peterporkerpeter - Tumblr blog

peterporkerpeter · 6 years

Text

Introductions — Words Unspoken TATBILB Series [p.p.]

MASTERLIST//WU MASTERLIST

WC: 2.300

A/N: ahhh!! Welcome to the first chapter of this series! i am so excited to be writing this! this chapter doesn’t have a lot of Peter, but it basically will just set the preface for this au! I’m absolutely baffled by the responses i got for posting the masterlist to this story, so thank you so much! anyway, hope you enjoy this first chapter and i hope you choose to stick around! :)

Having a crush wasn’t exactly the most ideal thing to possess, but when it came to high school, it seemed like girls were crushing on boys left and right whereas all they wanted to do was get into your pants. That’s what happened at Midtown. Although the school was more of a science-oriented environment for mega-smart kids, high school was just the same there as it was at any other public school.

Over the years, you’ve certainly had your fair share of crushes. Unlike the other girls, they didn’t alternate every two weeks. Instead, they were spread apart, meticulously pinpointed throughout each and every prime stage of your life. You would relish in your crushes, daydreaming about their sparkling eyes or what they decided to wear that day. You would wonder about what their hair would feel like laced between your fingertips—perhaps soft like a handful of cotton balls, or silky like the cases of your pillows. Eventually, it seemed like this person you’d claim to haven fallen desperately in love with had taken over just about every aspect of your life, morphing into some rather absurd, insane obsession. It was like an addiction—you loved how they made you feel. And you always craved more.

Your junior year of high school was only a few days away, and to say you weren’t looking forward to it was possibly the biggest understatement of the century. Going back to school only to look aimlessly for partners in yours classes while your one friend was working away in different ones? No thanks. Sitting beside your sister and her boyfriend, Flash who both sat curled up together on the bleachers by the lacrosse fields, laughing away, staring dreamily into each other’s eyes like they were diamonds? Thankfully you wouldn’t have to bare witness to that anymore. It was all so ridiculous and so frustrating. After all, you liked him first. Maybe you even loved him. You didn’t know. All you knew was that the jealously stirring away in your stomach was something that burned. Then again, even if they were to break up, you couldn’t do that to your sister. You’d just have to move on.

Now that your older sister, Marin, was leaving tomorrow for college, you wouldn’t have her to sit by anymore during lunch. You wouldn’t have her company after school during the evening, when you would work on homework together and giggle about the daily gossip. She was attending university all the way over in Scotland. Scotland, of all places! Who the fuck goes to Scotland for college? Clearly, your sister. No one in the world has to travel that far away for school. It just makes no damn sense. In all seriousness, you really would miss your sister. She was your rock. Everything would fall apart without her and you knew it. Especially after mom.

You sat down at the dinner table, watching with a pained expression as your father raced around the kitchen, making a sorrowful attempt to cook a somewhat edible dinner. He honestly sucked at cooking. It was tragic. But after your mom passed, he had to figure out how to do all the things that she usually did so seamlessly. Your mom was a talented cook. You knew that one day you would miss her famous lasagna recipe, but you didn’t know that day would be today. You thought that would be decades from now. You missed a lot of things about her. It made you sad whenever you reminded yourself that you’d never get the chance to sustain that gaping whole residing deep inside your chest—the one her glowing smile and twinkling eyes and bubbling laughter used to fill over the brim. Now, you were just tired. And unmotivated. Writing away in your journals was the only outlet you really had for your emotions. You usually weren’t one to talk much about your feelings. Maybe if you held them long enough in they would just bury themselves beneath other, more fresh thoughts. Right?

“Everything okay, Y/N?” your sister asked, setting a napkin down in front of your plate.

“Yeah, ’m fine. Just curious if what dad’s cooking will kill me or just give me a sprinkle of food poisoning,” you replied bluntly.

Your sister scoffed, shaking her head. “Be nice, sis. He’s trying his best.”

