synopsis: peter likes having you close to him. all the time
wc: 630 ish
a/n: surprise! another one oops. im rlly bored can u tell? cuddling prompt with peter. reader is a cheeky and annoying lil shit. one office reference. i saw a tiktok about this a long time ago and thought this would be a cute idea to write about. also does anyone know how cuddling works tho?? if ur laying on ur side, do u just lay on top of the arm ur crushing on? under a pillow? idk lol. anyways i hope u like :D
there's an ache settling in your right side that wakes you up from your sweet slumber. your head lays atop peter’s soft chest, his steady heartbeat against your ears. it was what lulled you to sleep in the first place. but with peter’s body practically being your own personal heater, the warm air filling the room, and the prominent soreness resting on your side, you began to feel uncomfortable.
“pete,” you whisper.
peter is entirely unfazed. his hold on you is strong. his face is towards you, mouth slightly ajar, letting out the softest of snores and drool out the corner of his mouth. although you love your cuddles with peter, you think he could actually suffocate you in your sleep. the boy loved to sleep, especially on top of you.
your limbs are tangled together. your left leg slung around his waist, arms around his torso, while his buff arms embrace your shoulders protectively.
ever so slightly, you begin to move your leg, retreating it back to your side as you push against his body and establish a more comfortable position. you snuggle further into peter as sleep wins you over once again.
it only lasts for a second when you wake from your boyfriend’s murmurs, he seems to talk in his sleep when he whispers your name. he huffs loudly and smacks his lips a couple of times with his brows furrowed. you feel his warm hand reach for the back of your knee to bring it over his crotch.
a confused look paints your face as you gaze up toward him. he’s asleep as dead. did he really just do that? you almost laugh out loud. his quirky behavior never fails to amuse you and has your stomach going in flips. he just wants you close to him. :(
but you think you’re funny, so you test out that theory one more time, this time blatantly stripping your leg away from him.
this gets a reaction out of peter. he seems to wake when he gusts an impatient breath, “no” and grabs your knee again, forcefully holding it against him.
in disbelief, you’re unable to contain your burst of laughter as you hold yourself up with one arm and stare at him wide-eyed, “what is wrong with you?”
“ph’shhh” peter knits his brows together, his eyes shut tight with a cute pout, as he blindly brings a hand to your face and gently shoves your head back against your pillow.
“peter-” “shut up.” he feels you lick the palm of his hand, “yuck,” but he doesn’t care to move it away from you. it’s only when you swat his hand away and settle back down against him to give him peace of mind. only for a moment, though. you have fun annoying peter, almost like a hobby. he’s halfway asleep when he feels you aggressively snatch your leg away from his hold.
“y/n!” peter groans, “stop it.” this time, your boyfriend pushes you on top of him, your entire body weight lays over his while he keeps a tight grasp on you, making sure to keep your leg over his waist and your head upon his chest.
his irritation riles you up, and you’re giggling through it all.
peter’s not having it though, not at all. he heaves another deep breath through his mouth, with the same grumpy look on his face, “why are you the way you are?”
you gasp, “me?!” “yes, you.”
not done yet, you flick his forehead, “you know, you’re so annoying sometimes, pete.”
he scoffs, “oh yea?”
“yea. a total pain in the-”
peter shoves his hand against your face and into his chest one last time, “ass.”
you decided you’ve had your fun but you’re too delighted to go back to sleep. too delighted to know that the boy you love and cherish always wants to be impossibly close to you all the time, conscious or not.
☯ SYNOPSIS : When Peter's girlfriend pays him a little visit in Midtown High School and meets his long time bully, Flash Thompson.
☯ WARNINGS : Au, stark!reader, Peter is barely present in the fic, cursing.
☯ NOTE FROM LOTUS : Hey guys. I have been having such a bad writer's block that I couldn't write anything for past few weeks. I'm writing this to, hopefully, get over my writer's block.
𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 || 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐋 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓
The red Saleen S7 car, parked outside of Midtown High School, gaining curious glances from the students and passersby. You wait, sitting on the driver's seat, with your phone in your hand. The past week you were out of the country with your father so you had not seen him for the past seven days and barely got to talk to him.
So when you came back today, you wanted to give him a surprise visit. You came here, all confident, but now you were doubting your choices. Maybe you should just wait till school ends?
Fuck it. You are Y/N Stark, girl. Since when do you get nervous?
You checked yourself last time in the back mirror. Perfect as always. You throw yourself a flying kiss and put on your favourite pair of glasses. The car door opens with a click and you get down. It was not long before you were walking down the halls of Midtown High, making everyone stop what they were doing and gawk at you.
You chuckle in your mind. Of course you loved being the centre of attention. You were Tony Stark's daughter after all. Now there's one problem. You don't know exactly where Peter is. You look around the hall before your eyes fall on a boy, sitting with two girl on each side.
Without any second thoughts, you walk up to him, "Hey, do you know where Peter Parker is?"
Flash tore his eyes from the beautiful girls in his arm to the legs standing in front of him. He raised his eyes to your face. His gaze so disgusting that made you want to throw up.
"Talking to me, angel?" Flash stood up, abandoning the girls.
You roll your eyes at his pathetic attempt of flirting. At least he got the angel part right.
"I asked if you know where Peter Parker is." You deadpan.
"Peter Parker? Oh! You mean penis Parker. What do you need with him? I'm sure I can help you way more than he can." Flash wiggled his eyebrows at you, giving you a suggestive look.
You just stared at him, completely unimpressed and now angered. This pathetic flirt has the audacity to call your baby penis— wait a damn minute. Penis Parker? Something clicked in your mind.
"Are you Flash Thompson?" You ask before you could stop yourself.
Surprise flashed on his face before a smug smirk appeared on his face.
"Wow! I know that I'm famous but not much. Damn!" He said, running a hand through his hair.
You giggle at his ignorance as you take off your glasses. Folding it and keeping it safely in your hand bag, you step towards him, closing the distance between you two.
"Listen here you little shit." The smirk on his fell at your words, "If I ever hear from Peter that even got anywhere near him, I'll kidnap you, shave off your head, leave you on a deserted island and post your disgusting nudes all over the internet."
"Wh—"
"Shut up and listen." Flash gulped with fear, his face covered in sweat. The menacing aura around you looked scarier than the monster under his bed.
You say while jabbing on his forehead with your pointer finger, "Don't think of him, don't look at him, don't walk on his direction, don't breathe on his direction. Don't go anywhere around my boyfriend. Got it, you failed experiment of a chimpanzee?"
"Y-yes, I....um, I-I..... I under-understand." He nodded his head vigorously. Anything to get away from you.
"Good." You back away, giving him space to finally breathe in relief. Fuck! He didn't know Peter's girlfriend was this scary.
"Y/N?" The familiar voice of your boyfriend called from behind and your demeanour changed like lizards change colours.
"Hey, Pete." You walk up, giving him a quick kiss, "let's go, you are skipping class today. I missed you."
You linked your arm with him and started dragging him out of the school. Peter complied with you because he did miss you a lot too and skipping one day was not going to do any harm on him.
"I missed you a lot." Peter smiled down at you.
You left the school, leaving behind a embarrassed Flash. After you two left did Flash realised the crowd of students circling around him in the hallway. And they were chuckling while looking down at his pants?
Flash looked, "FUCK!"
His blue jeans were now dark blue, water spread on the floor around him. He had peed in his pants. His face turned red with anger and embarrassment. He should not have fucked with Peter.
