“Tom, buddy, you did this to yourself.”

With one final tug, you plopped him back in front of the phone. Tom dramatically flopped onto the chair, throwing his head back like he was in physical pain.

Then, with the biggest sigh in the world, he stared at the camera, and said in the most deadpan voice: “I would like to formally apologize for what just happened. I am a disgrace. A fool. An absolute idiot. Please respect my privacy during this difficult time.”

You burst out laughing, and the chat exploded.

“HIS FACE LMAOOO”

“We forgive you, but only because this was HILARIOUS.”

“You’re a menace, Tom.”

“HIS FACE I’M WHEEZING”

“THE DRAMATICS.”

“You are NOT escaping this, Thomas Stanley.”

Shaking your head, you wiped away a tear of laughter. “Oh my god, you are so dramatic.”

Tom glanced at the chat, saw Nikki’s comment again, and groaned. “I am so getting a call from Mum later.”

You patted his cheek. “That’s a future Tom problem.”

He pouted. “Can I at least get a kiss to make me feel better?”

Rolling your eyes, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

The chat went crazy.

“HE’S SO ADORABLE 😭”

“Not him sneaking a kiss mid-apology.”

“The way they’re so in love I’m sick.”

Tom smiled against your lips. “See? They forgive me.”

You shook your head, turning back to the camera. “Okay, I think that’s enough chaos for one night. Love you guys, but I’m ending this before Tom does something else embarrassing.”

“Hey—”

You ignored him and waved. “Bye, everyone!”

As soon as the screen went dark, you turned to Tom with a smirk. “So… still feeling like an idiot?”

He sighed, wrapping his arms around you again. “Yes. But at least now I have you to comfort me.”

You laughed, resting your forehead against his. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love me for it.”

Yeah. Yeah, you really did.

°:. *₊ ° . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ° .•

[infictionalwonderland]

I NEED PART TWO OF THE MARVEL CAST FLIRTING WITH Y/N L/N!

. . . MARVEL CAST FLIRTING WITH Y/N Y/L/N FOR 10 MINUTES STRAIGHT! (part2)

part 1 / part 3

You cackled to yourself after sending the message into your groupchat, quickly returning to the video and beginning to play it again, occasional bursts of giggles slipping through your lips.

Resuming your place in the video—the first clip that began playing was actually from not that long ago at all. It was You, Kat Dennings, Elizabeth Olsen and Zendaya at Taylor Swifts Eras Tour (an experience you would genuinely never forget). Taylor was playing Lover and, in the clip, Kat had your face in one hand and the other wrapped around your waist, bringing you close to her body.

“Lover, can I go where you go—“ Kat sang with Taylor, singing all the lyrics to you and grinning at you, faces inches away from each other. “—Can we always be this close.” She punctuated this lyric with giving you an eskimo kiss.

You smiled sincerely at the memory.

The next clip began up, it was you and Chris Evans doing Playground Insults with BBC Radio 1: the two of you were sat opposite each other, knees touching, Chris was grinning goofily at you, giddy laughs escaping him as you tried to remain straight faced.

“—we’re here with Chris Evans and Y/N Y/L/N.” The presenters introduced.

“And we’re about to play Playground Insults . . Now Chris and Y/N are sat opposite each other,” the camera cut to you and Chris, him smiling largely and you looking away to contain your own, “the atmosphere is very tense.”

“We’ve done this quite a few times now but im thinking.. this is the biggest movie of the year, let’s make this the biggest playground insults we’ve ever done.”

“Yep.” Chris nodded, trying not to laugh.

“Chris, hun. . you’re ugly. Like, plain ugly.” You nodded seriously, immediately setting off as you feigned a pained wince to the words. “Everyone’s been talking about it. . just, you’re so atrocious to look at. Honestly, I almost feel arse over tits in horror when I saw you.”

Chris opened his mouth to say something but then faltered and pouted, “no matter how good of an actor I am, I could never even get those words out my mouth about you and make them sound genuine. Seriously.”

The third clip started—it was Chris Hemsworth on a carpet, a bold colourful question at the bottom said ‘WHO HAS THE MOST FANS?’. Chris immediately said, “Y/n.” In that deep Australian accent of his. “Not that I blame the people from choosing her to be the people’s queen, she is truly one of a kind. You’ll only ever meet one Y/n in your lifetime, cherish it. The fans have the right idea.”

It changed to Scarlett with the same colourful question at screen and at the same carpet event: “Oh, Yeah. Y/n, one hundred percent.” She chuckled huskily. “That woman has fans upon fans and seriously, I’m one of them. She is something else.” She grinned, winking at the camera.

After Scarlett, Paul Rudd came onto your screen in the very same clip. “Oh! The legend herself, Y/N Y/L/N.” Paul answered brightly, smiling. “The amount of fans she has is unbelievable—well, it’s definitely believable for someone like her, so, not really unbelievable..”

The forth clip began—it was you all playing Family Feud with Jimmy Kimmel, on his live show. Sebastian and RDJ were currently facing off; Jimmy posed the question “what, other than the sun, are some of the hottest things to exist?”

Sebastian got to the buzzer faster than Robert managed to and didn’t even falter or hesitate as he answered straight away, “Y/N Y/L/N.”

The audience immediately screamed laughed and shrieked in delight, RDJ just nodded his head in understanding and appreciation, clapping his hands. Chris Evans, Mark and Anthony on the other side all looked amused but ultimately accepting (Chris was nodding along almost subconsciously). You were on the other team, looking heavenward with a faint exasperated grin and Scarlet wrapped her arm around your waist, Chris Hemsworth smirking at you both.

The fifth clip started up: it was a behind the scenes shot from Endgame, the big final battle. You were currently in the middle of doing your own stunt, green screen behind you and harnesses strapped to you as you dangled at a halfway point in the air. Your arms and hands were positioned in such a way to show your character manipulating her powers—the position also very much enhanced your chest, with the added help of your superhero attire. You looked hot, even you could admit.

