content tags: suggestiveness, a lil frivolous make out
word count: 1.3k
flufftober drabbles (requests are closed!)
you love spider-man’s suit. even before you found out your boyfriend—and then best friend’s—secret identity, you certainly had… a lot of feelings about the masked vigilante. granted, most of these feelings were similar in nature; caught between wanting to run your fingers over the hero’s abs, visible even through his suit, to taking a comfortable seat on his spandex-covered thighs.
when you and peter finally made the switch from best friends to boyfriend and girlfriend early in your sophomore year of university, you discovered your wall-scaling celebrity crush and the shy klutz who eats fistfuls of cereal half-naked in your bed were the same. not on purpose, of course—peter wouldn’t be peter if he weren’t terrible at secret-keeping.
you’d had your suspicions that he’s hiding something major from you way before you started dating. even back in high school, peter was more squirrelly than usual when you asked him about his stark internship or tried to make weekend plans with him abruptly or even dropped by his apartment unannounced and asked him the next day where the hell he was at nine pm on a wednesday. he would always get so stressed and panicked that you’d feel bad for him, and you spent much of your friendship pretending like you didn’t notice his unexplained bruises and weird reflexes.
however, you got your undeniable proof almost three months into being peter parker’s girlfriend.
it’s nearing midnight on a monday and you’re in bed, joe goldberg stalking yet another girlfriend playing on your laptop mindlessly as you attempt to finish reading for one of your classes and wait for peter to get home. your third cup of coffee sits half-drunk on your nightstand next to a small lamp, the only source of light in your bedroom, and you reach for it blindly when something crashes outside your window.
eyebrows furrowed, you hesitantly get up, wondering what the hell could’ve hit your building’s third floor when a figure appears. it’s badly lit, standing at an angle on your fire escape that causes you to squint at it, but you can’t make it out until you’re pushing the window up. the figure jumps up in surprise at the noise, and you’re met with spider-man, crouching on the railing of the fire escape, mask pulled up to his nose and clutching his side in pain.
you gape, mouth open like a cartoon fish, spider-man’s white eyes staring back at you as his own jaw drops.
“peter?” you gasp, your index shakily pointing at him.
spider-man’s neck almost flies off as he looks behind him, his own finger pressed to his chest, before he turns back towards you. “what—no. no, it’s not me—it’s not peter. who’s... i’m spider-man.”
“peter benjamin parker,” you snap, grabbing his wrist and pulling him into the room. he stumbles inside, trying to pull his mask down as you close the window and pull the blinds down. “you son of a bitch.”
“hey!” he yelps, pulling the face covering off and pouting, arms crossed over his chest like a petulant child. “my parents are dead.”
stepping forward, you delight inwards in the way he trips on his own feet while trying to get away from you. your boyfriend—spider-man, your boyfriend—is sandwiched between you and the dresser, his cheeks a bright red that matches his outfit. “don’t play the orphan card right now, parker.” you bite, watching his pout deepen and gaze fixate on the floor. sighing, you push his sweaty hair off his forehead, before you ask softly, “are you hurt?”
confused at the sudden and drastic switch in your tone, peter doesn’t respond at first. “um,” he stutters, leaning into your touch, “got punched kind of hard in the ribs. with a car.” when you choke on your own inhale, he intertwines your fingers to try and soothe you. “it’s okay! i heal super quick, i won’t feel anything in like three hours. promise, baby.”
your eyes stay locked on your hands, the blue and red material of his suit contrasting against your skin, and he takes your silence as a opportunity to swing your hands a bit. it makes you crack a smile, and you walk backwards to the bed, peter’s eyes lighting up as you both fall onto the mattress.
careful not to hurt him further, you make sure peter’s comfortable propped up on a few pillows and the headboard, while you sit crisscross opposite him. one hand loses itself in his curls and he presses your other against his heart, your thumb rubbing the suit with wonder.
“you’re not freaking out anymore?” he whispers, squeezing your hand.
“not externally, no.” you respond, eyes too busy trailing over his figure. “i’m a little preoccupied at the moment.”
the air is no longer tense with confrontation, the strain having melted as peter’s forehead crinkles with confusion at your statement. “what do you mean?”
“i mean,” you start, throwing your leg over peter’s so you’re seated on his lap, his arms automatically circling your waist, “i’m a bit too busy thinking about how fucking hot you look in the suit and how this entire time, i’ve been secretly thirsting over my boyfriend.”
if you thought his face was red before, it’s nothing compared to the violent blush that spreads across his cheeks and ears after your mini confession. giggles threaten to escape you as you feel peter’s palms shake on your hips, his tongue relentlessly licking his thin lips and biting them as though that would make the wheels in his head stop turning rapidly.