Hiii sweetiee! Since your starting again so i think your request box Isn't pretty full,right? Idk but! I have a request on my mind It's so nonsense! But..what about something like Tom holland x female reader, tom and reader..visit to tom's parents home,london probably,and they Rudely behaves with her when tom Isn't around but when he returns they turn sweet all,however reader tries to tell it to tom but he loves his parents so much that they argue about it UNTIL! They start to brainwash tom about reader and then like yes tom gets brainwashed and rudely behaves with her too? Then after some they argue alot at the end they open up and all becomes kind and sweet Ahahahhaha
That's so messy im sorry if u feel uncomfortable writing thiss Augh😭😭😭
Rain on the Welcome Mat
Pairing: Tom Holland x reader
Genre: angst
The suitcase groaned shut as you pressed your weight against it, zipper straining like it knew the journey ahead wouldn’t be easy.
“You’re packing like we’re moving in with them permanently,” Tom teased from behind you, amusement in his voice as he leaned against the bedroom doorframe, arms folded and eyes crinkled in a warm smile.
You glanced over your shoulder, half-laughing. “I don’t know what to bring, okay? I want to make a good impression.”
“You could wear a trash bag and they’d still like you,” he said, pushing off the frame to walk over and gently tug you up from the suitcase.
Your hands found his chest automatically, steadying yourself. “I don’t know about that.”
“Hey,” Tom murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You’re gonna be fine, love. They’ll adore you.”
You wanted to believe him. You really did.
But that nervous flutter in your stomach didn’t feel like butterflies—it felt like bees. Sharp, fast, impossible to ignore.
You stepped back and started checking your bag again. “It’s just… I know how close you are to them. I don’t want to mess this up.”
“You won’t,” he said firmly, zipping the suitcase for you. “Mum’s a bit traditional, yeah, but she’s sweet. Dad’s just… blunt. But you’ll charm the hell out of them.”
You tried to smile, tried to match the easy confidence in his voice, but the words kept echoing in your mind.
Traditional. Blunt.
You knew what those words could mean.
And no matter how soft Tom’s voice was, or how lovingly he kissed your temple before hoisting your bag, the doubt lingered like fog.
***
The car ride from the airport to his parents’ house was quiet, the kind of quiet that isn’t uncomfortable, just reflective. You watched the city blur past your window, lights flickering through fog, the buildings growing older, grander, as you moved deeper into West London.
Tom reached over, threading his fingers through yours without looking. His thumb brushed softly against your hand like he could feel the nerves humming in your bloodstream.
“You okay?” he asked.
You smiled faintly. “Yeah. Just… trying not to overthink everything.”
He smirked. “Good luck with that.”
When the car finally pulled up in front of a pristine white townhouse, you felt your breath catch. It looked like something out of a magazine—ivy climbing the stone, black-painted windows, a brass knocker shaped like a lion’s head.
“Wow,” you whispered. “This is where you grew up?”
Tom shrugged, stepping out and grabbing your bag from the trunk. “Sort of. We moved around a bit, but this one stuck.”
He didn’t give you much time to soak it in—his hand found yours again as he led you up the steps, heart-pounding and hopeful. Before you could even knock, the door swung open.
His mother stood there in a tailored cream blouse and pearl earrings, her smile precise but warm.
“Darling,” she said, arms out. “Look at you.”
Tom leaned in for a hug, and she kissed both his cheeks like clockwork. “Mum, this is—”
“Y/N,” she said, turning to you with a practiced grace. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
You stepped forward, extending a hand—but she leaned in to kiss your cheek, a faint scent of rose and powder trailing with her.
“Lovely to finally meet you,” she said, almost too smoothly.
“And this must be her,” a deeper voice chimed in from the hallway. His father appeared, tall and severe-looking but not unfriendly, nodding once in greeting.
Tom moved to embrace him briefly. “Dad.”
“Good flight?” he asked you. His tone was clipped but not cold.
“Yeah, it was smooth. Thank you for having me.”
“Of course,” he said. “It’s nice to finally put a face to the name.”
They led you into a sunlit sitting room with heavy curtains and polished furniture. Everything looked untouched—like it had been cleaned three times before your arrival. A tea tray waited, silver and porcelain gleaming under the chandelier.
Tom’s mum gestured for you to sit. “We made sure to tidy up your old room Tom. I hope it’s alright.”
“More than alright,” you said politely, folding your hands in your lap.
She smiled at you with a sharp glint in her eyes—kind, but assessing. Like a jeweler inspecting a gem.
And for the next hour, everything was pleasant. They asked about your studies, your family, your hobbies. You even made them laugh once or twice.
It was almost easy.
But still, you noticed it: the way his mother’s gaze lingered just a beat too long when you spoke. How his father corrected you on a detail you were sure you hadn’t gotten wrong. Nothing rude. Nothing cruel.
Just enough to make you question yourself.
Just enough to make you think: Did I imagine that?
Tom didn’t seem to notice. He looked at you like this was going perfectly.
And maybe it was.
For now.
***
“This is it,” Tom said, nudging open the door with his shoulder. “My glorious teenage kingdom.”
You stepped inside, eyebrows rising immediately.
The room was small but cozy, dim with soft afternoon light slipping through half-closed blinds. The walls were still plastered with old movie posters—Star Wars, The Dark Knight, a faded football calendar with handwritten scores on it. A shelf sagged under the weight of paperbacks and action figures. The bedding was plain, but everything smelled like laundry detergent and dust and something vaguely familiar—like boy.
You turned slowly, taking it all in.
“Wow,” you said finally. “So this is where you brooded over your tortured artist phase.”
Tom rolled his eyes. “You say that like it’s over.”
You laughed and walked over to his bookshelf, picking up a tiny plastic figurine of Spider-Man. “Did you seriously keep this?”
“Put that down,” he warned, already moving toward you.
You grinned and held it up dramatically. “This is… so cute. Little Tommy dreaming of being a superhero.”
He lunged before you could dodge him, tackling you backwards onto the bed with a bounce. You landed with a squeak, the figurine flying harmlessly onto the blanket beside you.
“You’re lucky I like you,” he said, pinning you gently beneath him, his nose brushing yours.
You squirmed, laughing. “You’re gonna crush me!”
“I could think of worse ways to go.”
You rolled your eyes, but your smile softened as he leaned in and kissed you. Slow at first—sweet, familiar—but it didn’t stay that way. His hands found your waist, your thighs, his mouth moving with more intent now, like he was trying to memorize you all over again. The bed creaked beneath you, old springs betraying every little shift.
His kiss trailed toward your jaw, heat rising quickly between you.
And then—you stopped him.
“Wait,” you breathed, hands pressing gently to his chest.
Tom paused, searching your face.
“I should go help your mum,” you said, sitting up. Your hair was tousled, your lips pink and swollen, but your tone was sincere. “She’s cooking dinner—I want to make a good impression.”
He gave a quiet, reluctant groan and fell back onto the bed dramatically. “You already have. Just by not running away from that snow globe collection.”
You grinned and leaned down to kiss him quickly. “This room is a treasure trove of blackmail.”
“I’m regretting ever bringing you here.”
“You’ll survive,” you said with a wink, smoothing your hair in the mirror. “Besides, I’m sure she’ll appreciate the help.”
As you stepped toward the door, he called after you lazily, “Tell her I said to let you do the boring stuff.”
You laughed and headed downstairs, your heart fluttering—not from the kiss, but from the pressure building beneath your ribs. You were here, in his home, surrounded by everything that made him him.
***
The kitchen was bright and spotless—so clean it barely looked lived-in. Marble countertops gleamed under the soft gold light of the chandelier, and the smell of rosemary and garlic wafted thick through the air.
Tom’s mum stood at the island counter, sleeves rolled up, a knife in hand as she precisely sliced carrots into perfect coins. Her movements were meticulous, like cooking was more about discipline than pleasure.
You hovered at the doorway for a second before stepping in.
“Hi,” you said softly. “Do you need any help?”
She looked up, briefly surprised, then offered a pleasant smile. “Oh. You don’t have to, dear. You’re a guest.”
“I’d really like to,” you said, stepping forward. “It smells amazing in here.”
“Well,” she said after a beat, gesturing toward a small pile of potatoes, “you can peel those, if you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.” You rolled up your sleeves and reached for the peeler, trying to hide the nerves tightening in your chest. “It’s the least I can do.”