A knock sounded over the door, and then Flash came striding in, hands tucked into his pockets. Your eyes found his, and the boy shot you a goofy grin. Your returned the favor, instantly tearing away your gaze when a dark pink blush flushed across your glowing cheeks. Flash was … just great. There was no other way to describe him. His eyes were deep and dark like black coffee, his hair tamed in clean, cocoa colored swoops along his forehead. He was easygoing and fun to talk to, and he probably had the best taste in music ever.

It took a little bit to get over the ridiculous name. Flash. What a weird ass nickname. The kid wasn’t even that fast.

He was probably your first pretty serious crush. The others included: Barry Allen from summer camp in the sixth grade, Ned Leeds from your freshman Homecoming dance, Finn Wayne from the debate club in middle school, and last but not least, Peter Parker, your very first kiss, probably the most important of them all.

Now, now, don’t be fooled. It wasn’t like you and Peter had a thing or anything. To be completely real, it all happened during a despicable, cliche game of spin the bottle at your ex-besties birthday party in the eighth grade. It was the first boy-girl mixer party you’d ever been invited to, and when Liz had suggested you all pop a squat and play spin the bottle, you just about went into cardiac arrest. You hadn’t ever thought about kissing boys before, and Liz kept saying that everyone was doing it. Liz was beautiful though, and you felt plain beside her. She could get any guy she wanted without a problem, and for you … Well, all you did was scribble down your feelings into a pointless little letter and tuck it away into a neat little turquoise box in your closet. That’s all you could do. You were definitely not equip to talk to boys, especially in the eighth grade when “awkward” and “self-conscious” were the only two words to describe you.

Anyway, to make a long story short (in reality, the story really isn’t that long at all), you spun the bottle, and woopdee-fucking-doo, it pointed smack-dab at Peter Parker. And boy, was he handsome. I mean, yeah he had braces and didn’t know a thing about skin care, but that didn’t matter. He was cute and funny, and he was probably the most intelligent kid in the whole grade. You were practically in awe of him! And now you were about to kiss him? It all seemed like a dream. Except Liz wasn’t exactly content with where the bottle landed.

Yeah, Liz happened to have a pretty fat crush on him as well. Of course, since she was the one to tell you first about her infatuation with the dorky boy, you couldn’t tell her you felt the same way. She was your best friend. And she watched with a gaping mouth and angry, wide eyes as you leaned in and pecked Peter Parker on his chapped lips.

You had offered to spin again! You did! But Peter had insisted that those were the rules of the game, and you couldn’t help but think that maybe he wanted to kiss you, too. So you did. And it lasted two seconds. And it was probably the best kiss you’ve ever had in your life—not to be too dramatic or anything.

Unfortunately (or fortunately?), you and Liz aren’t exactly close pals anymore. And major plot twist: Liz and Peter are dating now! Who would’ve guessed, right?

“Hey, Eugene!” Your father called from the kitchen, a pathetic yelp echoing through to the dining room. Your face twisted at the smell of something burning.

“Hey, Mr. Stark!” Flash responded. “Hey, Y/N.”

“Hey,” you sighed.

You pursed your lips as your older sister leaned in, placing a soft kiss to Flash’s lips. You wanted to vomit in your mouth, but you didn’t really want the aftertaste. Anyways, your father’s cooking would probably be just enough to send you sprinting to the bathroom.

This would be the final dinner of the summertime with your older sister. A part of you couldn’t believe she was already leaving for college, but you’d been preparing for it for a long time. You’d just have to deal with being the eldest sibling of the house, and you’d now have to drive both yourself and your little sister to school in the mornings. Jesus Christ, you’d barely passed your driving test, and now you’re being thrown out into the harsh horrors of the real world in control of a moving vehicle? It’d be a miracle if you got out of the neighborhood without losing a tire.

Your little sister, Jamie, came barreling down the stairs wearing her favorite hot pink top and her hair pulled up into a tight ponytail. “Flash!” she squealed.

The two exchanged their complex handshake before she plopped down into her chair. Your father soon followed after, plopping the large dish of burnt lasagna onto the wooden table with a loud bang. You winced, raising your brows at your father who looked at the pan skeptically.

