Spiderman X Male Reader - Tumblr Posts

Peter Parker x Male Reader

A/N: repost from wattpad

Length: 1.6k

Originally Published: Dec 27, 2022

CW: none

On particularly rough days at school, like today, Peter would ask himself if his internship at Stark Industries was worth the hassle. At least Mr. Stark gave me a cool suit, he thought. It was a Friday and he loved his internship–he should be happy!–but after staying up too late on Thursday and suffering through a Chemistry exam, he wanted little more than to be home. Now that school was over, he allowed himself a moment to breath, but only for a moment. Mr. Stark had chosen today of all days to change his routine.

“(M/N)’s working on something new and I want you to help him,” Mr. Stark said. “He thinks he can use spider webs to make a strong, lightweight material. The kid’s got big plans for it if it’s successful. I thought it sounded right up your alley, Spider-boy.”

“It’s Spider-man,” Peter mumbled indignantly.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Mr. Stark said. He spoke over his shoulder, already walking away. “He’s in the lab on the fourth floor, third door on your right. Good luck.”

When Peter arrived at the lab, he didn’t bother knocking; his day had been too long to give such courtesy. He walked into the dimly lit room and closed the door behind. The lab glowed a soft blue and electricity hummed softly as white noise. The right wall held a long bookshelf filled with binders, the edged titled with acronyms and numbers Peter didn’t understand. A series of photos were tacked to the far wall, but he couldn’t see what they were in the light. Under the photos were multiple terrariums. Each terrarium was filled with short vegetation and a large stick. From this distance, they appeared empty, but Peter wasn’t convinced they were uninhabited.

“Who are you?” a voice called. Hunched over a table in the middle of the room was a (H/C) man. The light shining down from a haphazardly fixed lamp made him looker old, tired, and sickly, but, if he had to guess, he looked a year or two older than Peter.

“Oh, uh, I’m Peter. Mr. Stark sent me to help?” Peter cursed himself for making it sound like a question, but being assertive had never been his strong suit.

The man looked down at his work. It was obscured from Peter’s view. He seemed to be considering something, but as to what, Peter had no idea.

“Hm,” he finally said, looking back to Peter. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Peter whispered.

He nodded to himself, then spoke again, “Do you mind hitting the light switch?” Peter did as instructed. “Thanks. I’m (M/N), by the way. I don’t remember if we’ve met before.”

In the newfound light, Peter was able to see (M/N) clearly. He looked less old, less tired, and less sickly. His hair was messy and a strong shade of (H/C). His face was kind. He’s pretty, Peter thought. He wore an over-sized lab coat with the sleeves rolled up, emphasizing his forearms. He wasn’t incredibly fit, but that could be expected from the average scientist. The breast pocket of his lab coat had his name embroidered onto it in cursive. Peter was entirely sure that they had, in fact, met once before, but he wasn’t entirely sure where. Considering they were both interns at Stark Industries, it was most likely there, but he didn’t voice these thoughts.

“What are you working on?” Peter asked.

“Oh, Tony didn’t tell you?” Peter cringed at the informal use of Tony. “I’m harvesting spider silk from orb-weavers and turning it into a fiber. I saw some college somewhere did it and thought I’d try as well. With enough time and, well, enough spiders, I think I can make it better than they can.” (M/N) swiveled around in his chair, surveying the room quickly. The room was messy, but not embarrassingly so. There were papers and photos scattered in one corner, binders stacked in another, and chairs piled against left wall. “Oh, uh, sorry for the mess. I wasn’t exactly… expecting company.”

“Mr. Stark didn’t tell you I was coming?”

“He doesn’t tell me a lot of things. He’s too busy. To be honest, I didn’t even think he was listening when I was telling him about this.” Offhandedly, (M/N) murmured, “I guess he does care.”

Peter didn’t say anything.

“Well, no use standing around. Come pull up a chair. I’m harvesting some spider silk right now. I hope you’re okay with spiders.”

Ha, Peter thought, If he only he knew.

The first week that Peter and (M/N) worked together past smoothly. Peter was mostly tasked with feeding the spiders and organizational work, but he couldn’t complain. (M/N) usually worked in silence, but he would ask him the occasional question about his personal life to pass time. Where do you live? What do you like to do? Do you have a girlfriend? Eventually, (M/N) began giving Peter more and more responsibility.

“Peter, come over here,” (M/N) commanded. He was stationed on the middle desk as per usual. He held a strange square of some kind of fiber. “This,” he motioned to the fiber in his hand, “is our first successful cloth of spider silk fiber. Here, touch it.”

Peter accepted the cloth. “Woah! This is surprisingly soft.”

(M/N) gazed at Peter, his eyes slightly lidded. He had bags under his eyes, but that was nothing new. Peter looked back to (M/N) and they made eye contact. Peter couldn’t read what laid behind the man’s eyes, but it seemed… soft. After a few moments, (M/N) offered a half-grin and said, “We make a great team.”

Eventually, Peter and (M/N) created a routine. On the days when (M/N) didn’t work, Peter would come in and feed his spiders. They were golden silk orb-weavers, all of which (M/N) had named.

“You better be extra nice to this one,” he had said on Peter’s first day. He was pointing to a particularly large black and yellow spider in a terrarium.  "Her name is Eight Ball and she is my favorite.“ He pointed to a terrarium next to it. "This is Ocho and Yossi,” and the next terrarium, “the Addams’ family,” and the next, “Wanda and Cosmo,” and the next, “and these are the egg sacks I have. They haven’t hatched so I haven’t named them. I am taking name suggestions, if you were wondering.”

But on this particular day, Peter’s third week of spider duty, Eight Ball was unnervingly still. (M/N) had given Peter his phone number “for emergencies and funny pictures,” as he explained it. “Don’t call unless someone is dying,” (M/N) had added as well. Peter presumed it was a joke, but… Eight Ball seemed off, and Peter didn’t want to risk (M/N)’s wrath to find a dead spider. And so, he pulled out his phone and typed in his phone number: xxx-xxx-xxxx.

It rang once, then twice, then thrice, and went to voicemail. Oh no. Peter just hung up.

A moment later, Peter’s phone rang. (M/N) was listed as the caller. Oh thank God.

“Hello?” Peter asked.

“Hey, what’s up? Why’d you call?”

“Uh, I didn’t want to bother you, but, uh, one of the spiders is, uh, looking a little, uh… sick.”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“…(M/N)?”

“Did you forget to feed them?” (M/N) accused. His voice sounded calm yet angry.

“What?” Peter felt panic. “No, of course I fed them, I–”

“Ahh, I’m just kidding.” Laughter came from the other end of the phone. “I’ll be there in a few minutes. Spider’s don’t last forever, y'know? I hope you brought clothes for the funeral.”

True to his word, (M/N) arrived a few minutes later.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said as he walked into the lab. He was dressed in an all black suit. In one hand, he held a coffee, and in his other hand he held a bouquet of roses. “I, uhh, had some… plans… but they fell through.”

Peter just stared at (M/N). “What’s with the suit?”

“Wow, a man can’t even dress up for a funeral without being questioned.”

“Oh, I, uh, didn’t mean it like that.”

(M/N) didn’t acknowledge him. “I had a date, but they, uh, they didn’t show up. Now I’m all dressed up with nowhere to go.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Ah, it’s whatever. I didn’t really like him anyways.” Him, Peter noted. “Besides, what’s a better day to get dumped than the death of a loved one?” (M/N) joked. He offered Peter a half-grin. “Now, which one of my dear babies is it?”

As (M/N) walked over to Peter by the terrariums, Peter pointed towards Eight Ball’s cage. (M/N) squatted down and gestured for Peter to come next to him. “Hmm…” (M/N) leaned to the right, then to the left, then back to the right. His shoulder grazed against Peter’s. “She’s probably fine. A little death never hurt no one.”

Peter offered a light chuckle then looked over to (M/N). He’s kind of pretty. Maybe it’s the suit. He returned his gaze to Eight Ball.

“So don’t worry, you didn’t kill her, but she is dead,” (M/N) rambled on. He stood up, saying something about the short lifespan of spiders. “I loved her, but really, man, don’t worry about it. You’ve been doing really well these last few weeks. Spiders are bound to die, just like us one day. It was her time. Those eggs are bound to hatch soon. Then I can have Eight Ball the Second. But that’s all tomorrow’s problem.” (M/N) paused for a moment. Peter looked up at him then stood. “Today’s problem, uh, if you’re up to it…”

“Yeah…?” Peter inquired.

“Uh, well,” (M/N) blushed, “if you’re up to it, I’m all dressed up with no where to go, and if I had to guess, your boss–that’s me, by the way–wouldn’t mind giving you the rest of the day off… I mean, after this incredibly  traumatic death of a loved one, our dearest Eight Ball, a day off is the least I could do…” (M/N) took a deep breath. “What I’m trying to say is that… do you want to go out and get some food? Uh, today?”

Peter didn’t fight the rosiness from spreading on his cheek. He offered a soft smile. “Sure, I’d love to.”

❝ You're just making sure I'm never gettin' over you ❞ [part 1/2]

Peter Parker x male!superhero!reader | break-up, light angst, mentions of nsf(t) stuff, 'nudes' | wc: 2k

Peter had made sure to erase any traces of (Y/N) from their once-shared apartment. He finds himself tonguing his cheek as he confronts his ex-boyfriend on 'their' rooftop with a naughty Polaroid of (Y/N) in his hands.