For a few minutes, there was only the quiet rhythm of peeling and chopping. You focused on getting even strips, checking to see if your pace matched hers. You weren’t trying to show off—just not fall behind.
She glanced over. “You’ve done this before, I take it?”
You smiled. “My mom taught me young. She’d make me peel them all during the holidays. It was kind of our unofficial bonding time.”
“That’s nice,” she said, though her tone was unreadable.
You offered a small laugh. “We’d always argue about how much salt to use.”
That made her pause. “You use a lot of salt when you cook?”
“Not too much,” you said carefully. “But I like seasoning. I think it brings things alive.”
She gave a light, polite chuckle. “Well, Tom’s never been one for heavy flavors. His stomach’s quite sensitive.”
“Oh,” you said, adjusting your grip on the potato. “Good to know.”
She didn’t look at you, just dropped the carrots into a ceramic baking dish and dusted them lightly with herbs. “Some people think cooking is about throwing everything in. More is more. But really… restraint is what shows skill.”
It wasn’t a direct jab. But it landed anyway.
You smiled again—tight this time—and nodded. “That makes sense.”
She reached for the olive oil, drizzling it in a perfectly even line. “So, what did you say you’re studying?”
“Media and communications.”
Another pause.
She gave a thoughtful hum, like she wasn’t sure if that was a real degree or not. “Interesting.”
You kept peeling.
“I suppose it’s the kind of field where you can… find yourself over time,” she added. “Lots of flexibility.”
“I like it,” you said simply.
“I’m sure you do.”
Again—polite. Not cruel. But you felt like you were shrinking under her smile. Like she was seeing something in you she already didn’t approve of, but wouldn’t say aloud.
You didn’t know what else to say, so you asked the safest thing you could.
“Do you want me to slice these now?”
“Yes,” she said. “But thinner. And make sure they’re even. Otherwise they won’t cook properly.”
You nodded, swallowing the quiet ache in your throat.
Upstairs, you could almost imagine Tom tossing a pillow across the bed, humming some song under his breath, blissfully unaware.
And here you were—trying to impress a woman who already seemed to think you were a bit too much.
Too bold. Too eager. Too loud in a kitchen where restraint was king.
Still, you kept slicing. Quiet. Careful.
Because maybe, just maybe, you’d still win her over.
You were just finishing the last potato, carefully laying the slices into a baking dish, when footsteps padded down the stairs.
A moment later, Tom appeared in the doorway, shirt slightly rumpled, curls still tousled from flopping around on the bed. His smile lit up the room.
“There you are,” he said, crossing the kitchen in three easy steps. “You abandoned me.”
“I told you I was coming to help,” you said with a smirk, brushing your hands on a towel.
He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your cheek—light, sweet, familiar.
And then you felt it.
The room shifted.
Tom’s mum, who had spent the last ten minutes correcting your cuts and questioning your seasoning habits, suddenly brightened like someone had flicked a switch. Her tone lifted, her expression softened.
“Oh, there you are, darling,” she said warmly. “You didn’t tell me she was such a natural in the kitchen.”
Your eyes flicked to her, startled. That… was not what she’d said a minute ago.
Tom grinned. “Yeah, she’s great, isn’t she?”
“The best help I’ve had in ages,” she said lightly, reaching for the oven mitts. “You really did find a good one.”
Your stomach twisted, and you tried to hide the flicker of confusion behind your smile.
Tom didn’t notice. He was too busy sneaking a slice of raw carrot from the dish before his mother gently swatted his hand away with mock sternness.
“Out,” she said playfully. “Dinner’s not ready yet. Go set the table if you want to be useful.”
He gave you a wink. “Come find me if she starts bullying you.”
You laughed, but it felt a little hollow now.
Because once he left the room again, the warmth dropped. Like someone had turned the dial back down.
And as you reached for the salt to season the potatoes, she quietly said, without looking at you:
“Don’t overdo it.”
***
The dining room was warm, the table dressed in linen and lit by a modest chandelier overhead. Candles flickered between dishes of roasted chicken, vegetables, and a gravy boat passed carefully from hand to hand.
Everything smelled incredible.
You sat beside Tom, his knee brushing yours under the table, and across from his parents, who now wore expressions so warm and polished it was almost disarming.
His father carved the chicken with precision. “You two didn’t get too lost in that museum of a bedroom, I hope.”
Tom snorted. “Oh, she got the full tour. Childhood shame and all.”
You laughed, though your fingers fidgeted with the edge of your napkin.
“It’s a sweet room,” you said. “Very…authentic.”
“Authentic,” his mother repeated with a slight smile. “That’s a generous word for posters falling off the walls.”
Tom’s dad poured a splash of wine into your glass. “So, media and communications, yeah?”
You nodded, grateful for a safe topic. “That’s right. I’m focusing on digital storytelling. Video, editorial, campaign work…”
“A lot of Instagram and TikTok then?” his dad teased, and the table chuckled. You smiled, even though the joke landed flat in your chest.
Tom grinned and leaned toward you. “She’s brilliant at it. She’s already got internships lined up, and her professors love her.”
You could’ve kissed him right there. But then you noticed the flicker of something—something faint and fleeting—in his mother’s eyes. Not annoyance. Not quite. More like calculation.
“Well, the world needs creatives,” she said pleasantly, sipping her wine. “Even if the path isn’t… conventional.”
You opened your mouth to reply, but Tom was already stealing a piece of bread from your plate and nudging you playfully. “See? I told you they’d love you.”
His words made your heart flutter—and twist at the same time.
Because on the surface, yes, everything was perfect. Pleasant conversation, good food, soft lighting, even a little laughter. But under the tablecloth, so to speak, something else was there. Quiet and deliberate.
Every now and then, his mother would glance at your plate when you took seconds, or comment gently on how “nice it is to have someone so expressive at the table.” She never outright insulted you. But everything she said seemed to carry a second meaning—something you couldn’t call out without sounding paranoid.
And every time you tried to meet her eyes, she smiled a little too easily.
By dessert, your face hurt from smiling, and your stomach—though full—felt hollow.
When the meal ended and Tom stood to help clear the plates, he leaned down and murmured in your ear, “Told you they’d go easy on you.”
You looked up at him, trying to match his warmth, trying not to show the small seed of doubt blooming in your chest.
“Yeah,” you said softly. “They’re…great.”
But the lie tasted strange in your mouth.
***
The room was dim, the only light coming from the hallway leaking under the door. You and Tom lay side by side in the twin bed that barely fit two grown people — limbs tangled, his hand lazily tracing shapes along your spine.
It should’ve felt cozy. Safe. It almost did.
Until the silence stretched too long.
“You’re quiet,” he murmured, voice muffled against your shoulder.
You hesitated. “Just thinking.”
He nudged you gently, pulling back to see your face. “About what?”
You stared up at the ceiling for a second, then said, carefully, “Your mum was a little… strange at dinner.”
He blinked. “Strange how?”
“I don’t know. Just—little things. The way she talked to me earlier while we were cooking. The way she looked at me when I said certain things. It wasn’t outright rude, but it wasn’t really… warm either.”
Tom propped himself up on one elbow. “Babe, she was totally fine. She was smiling the whole night.”
“Exactly,” you said, sitting up a bit too. “It felt like smiling with teeth. Like she was being nice because you were in the room. Earlier, when it was just us, it was different.”
Tom frowned slightly. “She’s a little blunt sometimes, sure, but she’s not fake.”
You met his eyes. “I’m not saying she’s fake. I’m saying something felt…off. Like she already decided something about me.”
Tom leaned back, sighing. “You’re probably just nervous. I get it — meeting the parents is stressful. But you’re overthinking it.”
Your heart sank a little. “I’m not overthinking it.”