“Dad,” you hummed.

“Yes, honey?”

“You good there?”

“Yeah, I’m great.”

“I can’t believe we’re not going to see you until Thanksgiving!” your little sister grumbled, pouting.

“Actually, Christmas,” your father corrected.

Everyone seemed to do a double take. “Christmas?” you repeated incredulously. “What, why? I can’t survive that long without her!”

“Hey, sweetheart, can you help me with this. The knife is doing that thing again where it doesn’t cut through the noodles—”

“That’s probably because the meat is too tough and the noodles aren’t cooked all the way, Dad.”

“Are you sassing me? You’re sassing me, aren’t you. This isn’t as easy as it looks. Trust me, kiddo.”

You snickered, watching with amusement.

“Wait, so this means Y/N will have to drive me to school?” Your little sister’s eyes widened. “How about I drive instead. I’m sure I’d be much more qualified.”

“Oh, really?” you challenged. “Or you can just take the bus.”

“I can always give you guys a ride,” Flash shrugged. “I mean, I live right next door so it’s pretty convenient anyway.”

“What are we talking about?” your older sister questioned, stepping back into the dining room cradling the pan.

“How much Y/N sucks at driving!”

“And uh, airplanes,” Flash mumbled, reaching into his back pocket. “I figured since you weren’t coming home for Thanksgiving that I’d just bring home to you instead.”

Your mouth fell open when he unfolded the piece of paper in his hand to reveal a plane ticket. You were shocked. Was Flash really going to fly all the way to Scotland just to visit your sister at college. God, that’s the most stupidly expensive and romantic thing you’ve ever heard of in your life. Those tickets probably cost a fortune. You were too busy swallowing your jealously to realize how quickly your sister’s face was crumbling.

“Did you uh, already pay for those?” she asked softly.

Oh. Oh.

“Why?” Flash seemed to be catching on to what your sister was insinuating with her dreadful expression.

“Wow, Dad, this lasagna is pretty moderate. Good job …”

Needless to say, dinner was cancelled for the evening. Not that dad’s lasagna sucked or anything (it did), but no one really wanted to suffer through a pitiful meal and an awkward silence. Your sister and Flash had dipped outside, where you spied on them through your window upstairs. Their violent hand gestures really seemed to give away the context of the conversation—you could hear them yelling angrily through the glass.

Yeah, you might’ve liked Flash. Honestly though, it was only a matter of time before you got over him. You weren’t in love with him, all that was left now were a few lingering feelings. You dwelled too much on the past and what could’ve been rather than moving on with your life. Something always seemed to just hold you back. Maybe you liked the distraction of having a boy to ogle at and daydream about when you didn’t feel like thinking about other things.

God, your room was an utter disaster. And of course, you weren’t going to clean it because you were just way too lazy. Instead, you decided to waste even more time by fishing through your closet for that little turquoise box your mom had used to gift you your first set of jewelry in. Stacked inside we’re your letters, clad in sleek envelopes with addresses scribbled neatly along the back. Obviously you weren’t going to send them. It was just sort of an odd way with coping with your emotions.

Peter Parker’s sat on the very top. You didn’t know why. Maybe it was your subconscious telling you that he had a special place somewhere in your heart just because he was your first kiss. Or maybe it was just random.

Shaking your head, you shoved away the box and grabbed your laptop, settling back into your bed. School would start back up soon in just a few days and it felt like this year everything would change. After all, you were a junior. That meant taking the ACT’s and searching for colleges. You could now drive. Everything was starting to pile up, and the only thing that didn’t seem to be taking a drastic turn was your inactive social life.

And you know what else? You didn’t mind it. You liked how your life was right now. It got lonely sometimes, but you felt okay. And that was enough for you.