The camera mirthfully panned to some of the rest of the cast who all stood aside while you filmed your scene—said cast being Chris Evans, Tom Holland, Gwyneth Paltrow, RDJ, Elizabeth Olsen and Tessa Thompson. All of their eyes were fixated on you, Robert was the only one grinning in amusement (and awe) while all the others stared at you as though you hung the sun yourself.

“Boobies.” Lizzie giggled faintly, her eyes stuck. The rest of the cast watching dumbly nodded while the crew cracked up behind the cameras.

And if you screenshotted their dumbfounded faces looking ip at on screen you. . well that was your business.

The clip changed. It was now Karen Gillan being interviewed on some carpet event, looking genuinely breathtaking. The interviewer was asking, “—obviously, your friend and co-star Y/N Y/L/N has been in lots of iconic movies. . what is your favourite scene of hers in The Wolf of Wall Street?”

Karen paused with a cheeky little smile, giving the interviewer a a jokingly incredulous look. “Come on.” She simply said. “It’s a bloody no brainer, I’m certain it was Leonardo’s favourite scene too. . I hope it is anyway otherwise he’s a silly, silly man.”

At the same carpet event with the same interviewer, Chris Hemsworth was being interviewed—his wife, Elsa, on his arm and looking half ready to battle off any rude interviewers (queen).

“—what is your favourite scene of hers in Ocean’s 8?”

“All of them!” Elsa answered eagerly, grinning. “Her outfits really accentuated her personality and I enjoyed them very much so. Particularly her outfit for the gala. . the amount of accentuated personality, by gosh, it had me speechless.”

Chris turned her head, obviously trying not to laugh at his wife.

“Nunca he estado más celoso y agradecido por la ropa en mi vida.” Elsa hummed.

You blinked.

The clip changed to you, Sebastian, Lizzie, Paul, Jeremy and Jimmy all on his Tonight Show playing Musical Beers. The slightly unnerving music/beat played in the background while you all stalked around the circle, Paul and Jeremy already out—leaving you, Seb, Lizzie and Jimmy.

As you were all racing around the circular table, Lizzie very obviously swatted your ass and you were impressed with your own body as you watched that impact: the audience erupted into laughs and shrieks, Jimmy playfully covering his eyes as Seb smirked. You thought that would be the end of the clip, but no.

The very disco-esk tune briefly cut out and past time you thought that meant it stopped completely and you’d already reached for the red cup in front of you and chugged it’s contents, only to pause as the music began back up.

“Spit it back! Spit it back!”

You did just that—but when the music actually stopped and Seb was left standing in front of the cup with your (let’s not go there) in it, your mouth popped open in shock. Jeremy gladly backed away from the table in hysterics, Lizzie and Jimmy equally as amused.

“Oh my god, I am—“

Sebastian quickly downed the cup with. . those contents, not even looking all that perturbed.

“So sorry.” You finished, mouth agape.

You vaguely remembered a conversation you’d had with him after the show, sincerely and repeatedly apologising and he was just very, very amused with you. He didn’t seem to mind at all—what an odd man.

“It’s all good.” Sebastian chuckled lowly, wrapping the mortified looking past you in a one armed shoulder hug and squeezing you to him. Lizzie seemed to be trying to trade a very obvious eye message with you—the audience shrieked and screamed in the background.

Another clip began: its was you and Scarlett Johansson doing a trust fall thing, you thought (correctly).

“Scarlett I swear. .” You giggled, looking over your shoulder at the woman behind you—she grinned back at you amusedly, her eyes twinkling.

“Calm down.” She laughed herself. “I’ll catch you don’t worry, gorgeous.”

Still slightly overcome with nervous giggles, you turned and let out a breath as you shut your eyes before holding at your arms and falling back.

And catch you she definitely did—although her hands didn’t exactly land in a PG-13 area, you cackled as you watched her hands grope at your chest to pull you up. In the video, you were also wheezing as were the crew and Scarlett had a cheeky little smirk as she laughed.

When you were finally standing, she gave one last squeeze before finally letting go—on screen you was breathless with giggles.

“Always wanted to do that.” She shrugged simply with a large amused smile.

The next clip began—it was Zendaya and Tom Holland on LADBible, playing that how much do you agree or not game. The statement said was ‘Y/N Y/L/N is everyone‘s celebrity crush’.

Instantly, Tom and Zendaya moved their cups to strongly agree, both of them nodding in solid agreement with the statement: presently, you awed at your friends, ego very much boosted. Well. To be fair, all of this video was massively boosting your ego.

“I mean, come on.” Zendaya made a ‘duh’ face and shrugged her shoulders.

“It’s Y/N.” Tom smiled crookedly, adding onto her comment.

“I am so happy I get to now say that she’s one of my closest friends.” Zendaya beamed genuinely. “She’s—one of those people whose beauty isn’t just an external thing, she’s so lovely man.” She pouted, in awe of you.

Watching the video, you beamed back at her.

The clip changed: Mark Ruffalo was on the Graham Norton show, next to Nicki Minaj and an actor you couldn’t place.

“Who would you say your favourite co-star has ever been, Mark?” Graham inquired.

“I—i would probably have to go with Y/N—“ The crowd instantly erupted into cheers and yells and Nicki smiled next to him, stating that she loved you under the sound of cheering. Mark grinned back at her, mumbling ‘me too’.

“Yeah, she’s a hell of an actress, that one. So easy to work with. Funny as f—hell, she’s just—an extremely genuine and kind person, and she really brings the energy on set.” Mark grinned. “..she’s also the only free pass my wife has ever given me. Which I won’t be using! Because I don’t believe in cheating, it’s scummy! Even though she’s gorgeous—anyone would be lucky!” He had to rise to a shout at the end as the audience erupted.

Nicki giggled next to him, “me personally, I would use that pass.”

