lobster - peter p.
a/n: happy 4th! I’m heading on vacation on the 6th and won’t be back till the 20th so anything posted between now and then is all queued :)
pairings: peter p. x reader
prompt: “hurry up, before we regret it.”
summary: both you and peter suffer the consequences that came from not wearing sun screen during your day in the sun
warnings: slight smut
word count: around 1,000
Your sun burnt body lay cradled between his legs, his fingers lazily making their way through your hair.
“Today was really nice,” Peter muttered, his own fatigue causing his words to slur.
You hummed softly in response, “Yeah. You need to warn a girl next time, though.”
He nods slightly, your words barely registering in his half asleep brain, “Yeah, yeah. I will. About what, though?”
“That you can’t make sandwiches for shit.”
Suddenly wide awake, Peter shot up at your comment, “What?”
At the sudden movement against your agitated skin, you let out a yelp, “Peter! Ow!”
Adjusting the two of you so you were sat on his lap, he gave you an incredulous look, “Sorry, but did you just insult my sandwich making abilities?”
Shrugging slightly, you nodded, “I spoke the truth, Parker. Those sandwiches were horrible. I’ve basically starved all day.”
Watching as his mouth helplessly opened and closed in search of a reply, you couldn’t help but think of how he resembled a fish in this moment.
“Pete, come on. Don’t be extra about this. Some people can make sandwiches, others can’t. You, unfortunately, fall under the category of those who can’t.”
With a huff, he shook off your remark, “No. I don’t believe you. No one can be bad at making a sandwich…!”
As you took in his serious expression, you couldn’t help the chuckle that slipped out as you spoke, “And before I met you, I didn’t think anyone could climb walls either… yet here we are.”
Pouting slightly, he took in your features, “Seriously?”
“Seriously,” You nodded. “But, at least you’re good at other things.”
“I guess so.”
“No, come on! You totally are. You’re good at math, and being spidey, and making science puns. Not to mention, how exceptionally good you are at being my boyfriend.”
Rolling his eyes slightly, the amused brunette raised a brow at you, “Exceptionally good, huh?”
Grinning, you nodded as you leaned your body forward, “Mhm. Makes the whole sandwich problem rather insignificant.”
Closing the space between the two of you, you touched your lips to Peter’s, your kiss beginning slow and innocent before picking up its speed. And in doing so, turning up the heat. As Peter’s hand began roaming your sides, a concerning thought popped into his mind.
“Wait, wait, wait. Isn’t this going to hurt? We’re both burnt.”
Considering his words for a moment, you managed only a shrug in pair with your words, “Just hurry up, before we regret it.”
Peter’s hands were at the hem of your shirt and it was off as soon as the words exited your mouth.
He wriggled himself out of his as you got to work on your short’s button, but the second peter got unstuck his lips were on your neck and your hands found their way to the sides of his face. Unfortunately, it didn’t give you the best angle to admire his built stomach.
His jawline felt strong under your fingers, and you traced his chin gently, with a soft pressure. His hands and mouth trailed lower, one finding its way to your lower back and the other to your stomach, respectively. His soft, wet kisses tickled, and he worked on the button to the stubborn jeans. With his hands making quick work, he eventually got the three of them undone, and the high waisted shorts were pulled off.
Unfortunately, that left burning scrapes across the parts of your body that had been exposed to the sun, and you cried out in pain.
“Oh my god! Look at those tan lines!” Peter cracked out, a smile on his face at the contrast between skin tones.
“Ugh,” you muttered, cursing yourself for your lack of sunscreen. You grabbed Peter’s sunburn shoulder. He exclaimed and pulled away.
“Hey! Ow! W—“
“Yeah, that’s how it feels, Parker! It hurts!”
Peter pouted, and muttered an apology to you, before he stood up, you falling into his arms, his strong hands supporting you until he plopped you down where he once sat.
Almost obscenely, he dropped to his knees.
“I’m sorry,” he said once more, before getting to work with his mouth, soft kisses littering your burnt thighs.
“You’re so beautiful,” was muttered under his breath, but you heard him and allowed him to get to work. But when Peter’s hands rested on your thighs you cried out once more, your skin begging for some aloe vera.
“Peter, I’m sorry, I can’t even do this right now, I’m about to jump out of my skin.”
You stated, apologetically.
“You were right. I am SO burnt, it’s pathetic,” you added, pulling your pants up from your ankles at a painfully slow pace.
Nodding slowly, he sat down besides you, flashing a small smile your way, “It’s okay. Did you, you know, just want to watch Friends instead?”
Thanking whatever god lay above for the boy besides you, you grinned in response, “I love you.”
Chuckling softly, he gingerly placed his arm around your shoulders, pulling you to him, “I’m taking that as a yes.”
Three episodes later your head lay in Peter’s lap, your feet were kicked off the end of the couch, and the ‘The One With The Prom Video’ episode was playing on the tv.
The first to speak in over an hour, Peter startled you from your silence as he looked down at you with a smile. “Hey. You’re my lobster...both literally and figuratively.”
Even as you playfully whacked him with a pillow for mocking your redness, your heart swelled for the boy.
In a ocean full of them, you sure did pick the right fish. Or, you know, lobster.