TAG LIST: @roses-and-sweaters @iamaunicorn4704 @cutehollands @petalparker @embrace-themagic @no-shxt-sherl @casuallytumblingdownahill @sherizaraiyah @myfictionalhusbands @stevekeeryngton @boybanned @cutie1365 @magicwithaknife @chubby-tink @aisakamay @dark-night-sky-99 @tom-hollands-eyelash @chayavered0116 @alexrodriguez1269 @spidey-siwicki @zomtendayaxx11 @love-mia-marisol @ninetypoundsofasthma @r5-lover-forever @molmcb @stevieboyharrington @peter-spider-parker-man @ninaminaromina @teawithbucky @katrena7 @newyorkcomixx @stuckonswan @daiiybuugle @immsmarvel @mystxrieux @karmaboundlife @zantana97 @offthewallspidey @lllyyydddiiisss @sizzlingfishapricotpalace @thesmolfreakash @ashleyhearto

** bolded means that tumblr wouldn’t let me tag you for some reason

613 notes · View notes

peterporkerpeter · 6 years

Text

Dirty Dancing Masterlist — Peter Parker x Stark!Reader [HIATUS]

SUMMARY: Y/N Stark is a dancer and Tony invites Peter to come watch her performance. When two teens meet, they are immediately infatuated with each other, Peter especially being as he can’t seem to take his eyes off her when she appears on stage. Later on, Y/N teaches him a few moves, and the budding infatuation soon blossoms into something more.

CONTAINS: fluff, angst, swearing, some violence/gore, eventual smut (peter and reader in this story are 18)

A/N: i stopped writing for this series a while ago just because i got some writers block, but i think that eventually i will add more to this and just figure out a better plot, etc! i thought it had some potential lol. so maybe after i finish the tatbilb series! :)

— DIRTY DANCING —

chapter one

chapter two

chapter three

chapter four …

chapter five …

[ ON HOLD UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE ]

107 notes · View notes

peterporkerpeter · 6 years

Text

Introductions — Words Unspoken [p.p.]

MASTERLIST//WU MASTERLIST

WC: 2.300

Keep reading

613 notes · View notes

peterporkerpeter · 6 years

Text

Human Anatomy [Liz Allan x Fem!Reader] **

SUMMARY: Liz has a final for human anatomy coming up. What better way to study than to do it with you … preferably without any clothing on and your legs spread (all characters are 18+ in this fic).

CONTAINS: this is the smuttiest shit i have ever written, bondage, vibrator usage, fingering, oral, teasing, swearing, dirty talk, some fluff. just pure porn honestly.

WC: 4.000

A/N: did i go off again with the liz smut?? you bet your ass i did. my girl deserves so much more content, but i’m certainly not complaining about having to write some myself,,,,lol this got me high key very hot n bothered. i am also a kinky motherfucker and i deserve this shit in my life. hope you enjoy!! ;)

Keep reading

334 notes · View notes

peterporkerpeter · 6 years

Text

Making Up for Lost Time [Peter Parker x Enhanced!Reader]

SUMMARY: You have the ability to manipulate water, so when your friend Peter asks you to show him what you can do, expressing your feelings for each other is the last thing you expected.

CONTAINS: fluff, kissing, heated makeout at the end but tbh nothing serious, just cuteness all around

WC: 2.300

A/N: lol i feel like i kind of write the same thing for when i do kissing scenes and plots and such, but i guess i just like having a different array of scenarios!! this was a request, and I’ve been grinding through all of my requests like a turtle so I’m sorry, but i switched it up just a little bit! i hope that’s okay! thank you so much for the ongoing support and please send in requests if you have any and eventually i will probably end up writing them! sorry if this is really similar to the last peter fic i posted!!

MASTERLIST

Keep reading

289 notes · View notes

peterporkerpeter · 6 years

Text

Always Have, Always Will [Peter Parker x Reader]

SUMMARY: You and Peter have been friends ever since you could remember, but when you begin teasing him about all the girls eager to get with Spider-Man, your friendship status soon morphs into something more.

CONTAINS: fluff, swearing, making out w/ shirts off, lots of cuteness.