“Okay, but it’s not a big deal, either.” His tone shifted, just enough to sting. “She was polite, she made dinner, she laughed at your jokes. I don’t know what more you want her to do.”
You stared at him, the words hitting deeper than you expected. “I don’t want her to do anything. I just want you to hear me.”
“I am hearing you,” he said, pushing a hand through his hair. “But I also know my mum. If she had something to say, she’d say it. She wouldn’t play some secret mind game.”
You looked down at your hands. “Maybe not with you.”
He went quiet.
You swallowed. “Forget it. Maybe I am reading into it.”
He exhaled, softer this time. “I just… I don’t want this trip to turn into a thing. I wanted it to be good.”
You nodded slowly, biting back the frustration rising in your throat. “Me too.”
He reached for your hand and kissed your knuckles. “It is good. Don’t let her get in your head.”
You smiled for him.
But later that night, long after he fell asleep beside you, you lay wide awake in the dark.
And you couldn’t shake the feeling that something in that house had already started to unravel.
***
The next morning was grey and quiet. Rain tapped gently against the windows, and the house smelled faintly of coffee and lemon-scented wood polish.
Tom had gone out for a run — something about “clearing his head.” You were left alone in the house, padding softly through the hallway, unsure where to go or what to do. You didn’t want to hover around his mum again, and you had no idea how long he’d be gone.
You found his father in the sitting room, reading the paper in a wingback chair. The fireplace crackled low, casting warm shadows across the room.
He looked up as you lingered awkwardly in the doorway.
“Morning,” he said. Not unkind, but not warm either.
“Morning,” you echoed, stepping in a little. “Do you mind if I—?”
He gestured to the chair across from him without looking up. “Go on.”
You sat, folded your hands in your lap. The silence was stiff.
“I like your house,” you said eventually.
He turned a page. “It’s been in the family a long time.”
“It’s beautiful. So well kept.”
“Mhm.”
You swallowed. “Tom says you taught him to garden.”
That got a glance. He raised his eyes just slightly. “Yes. Though I think he was more interested in the worms than the flowers.”
You laughed a little, trying to bridge something. But his expression stayed flat.
“I think it’s sweet,” you offered. “How close you all are.”
He closed the paper and folded it neatly. “We’ve worked hard to build what we have.”
His tone made it sound like a warning, not a statement.
You nodded, slowly. “That’s… clear.”
He didn’t smile. Just stood, walked past you, and said as he left,
“Some things don’t need changing.”
You sat in the quiet afterward, a chill settling in your chest that had nothing to do with the rain outside.
***
Tom came back not long after, cheeks flushed from the run, hair damp, hoodie clinging to his back.
You tried to keep your voice calm as you met him in the bedroom. But it didn’t hold.
“I think your dad doesn’t like me either.”
Tom paused mid-towel-dry. “Jesus. Again with this?”
You flinched.
He tossed the towel aside. “Y/N, what are you trying to do? Seriously?”
You blinked. “I’m not trying to do anything. I’m just trying to be honest with you.”
“You’re trying to turn this into a fucking problem that isn’t there,” he snapped. “Do you want to fight with my parents? Is that it?”
“No!” you said, voice rising with desperation. “I want you to see it! I want you to stop acting like everything’s perfect when I’m clearly not welcome here!”
His eyes flared. “You are welcome. You’re just reading into every damn thing because you’re insecure!”
Your stomach dropped. “That’s not fair.”
“No, what’s not fair is dragging me into this emotional guilt trip because you didn’t get fawned over the second you walked in!”
You stepped back like he’d struck you.
He exhaled sharply, hands on his hips, pacing once before facing you again.
“I love you,” he said, quieter now. “But I need you to stop making this trip about your feelings. It’s not just about you.”
You stared at him, chest burning.
Then you turned and walked out.
***
You didn’t mean to overhear anything.
You were just heading down the stairs, ready to grab your coat and leave the house for a bit — air, distance, anything.
But as you reached the bottom, you heard voices through the cracked door of the study.
Tom’s voice. Quiet. Bitter.
“—don’t know why she’s acting like this. She thinks you hate her.”
Then his dad’s voice. Calm. Icy.
“She’s not a bad girl. Just not… quite what I expected.”
A pause.
“I don’t know if she fits.”
Silence.
You felt the words like a blade between your ribs.
And upstairs, you knew Tom would come looking for you soon.
But in that moment, you didn’t know if you wanted to be found.
***
The air outside was cold and damp, the London drizzle clinging to your skin like a second layer of clothing. You didn’t bother with an umbrella. You didn’t even think to grab your phone until the door had already shut behind you.
It was late morning, maybe close to noon, but the sky was dull, overcast. Grey swallowed the neighborhood — rows of tidy houses, clipped hedges, cobbled sidewalks. Everything felt too clean. Too put together. Too not yours.
You walked. You didn’t have a plan. You just kept moving.
Your cheeks burned from more than the cold. You felt it all rising — the things left unsaid, the polite insults, the way Tom’s voice had cracked with anger. He’d never spoken to you like that before. Not even close.
And now you’d heard it for yourself.
I don’t know if she fits.
You kicked at a wet leaf, jaw clenched, trying not to cry on some stranger’s sidewalk.
All you had wanted was to be liked. To make an effort. To belong.
But instead, you’d twisted yourself into something small — smiled too hard, talked too little, doubted your own instincts — and still, it hadn’t been enough. Worse, it had made things worse.
Tom didn’t see it. Or maybe didn’t want to.
You turned into a narrow street lined with bookstores and cafés, your boots soaking through at the toes, rain dotting your jacket. You ducked under a small overhang and sat down on a bench, arms crossed tight over your chest.
For a long time, you just sat there. Breathing. Stewing. Breaking.
Your phone buzzed in your pocket. You didn’t look.
Then again. Again.
Until finally, you pulled it out.
Tom:
Where are you? Please answer me. I’m sorry.
You stared at the screen.
Your thumb hovered over the keyboard.
But the words wouldn’t come.
It was nearly dark when you returned.
You half-expected to find the door locked. You half-hoped it would be. But when you reached the front step, cold and drenched through, your fingers trembling around the knob—it turned easily.
The hallway was quiet. Too quiet.
Then—
“Y/N?”
You looked up to see Tom at the end of the corridor, breath catching when he saw you.
He was a mess—hair ruffled, socks mismatched, face pale like he hadn’t slept all day. He moved fast.
“You’re here,” he breathed, stopping just a foot in front of you. “Jesus, I thought—”
He didn’t finish. His hands went to your arms, then to your face, gently brushing wet strands of hair back.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, voice cracking. “I didn’t mean it—I didn’t mean any of it.”
Your lip trembled. “I didn’t run away. I just needed air. I needed space to… not hate you.”
He laughed softly, brokenly. “That’s fair. I was an asshole.”
You nodded. “Yeah. You really were.”
He closed his eyes for a second, forehead touching yours. “I heard what my dad said. I— God. I don’t know why I didn’t see it before. I think I didn’t want to see it. Because if I did, I’d have to admit they aren’t perfect.”
You swallowed. “I wasn’t trying to make you choose.”
“I know,” he said quietly. “But I made you feel like you had to.”
You let out a shaky breath, and he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in tight. You didn’t resist. You melted into him like you always did, like it was muscle memory.
“I love you,” he whispered. “Not because you fit. But because you don’t. Because you’re you.”
Your throat tightened, but you nodded against his shoulder.
Then, from the hallway behind him, a soft sound—footsteps. You pulled back slightly.
Tom’s parents stood there.
His mother looked… different. Not cold. Not poised. Just human. Her eyes were glassy. His father stood with hands clasped, like he didn’t know what to do with them.
It was his mother who spoke.
“I think we owe you an apology.”
You blinked.
“We weren’t kind,” she said, carefully. “Not in the way that matters. And that’s on us. Not on you.”
Tom’s father added, “You’ve been patient. More patient than we deserved.”