Peter regretted even agreeing to spend the night out with Flash. He knew why he had but now he wished he hadn't - if he could, Peter was sure he would punch himself right in the jaw, so he'd experience this spiderweb (hah) of pain that climbed from up his jaw to his temple then and not now. The club he'd gone to was called Highball, nothing at all special other than the fact that Flash got VIP lounge access because of a friend. Peter had mulled over the thought for hours before deciding he needed something other than Grey's Anatomy to take the edge off his breakup. Flash had a whole entourage of friends and Peter mostly nodded his head to the bone-shaking music on the booth seats. He didn't hate the blonde for inviting him out. Sure, he had a somewhat complicated relationship with him, what with him being his high school bully and all. But Flash was just being nice and said something about Peter looking particularly pathetic. I probably look worse now, he thought with a muffled moan. He was hunched over his desk as he squirmed and knocked his knees together. A few concerned classmates glanced back, wondering what kind of drinks he'd gulped down to be this hungover. Sure, the brunette was clumsy, a bit messy too and came off as snarky if the smell of coffee wasn't emitting from the stains on his shirt but he was so studious! This was new. "Mr Parker" his head shot up faster than his headache liked, Peter grimaced and pursed his lips but mumbled out a 'yes, sir?' The professor eyed him apprehensively, was that slight disappointment Peter saw through his squinted eyes? "Your opinion on the current discussion, Mr Parker?" Peter bit back a snappy retort but his eyebrow twitched either way. The man had disturbed him just to ask for his opinion on whatever the fuck he'd been droning on about at 8-fucking-am? "It's uh, it's great, sir" he grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose and nodding just slightly. "You...you think the modern-day slave trade is...great?" A few heads turned to stare and Peter's eyes widened. "O-Oh! Oh my God! N-No! Not at all!"

Peter elected to be the last student out of the lecture hall, worrying over his backpack which only had two wire-bound notebooks, stray pens bouncing around, a few crumpled receipts and his web shooters. His professor gave him a pointed look as he approached the front. Peter grinned sheepishly, "I'm sorry I just..." he trailed off. How was it easier to find an excuse for web-slinging than it was for getting drunk? The guilt probably made it harder to lie, he thought. "You have been concerning me as of late, Mr Parker. You show promise. I'm willing to look past your tardiness if you're alert and aware in this class, however, lately" Peter looked at his shoes as he scratched the back of his head. "I know, sir, just been a tough couple of days" his professor arched a brow. "Something to do with Mr (L/N)?" Peter's eyes widened, fist tightening on the strap of his backpack. It's been weeks since the breakup and Peter had taken the liberty of completely cutting-off contact, he'd even emptied their apartment of (Y/N)'s belongings. Hearing his name now felt so taboo. "He's been absent for a while now...after your" he scrunched his face up in pity "...tense, sudden, uhm, distant seating from each other". "Oh God" Peter was now covering his face. Had it been that obvious? A goddamn professor had taken notice! "I'm an old man, seen it all" Peter nodded while still hiding his face "Please don't let this ruin two of my best student's grades". "Yes, sir" he groaned as he walked out of the class.

The only comfort from today was the fact that he only had two lectures. Only one of which he had made a total buffoon out of himself. He'd have enough time to recuperate before it was time for patrol - AKA, nap time. Peter entered the apartment and greeted them aloud. No one answered. He felt stupid as he stood on the threshold of his front door, his grip on the poor doorknob making it squeak in alarm. Peter all but growled as he kicked it close and tossed his backpack on the stupid, lumpy, couch. "Come on, Petey. Lay with me" Peter grits his teeth together as he dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. He'd been petty in telling (Y/N) to get all his shit out of the apartment. Hell, he'd even opened all the windows to air out (Y/N)'s scent after a rough fight with Doc Ock which had left him bruised and annoyingly in need of (Y/N)'s tender care. He had no privilege anymore, but he wished he had, he could hear what (Y/N) would've told him. "Shh, I got you taken care of, pretty boy. Don't worry, I'm here, shh" "Fuck" he should have probably taken off the clothes he'd worn to the club - and his lectures - before he fell onto the mattress, but he felt his throat burn with the familiar rise of a sob and he simply turned to his side. "Fuckkk" (Y/N)'s side had that familiar dip, Peter could feel it, and it felt achingly foreign since he never laid on his side. Just an arm or leg tossed over the territory, maybe even his whole body if (Y/N) had gotten him in a pliant enough mood to spread his legs apart. Peter felt as though the dip was heating up in retaliation. Equally as peeved that (Y/N) wasn't there. Where he rightfully belonged, a voice whispered in his head. Peter felt tears slip past his eyelashes and he began sniffling.

The mattress wasn't exactly something he could simply toss out. Being a college student and freelance photographer whilst paying rent for a shitty apartment in New York meant that buying a new one wasn't in his budget. The whole gig as Spiderman didn't exactly pay well. Maybe he was being dramatic, imagining a dip in the mattress had feelings? Wanting to throw it out simply because his ex-boyfriend had slept on that side? He was definitely losing it. But he could do this, he could get over a boy. He had gotten over his previous partners, albeit, they did stay as friends...and they never made him feel as (Y/N) did but he'd gotten over them. For Christ's sake, he's fought against such a fantastical array of supervillains that would rather have him dead and squished on the sidewalk. He could get over a boy. With that thought in mind, Peter peeked open his eyes to stare at (Y/N)'s side of the mattress. The shitty round rattan bedside table (Y/N) had gotten from a sidewalk and refurbished for fun left a dust imprint on the floor that made Peter sigh, he'd need to wipe that away... He paused as he noticed a gleam of white stuck between the floor and mattress, hidden slightly by the bedsheets being bunched up above it. The brunette reached down, thinking nothing of it as he pulled it out. 'Meet me here, Spidey ♡ ' That was (Y/N)'s handwriting. Peter could not not know it from the hours they spent studying together. He turned it to the front and his face erupted in such delicious shades of red he did not know it could even make, it reach all the way up his ears and down his chest. (Y/N)'s vigilante suit was bunched around his hips, skin looking ever so delicious with only the camera flash, moonlight and New York lights washing over him. Peter felt his mouth go dry as he took in every little detail that shitty little Polaroid camera he'd gotten for (Y/N) for Christmas managed to capture. His lips were exposed, teeth slightly covered by a wicked tongue that was mid-lick and one of his eyes were exposed. His mask was lopsided in a way that reminded Peter of the times they'd meet up during patrol to kiss each other until oxygen ran out. "Fuck" Peter didn't need to look at the background to know where (Y/N) was. He knew exactly where the shithead had taken this picture. "Fuckkk" This day could not get any worse.

(Y/N) felt him before he heard him. Call it his spidey senses if you will, but (Y/N) could tell Peter apart from the millions of brunettes on this Earth even if his senses were taken. He'd worshipped that body too much to ever forget it. The usual thwip and thud came but then cool silence. (Y/N) hummed, feigning amusement as he straightened up from his crouched position on the ledge of the building. "Took you long enough, Spidey" "What is it that you want, (vigilante name)?" He turned his head ever so slightly to peer at Spiderman from over his shoulder. Peter gulped at the sight of (Y/N)'s darkened profile. The way the shadows sharpened the planes of his handsome face, his fingers ached to hold him. "Still bitchy?" And suddenly all that aching turned into ash in his mouth as his hands clenched into fists. "I don't have time for this" (Y/N) laughed, so sharp and loud it made Peter flinch. "No time for me but plenty of time for Flash Thompson and his goons?" (Y/N) faced him, taking steps towards him and a part of Peter cursed at himself for not moving back. He stood his ground, glaring at his ex-boyfriend through his mask. "You seriously think you can replace me with him?" (Y/N) sneered. "You seriously stalked me?" Peter said incredulously. A flash of hurt came across (Y/N)'s expression, his eyebrows sloping all pretty and it made Peter equally as hurt as he was angry. "No, I wasn't...I"

(Y/N) was so close, their chests nearly touching. But then he pulled away, arms crossing his chest as he turned to stare at the city instead. "I got worried" Peter swore his brows reached his hairline from that statement but he said nothing, knowing that (Y/N) was chewing on the insides of his cheeks as he tried to find the words to speak. Peter hated that he knew that about (Y/N). "I was an asshole, yelled things I didn't mean in the heat of the moment but I just, I can't sleep without knowing you're okay so I..." he took a breath, shoulders hugging his neck as he let his hands go limp by his side after a loud exhale. "I did some light stalking. Not Edward Cullen shit, I just make sure Spiderman isn't doing something stupid". Peter crossed his arms, watching (Y/N) for a long minute, urging him to continue. "You're usually back by 4 am when it's quiet, no bullshittery brewing. I checked the police scanners, so I know. I checked all the usual crime hotspots too, so I know. I checked if you were home so-" "You knew" Peter finished. (Y/N) swore he couldn't remember what made them fight so badly that he hadn't even fought when Peter told him to get the fuck out of their apartment. All he knew was the hotel mattress he had been sleeping on felt so foreign, uncomfortable, and strangely unclean - despite the hotel being on the higher end. (Y/N) couldn't sleep. Physically could not get his mind to shut up. Too spoiled by Peter's lips on his neck, drowsily sleep-talking, and Peter's arms around him holding him close so he didn't untether into the land of nightmares.

"...How'd you know I was at the club?" Peter scratched the back of his head and (Y/N)'s shoulders droop. His head shook as he chuckled. "Flash, asked me if I wanted to join" "But he knows we-" Peter scoffed as realized. Right. What better way to get your friends to get back together than drinks and dirty dancing? Nice try, Flash, Peter thought. He leaned against the door leading up to the rooftop, watching (Y/N) as he sat on the ledge, still facing each other. (Y/N) leaned on his hands, in the same pose as the Polaroid. Which prompted Peter to tongue his cheek. He reached into the neck area of his suit, mask lifting above his nose in the process, to pull out that goddamn Polaroid. His ex-boyfriend watched, crossed legs opening as Spiderman marched close and shoved it to his face. "Oh". "Oh," Peter mocked. "The 'light' stalking, I can forgive" (Y/N) perked up at that "But nudes?" With his mask partially lifted, (Y/N) could tell that Peter wasn't angry enough to be taken seriously - his lower lip trembles when he's excited. "Partial nude" he defended. "Unwanted partial nude" Peter retorted which made (Y/N) tilt his head as he pushed himself up to stand. Since Spiderman was between his legs as he towered and berated him, as (Y/N) rose, their breaths fanned across Peter's lips. They were closer than before. "Unwanted?" did he have to whisper so seductively? Peter felt his face warming. Peter tensed as (Y/N) pressed forward, their chests now touching. Peter scolded himself for wishing the suits they wore wasn't in the way. "Is that why you haven't tossed it away? Why haven’t you ripped it apart? Because you" his finger ghosted along Peter's sternum and towards his navel, "didn't like it?" Peter's lower lip trembled and (Y/N) fought back a smile as his hands wrapped around Peter's waist and he pulled him in. Closer. So close Peter swore the very air he was breathing was (Y/N)'s. "Never said I didn't like it" Peter whispered, his hands reaching between to cup (Y/N)'s face.