You gasped in laughter as you watched the screen, screen-recording it all so you could go back and watch it. Saving it to your folder titled PISSING MY PANTS HRLP

The clip changed yet again, showing a scene from the Winter Solider BTS. You and Sebastian were filming a scene where he had to shoot your character—you watched the ‘Winter Solider’ shoot your character multiple times making you go down with an agonised yell, crawling away from him.

As soon as CUT was yelled, Sebastian’s face dropped from his stone cold (wintery) expression and he raced to you, crouching next to you. He practically tugged you into his lap on the floor, holding you.

“Oh my fuck that—that just felt so real, Y/n. You know I would never hurt you right?” He asked, blinking repeatedly before a small smirk fell on his lips. “You’re way too pretty to injure doll. Can’t ruin your perfect face.”

On screen you huffed in mock anger, hiding an amused grin as you shoved at him—he still held you close to him though, so both of you fell backwards and burst into giggles.

You literally thought ‘I ship them’ as you watched the clip of Sebastian and yourself, forgetting that was you for a moment.

Another clip started up—another behind the scenes. It was you and Tom Hiddleston in Thor : Ragnarok. In the scene Loki was tied down to the chair and your character was meant to intimidate him—you watched yourself take out your character’s daggers and lean forward into his space. One leg leaned up on top of the arm of the chair, sliding one dagger just a hair above the skin of his neck while using the over the move his chin up to be angled to you as you mockingly smiled down at him.

You said your line as your character but Tom remained silent, mouth parted and eyes widened as he gazed up at you—speech failing him. (You knew that they actually decided to include this awestruck look in the movie—the amount of fucking edits you’d seen was unreal).

Eyebrows crinkling you nudged your knee into his chest and he snapped out of it, grabbing your knee in a gentle grip. “Sorry darling, words sometimes seem to fail me in your presence.” He muttered rather hoarsely, still staring up at you.

“I don’t fucking blame him.” Tessa Thompson murmured from behind you both, and the camera moved to show her staring at you in a similar awe.

Present time, you could barely hide your smirk. Literally the biggest ego boost. Of all time.

Again, the clip changed and it was now Natalie Portman looking gorgeous on a carpet event, being interviewed—“if you could have Jane explore another romance than Thor, who would it be and why?”

“Y/N!” Natalia enthused immediately. “Well—her character, but like. Both. Either. One for me, one for Jane. That—would be great. And why? Come on! She’s an absolutely beautiful woman, inside and out. She has this outward glow that you literally cannot and don’t want to look away from and that reflects so much in her personality—once you’ve interacted with her one time, you never want to stop. Ever. I’m not kidding.” She giggled.

Another clip started up quickly—a blooper of you and Chris Evans. In this scene, your characters were meant to kiss after an angsty, angry argument. You stormed into the frame, into the bedroom, completely in character—an angry expression on and ready to go at Steve.

Before you could even let out a single syllable to begin your lines, Chris immediately surged forward and took your face in his hands, kissing the living daylights out of you.

You both pulled back after a bit and you just started at him, questioningly (that kiss was probably one of your best ever, let it be known, Chris Evans was a fantastic kisser).

“I—I thought It’d be good for the scene. .” Chris trailed off bashfully, scratching the base of his neck, literally pulling the excuse out of his arse. In actuality, he hadn’t wanted to spare a moment of the scene where he could be kissing you, well, not doing so.

“Bull!” Scarlett exclaimed as she materialised in the doorway. “He just wanted to kiss you.” She told you, pointedly looking at the man.

“Yeah—i—“ He huffed a defeated sigh, pink-cheeked. “I’ve got nothing. She’s right.”

In hindsight, you thought to yourself, you should probably stop being so shocked when the fanbase starts shipping you with your costars.

The clip changed: now it was you, Elizabeth and Aaron on a carpet event together—all being interviewed at the same time.

“So, Y/n, how does it feel to be in a Maximoff twin sandwich right now?” The interviewer giggled happily, smiling.

Before you could open you’re mouth—“we’re really enjoying it.” Lizzie and Aaron replied at the same time.

The interview gaped and you simply rolled your eyes as the two smirked at either side of you, they’d been talking in sync ever since you’d first met them at the table reading.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t why?” Aaron grinned crookedly. “A beautiful, lovely woman in between us. Honestly, love, there’s not a thought in my head besides you.” He joked, throwing an arm over your shoulder.

“I completely support that.” Lizzie chirped in, “ever since I’ve met this gorgeous lady who i now acknowledge as my partner in everything—she’s taken up all of the room in my brain, and I couldn’t be happier.” She giggled, putting her arm around your waist.

In the middle of them both, with an arm over your shoulder and one around your waist—you simply sighed, sparing the giddy interviewer an exaggerated suffering expression.

Again, the clip switched—it was now another blooper of you in the Iron Man movie, the scene where you handed Tony’s arse to him in the boxing ring. Instead of acting as scripted, Gwen Paltrow got up from her seat and strode over to the boxing ring, stepping inside gracefully and planting one right on your lips.

Presently, you giggled as you thought back to this moment. Gwen was your impulsive queen. Your idol.

From the floor, RDJ squawked in shock, exclaiming about being cheated and betrayed and Gwen flung her stiletto off her foot at him without moving from your lips.

When she finally did, she simply smiled at you kindly, “you just looked so good that I couldn’t not kiss you, sweets.” She shrugged and you, on screen, laughed at her as you leaned back in to kiss her cheek.

(Unfortunately the scene was not included in the movie—but Gwen never wasted an opportunity to talk about it, and you, if the chance arose).

The clip moved onto another one��back to the Thor : Ragnarok movie, you and Heimdall were fighting together, however you missed a step in your stunt and ended up stumbling. Idris immediately caught you with a steady arm around your waist, full you to him so you could stabilise yourself.

You smiled up at him thankfully, squeezing his arm in gratitude (totally not because you’d just wanted to feel his bicep).