WC: 2.300

A/N: so this unedited and i wrote it at like 5 in the morning after pulling an all nighter, so it definitely isn’t my best work!! but i thought it was pretty cute and i really loved the request. lol I’m really sorry if i didn’t do it correctly i was just fricken beat man. anyway, hope you enjoy!! :)

MASTERLIST

PETER’S EYES FOLLOWED THE fluid movements of your hands, eyes scanning the black ink tracing words onto the open notebook. Neatly printed letters soon covered half the page, and then a few streaks of pink highlighter followed after. He watched your silver rings reflect the golden glow orbiting the living room of his apartment, the day growing late. He wanted you to stay a lot longer than just another hour and hoped you would stay for dinner instead of retreating back home. He wanted to stay with you.

Keep reading

991 notes · View notes

peterporkerpeter · 6 years

Text

Kiss and Makeup [Peter Parker x Stark!Reader]

SUMMARY: You and Peter have a habit of fighting over the silliest of things, but when Tony finds you two in a compromising situation after a heated argument, the end result isn’t exactly nice.

CONTAINS: swearing, verbal fighting, heavy making out, poor dad!tony walking in

WC: 2.800

A/N: lol this was a fun one to write haha i always love writing stuff with tony in it and i just really love fics like these with the specific end result. I’ve been grinding out a tone of requests, so be sure to check out my masterlist if you enjoy my work!! thanks for all the ongoing support and ily! :)

MASTERLIST

Keep reading

2K notes · View notes

peterporkerpeter · 6 years

Text

Peanut Butter Cookies [Peter Parker x Reader] **

SUMMARY: You and Peter have to sit out on a mission, and the sexual tension between you two becomes quite blatant when you start tossing around flirtatious remarks (all characters are 18+ in this).

CONTAINS: some smut, oral (fem receiving), swearing, sexual tension, fluff, allusion to blowjob, i got tired towards the end and didn’t really finish it lol

WC: 3.800

A/N: this is the first request i have written and i absolutely love it!! i hope that i didn’t disappoint, but if i did let me know and maybe i can fix it a bit?? lol hope you enjoy and if you have any requests, feel free to send them in! :) this can also be interpreted as a stark reader but i never really specify so oop

MASTERLIST

YOU STUMBLED AFTER TONY, arms wildly gesturing around in the air. The expression on your face was a mixture between incredulity and anger.

“What do you mean you don’t need us?” you cried, quickening your already hasty pace. “You always need us!”

“Not this time, kid,” Tony replied, halting. He folded his arms, a stern gleam in his whisky eyes. “It’s not that big of a deal, Y/N. Just hang out with Parker, watch a few movies. Do your homework. Be a kid.”

In all honesty, you didn’t really care much about skipping out on one mission. If anything, you enjoyed the break. You could catch up on some sleep, watch a few episodes of your favorite show and vedge out with some take out. It was the wavering uncertainty about not going on a mission that scared you the most. You didn’t like not knowing where your team was and you definitely did not like it when you couldn’t keep an eye on them. It made you anxious thinking about them going in with the potential of coming out alive or dead. Not to mention, you had grown ridiculously attached to them, which left you in a great deal of discomfort whenever you went without them for great periods of time.

Tony could sense your apprehension, and he ruffled your hair. “It’s okay, Y/N. We’ll come home soon—sooner than you think. And you won’t be alone.”

You sighed, your stubbornness dissolving with his assuring words. Unwillingly, you surrendered and threw your hands up. “Fine,” you huffed with exasperation. “I want daily updates though.”

“Yeah, something tells me that with Parker roaming around the facility, you won’t be too focused on my updates,” Tony muttered, rolling his eyes.

“What did you say?” you challenged, quirking a brow.

Tony shook his head, “Nothing!” He stepped into the elevator, pressing the button to the ground floor. “Love you, kiddo.”

You watched the doors slide shut, a smile pressed onto your lips. “Love you, too. Bye.”

You wondered what exactly you should do to kickstart your day, and seeing as your nerves were already inflamed, there was no point in going back to bed. Instead, you opted for a shower, heading down the hall towards your bedroom. On the way, you passed Peter’s room, the door gently cracked, soft music emitting from inside.