❝ Baby, you know that you won ❞ [part 2/2]

Peter Parker x male!superhero!reader | light angst, comfort, peter gets a panic attack, make-up s*x | dom. bttm. reader (AMAB) | wc: 3K

warnings: overstimulation, light degradation (slut, whore), subspace (Peter), light dacryphilia

(Y/N)'s comforting words manage to make Peter's tears cease; (Y/N)'s degrading, possessive, words restart the waterworks.

New York could be burning to the ground right now and Peter couldn't find it in himself to care. He had his head in his hands, hidden further from view by his knees. Peter desperately tried to get oxygen into his lungs with his lips wet with spit. (Y/N) wasn't faring any better. He was standing, sure, but he was just as breathless as his ex-boyfriend. (Y/N) wiped the drool that had messily trailed down his chin with the back of his hand, finding his footing as he leaned his shoulder on the wall. "Two superheroes rendered helpless from a kiss" (Y/N) chuckled. "Is the public truly safe?" he slid down to settle right beside Peter who flinched. "Woah, hey" (Y/N) lifted his hands beside his head with his knees now turning away from the still panting Spiderman. "Talk to me, Pete. What's wrong?" he would've made a joke about how he surely wasn't that good of a kisser - followed by how flattered he was if Peter quipped back like he usually did. But the situation had no room for light-hearted humour. Against his better judgement, Peter ripped his mask away from his face and furiously wiped his tears away. Unable to keep himself from comforting him, (Y/N) grasped onto the sides of his face so he could take a proper look at his Peter.

What a pitiful expression. His cheeks were all blotchy and flushed, fat tears rolling down from his eyes that were rimmed with red. "Oh, baby" (Y/N)'s thumb brushed his tears away and Peter sniffled as he turned his nose into his palm. "Breathe with me, Peter, breathe with me", it wasn't often Peter cried until breathing became an arduous task. There were a few times when both of them were younger and their emotions were just as tumultuous as their lives. There were even times when he screams awake from the night terror of losing (Y/N) to an enemy. But, whenever they do happen, (Y/N) is there just like he is now. He brings Peter's ear to his chest, carefully arranging his limbs to not overwhelm the boy but holds him firmly against him. There it was. That beautiful thud, thud, thud of (Y/N)'s chest makes Peter's heart want to leap out of his ribcage and bury itself next to his. "Fuck" Peter finally catches his breath, his heartbeat steadying as (Y/N)'s fingers card through his brown hair. "Language, mister, kids look up to you, ya' know" tutted (Y/N) and Peter guffaws. Their limbs unravel. The two heroes sat across from each other, their ankles bashfully pressed against each other. Brief silence. The city's ambience muffles it. (Y/N) places his arm on his knee, then his chin on top of it; just watching Peter as he catches his bearings. "You're not gonna ask?" he wipes the remains of his tears, sniffling and turning away to awkwardly fold his mask around on his lap. "Why you were crying?" Peter nods and (Y/N) shrugs his answer. Silence again. Peter pursed his lips. "I had reoccurring nightmares about losing you, not being able to save you while you". The breath he exhales is a shudder, his poor mask suffocating between his fingers. "You were dying, (Y/N). Right in my arms and wuh-while...while we were kissing, I thought about our fight, how the last time we would've seen each other would've been screaming and yelling." "I'm scared, I'm scared this is a dream," he says in one breath, tears brimming his eyes again though he manages to blink them away. (Y/N) wants to gather Peter in his arms again. But Peter curls up further and (Y/N) opts to speak; "Pretty sure you don't get hangover symptoms while you dream, Peter". It was a weak reassurance but Peter smiles and (Y/N) returns it. "What did we even fight about, (Y/N)?" Peter sounds oblivious, very much needing an answer from the man in front of him. (Y/N)'s eyes widen and he seems just as oblivious as Peter was. He breaks their gaze and shrugs. "Stupid shit, I think I got mad that you forgot a date". "I got mad that you keep digging into Wilson Fisk's shit" (Y/N)'s eyes seemed defiant as they glanced at Peter's but then they soften, and he nods. "You forgot it was your turn to fold laundry" (Y/N) continued. "I told you that you never liked how I folded anyways". "S'not the point, dumbass" (Y/N) rolls his eyes, still smiling. "Snapped at me for rounding up 'your villain'" Peter retells with a snort while (Y/N) pouts. "You let my laptop get stolen because you webbed it to a random alleyway when an assignment was due that night" Peter huffs. "I told you to upload your shit on a cloud". His sharp glare makes Peter raise his hand in surrender. "Right, sorry, sorry," said Peter.

"I'm sorry" (Y/N) confesses. "I guess things just...piled up?" he leans back on his hands again and stupid, hormonal, Peter can't get that picture out of his head. "We ended up nit-picking and it just got worse. I should've said something instead of bottling it up".

Peter mused the thought, of what could've happened if the two of them simply communicated instead of going through weeks of unnecessary heartache all over fucking laundry and petty superhero turf-wars. If they'd just opened their mouths, Peter wouldn't have to antagonize the dip in their mattress like a crazy person. They would've laid together, sweaty bodies grinding, wet lips opened in silent screams, backs arching and nails scratching against the skin. Peter could only imagine the bliss of (Y/N) on his lap, moving those sinful hips of his as he moans about how big and deep Peter's cock was. The very fact that he could not recall any recent memory of (Y/N) riding him like a professional made his dick incredibly angry. "...Yeah," came Peter's belated reply. (Y/N) tilts his head and reaches a foot forward to lightly poke at Peter's shin. "That's your apology?" Peter is blushing now, (Y/N) realizes, but as he drifts his eyes lower he sees it's for an entirely different reason. "Wow". Peter brings his knees together, groaning as he tossed his head back with enough momentum to also bring his body down. At least he has the decency to cover his face. "Don't" warns Peter but his voice is wavering and (Y/N)'s laugh is especially cruel as he refuses to heed it. "Man, Spiderman is a wreck tonight" he purrs. "Fuck off, I'm not the one watching my ex sleep, ya' pervert" (Y/N) unabashedly settles himself on top of Peter's lap despite his pathetic whines. "Yeah, yeah" he dismisses whilst Peter chews on his lower lip when (Y/N) settles his ass on his crotch. "I'm the pervert? Your boner's twitching against my ass but I'm the pervert?" (Y/N) squeezes his inner thighs and his hips move forward - Peter whimpers at the friction. Cocking a brow, (vigilante name) braces his hands next to Spiderman's head and leans down. "What a slut" he coos. Peter scoffs at him while his hands find their home on (Y/N)'s waist, gloved fingers smoothing down the globes of his ass as he grabs a handful of each cheek. Peter spreads what he can and (Y/N) sighs in bliss at his incessant kneading. "I wasn't the one taking nudes of myself on a public rooftop to lure my ex back" and (Y/N) pauses as he takes in Peter's absolutely, tomato-envying, red blush that was accompanied by a shit-eating grin. "Do you think your villains know the reason you wear that mask is because you blush like a bitch in heat every time you get all cocky? Like some sort of adrenaline rush. Seriously, a minute ago you were crying over making out with me" "Hey" Peter pouts, pushing himself up and resting on his elbows but he doesn't relent. (Y/N) just grabs his cheeks - not at all gentle like he was before, his grip was firmer now and Peter's seen how much strength he has behind it. "Now you're pretending you're some macho man, shaming me when you probably jacked off to that picture before you came here" Peter's body betrays him in several ways. His cock twitches and he darts his eyes faster than he can stop himself - damn, that mask really does save him a lot of humiliation. (Y/N)'s grin makes Peter gulp.

"You did" purrs (Y/N) "Filthy little cretin. I wonder what would they think if they saw you like this" "T-They?" (Y/N) motions his head to the ledge. "The people that think you're ever so noble" he leans to kiss at the spot between Peter's ear and jaw, pressing his teeth there just to feel him shudder. "What would they think of you?" Peter quips, giving a harsh spank to his ass, earning him a stuttering gasp. "(vigilante name), the slut that stoops low enough to use his body to get his boyfriend to do this" For a second, Peter thinks he's said something wrong as (Y/N) stiffens above him. Perhaps he'd crossed a line. But (Y/N) smashes his lips against his, relieved and elated that Peter had called him his boyfriend. Even if it was a slip of the tongue, (Y/N) felt his heart swooning. "Pretty sure they'd understand if they knew you were my boyfriend" Peter hears the rustling of clothes and (Y/N) top half is bare, so naturally he assists in removing it all before he scrambles to get naked himself. "Brr..." Peter pauses mid-strip, his own costume awkwardly bunched below his armpits. "Cold, baby?" he asks, (Y/N) nods.

“Warm me up?" Peter laughs at the cheesiness but hey, he was in his boxer briefs in less than a minute so it worked. Now with less constricting layers out of the way, they collided with each other in a heated embrace. A mess of tongue, teeth, and hands desperate and hungry to feel the expanses and curves of their bodies. It was all bordering on animalistic - the sounds of their panting muffling everything else as their heads moved to and fro, crotches bumping and grinding.