You watched as your on screen self get distracted again and Idris murmured to Tom who’d now appeared next to him, “I feel like it’s dishonourable how much I want her to fall so I can catch her again now.”

“Mate, trust me,” Tom laughed, “I completely understand. But she doesn’t need the rescuing.”

“That she does not.” Both men smiled fondly as they watched you.

Presently, you were actively refusing to blush.

A different clip started up—Florence Pugh was being interviewed, looking breathtaking in her green dress. “—did you take anything from set?” The interviewer was asking, smiling at Florence.

“Um—not much, just Y/n’s heart.” Florence immediately cracked up at her own joke, smiling widely. “And her underwear too.” She added.

The interviewer opened her mouth to say something more, giggling at Florence as she continued speaking: “and before you ask, no. I wouldn’t be selling, for any price. Finders keepers and all that shite—plus, she’s my girl, so. That rule applies even more so. No one else can take her heart. Or her pants.”

Watching your friend, you giggled at her cheesy smile at her words before getting distracted by your group chat, where multiple of your friends and co-starts had seen your message and were now responding. Your laughter increased tenfold as you opened the thread.

[waitimcomingtoo]

Uranus

Pairing: Peter Parker x Avengers!Reader

Synopsis: you fix Peters science project while he’s out on a date with another girl

Masterlist

You walked by Peter’s room and paused in the doorway. The empty bedroom reminded you of where he was tonight and it send a sick feeling down to your stomach. The scent of his cologne lingered in the air as you looked at all the discarded outfits he had left on his bed.

“I’m not cleaning his stupid room.” You decided and walked away. You were barely halfway down the hallway when you turned and sprinted back to his room to start to put things away. You knew it wasn’t your job to take care of him but you simply couldn’t stop yourself from tidying up. You assumed he’d be getting back late from where he was and probably wouldn’t want to clean up all his clothes just to get into his bed. As you folded a pair of his jeans, you looked up into his vanity mirror and sighed.

“You’re so pathetic.” You told yourself through a groan.

“Stop talking to yourself.” Your reflection replied and pointed at you with a scathing finger. You jumped and looked down to see your finger was pointed as well.

“Right.” You mumbled and left his room.

You then went into the living room and saw Peter’s science project sitting on the couch. He had been building a model of the solar system for weeks now for his astronomy class with a little help from you here and there. All you did was hold pieces together after he glued them but he still insisted that he could not have done it without you. You smiled at the memory of the two of you working on it together and picked it up.

“Why would he leave it where someone could sit on it?” You sighed and moved it to the bar counter in the kitchen. You left the living room to use the bathroom just as Thor was entering the room. He stepped onto a bar stool with ease and took a seat on the counter to eat the apple he had taken from a lunchbox labeled “Sam’s: do not touch”. He munched his apple for a moment before feeling something digging into his back. He sat up a little and pulled a small ball out from under him that was painted to look like Mercury.

“Hm. Thats strange. I don’t remember putting that up there.” Thor frowned as he rolled the planet between his fingers. You walked back into the living room and smiled at Thor until you saw what he was holding. Your heart stopped at the same time your feet did and you let out a dramatic gasp that sent you into a coughing fit.

“Thor!” You exclaimed. “You just destroyed Peter’s science project!”

“These tiny colorful balls were his science project? What was it on? Tiny colorful balls?” Thor asked as he stood up to look at the science project he had completed crushed.

“No. It was a model of the solar system. And you just crushed it. How did you not feel that when you sat down?” You whined as more parts of the project fell from Thors jeans and back into the counter.

“Lady Y/n, you must be mistaken. I’ve seen the solar system with my own eyes. And then I had my eye cut out. And then I had my eye replaced and saw the solar system again. Peters little balls looked nothing like it.” Thor told you, making you roll your eyes up to the ceiling and stamp your feet like a little kid.

“I don’t care about your optic history.” You groaned. “Peter’s been working on it for weeks and your giant butt just crushed it in seconds.”

“Thank you. I eat a lot of yams to get these yams.” Thor smiled at the presumed compliment and patted his thigh. You watched him for a moment before letting out a deep sigh.

“Okay.” You was all you could stay in your effort to remain calm.

“I don’t see what all the petulance is about. If he formed one solar system out of tiny colorful balls, surely he can do it again. All the pieces are right here.” Thor pointed out.

“Yes, but that doesn’t erase the fact that you ruined the project he spent weeks working on. He’s gonna be devastated when he sees this. And who taught you the word “petulance”? Have you been watching The Twilight Zone again? I don’t know why you do that. It always scares you.”

“Never you mind.” He wagged a finger. “I do feel bad for the boy. I’ll collect the tiny balls since it was my behind that crushed them and then Peter can glue them back together.”

“He can’t. It’s due tomorrow and right now he’s on…I don’t know. He’s just busy and he can’t fix it tonight.” You sighed and started to collect the scattered pieces of the project.

“Busy doing what? You’re here and his small balls were finished. What else could the boy be doing?” Thor wondered. You paused for a moment and felt that sick feeling in your stomach again.

“He’s on a date.” You said for the first time out loud since Peter told you his plans for the evening. You’d been quietly stewing all day over it and letting it settle in a massive dark cloud over your head.

“Well I’m sure the man he’s with will be understanding that he has to come home to fix his balls.” Thor told you.

“Stop saying balls!” You scolded. “And the date is with a girl, for your information. A very pretty girl from our business class who smells like a vanilla and my broken dreams.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Lady Y/n. I never knew why but I know that small boy means a lot to you.” Thor said sympathetically and put his hand on your shoulder. You gave him a sympathetic smile and patted his hand.

“Seems like a lot of things are broken tonight.” Thor continued. “Your dreams, Peters balls-“

“Say balls one more time.” You said through clenched teeth.

“Or what? You’ll stab me?” Thor challenged you.

“What? No. Jesus Christ. Who hurt you?” You mumbled and pushed his hand off your shoulder.