There was a long pause. Then you nodded slowly.
“Thank you.”
Tom squeezed your hand, and for the first time since you arrived, you didn’t feel like an outsider.
You felt like you belonged.
***
The dining room looked exactly the same as it had that first night — same polished silverware, same flicker of candlelight, same rain pattering gently outside the window.
But the air was warmer now. The smiles weren’t masks.
Tom sat beside you, fingers lightly brushing yours beneath the table. He kept stealing glances at you — like he was still making sure you were real, that you were here, that things weren’t broken anymore.
His mother brought out roast chicken and potatoes with rosemary, and his father poured the wine. The conversation started light — weather, a neighbor’s new dog — and you waited for the stiffness to return.
But it never did.
Instead, his mother turned to you and asked, “You said you make a version of this dish with lemon, right? You’ll have to show me sometime. I’d love to learn it.”
You smiled, surprised. “Sure. It’s really simple, I promise.”
Tom’s father gave a short, amused grunt. “Anything that isn’t your mother’s ‘experimental’ beet glaze is worth trying.”
She swatted him playfully. “Don’t listen to him, I was ahead of my time.”
Tom chuckled under his breath, squeezing your thigh beneath the table.
And then, after a pause, his father looked at you and said, “You know, Tom’s always been a bit… particular. Doesn’t bring people home often. At all.”
You felt the air shift — a small moment, a real one.
“He loves you,” he said simply. “That says a lot.”
Your throat caught.
Tom turned to him with raised brows. “Is that your version of getting emotional, Dad?”
“I’m capable of sentiment,” he grumbled, sipping his wine. “Occasionally.”
Laughter erupted around the table — real, easy.
And for the first time since arriving, you leaned back in your chair, plate nearly empty, cheeks warm from wine and affection, and felt like this dinner wasn’t something you had to survive.
Imagine Peter Missing You ...after a long night of patrolling Peter comes in through your window, careful as to not wake your family.
You looked over and saw him, still in his red and blue cald suit "hi baby, how'd everything go?"
When he didn't respond you looked up to see your boyfriend taking off his mask, his hair falling exactly how you liked it. Slightly messy, maybe even sweaty "Peter?"
He pulled you up out of your chair and pushed you into the bed "hey I still have biolo-"
"I'll do it for you" and you knew he would. He'd wake up early the next morning to do all your homework and more.
You felt his knee move up in between your legs "you're so beautiful" you pushed your weight down onto his knee. Peter brought his head down to kiss your neck.
Even though you were the one grinding and getting friction, he was the one moaning and sighing into your skin.
"long night?" In response he only nodded his head
"I missed you so much..I want you now" he paused looking up at you "please"
"here.." you got up and had your boyfriend sit with his back on the head bored. As your actions continued Peter realized what was about to happen "baby no-"
"why not?" You looked up at him.
"I don't want you to do t-that I want you to feel go-"
You cut him off by shoving him into your mouth "(Y/N s-stop" peters hand came down to hold your face while you sucked him in a little deeper each minute "why?"
summary: peter, your best friend, also known as spiderman swings into your bedroom after a night of patrolling and finds you asleep on your desk. he tries his best to be quiet while tidying up your room, but things change - for the better ?
warnings: PURE FLUFF!!! use of y/n and she/her pronouns
ﾟ*☆*ﾟﾟ*☆*ﾟﾟ*☆*ﾟﾟ*☆*ﾟﾟ*☆*ﾟﾟ*☆*ﾟﾟ*☆*ﾟ
peter parker has always been enthralled by y/n. ever since the first day of freshman year, since the two were biology lab partners. the two were quick to have a connection, and were soon best friends by the end of the first semester.
he was enticed by her. the way her hair bounced on her shoulders as she walked from classes. or the way her eyes lit up at the mention of her favorite book. he especially loved how her smile got slightly wider once he stepped in the room.
y/n was always on his mind. whether it be a reminder for him to ask how her day was, or because he simply couldn't stop thinking about the girl.
lately y/n and peter haven't been able to talk much, due to peter being busy being the friendly neighborhood spiderman, and y/n was tackling college applications as well as essays and exams.
every friday night, peter would stop by y/n's apartment she lived in with her parents. her parents absolutely adored peter when she brought him over to study for an upcoming economy test.
this friday was no different, as peter finally swung on his last web to get to the girl's window. he caught his breath as he took his mask off, while sliding open y/n's bedroom window.
his feet hit the carpeted floor of y/n's room, and he smiles softly once he sees y/n asleep. her head was resting on her folded arms, which were covering pages of her unfinished essay. her computer was open and on the dim screen was a half finished college application. peter chuckled quietly, as he closed the window, and threw his mask at the edge of her bed.
peter made his way towards y/n's desk and turned off the lamp. he closed her laptop, and tried his best to clean up the supplies the girl wasn't laying on. peter also couldn't help but notice she was wearing his midtown sweatshirt. he must've left it over one time, and now he was glad he did. he thought she looked adorable in it.
as peter was moving the books off the desk and towards y/n's bookshelf, y/n lifted her head from her arms, and rubbed the drool that was leaving her lips. she turned in her desk chair, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.
"pete? what are you doing here?" her voice was quiet, and hoarse considering she just woke up.
peter walks over towards her, "just doing my weekly check in. i see you're still busy with college stuff."
y/n only nods, and peter notices her shoulders tense at the mention of it.
"how were the streets of queens tonight?" y/n asks the superhero, as he sits on her bed and she starts to clean up her desk.
"they were alright," peter shrugged, "i caught a guy stealing from the deli. so i guess that's something."
y/n nodded intently, as he continued to tell her about his night. peter couldn't help but let his eyes trail over y/n's figure as she sat on top of her desk across from her bed.
y/n couldn't help but let her eyes go back and forth between his face and his body in his spider suit.
as y/n was not-so-discretly looking over peter's body, peter smirked. "why are you staring at me like that y/n?" he let out a breathy laugh, mostly out of nerves.
y/n's face instantly changed into a shade of red. "i wasn't staring," she lies.
out of no where, peter suddenly gains confidence. he isn't sure where it comes from, but before he knows how to stop, he's walking towards y/n. he simply stood in front of the girl, his hands were placed on both of her bare knees.
peter's voice is soft, scared if he spoke any louder he'd scare y/n off. "i don't know what it is about you y/n, but i've always been captived by you."
"captived?" y/n reiterates, surprised at the confession by the boy. her cheeks grow hotter as peter moves forward, now standing directly in between y/n's thighs. his hands don't leave her legs, while his thumbs rub comforting circles over her skin.
"why do you think i stop by here every week?" he honestly asks.
y/n shrugs, as her brain becomes foggy at the close proximity of the pair, "because you care about me?"
peter slightly chuckles, "well yeah i care about you. but it's mainly an excuse so i can see you."
y/n doesn't know how to respond, and is grateful once peter continues, "i've liked you since the first day of freshman year. i've always liked you y/n. even when you dated that douchebag jonathan, and came home crying almost every night because of him. i've liked you since sophomore formal, and i got enough courage to ask you to dance with me. i've liked you since i told you i was spiderman, basically trusting you with the biggest secret of my entire life. and i've liked you since you started applying to all these colleges. i've always liked you y/n."
y/n's silent, as she takes in all of peter's words. of course they all caught her by surprise. she's liked peter since the night of the sophomore formal. she remembers the night vividly. how she danced with peter, and got milkshakes with him afterwards.
peter's voice gets caught in his throat, creating a more raspiness to it as his leans closer towards y/n and whispers, "if you don't want me to kiss you, just say so."
only a moment passes before y/n's the one to lean forward, connecting her lips to peter's. her hands move to his shoulders, and peter kisses her with such force. he's been waiting to kiss the girl for four years, of course there's going to be force behind it.