Peter's costume was used as a makeshift pillow for his head as he bucked his hips making (Y/N) moan, the wet patches on their underwear left them with little to no shame. "You're so fucking hard" (Y/N) groaned, reaching between them to grab Peter's clothed cock which elicits a moan. "Shit, forget about the foreplay, I need to be inside you" Peter sucks on his fingers and although (Y/N) would tease he was just as desperate. He yelps as Peter's fingers find his hole, chuckling after gaining some composure. "Easy, I'm not going anywhere - ah!" his eyebrow slopes all prettily again and Peter can't find it in himself to have some decorum. He slips one finger in, just lightly slicked with saliva. "You're..." he slips in another with ease and (Y/N)'s thighs twitch, his hips move away from those slender digits but Peter chases. "Christ, you are a slut - you're already stretched out. There's still lube!" his boyfriend shushes him by gripping the head of his cock. "Announce it to the whole of New York why don't ya'" A few skilful flicks of (Y/N)'s wrists and Peter's eyes flutter closed, fingers still pumping in and out dutifully.

For a moment, Peter wonders if it’d been another that had found themselves inside of (Y/N) and his heart squeezes at the very possibility. “D-Did you, with anyone?” (Y/N) whispers a ‘no’ that makes Peter more gleeful than he’d like to admit.

“So you have no right mocking me for jacking off” Peter might as well have stuck his tongue out at (Y/N) like a child.

“Are you seriously -- Goddammit! Yeah! Right there” his hole clenches tight around Peter’s fingers as his prostrate was found, effectively shutting him up. "E-Enough, enough, fuck, let me pound you already" In a graceful swoop, Peter has (Y/N) on his back with his thighs resting over Peter's hips. This wasn't completely unusual for the couple - their trysts haven't always been in the comfort of their mattress which was a given considering their double lives as superheroes. They weren't strangers to doing it on rooftops, alleyways, and occasionally abandoned/half-finished buildings. Honestly, they could fill a whole book with their sex adventures. But this particular rooftop was a favourite because it'd been the first time they'd done it after revealing their identities to each other. (Y/N) exhales a quick laugh while Peter grumbles, pulling his cock out. It twitches from the brisk air but then its head catches on (Y/N)'s rim and his cock starts leaking precum, the tip peeking out from his ruffled-up underwear that's a little too tight but neither noticed to care. "You do remember how to use the little guy don't you?" Peter squeezes (Y/N) thigh in warning as he wets his lips, murmuring a 'shut up' as he grips the base. Sighing in relief when it finally gets past the ring of muscle. He braces his hands near (Y/N)'s waist and moans, half-lidded eyes taking in the sight of pure ecstasy on his boyfriend's face. (Y/N) can't think. He's convinced Peter's cock was made for him because when Peter fills him it makes his toes curl. Every delicious drag of his dick makes (Y/N) groan in pleasure, that sweet bundle of nerves getting rammed into whenever Peter's balls slap against his skin. "Fuckkk" The brunette smiles dopily and that scrunched expression on (Y/N) urges him to claim his lips. Arms wrap around his neck and Peter presses his thighs down until his knees touch his chest when he pulls away from the kiss. "Ready?" "Give it to me, baby". The power behind those hips reveals itself in slow but harsh thrusts. He builds a steady pace, slowly gaining more speed and it makes (Y/N) bare his neck and arch his back, his nails digging into Peter's back. "Th-That's it" (Y/N) groans. Peter feels his fingers crawling up his neck before gasping as his hair was grabbed. "Fuck me just like that, pretty boy - Ngh! Shiiit, yeah, come on, fuck this ass, it's yours, all yours" Peter's blush worsens at the vulgar words. As if he'd never heard them before or gotten painfully hard because of them. "Your mouth s'filthy" he grunts with a sharp thrust that has the boy on his dick squealing. "You - ah! Like it" he kisses Peter, nipping at his bottom lip before the incessant pressure on his dick becomes too much and suddenly he's tightening. Peter inhales sharply, stuttering out (Y/N)'s name. Peter cums. Hard. Without much warning. He stills with a few jerky shakes of his hips and they pant to catch their breaths. Embarrassment pools in his stomach but before he can completely register it, he's back on his back and (Y/N)'s putting his dick back inside that sloppy hole.

"M'not done yet, Petey" he sighs then he starts moving. Peter hisses, attempting to get the upper hand by grasping at his hips.

"Wuh-Wait, (Y/N), baby -" They slam down hard enough to make a smacking sound, ass jiggling as gravity helps (Y/N) ride Peter's already hardening dick. Peter chokes with his eyes rolling back as he tilts his head back, Adam's apple bobbing thickly. "Fuuckkk" he whines, the sound high in his throat. His stamina is usually something to be marvelled at but it's been weeks and honestly, he'd come into his fist way too many times. Shirt in his mouth, Polaroid in his right hand while his left works to undo him. But (Y/N) isn't complaining. He loves seeing his pretty boy gasp and whine about it being 'too much please I can't' while those whorish moans spill from his lips. Peter's cum is leaking back onto his dick, a ring of white frothing at (Y/N)'s asshole as he squeeezes the cockhead while he's up and makes Peter groan out his name when he sliiides back down. "M'close" Peter warns, eyes hazily watching his boyfriend finally pull his cock out. He's greedy - he wants it in his mouth and the thoughts are so obvious in those coffee-brown eyes that it makes (Y/N) keen. "Me too, God, your cock feels so good, filling me up so well" Peter nods dumbly, not all there. "M'making you feel good?" (Y/N) nods, his chest being grabbed by Peter who suckles at his nipples like a big baby, his filthy hands groping and touching while (Y/N) trembles in his hold. His hands find themselves back in Peter's hair.

He slows to a stop, making Peter gasp out a series of 'nonono please don't stop'. "Shh, look at me, baby" It takes a few seconds for Peter to comprehend the command and a few more to sharpen his eyes to focus. He scratches his scalp comfortingly, lips pecking Peter's kiss-swollen ones. "Not gonna leave me again, right?" the tips of their noses brush against each other. Peter shakes his head, his hands rubbing circles on his hips. "Never, don't wanna be without you, just want you, like this, forever" he smiles, kissing Peter again as he moves his hips. "Cum in me again I wanna feel you inside" "I-I can do that" Peter whispers "M'so close" "Me too, mpfh, fuck, Peter - I love you so fuckin' much" That has Peter whining again. He kisses (Y/N), teeth clacking against each other while he messily bucks his hips up like a desperate animal. "Luh-love you too. Fuck, love you so muh-much, (Y/N), (Y/N)(Y/N)(Y/N)" Like a mantra, Peter keeps saying his name and the way it sounds as if he's in worship makes (Y/N) spurt cum right on their stomach and chest, and some reach their chin. Peter's groan has his voice breaking when he finishes inside his favourite hole. The warmth that fills (Y/N) has him going lax, sighing in pleasure as he leans against his pretty boy. "Never letting you go" he hears Peter murmur on his neck. "Mine, all mine..." (Y/N) smiles, holding his Peter close. "All yours, pretty baby".

Giving peter a handjob his back to your chest,he’s sensitive groaning,moaning and begging for more,he’s leaning into you his head on your shoulder his eyes closed,sweat building on his forehead his chest glistening with it,you wrap your free arm around him and squeeze him while you work your hand faster praising him and telling him about all the things your gonna do to him

Giving peter a handjob his back to your chest,he’s sensitive groaning,moaning and begging for more,he’s leaning into you his head on your shoulder his eyes closed,sweat building on his forehead his chest glistening with it,you wrap your free arm around him and squeeze him while you work your hand faster praising him and telling him about all the things your gonna do to him

This was something that they did and didn't do on a regular basis. How Peter would come home from a tough mission in desperate need of destressing himself. That's where Y/N came in. He would help Peter relax and feel so good. Peter would drop his dirty costume and stand there in boxers as he waited for Y/N.

Y/N smiled as he kissed Peter before he would turn him around and push his boxers down his legs and grab his flaccid cock and start stroking him. Peter moans softly as he feels Y/N getting him going. It doesn't take much to get Peter hard, especially with Y/N's skilled hands. He's firm and soft. A tease with a hint of sympathy as he slowly strokes Peter off for the first few minutes. It's utter silence between them as Peter just closes his eyes and enjoys the moment.

Y/N's hand would glide on Peter's cock, getting it nice and slick with precum as Peter started to squirm against him, feeling Y/N mercilessly tease his cock head. "Ohh! Y/N! More?" Peter moaned as he begins to sweat. He rested his head on Y/N's shoulder, his bare back rubbing against his shirt covered chest. That's when Y/N holds him tighter with his other hand and started jerking him off faster.

Peter throws his head back and moaned loudly for him as he whimpers for Y/N. It feels so good to have someone stroke your hard cock fast and rough as Peter bucks against him and tried to get more of his come into Y/N's hand.

Y/N smirks as he leans down to his ear and whispers naughty things. "So, good for me, Pete. Can't wait to fuck you long and hard after you blow your load. Want to rim your cute ass and fuck you with my cock and tongue."

Peter mewls as he didn't give Y/N warning before he came all over his fingers and shuttered against his chest.

let me in.

peter parker x male reader.

summary: peter struggles to balance between life and work, and it's ruining his relationship with you.

wc: 6.6k. genre: smut. warnings: andrew!peter, college au, established relationship, brief fighting, brief injury and blood mention (nosebleed), misunderstandings, peter reveals his identity, dry-humping, over the pants (or suit) handjob, body worshipping, lots of sweat, fingering, frotting, riding, spandex fetish, reader has a thing for peter in his spider-man suit!

You were starting to feel antsy. You could feel it—the nerves kicking in again. Anticipation—a suspension of doubt—made your hands clammy at first, but it was the time that made your hands clutch nothing but air. You rubbed the sweat off your hands onto your pants, your knees not so comforting with their pointedness.

Acceptance—when it was evident that Peter was late, again.

Birthdays have never been a big deal in your family. Sure, it was great that you had the privilege to live another year. To witness yourself grow older, to stand a few inches taller, to live a little more knowledgeable than yesterday. But growing up with parents who had to constantly work, well-late into the depths of night, it had never been more than a birthday wish that had greeted you in the mornings, and bid you slumber in the evenings. Since then, you knew not to expect anything.

If only Peter hadn’t made such a big deal out of it this year.