“thirs—thirsting over me? like, over spider-man?” he blubbers out, honeyed eyes wide at the sight of your grin.
the heat coming off his cheeks is high as you cup them, thumb sliding across his freckles while you coo, “come on, i know you’re not oblivious to how well it fits you, petey.” to enforce your point, you run your hand down his bicep, the muscle, defined under the suit, flexing under your caress. “you’re always so handsome, but this… you’re so sexy.”
the words have barely left your lips before peter’s mouth covers your own, making you moan with surprise and amusement as he kisses you like he never has before. sure, you and peter have shared many kisses and been together many times, but never has this much passion and enthusiasm radiated off your boyfriend. his gloved hands squeeze your hips before one moves down, tracing the curve of your ass, and the other slips under your pyjama shirt. there’s no uncertainty in his actions, not this time.
peter’s tongue slips between your lips, groaning deep in his throat when you pull on his hair, tugging on the curls at the nape of his neck. before his hand can move any further up your chest, thumb tracing the wire of your bra, he winces, the sound loud enough to catch your attention. you pull away, heart clenching as peter’s forehead scrunches and he follows your lips, his own pouty.
“are you okay?” you ask him, voice hushed despite the apartment being completely empty except for you two.
“yeah,” peter responds, cupping your face, “just my side cramping, it’s fine. come here, sweetheart.”
chuckling, you shake your head, gently pushing his hands off you. pressing a soft peck to the tip of his nose, you get off the bed. “come on, let’s get you washed up and into your jammies, spider-man.”
“no,” he whines, flopping back into the pillows like a toddler. “give me my kisses, y/n.”
you sigh, looking at him over your shoulder as you pull out his star wars-themed pyjama bottoms. “you’re really making me regret this crush, spidey.”
this is sooo peter like he’s just thoughtful like that
"okay, so here's a math one. the department of transportation of a city has concluded that the mean number of accidents per day is ten. the mean number of accidents is an example of what?" you asked peter as you read the sample question off your phone. you two had agreed to start studying together since ned was so busy with betty all the time and mj had taken to the new osborn kid very well.
"a statistical inference," peter answered your query. he watched as you scrolled down to see the answer and he was in fact correct.
"yep, that's right. okay, my turn." he nodded while walking around a pole near the road and found a question for you.
"which parts of the eye are easily seen by other people?"
"the cornea, pupil, iris, and scler-" before you could finish your last word, peter had grabbed your arm and pushed you ahead of him as he ran right behind you to get away. from what? you didn't know just yet. you just knew something was wrong when you heard the sound of car tires screeching and you were scared.
"y/n? are you okay?" you hadn't realized your eyes were closed until peter's voice entered your ears. you were just blindly letting the boy escort you elsewhere, but now you could see his frantic and worried eyes dancing all over your face.
"i, um, yeah," you spoke barely above a whisper as your eyes flitted back to where you and peter were just walking for a split second to see a car that had wrecked into the wall right beside the pole you and peter were just next to. if he hadn't seen it coming, you both would be sidewalk pancakes right now. "you good?"
"yeah," he reassured you, his hands coming to rub up and down your arms. "i'm glad i was standing between you and the road."
"should we call 911 or check on them?" you asked before trying to turn your head to look at them, but peter's hand on your cheek brought your line of sight back to him.
"there's already people all over that. i'm just worried about you." your heart warmed at his thoughtfulness while you nodded at him.
"i'm just a little shaken, but i'll be fine. thank you, peter." your arms circled around his neck and held him close, his presence around you bringing you more comfort than anything in this world. when you pulled away from him, his cheeks were reddened and the corners of his lips were twitching upwards.
"let's get you home, okay?"
"yeah, but will you stay with me until my brother gets home? we can keep studying or just chill out," you offered, watching him nod.
This is actually really hard because I love pretty much all slasher killers for different reasons. It’s why my name is slasherghoul on all my other accounts 😂
Ghostface is number 1 though. Chucky is probably second because he’s funny af and I love all the backstory we’ve gotten for him. I think Michael and Freddy are tied for third.
ok let me send a few of mine: yahya abdul mateen ii, john boyega & manny jacinto
cillian murphy. an easy white one😭
no because all of these men are so good looking you’re really making this hard for me. yahya said he was never a big fan of movies but one movie he had on repeat was tropic thunder so like…whatever that fucking means. john is 5’9. and manny jacinto played stupid a little too well.
also cillian looks like he would have died of consumption in the late 19th century
send me a man you like and i’ll roast him for free