"wow," y/n whispers as peter pulls away. her hands don't leave his shoulders, and only move to his neck to lightly play with the curls at the base of his neck.
peter looks down to his midtown sweatshirt y/n's wearing, "y'know, i could get used to you wearing my clothes."
y/n giggles, a hard blush forming on her cheeks. peter leans forward and kisses y/n's lips again, much quicker than before.
"how would you feel about being spiderman's girlfriend?" peter asks.
"it would be an honor," y/n giggles once again, before pulling peter in again and kissing his lips. that wasn't the only kiss shared for the rest of the night.
summary : you find peter angrily training by himself.
warnings : fic MENTIONS spoilers for no way home && MENTIONS blood and death a wee bit. do NOT read if you havent seen nwh and if you aren’t comfortable with said topics.
a/n: switches to 2nd and 3rd pov but doesn’t change the style too much! :)
word count : 1.5k+ MY BIGGEST YET !!! got carried away. OKAY, have fun reading! send requests and i’ll write them <3 also got two fics coming up hehe
after dr. stranges spell, he was furious with himself. he hated the fact how he was forced to forget you and his friends.
all he wanted to do was run into your arms and kiss you. that’s all he wanted. unfortunately, he couldn’t; the presence that he once had was certainly gone because of something he decided to do.
everyday he breathed air was a reminder that you were no longer in the grasp of his arms. he could no longer kiss you to sleep whenever you had a hard time falling asleep.
he was your forte. and your reason to keep on pushing.
god, peter had felt worthless without his close circle. he had to get his anger out somehow. i mean, who was suppose to bottle in the feeling of losing his aunt and his close friends in a close time span?
without a single thought, his fist aimed for the matted material, hitting his knuckles against it as the punching bag jerked back, the chain rattling each time he did.
each punch was a feeling he held inside— one for his aunt, one for you, one for mj and one of ned. each fuckin’ time his knuckles dug into the training equipment was a reminder of how much he was pathetic. at least to himself.
nor’ did he have any gloves to protect his hands. he didn’t care at this point, not caring how much his hands bled from his harsh punches.
hell, his tears threatened to spill out from his puffed up eyes. you could already tell he’s been having a tough time, hence, finding him connecting his fist to the bricked wall behind him.
[y/n] furrowed her eyebrows together, seeing him let out a couple of weak grunts as she grabbed a clean damp towel, approaching the male who seemed irregular than ever.
seeing you made him freeze in his spot, his eyes slightly widening to the fact that you approached him first. he knew you came here regularly, training yourself just in case something horrible had happen to you in the middle of the streets.
so, he signed up for a membership and began training and tracking your schedule for whenever you came. 6pm on the dot always. if anything, he would even catch the moon for you.
“hi, i know it’s not my place but i couldn’t help but notice your knuckles… they’re, uh, bleeding?” your voice was soft spoken, your eyes pointing at his knuckles, the dried blood latching onto his skin. “can i?” you continued, holding out the damp towel to him. “i… yeah,”
most of his words were caught in his throat as he held out his knuckles to you, his eyes focused on your facial features. you were still beautiful as ever to him— the way your lips looked, and the way your eyes were soft everytime they were hyperfixiated.
your lips curled into a small smile, softly pressing the towel onto his knuckles as it picked up the blood, swiping it with a low pressure to wash away the dried blood, but not too much to injur him.
peter winced, sucking the air between his teeth quietly as the fabric made impact with his open cuts, causing him to bite down onto his lips.
[y/n] chuckled softly, feeling bad about his pain but she couldn’t help but giggle at his foolish decisions. “sorry, but maybe next time wear gloves? they help a lot, i promise.” you suggested, wiping his knuckles one last time before folding the towel and pushing his hands down in a soft manner.
there it was again. this was the reason why he had fallen in love with you in the first place. you were always soft and caring to everyone, even if you barely even knew them.
“thanks again, but uh— it didn’t cross my mind to wear gloves. i guess i was heated in the moment? can’t really explain what i was thinking.” peter took one more glance at his knuckles before meeting with your eyes again, this time, his face softening with yours.
“no problem, but can i wrap them up for you? i wouldn’t want your hands getting infected.” you suggested, turning your back to another part of the gym as you started walking, not giving him a chance to deny your offer. “i wouldn’t want to give you too much work— oh, uh… okay!” he nervously followed you behind, keeping a safe distance between you two.
he had a soft blush on his face, not being able to contain the fluttering in his heartbeat each second he looked at you.
as you finally approached your gym bag, you dug in there until you found your packed med kit, placing it on the ground as you opened it, hearing the click. “always bring this with me just in case someone got hurt,” you mumbled to him, searching for an alcohol wipe for his open cut.
he knew you did, but couldn’t bring up the fact that he was aware of it already.
“really? wow, you seem really sweet.” he softly grinned at your comment, his heartbeat becoming faster as he saw you get up, tearing the packet open. “thank you, i would hope i am.” you laughed at his remark, cleaning his knuckles with the wipe. “oh, sorry! forgot to warn you!” quietly gasping to yourself, you felt his body tense up from the sudden stinging spreading throughout his cut.
“n-no, you’re fine! it’s just an alcohol wipe, no biggie.” he mumbled, his body returning to its original state. “yeah but again, it hurts— i mean, the stinging pain is no fun.” you sighed, going back to your bag to grab the bandages that was nearby the med kit.
“right but maybe i should be used by this feeling now… i keep finding myself hurt.” peter flexed his hand, feeling the muscles pull as you tilted your head in confusion. “by training! because, um, i rarely bring my boxing gloves.” he quickly caught himself before you could question him, forgetting that you used to know his secret identity.
“oh? maybe you should approach me often. i’ll patch you up for free… i’d hate to see you hurt.” you unwrapped the adhesive bandage, circling the adhesive around his knuckles and around his fingers.
he let out a breathy chuckle, watching you tear the bandage and attaching it to the side of his hand. “i’ll take up on your offer, i guess i should be more aware though.” smiling to himself, he pressed his hands onto his sides.
“yaknow, i can’t help but fathom myself onto why you seem… so familar to me. have i seen you outside this gym?” [y/n] arched an eyebrow up, packing up her stuff as she zipped the bag closed.
peter couldn’t help but to nervously smile, scratching the back of his neck. there was no way you remembered, right? but again, he did visit the coffee shop you picked up shifts at. “the coffee shop not too far from here… you work there, right?” he responded, looking down to see you getting your stuff together.
“yeah, i do! forgot that this street is mostly filled with regulars!” you snickered, throwing the bag up to hold it on your shoulder.
you get a flashback of to you giving him coffee everyday, writing his name down on each cup sleeve. “peter, right?” you finally said his name.
and that just sent a million sparks inside him, feeling his knees be frail on spot. you had actually remember his name. “yeah, that’s me. peter parker, and, uh…” he paused for a moment, closing his eyes to try and remembering your name tag you had pinned to your shirt. “[y/n], isn’t that correct?” peter snapped his fingers when he finally remembered.
of course he did, but had to play it cool— man, this was going to be hard. having to fake everything because he didn’t forget anything about you.
“[y/n], [y/n] [l/n] to be exact.” you flashed a charming smile, holding out your hand for him to shake.
“it’s a pleasure to finally talk to you, [y/n].” his smile returned back, his hand barely curling as you two shook hands, gently.
fuck, it was so nice to actually say your name in front of you. your name rolling off his tongue perfectly.
“yeah, the pleasures mine!” you nodded, quickly checking your watch as you saw the time.
your eyes had widened, recalling that you had a friend hangout with mj and ned. “oh, gosh— i have to go, so sorry!” you exclaimed, taking one last look at him.
“wait! can i… get your number before you leave?” he blurted out, rushing to whip out his phone, opening up his contacts list. “for sure! you’ll have to text me later though!” you inclined, typing in your digits as you even inserted your name, pressing ‘done’ once you had finished.