“Excuse me?” The familiar timbre of a voice speared your thoughts; deep and tunneling as you were transfixed on the glasses of water before you. Yours had been refilled, though a little sparse compared to Peter’s full cup.

Your eyes widened with feigned curiosity, a small smile plastered alongside to hopefully negate any annoyance from the waiter—because you expected what he was about to follow up with.

“Hey… uh,” he shifted on his feet awkwardly, eye bags weighing heavier than the last time he had checked up on you. You looked around, surprised by the amount of patrons who had filled the space around you while you were daydreaming. Laughter and smiles completely lit up the room. The dim lights were practically stationed in the restaurant for decoration, and seemingly to spotlight your ‘dinner for one’ status. “I’m sorry, but… we have no more tables to fill, and if you aren’t ordering soon, then we’ll have to give your table up for the next party...”

It was obvious that you weren’t, you hadn’t even torn into the buttery bread rolls that were piping hot forty-five minutes ago. Now, the fat had solidified into spotty, yellow clumps, though you doubt that would’ve been enough to detract from the quality of the rolls.

“Oh, I—“ You pulled out your phone to check your messages again. Nothing. Swiped down to refresh your conversation with Peter. The loading icon felt like it took forever, you half-expected that your phone was updating the thread with Peter’s messages that somehow got lost in the void of the restaurant’s spotty signal. 

And nothing.

“I—yeah… uh. I-I’ll head out.” It was embarrassing. Even if the waiter had given you a sympathetic smile, you hated knowing that you wasted his time. You hated that you selfishly occupied a seat when someone else would’ve been done with dinner by the time you exited. 

“Thanks—” 

You hated that you had your hopes up for things to be different.

Again.

The night was dreary. Not even the wind had greeted you like the others when you stepped out. Soft and fluttering against your skin, but scolding enough to make you put your coat back on. Luckily, your apartment wasn’t too far from the restaurant, a fifteen minute walk at most if you speed-walked. Shoving your hands in your coat pockets, you then ambled along the sidewalks, wallowing in your feelings with a playlist that belted in your ears once you plugged your earbuds in. 

You didn’t have the energy left to hurry home.

Once you crossed the last intersection, you felt a little bit more at ease. Seeing the familiar apartment complex at the end of the block picked your pace up a step more. You paused your music once you neared the entrance, just a turn away before you could finally bury yourself in your bed. 

You reached into your pocket to grab your wallet. The weight in your palms instantly reminding you to deposit the cash tips sometime soon before the stretch of the leather had become unbearable to fit in your pocket. 

Your walk slowed as your attention was fixated on your wallet, fumbling it open clumsily to retrieve your keycard. In midst, you caught a glimpse of a photo print of you and Peter, standing shoulder to shoulder with the biggest grins as Peter had a peace sign above your head, doubling as bunny ears. Honeymoon phase, they’d call it. Where you were beginning to discover more about Peter, and Peter was beginning to discover more about you. Likes. Dislikes. Hobbies. Memories. It felt like yesterday when you two were spending every second of your day with each other. 

Now, it would be a miracle if Peter returned a call.

With the keycard in your hand, you turned the corner, and towards the entrance, the smiles from the photo print reflecting onto yours as you could vividly hear Peter’s pleas to retake them again. The flash of the cameras always made him blink.

If only you had been focusing on where you were going instead of the still image of the first memory between you and Peter, maybe you could have avoided the collision altogether when you approached the door. You suddenly found yourself on your back, facing the night sky as clusters of stars twinkled in laughter. There was a slight throbbing to your forehead, a mark you’d reckon would appear as purple within the next 12 hours despite the painless… pain.

“Oh god— I’m so, so, so, sorry! Let me—“ If the beating your face took to the door hadn’t snapped you back to reality already, the familiar face before you certainly pulled you out of your thoughts like whiplash once he helped you back onto your feet. Your vision instantly cleared of haze, as if his simple presence was your remedy.

“(M/N)?” Peter interrupted himself, his eyes widening. You could see the wheels turning in his head when the dim light spotlighted your features: eyes, nose, lips; flesh and bone that he was well-acquainted with.

“Peter—“ You took a moment to scan him. It was like all the other times he had been late. His fringe; stuck to his forehead with a mixture of sweat and water, the latter being a last resort to clean himself up. His knuckles; bruised and torn with minuscule cuts barely able to conceal the truth behind his scars. His necktie; clumsily done with the knots coming loose. Though, whether the silk unfurled by Peter’s own sloppiness, or by the increasing frailty of his fingers that had become susceptible by even the most delicate material of neckties; it was futile to mention it to him. You knew he’d shut you down with another excuse.

“W-what are you doing here? Are you okay? I-I’m so sorry—I was on my way to you and—Oh god, you’re bleeding!“ Breathless, panting, not only because he was panicking from running late. 

But because of adrenaline. You could see it in his eyes. The alertness. The high.

“What—“ You wiped your nose with the back of your hand, only to see a smear of blood blotted across your skin. “Shit.” 

Another thick drop splattered in greeting.

“Peter, it’s a nosebleed. You’re acting like I had my arm chopped off or something.” You’ve been applying pressure to your nasal bridge, pinching it tightly to barricade the stream of blood. All while you had your head tilted over Peter’s sink, in case of the blood leaking past your hold. “And how long does it take to find a cotton ball?”

“I’m trying—“ His one-sided game of hide and seek with the bag of cotton balls was leaning in favor of the latter. Medicine cabinet: empty. Bedside drawer: foreign coins and bills. You were watching him from the corner of your eye, a small limp to his step when the lightbulb seemingly lit up overhead and had him dashing towards the kitchen. 

“Found it!”

Peter’s touch was delicate. Tender, like the forming bruise on your forehead. He was adamant on taking care of you, even if frankly—you would’ve done it much faster had it been a solo endeavor. Cotton balls were plugged up into your nose, and a warm face towel was laid across your forehead. If an intruder had the audacity to rob Peter’s apartment, you’d imagine you would find yourself lucking out. Peter joked that you looked like patient zero.

“All done. See? Nothing to cry about.” He was joking again, the smug smile across his face a clear indication of it—and the laugh that he couldn’t help but contain.

“Ha. Ha. Thanks, Dr. Parker. Now, how much do I owe you? I’m paying outta pocket.” For a brief moment, you forgot that you were upset earlier. All because of how nice it was to actually see him again. He pressed a kiss to your lips, a comforting gesture if his constant apologies weren’t enough. Stay focus. 

“So, about dinner…”

“Oh,” Disappointment softened Peter’s smile. You could see it tightening, even as he was organizing his room. Though, it was really a matter of tossing his clothes on the floor back into the laundry basket. “Listen, my… bike got stolen and—“

“Peter…” You sighed, pinching your nose bridge because you feared another avalanche of a nosebleed incoming. That, and because it helped you maintained your composure. “You said that the last time. Three times, actually.”

“Third time’s… the charm?” He was joking. Again. But even he wasn’t laughing at it because he’d been cornered. Called out. Embarrassed that he thought that would even work on you. Embarrassed that he thought he could get away with it. 

Again.

“Peter.” You called out, straightening your posture against the headboard of the bed when he sat at the end of the mattress. Shit, it’s happening.

“I… I don’t know how to…” The veins in his hands, they lined perfectly to the cuts, scrapes, and bruises on his knuckles. Clear as day now that he wasn’t hidden under a dim light. “I just…”

He had his hands around his face, rubbing his temples, his cheeks, his nose, anything that could alleviate the accelerating drill of his heartbeat. 

You were hopeful to get an answer out of him. A proper explanation. But it pained you, knowing that in a few seconds—what he would tell you would only confirm your yearning suspicions of his strange behavior.

He doesn’t love you anymore. He’s cheating. You’ve become a nuisance, an absolute bore in his life. Actually, you’re a bad influence on him. You’re holding him back. He needs to let go of you to accomplish better things. He never loved you.

It’s happening. It’s fucking happening. All he has to do is say those words. The dreaded five words you’ve heard once from him in a nightmare.

I want to break up.

“If you want to break up, just say it.” 

It sounded softer in your head, but the tears that had welled in your eyes finally bursted into droplets. They ran down your cheeks, and your voice broke during its pursuit. 

Something commanded you to let those words slip out. 

Maybe it was the ghost that you and him had been theorizing about since the night you’ve helped him move into the apartment floor above you. Carrie; you nicknamed her, and Peter would scold you for doing so because he had the suspicions that giving her a backstory would ultimately reassess his home as a possessing ground. To this day, he swore he saw a shadow looming in the corner of his room on a perfectly stormy night.

Or maybe it was the months of frustration that you had accumulated, snowballed because of your own selfish reasons to continue being with Peter for as long as you could, even if you saw the signs, because you couldn’t bear to see yourself without him. Live, when you two had promised so many futures together.

“What? No, (M/N), that’s not—“ He jolted up at the mere mention of separating from you. There was a chill. The room suddenly felt colder, and then warmer—scorching hot, when the glossiness of your gaze reflected into his. He began joining you by your side. “Hey, hey, I would never—“

He broke into a cold sweat. He’d never seen you like this. And to think that he was the root of this—of your pain—it was all overwhelming.

“Peter, there’s always something going on with you. Y-you don’t text me for days. You ignore my calls. You disappear without telling me. You’re always late. And… you’re always hurt? And you think that I’m dumb enough to not notice that you aren’t? How you’re limping? How you’re always bruised and—For god’s sake, Peter, I’m just as smart as you, we have the same GPA and—“ You took a breather, a gulp because you were rambling now. Your cheeks felt hot, from your sudden outburst and from embarrassment, because the latter half of your rant immediately negated the idea of some kind of affair.

“Okay, maybe you aren’t cheating, but—“ You felt him tug you into his arms, but you wouldn’t budge. Instead, you pushed away, edging to the other side of the bed to face him.

“I would never.” He sighed, his arms dropping as soon as you removed yourself from his embrace. 

“Then what is it? You’re leaving me in the dark here. I barely see you anymore, you know that?”

“I know.” He was biting his lips. Chewing, as if he was internally debating something. A decision that could either ruin you, ruin him, or both.