“Peter?” you rapped your knuckles against the door.

“Yeah?” he hummed.

You pushed the door open further, eyes falling upon his figure strewn out across his bed with his laptop lying on a pillow. A television show of sorts seemed to be playing on the screen, and you shot the boy a dimpled smile, drinking in his clean appearance for the day: a flannel shirt fitted beneath a blue sweater with a pair of jeans. His hair was brushed, the mess of chocolate waves tamed with a few dollops of gel. There was no denying you found him attractive even in his casual stance.

“Nothing, I uh … saw the door open,” you pulled at your fingers, stretching your hands. “Thought I should say hey.”

Peter grinned, noticing the pink blush sweeping across your cheeks. “Hey,” he chuckled lightly. “Oh! I had a question to ask you.”

You tilted your head, curious. “What’s up?”

“I-uh, w-was wondering if you could help me out with my English essay? You’re really great with all the writing stuff, I-I was thinking maybe you could help me brainstorm some ideas?”

You beamed, flattered that he would ask for assistance. “Of course!” you smiled brightly. He relaxed at the buoyant expression painting your face. “Maybe we can do it a bit later this afternoon? It’s way too early for me right now.”

“Sounds good.”

“Okay, cool.”

You backtracked out of his room then left to shower, shutting the bathroom door behind you. Once the door had closed, and you were alone, you felt your mind wandering back to Peter and his eyes and how sharp his jaw looked whenever he craned his neck from the laptop screen to your face. Subconsciously, you bit down on your lip, thinking of his thick, curly lashes and the tone of his voice. It was pretty evident to you that you felt something for the brown-eyed boy, but you miraculously managed to control yourself in front of him. Having a crush was fun, but being obsessed was not. Your interest in him was merely something to ponder on when you had nothing else to think of, and that’s it. At least, that’s what you always kept telling yourself.

Every day it was getting harder to deny the fact you didn’t love his ridiculous jokes and the glistening of his eyes when he raved on about something he was passionate about. You didn’t think he was just attractive, you thought he was cute, too. And that made things entirely too difficult for you. You didn’t want to think of him the way that you did, but you couldn’t stop the racing of your heart whenever his hand brushed across yours, or whenever you felt his eyes drift across your body.

Peter on the other hand was absolutely infatuated. He didn’t care much for the consequences of thinking of you the way that he did because it all felt so nice. Falling in love with you was utterly painless, and he would savor every moment he spent with you, capturing every fragment of every second.

Once you finished your shower, dried off, and pulled on your undergarments, you wrapped a thin, cottony robe around your body and ran a brush through your damp hair.

You headed into the kitchen, the floor cold against your bare feet. Peter was hoisted on one of the stools, his math textbook opened up beside him. He busily scribbled a few problems onto his notebook, his tongue poking out between his teeth in concentration. You felt butterflies flutter in your stomach at the sight of his fingers curling around his jaw, wondering what those same fingers would feel like pressed into your skin, wondering where his fingers would roam and if his lips would join.

You swallowed hard and turned around, trying to focus on making yourself something to eat rather than developing an appetite for Peter Parker himself. You turned around to face the fridge, tapping your heel against the floor, hands ferreting through the array of condiments and such.

Peter glanced up from his work, his cheeks reddening at the sight of you in front of him, your figure clad only in a robe. His eyes roamed your legs, and he clenched his jaw when he continued further up to your round bottom. The robe rode up when you balanced on the tips of your toes, revealing the lace hem of your gray panties, Peter’s imagination sparking at the sight. Your hips swayed when you turned around, and he clasped his clammy hands together, begrudgingly refusing the intolerable urge to dig his fingers into your luscious thighs and scatter your body with sloppy kisses.

You nonchalantly continued on with your food gathering, glancing up for a brief moment to catch Peter’s lingering gaze on your body. He smiled before looking away, a smirk growing on your lips when you recognized the pinkness of his cheeks and how he shifted in his chair. Was there a possibility that he enjoyed seeing you this way? You liked your chances, feeling confidence spark within your chest.