“b-bye! text you later!” he watched you leave, hearing the bell ring as you fixed your clothes, speed-walking to the place you had to be.
just as always, he knew the time you arrived back home. 9:30pm, sometimes 9:50pm if you were at a restaurant with your friends.
as hours passed, you reached to your doormat and immediately heard a ‘ding!’ sound coming from your phone, and just to your surprise.
it was peter, peter parker.
looking at the unknown number for a second, you quickly changed it to his name, following along with a special emoji.
thank you for reading until the end! i know i keep bugging about it but SEND in your requests and reblog this post! it helps me a lot and makes me happy.
summary: you and peter reminisce about your first kiss, but you both have very different takes on it.
warnings: fluff, a lil angst
pairing: tom!peter x reader
wc: 891
masterlist | taglist
“hey y/n, look at this.” peter beckoned you over, showing you his phone. it was a picture of you two together on your very first date.
“aw, look at us! that’s our first date, yeah? we were so cute.” you gushed. “is that the time we watched wonder? you cried your ass off at the end.”
“rightfully so. he made friends, and for the first time everyone accepted him.” peter said as he teared up.
“are we really doing this right now?” you sighed.
“he got a standing ovation.” he wiped a tear away and sniffled, clearing his throat when he noticed you trying to suppress your laughter.
“hey, do you remember our first kiss?”
“how could i forget it?” you shrugged. “it was so, uh…”
“sloppy.” you spoke.
“perfect.” peter said at the same time.
“wait, what? did you just say sloppy?” peter gasped.
“well, yes? you have to admit, it wasn’t our best.”
“i can’t believe this. after all this time, i’m just now hearing about this? i’m- i’m heartbroken, honestly.” he slapped his hands over his heart dramatically, flopping onto your shared bed.
“oh come on peter,” you giggled. “we were playing seven minutes in heaven. that’s like the shittiest way to have your first kiss.”
“i beg to differ. i think it was quite romantic, actually. we were so close, wrapped in each others warmth.”
“that’s my main point. we were cramped up in a small wardrobe. our breaths were turning it into a sauna. hot, sweaty, and steamy.”
“but it was comforting, right?”
“wrong.”
“it was so intimate. our bodies were literally pressed together.”
“yes, due to the lack of space. we couldn’t even breathe without our chests touching each others, which gave my boobs a great deal of discomfort by the way.”
“but i swear i heard angels singing. no wonder it’s called seven minutes in heaven.”
“those weren’t angels, that was me wheezing for air. we were suffocating, peter. i think we were trying to steal air from each others mouths when we kissed.” you laughed.
“i think you’re lying.” peter smirked.
“and i think you’re in denial. we’ve had better kisses and you know it.”
“that’s it. you’re on a kiss ban until you admit you liked our first kiss.” peter declared, sauntering off into the kitchen.
“what? you can’t do that!” you exclaimed, following him shortly after he left.
“can too! let’s see how long you can last before you break and tell the truth.”
“this is ridiculous. you think you can stop me from-“ you tried to steal a kiss swiftly, but his lightning quick reflexes had you kissing a cereal box.
“banned!” he shouted, fleeing to the bedroom.
*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*
from morning to night, you’d been livid. you woke up to a sticky note on your forehead, a note scribbled in peters messy handwriting: sorry, had to leave early to be new yorks hero this morning. you missed out on your goodbye kiss since you wanted to be a naughty little liar last night <3
jerk.
you’d been waiting for him all day to get home, ready to chew him out for dragging this situation into the next day. it was funny at first, but now he had taken it too far. those morning kisses meant a lot to you. even when you were taken over by sleep, you were still aware of when he left a quick kiss to your forehead or cheek.
peter never really knew if you even felt the kisses or not, but he still did it anyway. it was the sweetest thing ever, and he took that away from you.
as he crept into the bedroom window, you entered the room at the same time, just finishing your skincare routine in the bathroom. you gasped upon seeing him and darted towards your bed, grabbing multiple pillows to throw at him.
“hey cutie, i’m back- hey!” he effortlessly dodged a pillow. “what the hell?”
“jerk! what kind of boyfriend deprives his girl of her morning kisses?” you threw another pillow at him, which he caught.
“i told you, you were on ban, but-“ you threw another pillow, hitting him right in his face. “really?”
“fuck your stupid ban! you took it too far. you’re so childish!” you fussed, tossing two pillows at him.
“says the one sending pillows flying all over the room. also, i never realized how many pillows we had.” he ripped his mask off and tossed it elsewhere.
peter gave you a sympathetic smile when he saw you doing that cute little “i’m upset but i want your attention” pout. “alright honey,” he walked over to you, engulfing you in his arms. “i’m sorry, okay? i didn’t know how much those morning kisses meant to you, and i didn’t really mean to drag this ban on for so long. so from this moment on, the kissing ban has officially been lifted. you are free to kiss. am i forgiven?”
“yes,” you pressed a long overdue kiss to his lips, humming when he ran a soothing hand over your back. “but never do that again. and don’t you ever leave me without my morning kiss again. you hear me?” you squinted at him, & he nodded.
“yes ma’am. and hey, was our first kiss really that bad?”
Summary: you caught Pete masturbating to you and you decide to have a little fun with the moment.
CW TIME!!!: Phone sex, Non-con masturbating? (Obviously you caught him so you didn’t know), mutual masturbation, sex toys, body fluids~.
Oh and typos, probably.
Tag list omg!: @tiredbuthappy
Sparker 🕷🕸
Sparker: Hey!
You: Hey!!!
Sparker: Ready to eat popcorn and gossip on ft?
You: Hell yeah
Incoming from Sparker 🕷🕸
Your smile beams as Parker’s face illuminates yours, his face mirrors your expressions.
“Hellllooo nurse!” Peter’s eyes crinkle as you dramatically cringe, still smiling. “Excuse me, do not tarnish Yakko's household name, Peter Parker!” Your voice is filled with fake outrage earning a hearty laugh from Peter.
“If you used my middle name I'd definitely think I was in trouble.” Peter’s smile could make a crying baby smile aka it made your heart swell.
“Soooo, whatcha wanna gossip about?” you bite your lip as you check him out, his black fitted t-shirt clung to his muscles deliciously, his brown hair effortlessly styled, you could tell his room was a mess like always even though you couldn't see it. His back was against his bed frame, his phone was tilted to only show his torso.
You're laying down on your tummy, your legs kicked up, your phone propped up on a pillow in front of you as you hugged another pillow to rest your chin on, You were in your usual cozy jacket, no bra or no pants attire, of course, Peter couldn't see that.
“Mm whatever you wanna talk about, honestly, I just wanted to hear your voice” Peter’s laugh vibrated through your ears.
“Oh-! Uhm okay well.” your feet kicked as you gossiped about your day, what you ate, etc etc. You loved this weekly ritual you and Pete did, you never understood why he wanted to face time with you, considering he always seems so busy, and most of the time he didn't talk, just nodded along occasionally knitting his eyebrows in understanding or worked on homework as you rambled, you just chalked it up to him not knowing what to say most of the time.
“Mm, that’s about it!” You clapped, Peter had long ago turned off his cam, but you could hear a small groan and shuffle before Peter spoke, “H-hm? But you didn't even finish the part bout your neighbor, remember?” his voice was strained like he was holding back a yawn, you frown.
“Well, I wanted to give you a chance to speak for a chance, cus you never do” you hummed.
“That's cus I like hearing you speak..” his voice was low like a whisper, it made you shiver.
“Why?” you whispered back.
You hear a strangled groan, “P-please..j-just keep talking..!”
“Peter? Are you okay?” your voice raised a bit higher,
“I-i’m fine, just.. Keep talkin’ to me..” his voice falters as your concern rises.
“I'm not gonna talk anymore until you turn on your camera!” your voice cracked as shouted, well kinda shouted you didn't want your roommates to hear you.