“Then?”

You waited. Watched his fingers fiddle with one another as he continued turning the screws in his head. Your heart would jump whenever he would open his mouth, anticipating whatever had caused so much turmoil in his life, but there was a last minute decision that kept him silent.

Crickets.

Nothing.

“I don’t… I don’t know what you’re doing. But you’re getting hurt and I’m just… worried.” Your gaze dropped to his hands again. Pale, veiny, and full of life yet they’ve looked like they’ve been worn out. Torn. “At least tell me it’s not gambling.”

“Well—in a way with my life, it kind of is like gambling—“ He thinly smiled, hoping it would at least make you crack a smile.

“Peter!” You scoffed, nudged his side with your elbow out of frustration, then surrendered when you brought your knees up to your chest, and buried your head in between your knees. “Not funny.”

“Okay, okay, just… you can’t tell anyone.” His voice softened.

“We all know that between you and I, you’re the one with the running mouth.” Your voice muffled in the space between your legs, hands tucked around your nape.

“I’m serious, (M/N)” Pleading now, he held your hand in hopes to get ahold of your attention again, squeezing so you’d look at him. You do.

“I won’t tell.” It was a promise. Peter didn’t need you to clarify because he could see it in your eyes, honest and sincere. Determined, as if you were willing to protect him.

“Okay… and also, don’t… freak out.” Peter was off the bed now, wandering in the middle of his room as he rolled his shoulders back, relaxing the muscles in his back like a wrestler preparing for his next fight. He gestured for you to follow him out to the stairway, out into the cold. 

“Why would I freak—“ There was something around his wrist. No, wrists. You thought they were watches, but there were two devices around him. They were strapped with a similar black leather to your wallet, to Peter’s, and a red button protruded in the middle of it. “Peter, what are you—“

You stopped a few feet before Peter, watching him closely, yet afar. Afraid, yet intrigued. Concerned, because he was on the ledge of the staircase now, perched like an animal. Yet there was a grin on his face. Not crazed like a madman considering he was acting like one, but foolish. Goofy, giddy like the times he’d hide stuff from you, and wait until you’d notice it was gone.

“Like I said, don’t freak out.” 

“Peter, what are you even—“

With that, he opened his arms like wings that spanned across his back and flipped into the air as if the wind would carry him across city to city. As if he was recruited as a sponsor to the heavenly gods with the incredible height he’d taken off in, pursuing the clouds, the wind, the stars, and the night simultaneously all in multiple slings.

Into. The. Air.

Into the fucking air.

You raced forward with a yelp, as if you would’ve made it in time to catch him. To catch his hand before he fell. To hold him one last time before he’d land on the ground and shatter every bone in his body.

If he had landed. 

No, you blinked once—twice—no, at least in the double digits because this was all a dream. It was all a dream, right? That you caught a glimpse of Peter somehow slingshotting himself from window to window, from rooftop to satellite, like it was a mundane day job one had to endure to put food on the table, to pay the bills.

Right?

You paced around the stairs, raced towards one floor to another, bending over the railings because—Peter disappeared. He was gone. If he had smashed into something, you would’ve heard him. You would’ve heard him in yelp in pain. You would’ve heard the metal railings shake. You would’ve heard him cry for help. 

Instead, you heard the sound of wind. Whistling as it sailed leaves to the west of you. 

As if it carried a hint along the way.

“Peter?! Peter—Fuck, fuck!” You followed the sound of the whistle. The source of the pitchy sound. Fluttering when your head spun closer to the note, wavering when you were getting colder, then peaking when your gaze lifted, higher, and higher, until it landed on him.

Peter.

Peter, perched over the rooftop of the apartment complex like a bug. The moonlight framed his silhouette, emphasized the texture of his suit; protruding grids that encased him like a nest; and you’ve never been more intimidated. 

Red and blue spandex tightly-fitted over the muscles and body of the man you have been more than well-acquainted with. You’ve seen it before. It was familiar. On the news, on the papers, on the internet.

“You’re freaking out!” He yelled out, clearly amused in your frozen state of shock.

He peered over at you with a smug grin, aimed directly at your bafflement before pulling a mask over his head. It was the icing on top in rendering you utterly incapable of stringing up any words. The lens of his mask reflected off of you, mirrored your astonishment in clear display, and you sensed that would be a memory Peter would be carrying to his death bed.

“What. The. Fuck.”

“Okay, so, just to clarify,” You were winded, still recovering from the heart attack Peter had nearly given you after he took you on for a stroll in the night. Into the sky.

Luckily his bed was right beside you. As soon as your legs gave out, you fell back into his mattress, and stared into the ceiling, speechless. Peter joined you after, bringing you into his arms. He’d always been aware that touching you in any way or form brought you back to reality. “You are… not a cosplayer?”

“Honestly? That would make me way more money than what I’m making right now.” You couldn’t keep your hands or eyes off of him. Peter was still in his suit, and that gave you the perfect opportunity to run your hands over the webbed texture of the spandex.

“Just a few more months until my lease is up. I can move in, and that’ll help with the rent. For both of us.” It felt like silicone, or rubber. Whatever it was, it was durable considering how thin it felt in your fingers when you rubbed it in between them.

“Just like that? You’re not mad?” Your hands came to a halt when Peter suddenly took them, and rested your palm on his cheek, coincidentally on the cut that you’ve never noticed. 

“Why would I be mad?” Quieter. Your voice mellowed into a whisper as you catalogued the amount of beatings his skin had taken. Caressed the marks you were too selfish to notice. Exhaustion wore on his face, and yet he never looked so peaceful as he gazed into your eyes. 

Pretty eyes, Peter thought. Ones that could motivate him to get back up after falling. That feels nice, when you pressed a kiss to his damaged skin. A touch that made him believe there was a reason to suffer, to be great, to be all of this.

“Well, for starters, it’s your birthday and… I completely blew it.” Peter closed his eyes when you began brushing his hair back, knotted in cold sweats, but you fanned your fingers out to undo them until they felt somewhat tidy in your strokes. Smooth and soft. He sighed, “Again.”

“Can’t entirely blame you. How would I look if I were to complain about missing you, when you’re out there risking your life for everyone?” It wasn’t a question, but you wanted him to look at you. To respond. And he does, when you pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, and he returned it with a silken one, a following grin. “All I wish for was that you told me sooner, I guess.”

“Yeah,” He figured he’d save the details of the ‘friends’ he had made along the way some other time. For now, it was all about you. “Wow, you’re not even going to wish for me to be safe?”

“Hey, you know what I mean! That’s a given.” You rubbed at his chest, finding yourself quickly accustomed to the scales of his costume. The red was striking against your palms, comforting almost. 

“Still. I want to hear you say it.” Peter rolled onto his side and slipped an arm under your back, scooting closer to you. His signature goofy grin never failed to knock a similar one out of you. And unwillingly drawn out, when he began pinching at your sides in quick snips.

“Stop—“ You laughed, your hands occupying themselves to defend your body from his quick attacks. But Peter was fast, avoiding your arms and hands to find another opening that you’d abandon. “Stop, stop! Stay safe! Happy?!”

Closer and closer, you found yourself beneath him, framed by his body as he took your arms above your head and pinned them secured with his tight grasps.“Incredibly.”

Your legs spread open to make room for his body, only for Peter to wrap them around his waist, to press his body into you, kissing you like he was driven to steal your breath.

“This your way of making it up to me?” You broke apart from the kiss, only briefly, before the taste of Peter, the softness of his lips reeled you back in for another kiss. Languidly paced until one’s accelerating lust for one another had taken ahold of the wheel and shifted gears, into a weightiness that kept your mouth parted open while Peter’s impulse to explore you had become evidently clear.

“Problem with that?” He’d been driving his hips into you, grinding his front with your own. Both clothed, infuriatingly covered, but the pressure in between your bulge and Peter’s was too pleasing to ignore. Too satisfying to make him stop. “I should take this off—“

“No, wait—“ You grabbed his forearm when he reached back to unzip his suit. To be honest, you never thought about how he even got in or out of the suit in the first place, but that was beside the point. Something about this suit, this costume, whatever you wanted to call it; it was a turn-on. 

The way it fit snug against Peter’s body; how every fiber of muscle was stretching the material to its limit. Maybe you were just turned on because you associated it with him being a hero. For god’s sake, that was as much of an aphrodisiac one could be if you happened to be saved from a falling tower. 

Or maybe, it was simply how Peter looked in it. Unabashedly handsome, yet himself, seemingly courting you further into his webs, as if he hadn’t already from day one.

“Keep it on. I like it.” You muttered, fiddling with the collar of his suit. It was snapped on tight, but you managed to slip a finger or two past, to pull at it with a stretch.

“Then how are we going to…” He abandoned the few inches he had unzipped, providing a small relief to the squeeze around his body while his broad back was bare and tense towards the ceiling. 

“Then, you’ll take it off. But for now, I just want to…” One hand was on his nape, pulling him down for another heated kiss, while the other traveled south between your body and his. Further, lower, until you cupped him at his crotch. Rubbing, squeezing, and palming at the thick, growing center. “Want to try something…”

You could feel him smiling, a crooked one flattened against your own grin when he whispered, “I should’ve told you sooner, shouldn’t I.”

“You think?”

You were getting harder, your pants beginning to tighten around the center as you palmed him. It was a heavy handful in the beginning, but Peter’s bulge began to unfurl. It didn’t take long, didn’t take much of a stroke for him to unravel from his tuck and thicken into a full-blown erection towards the left side of his thigh. It pointed downwards, the plump head evident through his suit, and you were beginning to drool in Peter’s mouth at the haziest image of it.

“Come on, I need to get out of this… It’s killing me.” It wasn’t like Peter to beg. It was charming, cute, sexy, all the synonyms that could describe how you felt all day and every day about him, and you squeezed, because he wasn’t being patient with you.