“My brother. And then he hurt me again. And then my sister hurt me. And then my brother once more before he died before my eyes. Enough about me, why are your dreams broken?”

“It’s complicated.” You sighed. “Can I tell you something personal?”.

“No.” Thor replied and left the room without another word. You shrugged in defeat and wondered why you even bothered.

“Well that was a fine howdy do.” You mumbled and finished collecting the pieces. You laid out all the broken bits of Peter’s project on the kitchen counter and folded your arms. It would be a lot of work for Peter and you had no idea what hour he’d be getting back. As much as you hated the idea of him being on a date, you more so hated the thought of him coming home happy and his smile falling when he saw what had become of all his hard work.

“I need to fix these balls.” You whispered to yourself. You grabbed Saturn and one it’s broken rings and started to see how you could glue them back together.

“No. I can’t do this.” You said out loud. “I can’t fix every little thing in Peter’s life just to make him happy. I’m not his girlfriend. I’m not the one he asked on a date. I’m just a friend.”

You put the pieces down and folded your arms to keep your hands off it. You knew you should walk away, but you couldn’t stop thinking about all the nights you walked past his room and saw him working on the project. He’d put so much effort into it and now it was in pieces on the counter.

“A girlfriend would spend the next few hours working on a project that has no impact on me just to save Peter the trouble. A good friend would feel bad that his work got destroyed and offer condolences when he got home. And I’m a good friend. Not a girlfriend. It’s not my problem. So I’m walking away.” You decided and left the room. You lasted all of three minutes before you ran back into the room with a tube of crazy glue.

“I gotta fix the balls.” You exclaimed and plopped yourself down at the table. Once you organized all the planets and parts of the solar system, you went to Peter’s room to get the sketched out drawing he had made of the project to use as a blueprint. You silently thanked Peter for being so meticulous and followed his sketch to rebuild his project.

Time went by slowly but your hands cramped up quickly as you worked on the model. It was around the time you glued on Saturns 30th moon, you understood why it took Peter so long to complete the project. All the moons and planets looked the same to you so you had to carefully study his drawings and rely on your memory of when you helped him with the project to guide you as you worked. You had to stop every so often to rub your eyes and roll out your wrists to keep them from getting stiff.

You drifted off into sleep at some point when staring at Jupiters moons became a little too mind numbingly boring. Peter got back from his date about midnight and strolled past you on his way to his room. He backtracked when he realized you were asleep at the table and frowned. His completed science project was beside you, save for one missing moon next to Jupiter. His eyebrows knit together in confusion over the sight so he gently shook you awake.

“Hey. You awake?” He asked in a soft tone as he shook your shoulders. You shot up immediately and nearly knocked your head into his.

“I’m not snoring.” You blurted as you pulled the hair that was stuck to your cheek away.

“I know.” He chuckled. “What are you doing here? Why is Ganymede stuck to your face?”

“Why is what?” You asked through a yawn. Peter smiled and pulled the missing moon off your cheek and held it out to show you.

“Ganymede. The largest moon in the solar system.” He told you and put it in its correct spot on the model.

“There is no way you saw a random gray ball stuck to my face and correctly identified it as Gammy meme.” You insisted.

“Ganymede.” He corrected. “And I only know because I labeled them. See?”

Peter pulled the moon back off to show you a tiny G written on the bottom with the word “Jupiter” in parentheses beside it.

“They’re labeled?” You nearly shouted. “Well that would’ve been helpful four hours ago.”

“Four hours? That’s how long you’ve been here? What happened?” Peter frowned and took a seat beside you. You gave him a sheepish smile and looked at the model.

“I’m sorry, Peter. Thor sat on your project by accident.” You admitted. “I’ve been putting it back together ever since. I think I got most of it the way you had it but I never found Pluto. I honestly think it went up his ass and he just didn’t realize.”

“You spent four hours fixing my project?” He asked with a surprised smile.

“Of course I did. I know how hard you worked on this. I didn’t want you to have to start all over.” You told him. He gave you a fond smile and placed his hand on top of yours. Your eyes flicked to your hands and you gulped but said nothing.

“I really appreciate this but you really didn’t have to do this. You should have called me. I could’ve come home and fixed it myself.”

“But I knew you were really excited about tonight. I didn’t want to interrupt your date.” You said without looking at him.

“Well that was very selfless of you. And I hate to tell you this after all the work you did, but the date was bad. I would’ve loved an excuse to leave.” He admitted, making you smile involuntarily.

“It was bad?” You asked and quickly cleared your throat to cover up your smile.

“Woah. Don’t sound too happy.” He snorted.

“What?” You asked in a high pitched voice. “I’m not. Why would that make me happy? But please elaborate anyway.”

“It was bad.” He grimaced. “Like, season 6 of Glee level bad.”

“That bad?” You gasped. “So many forgettable characters. So many odd couple choices.”

“They sang Let it Go. They worked Let it Go from Frozen into the plot and made them sing it.” Peter shook his head.

“That was not the worst for me. The worst was when Mr. Shue rapped Same Love. They let the straight adult rap a song about being gay when the entire cast of queer young people were right there. And wasn’t there a child in the club for some reason? And twins who were lowkey dating?”

“Yep. All of that. And yet, my date was still worse.” He shrugged. You looked down at your lap and smiled a little before quickly dropping it.

“It was that bad, huh?” You asked and tried not to sound too interested.

“So bad.” He sighed. “She was a great girl, don’t get me wrong. We just had no connection whatsoever. She didn’t laugh at any of my jokes and then there were a few times where I thought she was joking so I laughed but she didn’t and then we sat in awkward silence.”

“That’s the worst. I hate awkward silence. I once pretended to forgot the word for “seatbelt” just to keep a conversation going with an uber driver. I kept calling it a strap on.”

“Wait, is that not what a strap on is?” Peter played dumb. “Should we Google it to make sure?”

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes. “Keep going. I want to hear more about this awful date with the girl you’ll never see again.”