“Fine! Okay, jeez!” you can make out him scrambling before seeing his face flush, eyes wide, so slightly panting, nevertheless he tried to appear normal, your eyebrow quirked.
“See? ‘Mm fine!” his voice masked something but you couldn't tell what, your face stayed skeptical. “Peter, what's going on? Tell me right now!” you slam your hands down on your bed, and Peter rolls his eyes.
“Nothin', you're being outlandish.” your nostrils flare at his comment, “Oh no, what we're not gonna do is gaslight me, Peter Benjamin Parker!” you see Peter wince, his puppy dog eyes flood your screen.
“Okay, you're right, that was mean..I'm sorry.” Peter scratched the back of his neck. “I-.. I was doing something but I'm fine, I promise.” Peter couldn't meet your eyes but his explanation still eased your worry.
“What were you doing?” your head cocked to the side, like a cat. “I-..I can't tell you.” Peter muttered, it was so soft you couldn't help but get hot.
“Peter, can you tell me anything you know that..” you tried to copy his tone, “You’d-... I feel like you'd despise me if I did ..” you smile gently, he can be so cute sometimes.
“Peter. I promise, just- just tell me, please?” You wish you could caress his soft face as you whisper comfort. Something about Peter made him feel so fragile sometimes.
“Ok- I-” he coughed. “I-i was..uhm.. Jerkin’..it?” his voice cracked as you tried to put the pieces together
“Jerkin? What? What's that-?”
“Y’know..!!”
“I do not know..”
“I-i was y’know..Jerkin the chicken!”
“Jerk chicken?”
“Oh my God, no- I was… I was masturbating!”
“Oh..” your face burns as your eyes widen, your face half buried in your pillow. “I- why..?”
“I- uhm...well, I was doing it, t-to you..” you bite your lip as your legs rubbed together, he was masturbating to you? God, you could explode right now.
“Why me?” you feigned innocence as your smirk grew under your pillow, you were starting to enjoy this.
“I..ilikeyourvoice!! Andidunnoivedoneitafewtimesnowandithoughtyoudwouldntnotice!! And-! And-! “ You could barely make out the words he spoke, were they even words? Your laugh stopped his rambling.
“You are.. So cute Pete.” Peter's eyes finally met your half-lidded ones.
“Peter.”
“Y-yeah?”
“Show me.”
“Show you-.. Show you what?”
“You know what, Pete.”
“I-.. Are you sure?”
“Mmhm, I think you owe it to me considering you were getting off with me without permission.”
Peter’s cheeks were dusted with pink, you could see his adam's apple move before he proceeded to do what he was told.
“Wanna see your face in the camera still, Pete.” you could see him freeze before nodding quietly as he continued his actions. His cock was fairly big, bigger than what you thought it would be,
You could see Peter’s face is bright red by now, his hand covering his mouth as he looks away. “Are you-.. done looking yet? This is embarrassing.”
“Why are you embarrassed?” Of course, you knew why, but Peter is just too cute not to tease.
“I- you know why! God. Don’t tease me right now!”
“Hey, Pete.” You finally lift up, your head now in a new position leaning on your hands.
“Y-yea?”
“Did you cum?” he blinks a few times before chewing on his lip.
“N-no..”
“Aww, well baby you shouldn't give yourself blue balls on my account.”
“I- wha-?”
“Finish what you started, Peter.”
Peter’s eyes practically pop out as his cock twitches, he brings his phone closer to his face again, looking around the room nervously before looking back at you.
“I- you..”
“You.. Me?” you mock him. “What? Do you need some more material? Greedy boy.”
“I- no I wasn..-!”
You raise yourself, you smirk as you see peters eyebrows raise before slowly unzipping your jacket, your bare tits on display, Peter’s eyes are glued on you as you twist one of your nipples giving him a teasing wink.
“Whatcha think? Hm? Enough for you?” you taunt him leaning your head as your hands trail down your stomach and back.
“Fuck.. You're-..sososo hot” you watch as he palms his cock, you chuckle at Pete’s loss for words. “Shirt off, now.” Peter nods, yanking his shirt at the speed of light, you laugh at his eariness.
“Mm, stroke yourself for me, Pete.” Peter obliges your order once more, his eyes never leaving your chest. You grope yourself, sticking your tongue out.
“Hey Petey, wanna see even more?” Peter nods rapidly, “Mmhn, if you do you gotta open that mouth and ask pretty boy.” you quickly zip up your jacket as you hear Peter whine.
“Pleasepleaseplease! I’ll do anything, please!”
“Anything?”
“Anything.”
Your Cheshire grin grows as you unzip your jacket once more.
“Say you need me.”
“I need you, god. I need you sososo bad.”
“Good boy.”
You can see Peter get even harder as you shimmed your panties off, you feel hot, and a bit embarrassed as your smile fades. You spread yourself out with two fingers, looking away, slightly clearing your throat.
“Fuck, I wish I was there to eat you out, this is torture, y’know?”
Your eyes meet his as he gives you a genuine smile, you return the favor as you gain your confidence back.
“How bout I torture you some more?” Your hands slide down, you moan as you circle your clit, tilting your head up in pleasure. You'd masturbated before, but having someone watch you, having Peter watching you, turned you on even more.
“Peter-..mmhn, please I need more.” you flirt, could hear Peter’s breath hitch as you spoke, “If you keep talking like that I'll bust right now” you chuckle at his comment.
“Want me to see my ride my dildo and pretend it's your dick?”
“God yes.”
You lean down to kiss the phone screen, making Peter laugh before producing a dildo.
“Ta-da!” you laugh as you position the dildo below you,
“Ready?”
“Born ready.”
You bust out laughing, “Oh my god Peter we're having phone sex not saving the world!”
“A-ah right, pfft”
You smile, rubbing your pussy up and down the dildo, covering it with your slick. You hear Peter groan, “Please baby put it in, I can’t wait anymore-“
“Your wish is my command.” You moan as you lower yourself on your dildo until it disappears into, “Mm, you fill me so well, Pete.” You hear Peter whimper as you start bouncing up and down,
“Fuckfuckfuck you’re so hot.. I’m gonna cum already..!” you smirk seeing his eyebrows knit in pleasure, “Don't you dare, Peter. ``You moan as you speed up your strokes, Peter whines as you start rubbing your clit again. “I-I’m so close! Mm..” Peter’s voice cracks as you watch his eyes close, “Eyes on me, Parker” you pant as you watch him struggle to keep it together. “You’ll cum when I say you can!” You pinch your nipples as the tension builds up In your stomach.
“Please! Let me cum, I-I can’t hold it anymore.. F-feels ..Mm too good!” Peter’s voice falters as you watch his head tilt back.
“I’m close t-too, let’s cum together, okay?” Peter moans in response, “I w-wanna h-hear you say it, Pete!” You hiss out through clenched teeth, “I-I’ll c-cum with you!” Peter’s head tilted forward, jaw clenched his eyes low as he looked at you.
“I’m…!” You rubbed yourself furious as you grind down on the fake cock. You hear Peter gasp for air as white lines shoot from his cock all over his hands, you both stay silent catching your breath.
“T-that was…veryveryveryvery hot” Peter breathed out, you giggle, “You said that already, Pete!”
“Yeah but it’s true!” His voice cracked, making you laugh again, you watch his face turn red. “I-I guess I should clean up..?” You nod, slowly easing yourself off your dildo, whimpering.
“God.. You’re- don’t do that, I’ll pop a boner again.” Peter’s voice quivered, you smirk, bending now to lick your dildo. “Wanna go for round two, Parker?”
“You’re a demon”
“I think the correct term is succubus, you're like super smart shouldn't you know that?”
“You’re- fuckkk..“
“Plus, if you’re not busy..you can maybe..come over?” Your fingers traced circles in your bed sheets, “We can finish..in person?” You look back at your phone, to see Peter trying to hop into his spidey suit as quickly as possible, before grabbing the phone.