“Birthday boy gets what he wants, don’t you think?” He winched into your mouth, and you swallowed him. Swallowed every ounce of breath, and breathed it back out with a kiss. Sloppy, heavy, your tongue weighing on his because you wanted to keep his lips apart, mouth open to hear his moans.

Peter grunted again once you began stroking his cock, touching him like it was a delicate plate of chin. Fingertips only, dusting him off with little pressure so he wouldn’t shatter.

“What are you going to do about it, hm?” You continued your short, limp strokes. “Just going to take it? Hm?” Your wrist was weak, lazy as it became limp to tease him even more. Peter sucked in a breath, doing his best to maintain his composure, but it was all futile, all those attempts of sucking in his lip to chew, to hold back his moans, because you’d slap his clothed cock, grasp it tight in your hand, and massage as much as you could gather.

“Fuck, baby—“ You had him under your control. Even if his hands were free, you knew he wouldn’t lay a finger on you. He knew that if he did, you’d stop touching him, stop stimulating the blood running down every vein of his cock, fueling his erection. His desires. 

He couldn’t let that happen. Not after the day, the week, the months that he’d been having. 

You and Peter eventually switched places: Peter resting on his back while you sat in between his legs, marveling at the stretch of his suit. Somehow, his cock looked bigger than you’d remember. Squished and pressed flush against his thigh like this. The suit was like a magnet, inviting your hand back to his cock and refusing to let you go.

“Just relax.” You commanded him. He was watching you slouched up against the headboard, gravity weighing his eyelids lower. With his legs spread apart, he provided you excess space as you began massaging his right thigh with your free hand. “Is this okay?”

“Mm-hm...” He knew you were talking about the pressure on his thigh, but the strokes over his cock remained supreme in his mind. Championed through as you pressed harder into the shaft, massaging tenderly from vein to vein. The protruding webbed texture of his suit pressed into him, rolled against cock like the inside of a fleshlight, ultimately adding onto the already gratifying pleasure. 

It was glorious.

“More…” Peter gritted through his teeth, a selfish need for more escaping from his lips in huffs. Grunts, when you’d fulfill his wish with two hands now, kneading his cock like dough. 

Thick, stiff, throbbing dough.

Before the complaints could come pouring in, you shimmied your pants off in a hurry, tossing it in the corner before greedily climbing onto Peter’s lap. It was like he read your mind, perhaps another secret that he’d been hiding, because he immediately took you into his arms. An embrace, a tight one that grounded you against his bulge, pressing your body weight until it restricted the blood flowing into his erection, as well as preventing an escape.

“You’re so hard…” You marveled at how rigid he’d gotten under you, grinding your ass against the large mass, beating and throbbing with every rut.

“I’m so hard.” He confirmed, complained, and bragged all in one smile. He then took you by the nape to kiss you again. Hard on the mouth, slow with his tongue to taste you and your desires, his desires. His other hand rested on the small of your back, guiding your grinds at first before his fingers looped into your waistband, tugging once before stuffing the strap under your ass cheeks. Your hard-on was the only thing keeping the cotton material from slipping off while you continued grating your hips. “Just like that…”

To make it easier for you, Peter repositioned his erection so it was facing north, towards his navel, in its sublime mass. Your briefs had been tossed to the side now, completely bare bottomed against him while you mounted over him, and rode in needy strides. It was a sight to behold, something that Peter reckoned he should savor. He folded his arms behind his head, providing a self-made cushion for the weight of it, and watched you. It was entrancing, like a dance. You swiveled your hips to a ghosting rhythm, one that could only be heard between two hearts, two parties, between the two of you, man to man.

“Like this…?” Breathless, you unbuttoned your shirt open, but left it present on your body. Sweat formed over your neck, dribbled down to your bare and exposed chest;  it was practically an open-invitation for Peter to ravish you. And so he did, with a haunting groan as he held you, contained you in the warmth of his arms as he simultaneously pulled you forward, and pushed himself off the headboard to meet you in the middle.

He kissed you on the neck, achingly hard when he sucked, and then enthralling, sweat-inducing when he bit into your skin. He couldn’t contain himself. You tasted too good, and it’d been too long since he had you just like this. “Just like that. Your cock against my cock, fuck. I love it so fucking much.” He muttered hot against your neck, panting because he was sweating too. The spandex felt tighter on his skin, constricting against him with every drop of sweat.

“Oh, fuck…” His lips had latched onto your nipples now. Peter’s tongue worked magic on your two nubs, flicking and swirling over their perkiness until you felt swollen. Raw, when he bit, pulled, bit, and bit again. You buried your face into his hair, rocking yourself back and forth with your arms holding him close to your chest, gliding your cock against his print as if a gun was pointed to your head, like your life depended on making Peter come.

You were delirious, humping Peter without a single thought other than to get him off, and you’d reckon that was the goal lingering in Peter’s head as he began rocking back into you. It took a while for him to find your rhythm, chasing after it in slower, sluggish beats, but eventually he caught up to you, snapping his hips against your own, grinding his cock against yours like two crescent moons caressing the other’s curvature.

“Close…” He muttered into your shoulder. Your shirt was hanging off, exposing more of your skin, but Peter made sure you didn’t feel a single chill with the marks he had followed up with soon after. It was like he had done it on purpose. Made you feel safe in his arms, comfortable in the warmth of his body, worshiped with the amount of care he had given your body. Frozen, when you felt something prod at your pucker. Then enraptured, when Peter pushed a wet finger inside of you. 

Tremors, chilling tremors ran down your spine as you took the single digit Inside of you with one determined push. “Fuck—“ Your back arched, chest pushed forward towards him, and your hips jolted forward in one strong, and delicious swipe against Peter’s cock. “Peter…”

It was a mouthwatering display of food before him. The perky nubs on your chest, the veins in your neck, the mole on your body, the strain of your thighs on overdrive, the swollen head of your cock; Peter didn’t know what to lay his finger on first, what to mouth on, what to kiss, and suck, and latch onto until you’d scream. Whichever it was, he knew you were desperate for him. Begging, sweating, whimpering, for Peter to lay a finger on you. Another finger inside of you now, and you rolled your eyes at the stretch he was providing you with, a fulfilling wish that startled your hips once more.

“You’re so good, so good for me…” Peter was staring up at you, marveling at the layer of sweat on your body. It glistened with every movement, dripped heavily with every thrust of Peter’s fingers, and tasted just like how he remembered. Salty when he licked up your neck, up your chest, against your nipples, and repeated. Your body was his, and Peter was determined to let the world know. Determined to remind you in case that you’d forgotten.

Your hands were wandering. Grabbing and touching at anything and everything that could linger in between your fingers. Peter’s hair, his head, shoulders, chest, your cock and his, his back. Everything. You couldn’t keep your hands off of him. Even if he was covered from head to toe, you were touching him. Because he was yours.

“Gonna come—“ You cupped Peter’s jaw to straighten his posture, to kiss him sloppily on the mouth, and he pulled his fingers out of you, resting them on either side of your hips as he joined you once again in grinding hips. The pleasure was overbearing, drilling into each individual brain until the smallest movement would render you both speechless. Panting in slurred moans of each other’s names, of profanities that you two had rarely used in your lifetime on earth.

“Me too…” Peter pushed himself on top of you now. Your arms were tied around his neck, tighter than the necktie he had on prior, and your legs; they wrapped around his waist equally secured, if not even tighter, as he thrusted against you. 

You were too distracted, unable to respond to Peter’s constant licks in your mouth. He was desperate for you, suckling on your tongue and chasing after it once it slipped out because of your moans. They were rattling, each breath immediately vaulted in the back of Peter’s throat because he couldn’t part from you. Couldn’t imagine a life where he would. And if he had to, at least he’d have a part of you inside of him. Even if it was a whisper. 

He thrusted harder, panting into your mouth, his nose practically smushed flat against yours. He wondered if you could imagine that life, a life without him.

“P-Pete—Shit, I’m—“ Your fingers dug into his nape, grounding him impossibly closer to you when that feeling had suddenly come to stun you in place. 

It simmered hard in your stomach, then to a rolling boil as it traveled lower to your pelvis. You squeezed your stomach, clenched your toes, and your eyes widened when Peter’s hips showed no signs of faltering. Your cock swelled and your balls jolted, tightened, until you finally saw stars bursting into flames and let gravity have it come crashing down on you. Shivers had you enclose your arms around Peter, holding onto him tight as you felt yourself crumble and spill all over your chest and his suit. You came with a gritted grunt of his name, sinking your nails into his nape because you had nowhere else to channel your spasms as Peter kept rocking against you, drunkenly astonished by how you came for him. By how much you needed him.

It didn’t take long before Peter came right after. He buried his head into your neck, stifling moans into the heat of your neck, clammy with sweat, yet comforting as he filled the inside of his suit with thick, large loads. You felt his cock throb against you when you reached down to help, to ride out his orgasm to the fullest. His cock pulsed as you’d imagine several thick pumps of his load would gush out and uncomfortably layer his navel. If only his suit hadn’t been waterproof, because there was no doubt that he would’ve been leaking out of it by now.

You’ve never been so jealous of spandex.

He was hot in your ear, panting, breathing you in, then breathing you out as you slowed the strokes on his softening cock. Then a sudden inhale, a jolt of his body, when you squeezed hard, to seal the deal in covering the entirety of his cock in his own cum. It was filthy. It was shameless. It was Peter.

“Driving me crazy here…” Peter sluggishly lifted himself off of you to face you, a sleepy smile plastered across his face as you kept kneading at his cock, increasingly sensitive with every second.

“Not enough to drive you away, right?” You smiled, drowsy yourself as you quickly found your high coming to a crash. Though, you mustered enough strength to hold Peter’s cheek in your palm, tenderly caressing, to which he immediately kissed as soon as it reintroduced itself. 

Peter sighed, holding your gaze for what felt like minutes, and yet you wished it could be for longer. 

It was different this time, the way he looked at you. The same amount of love and warmth, yes. But they no longer wavered, no longer tried to find something else to look at in case you were prying about. 

“Never.” 

Instead, they stilled, relaxed the longer you stared into him, into those brown eyes of his, because you were in now. 