“There was just no spark. We realized pretty quickly that we didn’t have anything in common. At one point, she asked me if Star Wars was the “movie with the things you can’t feed after midnight”. So I don’t foresee a second date.”

“Wow. She had to have a serious lack of knowledge about two major huge pop culture movies to ask that question.”

“I know. I told her yes and she believed me.” Peter replied, making you laugh. He laughed as well over how ridiculous the whole night had been before stopping to look at you. When your laughter died down and you realized he was staring at you, you smiled shyly and looked over at the project to avoid eye contact.

“Well, I’m sorry it didn’t go well.” You told him. “Maybe the next girl will understand you more.”

“Yeah. I hope so.” He said in a soft voice and never stopped looking at you.

“You’ll have better luck next time. To be honest, I thought the date was doomed as soon as you told me you were going for sushi. You hate raw fish.”

“Because I’m not a seagull.”

“Because you’re not a seagull, yeah.” You laughed. “I think of that every time I eat sushi. I’m no better than those damn seagulls.”

“Don’t say that. You’re way better. A seagull would not have done all this for me.” Peter insisted and gestured to the project. You looked over at the solar system you had given too many hours of your life too and smiled as you realized something.

“I had to fix it. I didn’t want you to be stressed.”

“But didn’t this stress you out? Designing this thing gave me gray hair and premature menopause.” Peter replied, making you laugh softly.

“A little.” You admitted. “But I felt better when I remembered why I was doing it.”

“Why were you doing it?”

“Because I’d do anything for you, Peter.” You said simply. You watched his ears turn pink and he turned his head so that you wouldn’t see his smile.

“I’d do anything for you too, you know.” He said in a quiet voice.

“Careful.” You warned him. “You already owe me big time for fixing this unnecessarily detailed solar system. If you tell me you’d do anything for me, you’re really at my mercy.”

“Uh oh. Sounds dangerous.” He laughed softly. You shared another moment of eye contact and smiled softly at each other.

“It’s late. We should probably get to bed.” You suggested.

“You’re right. Thank you again for this.” Peter said and picked up the project. You didn’t know if you were sleep deprived or delirious from working on the project all night but you felt compelled to share every secret you had with Peter.

“Honestly, Peter, I was happy to do this stupid science project because it kept me from thinking about you on your date.” You told him as you got up and rubbed your tired eyes.

“Really? Why didn’t you want to think about that?”

“Because whenever I did think about you on your date, I wanted to throw up.” You admitted. “And then rip out my hair. And then eat my hair and throw it back up. And then kill my self or something.”

“Well,” Peter said slowly, “I see your urge to rip your hair out and raise you the fact that I only said yes to this date because she wears the same perfume as you. And I needed a night off from staring at the ceiling and thinking about what would happen if I just told you how I felt.”

You stopped mid yawn and gave him a confused look. His eyes were darting everywhere except for your eyes and you could see the rosy glow on his cheeks even in the dim light of the kitchen.

“Oh? And how do you feel?” You wondered and crossed your arms. Peter gulped before sitting up straight in his chair.

“I don’t know. Why did me being on a date make you so upset?” He challenged you. You narrowed your eyes at him and he looked nervous but didn’t back down.

“I asked you first.” You shrugged.

“Well I asked you second.” He replied. “And as Aristotle or whoever once said, first is the worst. Second is the best. Third is the one with the hairy chest.”

“Ew, what?” You grimaced. “It’s treasure chest. Third is the one with the treasure chest.”

“That makes no sense. Why would a person in third place, the very last place, be rewarded with a treasure chest? They’re the loser so they get a hairy chest. Now that’s sensical.”

“No it’s not.” You scoffed. “It makes even less sense. If I come in third place, does that mean my chest will grow hair? Or does it mean I will be given a torso with a hairy chest? Or, hear me out, does it imply that my chest is already hairy. And that’s why I came in third.”

“You did what in third?” Peter mumbled.

“Shut up. Can we get back to what we were talking about?”

“You’re right. We should go to sleep.” Peter said and tried to walk past you. You placed a hand on his shoulder to keep him in place and he gulped.

“Hold up.” You told him. “I’m cashing in that favor you owe me right now. We gotta talk. Sit back down.”

“I’m sat.” Peter said quietly and sat back down in his seat. You pulled your chair up to be across from him and sat down as well.

“I’m going to ask you again and I don’t want to hear another single reference to chests or placement.” You prefaced. “How do you feel?”

Peter scratched the back of his head to spare some time because he knew he was caught. He suddenly got a shy smile on his face suddenly and looked over at his project.

“Can I show you something?” He asked you as he pulled the sun off the center of the project.

“Dude.” You sighed. “I just glued that.”

“I know. And I’ll fix it. But look.” He said and turned the sun over. You looked at him in confusion and leaned forward to see what he was talking about. On the bottom of the sun in Peter’s hand writing were your first and last initials.

“My initials? Why? You smiled in surprise and looked up at him.

“Because the solar system revolves around the sun.” He explained. “But my solar system revolves around you.”

You stayed quiet as he put the sun back on the model and took your hand. A look of skepticism stayed on your face as he looked into your eyes.

“I know I do a good job of hiding it. But there is a piece of you in everything I do.” He said. “There always has been. This was just one of my more obvious ones.”

“Wow.” You said after a beat. “I really should’ve looked at the bottom of these.”

“Yeah. You should’ve.” He laughed and leaned in a little.

“Yeah. I should’ve.” You cracked a smile and leaned in as well. You stared into big brown eyes for a second and decided this was the last night you and Peter were just friends.

“Can I ask you one more thing?”

“Is it about the solar system?”

“No.” You rolled your eyes. “Did you kiss her tonight?”

“I don’t know. Ask me that question again one minute from now.” Peter said as he closed the gap between you and kissed you. You wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him closer since you’d been waiting for this for a while. And it was everything you imagined it would be. When the kiss started to heat up, Peter slipped an arm around you and picked you up with ease. He hastily placed you down on the counter and you jumped apart when you heard a crunching sound.