You were finally in his life.

How much you needed him?  His question had been answered.

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

The mommy issues are settling in agian

Mama's Boy

Summary: You didn't understand why you felt so bad while at Miles house

Type:Scenario:Angst:Miles Morales & M!Reader

Version: Itsv

~

I never understood why I felt so horrible at Miles's house. Every time we were there while his parents were home, I felt like crying. I didn't get it. His parents were amazing, really nice, and welcoming, yet they made me feel so bad. I always had a sad look on my face when I left, a strong feeling that made me want to break down right there in tears. Or maybe it was because I had to go home? It never clicked to me. I loved going to his house, and every chance I got, I was over there. Luckily, Miles and I were good friends. His home felt more like home than mine. I didn't get it, I loved my home, it was cozy and nice, I didn't get it. Especially today.

I was over at Miles's house, laughing while playing some video games in his room. I was wining, and he was trying to distract me.

"Admit it Miles! You suck at this game!" I laughed at him.

"No! Your cheating, you dirty cheater!" He practically pouted as he pushed me away with his foot.

I laughed harder and bumped him with my shoulder, causing us to start shoving and pushing each other like brothers. Miles tacked me onto his bed, putting me in a headlock as he gave me a nasty noogie. His mom opened the door and stopped, huffing playfully before chucking

"Boys, get off each other and come eat." She smiled at us before closing the door.

I could feel my smile brighter slightly, Rio always made me feel warm. But not in a love way, in a homey way, like I was truly welcome and wanted there. It was odd. Me and Miles got up and went to the dining room, shoving each other before racing to the table. I got there first and flipped him off as his parents weren't looking. He did it back before we both started to eat. After dinner, Miles and I sat on the couch, just talking to each other his dad walked over.

"Y/n, do you need a ride home? We could drop you off at home if you want" Jefferson smiled at us, his car eyes in hand.

"Oh, no. I can walk, you don't have to drive me" I returned his smile, not wanting him to have to drive me home this late.

"You sure? Its a quick drive" Jefferson looked a alittle worried.

"Yeah, it's a nice walk of fresh air anyways" It made me feel giddy that someone was worried about me.

Jefferson nodded and walked away, not wanting to push anymore. I turned to Miles, and we continued talking for a bit before I went home. It was a peaceful walk, the quiet and chill night drowning out most of my thoughts. I let out a soft sigh as I unlocked the front door and walked in. Immediately, I'm welcomed by my drunk mother and passed out on the couch. This was a normal occurrence. My mother was always drunk and drinking, even when I was younger. It was normal, it's all I knew, when I was born she started drinking again. My mother probably drank while she was pregnant either way. I sighed and locked the front door before walking over to her and drapping a blanket over her. I gently kissed her forehead before mumbling a soft good night and going to bed. The next morning, I woke up to my mother yelling at me from downstairs. When I went downstairs, I almost got hit with a bottle. I was so tired I didn't even hear what she said before storming out the house. I stare at the door, confused before quickly rushing to clean up the glass and going back to bed. I went to Miles house again today, I waved happily and instantly noticed the look of concern on his face

"Y/n? Why is your hand bloody? And your arm" Miles sounded really confused, and worried.

Miles stood up and walked over to me, I narrowed my eyebrows and looked down at my hand, turning it my hand around and gasping. When did this happen?

"I'm not sure..." I was confused, I wasn't fully sure how this happened. Maybe the glass from earlier?

I shrugged, but Mike's gently grabbed my hand and led me to the bathroom and patched me up, cleaned my wounds, and bandaged it skillfully. Probably because his mom was a nurse. The same thing happened today: I messed around with Miles, played video games, talked, ate dinner, and went home. My mom wasn't home. It was quiet in the house, meaning a peaceful night of sleep. The following morning, my mom yelled at me again, hitting me a few times before leaving and making me clean up the kitchen from her. Then I went to Miles house. As I was over there, he looked concerned but didn't say anything, and that day I realized I mainly ate at Miles house, my mother didn't cook much, and I couldn't really order take out, I didn't have the money for it.

I felt it again.

When I was at his house I could feel my heart beat louder in my ears as I watched him hug his mom and say a small I love you before we both left the house to go to the store. I was quiet for a bit. There was a growing pain in my heart, like I had been stabbed or someone tore my heart. I didn't know why. Was it the affection? I never really got affection from my mother. When I got home, my mom was drunk, but awake. And she was pissed. I gulped and tried to sneak by, that didn't work. I slept in pain and paranoid that night. When I went to Miles house he was quiet when he saw me, staring at me with these big eyes of concern. Why? Was there something wrong?

"Y/n...are you okay? You keep coming here with...injuries. " Miles voice was quiet and soft, something I wasn't fully used to. It was filled with so much. Concern.

"Oh, that? Don't worry about it" You didn't want to worry him, when he saw your reassuring smile he gave a small smile back and didn't ask about it.

When you went home today, you finally realized why you hated going home from Miles's house. The first thing you saw was your parents fighting. Your mom was clearly drunk. Your heart sank as you stood in the doorway watching your parents fight. They did this a lot. You sighed and walked by them, mumbling a small hello before going to your room. You wanted to go back to Miles's house, where there was no yelling or fighting there, it's nice at his house. Peaceful, but you have to wait until tomorrow, like always.

~

[A/n:I'm not sure if I like this or not. I hope you enjoyed]

the new boy

paring : peter parke (tom holland) X male reader

genre : fluff

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✁ ..time cut..

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your Help

paring : peter parker (tom holland) x male reader

genre : angust and fluff

summary : peter needs your help after a mission

On an ordinary night, you were enjoying music in the comfort of your apartment, when you heard a knock on the window and soon after a voice calling your name. The voice was familiar, and you immediately recognized it. It was your boyfriend, Peter. "Hey? Y/N...? Can you please open here...?" Peter's voice sounded weak and tense, causing you to panic. Without hesitation, you ran to open the glass window, only to be greeted by a vision that shocked you deeply.

Peter's face was marked by bruises, his clothes torn and stained with blood, showing evidence of a previous combat, his heavy eyes showed the extreme pain he was going through. Despite the injuries, he gave a weak smile, desperately trying to mask his pain. He looked at you with a touch of hope and vulnerability, while he was there, leaning on the window. He didn't want you to worry, but it was clear that he was in serious trouble.

It was evident that, as a superhero, he was used to dealing with dangerous situations, but this one seemed to be different. "Peter...what happened to you?" You say opening the window quickly and helping him enter the warm and cozy apartment.

"Oh, it's nothing, just a small beat...he was just..a little too big.." Peter tries to smile, but makes a grimace of pain. "Can you...can you help me with some of these...cuts, please." Peter finally looks at you with those slightly watery brown eyes.

You study him with your eyes before finally answering "Yes, Yes, of course.. can you stand walking to the bathroom?" You ask approaching him a little more "Of course..I can" Peter says "Okay, I'll go, I'll help you, okay?" You say approaching him and putting your arms around him to support him to be able to go to the bathroom without making much effort.

You gently lead Peter to the bathroom and help him sit on the edge of the bathtub. “I think a shower would be good to care for the cuts and maybe relax a bit,” you say, looking at him. Peter nods in agreement, acknowledging the need for a shower to take even better care of his cuts.

“Yes, it’s better to take a shower. It will relieve some of the pain and fatigue,” he says as he rises carefully, leaning on the wall once more to avoid carrying weight on his injuries. Peter approaches the shower, preparing to take off his clothes and step in.

✁…After the shower

"Okay, let's take care of it, okay? Maybe it hurts a little... but it's nothing you haven't already felt" you say trying to give a slight smile trying to make you as relaxed as possible "It's okay.." he says between sighs, you then begin to carefully examine the damage, cleaning the blood and applying dressings.

Peter observes you take care of your wounds. With each soft and careful touch on the injuries, a sigh of pain escapes from his lips, but he tries to stay calm. "Thank you..." he murmurs with a hoarse voice, trying to control himself so as not to complain about the pain of the wounds. "I...I really don't know what I would do without you." Peter says with a slight corner smile.

"Nah, you don't need to thank me, I like to be your personal nurse" You speak with a slight smile changing your attention to look at him who also lets out a slight laugh in the form of a tired sigh.

After a few minutes Peter leans against the wall and relaxes a little, knowing that he is in the capable hands of his partner, and takes a deep breath before closing his eyes. "I'm already finishing here, you're going to sleep here, right?"

"I..I didn't bring sleepwear..don't worry I can get home well" you turn your attention to him again "I have your clothes that you left here, they're clean, you're not going anywhere, you need a proper rest, and I'm not going to discuss this with you."

Peter knew you were right, he had no way to go around jumping through buildings, at least not now "Well, if you insist...", he answers with a sigh. "Great! I'm done here too, I'll get clean and comfortable clothes for you, I'll be right back, okay?" You say taking one last look at Peter before leaving the bathroom and going to closet to get a pair of clothes.

"Okay, here it is" You say entering the bathroom again with the clothes "Do you want to help get dressed?" You ask Peter, who kindly signals yes with his head "okay, come here". So you help your boyfriend get dressed and help him walk to the room, laying him on the bed carefully so as not to touch any injury.

"Is everything okay?" You say joining him lying next to him "Yes yes, I just...I keep thinking about how much you do for me...thank you for..all this" Peter says pointing to his own body already patched "I love you very much you know that, right? I don't know what would be without you" Peter says turning to look at you "Nah, don't thank me for that, I love you too much to find anything that does minimally bad" you say with a slight laugh

Peter who also laughs, says "You know, you're the best boyfriend anyone could ask for" Peter speaks with an attempt to stretch to you to give a light kiss, you understand the message and quickly seal your lips with his resulting in a calm and comfortable kiss. So you end the night, hugged, snuggled up to each other, just enjoying the heat that radiated between both bodies.

Observation: Okay, that's not cool, I really didn't like this story, this wasn't reviewed so I'm sorry for any mistakes you have ❤️‍🩹

Dividers by @cafekitsune