You pulled out of the kiss and looked down to see that Peter had placed you directly on top of the science project that you had just spent hours fixing. You both stared at the scattered pieces in stunned silence for a moment before he gave you a sheepish smile. You didn’t smile back and instead stared daggers at him while trying to explode his head using your mind.

“I can fix it?” He said through a nervous laugh. You held your hands up in defeat and hopped off the counter without a word.

“What? That’s how this night ends? Come on.” Peter whined and followed you as you left the room and continued your silent treatment towards him.

“You’re seriously going to walk away after that? We had something going there. Don’t go now.” He whined some more and trotted after you like a puppy.

“Go get something going with the planets I spent the last four hours glueing back together.” You grumbled and held up your middle finger for him to see as he trailed after you.

“Come on.” He half laughed, half groaned. “You can’t send me to bed after a kiss like that. We need to at least talk about it. Let’s go back and…” Peter trailed off when you passed his bedroom and he caught a glimpse of his clean floor.

“Wait, did you clean my room too?” He asked, knowing he had left it a mess before he left for the date. You froze in your tracks for a moment but decided to keep the upper hand instead of admitting to Peter that you were so down bad that you had in fact cleaned his room.

“I don’t know. I don’t have all the answers, Peter. Goodnight.” You said and slammed your door in his face. He barely had time to react before you opened your door back up and grabbed a fistful of his shirt.

“Get your ass in here, loser.”

“Don’t you mean get your anus in here? Because it sounds like Uranus?” He said with a proud smile. You stared him dead in the eyes and didn’t crack even a hint of smile.

“Do you want to come in here or not?”

“I already unzipped my pants, yeah.” He admitted as he dashed through your bedroom door.

Tag List 🏷️

@thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling

@whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings

@imyourliquor-youremypoison @andreasworlsboring101

@peterparkoure

@justcallmehitgirl @jackiehollanderr

@emmamarshmellow @unbelievableholland

@sovereignparker @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @eridanuswave​ ​

@solarxmoonchild @canyouevencauseicant

@quaksonhehe @lovelessdagger

@thesuitelifeofafangirl @marshxx @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie

@maybemona

@alexxcorona113 @lethal-wisdom

@pandaxnienke

 @officialsimppage @itsemohours

@tomholland85

@olixerwxxd @leilanixx

@whereismytelephone @so-very-asleep

@spideyspeaches @hihiweezing

@mathletemadison  

@dhtomholland @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @prancerrparkerr

@hallecarey1 @adayasgeorgia @blackwidowisthebest @imawhoreforu

@ciarahollands

@nellabellaa @pinklxmonade @boogywoogywoogy

[ptergwen]

omg can you write a blurb where peter and the reader are in the stage of their relationship where they can't keep their hands of each other and keep leaving hickeys on each other and sexiling their roommates ? love your stuff <3

my place or yours?

ask box  |  taglist  |  blurb masterlist  |  main masterlist

w/c: 793

warnings: 18+!, smut (p in v), language

a/n: hehe one of my fave tropes, when everyone's fed up because they can't get enough of each other :D hope you enjoy! and friendly reminder to join my new taglist it's dead y'all lmao

you move your hips against peter's, rubbing yourself against the growing bulge in his sweatpants. you both make noises of content, lips and tongues intertwined. peter helps you take off your shirt and works on your bra next. you smile coyly from above him as his hands find your chest.

"when's harry gonna be back?"

peter's hands massage your breasts, eyes glazed over with lust.

"uh, i don't know... or care."

he leaves a trail of kisses going down between your breasts. you giggle and push his head back playfully.

"but what if he walks in again?"

"don't worry about it, i put a sock on the doorknob... just in case."

you ruffle peter's hair, dipping your head down so your faces are just inches apart.

"you're so extra, pete. you could've just texted him."

"i know, but i really wanted to piss him off this time."

"i feel kind of bad, though. we've been sexiling him a lot lately."

peter moves his hands down to your hips, guiding you forward so your clothed center presses against him. he gives you a cheeky smile.

"so next time we'll go to your dorm and sexile betty."

you scoff at peter and capture his lips in a kiss. he bucks his hips up, into you, needing you. you need him just as bad.

you can't seem to get enough of each other recently, so much so that you'll go at it anytime and anywhere. your friends aren't too happy about it. they either get kicked out of the room or banned from entering.

you and peter finish undressing each other, fast but somehow still not fast enough. in one swift motion peter flips you over and grabs your leg, lifting it up to his shoulder. his dark eyes lock with yours. you nod repeatedly, desperately. he pushes into you with ease, a moan instantly falling from his lips.

"fuck, baby."

you hum happily. peter keeps his hips still for a moment, lets himself fill you up and feel you wrapped around him. he takes the opportunity to connect your lips once again in a slow kiss. you smile into the kiss and curl your other leg around peter's waist, encouraging him to move. he pulls out of you just enough so he can thrust back in.

peter begins to find a rhythm as his cock thrusts into you again and again. he can tell it's one you like by the way you grab at his shoulders and let out soft moans. he holds your leg in place on his shoulder so he keeps hitting the right spot, at the right angle. you can feel yourself drip between your thighs from how bad you'd wanted him and how good he's fucking you.

"pete... feels so good, baby."

neither of you are making any effort to be quiet. peter presses his forehead to yours, hips moving at the same perfect pace. you take his face in either of your hands. you close your eyes and focus on the pleasure. peter brings a hand down to rub your clit, earning a gasp from you at the sudden intensified feeling. he chuckles at your reaction.

"you like that?"

"mm, you know i do."

"wanted to hear you say it anyway."

you groan at peter's cockiness, but god does it turn you on.

"of course you did."

peter continues stroking in and out of you as his middle and ring fingers circle your clit. you crane your neck so you can kiss across peter's jaw, his chin, then back to his lips, his tussled hair tickling your forehead. you give him a look, the look with the eyes that gets him every time.

"harder."

peter brings your other leg up to his shoulders, holding them both in place, starting to pound into you. he groans out a fuck. you arch your back and reach up, hands still cupping his cheeks. you're breathless and he's panting. you want more and more, as much of him as you can take, even more than that.

"oh my god, y/n. shit, baby."

"needed you so bad, pete."

"i’m all yours."

peter takes one of your hands and kisses your palm. you squeeze your intertwined hands, eyes fluttering closed in pure bliss.

the moment is interrupted when you two hear harry call from outside.

"again, parker? really?"

he bangs on the door for emphasis. peter stifles a laugh, continuing to thrust into you, making you have to stifle a moan.

"hey, man! respect the sock!"

"yeah. you're a real class act, you two."

you wait until harry leaves to join peter in a fit of giggles. you push some damp hair out of his face, scrunching up your nose.

"okay, yeah. my place next time."

tags (join my new taglist!)

@spidermans-gf @sacharinee @thollandsgirl2013 @pettypeety

[cruel-seduction]

You need a massage? (Friends to something else)

You were cross-legged on your bed, laptop balanced on your thighs, trying—and failing—to ignore the dull ache settling deep in your shoulders. Hours of hunching over your desk had left you stiff and sore, your muscles tight in a way that made you shift uncomfortably every few minutes. With a frustrated sigh, you reached up to rub the back of your neck, fingers digging in where the tension was worst.

From where he was lounging against your headboard, scrolling absentmindedly on his phone, Peter glanced over.

"You good?" His voice was casual, but there was something soft beneath it, the kind of quiet concern he never really tried to hide.

You exhaled through your nose. "Just tense. My back’s killing me."

There was a pause. Just long enough for you to look up and catch him hesitating, his phone slipping from his hands as he considered something.

Then, a little unsure, he said, "I could—uh—give you a massage?"

Your fingers stilled against your neck. You blinked at him. Then scoffed. "Since when do you give massages?"

Peter shrugged, aiming for nonchalant. "Super strength. Good hands. What more do you need?"

Your stomach did this weird little flip—one you definitely ignored. Because, well. He wasn’t wrong. The thought of Peter’s hands on you, warm and firm, pressing into all the places that ached… Yeah, that was dangerous. And completely unnecessary.

So, obviously, you played it off. Kept it casual. "Alright," you said, shifting so your back was to him. "Just—don’t break me."

You expected him to be awkward about it. Maybe throw in a joke, squeeze your shoulders once, and call it a day.

What you didn’t expect was for his hands to land on you with just the right amount of pressure—strong, steady, like he actually knew what he was doing. His thumbs pressed into the knots at the base of your neck, and the effect was immediate. A deep, full-body shudder ran through you before you could stop it, your head tipping forward as his fingers dug in, slow and deliberate.

"Jesus, Pete," you muttered, your voice embarrassingly weak.

He huffed a quiet laugh. "That good?"

You just hummed, too busy melting under his touch to form a real answer. His hands worked their way down, easing the tension out of your shoulders, then lower, following the curve of your spine. It was… methodical. Almost too good. Like he was paying attention to every spot that made you relax just a little more, every knot that made you exhale a little deeper.

And that was when you became hyperaware. Of the warmth of his breath near your ear. Of the way his thighs shifted behind you.

Of how close he really was.

It was just a massage.

That’s what you told yourself.

But then his hands slid lower.

Not in a way that felt intentional—Peter wasn’t like that. But when his fingers pressed into the dip of your lower back, something in your stomach clenched. And maybe it was the way your breath caught just slightly. Maybe it was the way his fingers lingered for a second too long.

Or maybe it was the fact that when you leaned back—just a little, just instinct—you felt it.

The unmistakable press of something hard against your lower back.

Your body locked up.

Peter went rigid behind you.

For one long, charged second, neither of you moved.

Then, just as you were about to laugh—pretend you hadn’t noticed—he shifted. Just barely. Just enough for you to feel him again.

A sharp, breathless noise slipped out of you before you could stop it.

Peter’s hands twitched against your waist. His breath, warm against your shoulder, stuttered.

"You—" His voice came rough, strained. He cleared his throat. "You okay?"

You swallowed, turned your head slightly—just enough that your lips nearly brushed his jaw. "Are you?"

His grip on you tightened. Like he was debating pulling away. Like he was fighting against whatever was hanging thick in the air between you.

But then—slow, hesitant—his fingers flexed again. This time, they brushed just under the hem of your shirt. Testing.

Your breath hitched.

And just like that, something shifted.

No longer innocent. No longer just a massage.

Before you could second-guess yourself, you turned, straddling his lap in one fluid motion, your thighs bracketing his. Peter swallowed hard, his eyes flickering between your parted lips and the heat in your gaze.

Waiting.

Letting you decide.

You did.

You kissed him—soft at first, then hungrier, more desperate. He met you halfway, groaning into your mouth as his hands slid beneath your shirt, gripping your waist, pulling you closer. You shifted against him, your hips rolling—just a little, just enough to feel the hard, heavy length of him through his sweats.

His breath caught.

"Fuck," he muttered, his head dropping against your shoulder. His fingers pressed hard into your sides, like he was barely holding himself together. "You—" He exhaled sharply. "You can’t just do that."

"Do what?" you asked, all fake innocence, even as you did it again.

He let out a strangled noise, his hands tightening on your waist. "That."

You grinned, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to his jaw. "You sure you wanna keep massaging me?"

His grip on you tightened.

Then, before you could blink, he flipped you onto your back, caging you beneath him. His lips hovered just above yours, his breath warm, uneven.

"Not exactly what I had in mind," he murmured, voice thick, dark, promising.

A shiver ran down your spine. "What do you have in mind?"

The corner of his mouth tugged into a smirk.

"Guess you’ll find out."