You rounded the counter and hovered over Peter’s shoulder, your lips grazing past his ear. He closed his eyes, mouth parted as he made an inaudible gasp. You ran a hand through your hair before placing it on Peter’s back, drawing it up towards the nape of his neck where your fingers ghosted along his sensitive skin, curling within his dark locks. “What are you working on?” you asked innocently.

“Uh, math,” he replied, clearing his throat, maneuvering his legs to regress the sudden tightness of his jeans. A fire ignited in his dark eyes when he saw your slender fingers toying with the tie of your robe, fiddling with the cloth and twisting it around.

“Lame,” you giggled. “Hey, maybe you can give me a little math lesson sometime. I can help you with your paper, you can help me with some homework?” You bit down on your lip, then moved your hand gently on to his wrist to halt his scribbling. Peter stared at your hand, then slowly drew his gaze up to you.

“Y-yeah, sure,” he stuttered. “I’d like that. It’s not like you need my help though, Y/N. You’re literally one of the smartest people I know.”

You raised your brows at him, smiling fondly at the compliment. “Thanks, Pete,” you spoke. “Honestly, I just like having an excuse to hang out with you alone.”

“R-really?” he gaped.

“Yeah.”

You removed your hand from his wrist, nodding. Peter felt cold without your touch electrifying his skin, his eyes continuing to tail your body as you strutted back behind the counter. You curled your fingers around the jar of peanut butter—plenty aware of Peter’s dilated pupils on you—dipping your finger into the gooey mixture. Hoisting yourself onto the counter, you sat with your legs dangling down against the cabinets. Peter watched with hungry eyes as you slid your two fingers into your mouth, sucking and licking them clean before drawing them out with a distinct popping noise.

He nearly came in his pants right then and there. You leaned back slightly, craning your neck back to reveal the sensitive skin just desperate to be marked by his lips, your fingers brushing along your collarbones, emphasizing the countless dips and grooves of your body that you ached for him to explore. He didn’t know how much longer he could last simply sitting around while you toyed with him. His fingers were itching to slip beneath the useless fabric of your robe and feel the heat building between your legs, coaxing you to an unbelievable orgasm. He wanted to put his mouth on your dripping core and make you scream his name.

“Want to make cookies?” you asked. “I know a good recipe for peanut butter ones,” your eyes never tore away from his gaze, curiosity dancing through your mind about what he’d look like without the multiple layers of clothing.

“O-okay,” he breathed.

Peter folded his textbook closed, eagerly sliding his homework materials back into his backpack. There would be plenty of time for homework later. He joined you behind the counter, standing in front of your body still poised on top of the clean kitchen table. Extending his arms he grabbed the jar of peanut butter from your grasp and dipped his pinkie in. He was so, so close. You were astonished at his motions, shocked that Peter Parker of all people would do something as sensual as that.

His heart was pounding out of his chest. He’d never done anything like this before in his entire life, but the awestricken expression balanced on your face was enough confirmation for him to know he’d done something right. He gripped onto the tie of your robe, his fingers fumbling with the thin material. There was a dark gleam twinkling in his eye, one that urged you to clench your thighs together and relieve the building ache between them. His muscular frame was standing in the way, keeping your thighs spread wide apart. The robe barely provided enough coverage to your most sensitive, now-damp area.

“Are you going to change?” he asked, twisting the tie around his fingers. You could feel him tugging on it gently, the front of the robe sliding down to reveal the lace hem of your bralette.

“Do you want me to?” you countered, a smirk growing on your lips.

Peter’s eyes stared you down for a moment, the gaze between you never faltering even for a second. You were driven by lust, as was he, wild thoughts about the boy standing between your legs blossoming in your mind like an eccentric dream. You wanted him to touch you more than anything in the word. You were on fire, and his fingers would only make you burn brighter.

Peter swallowed, releasing the tie. He stepped away from you, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t mind,” he hummed.

You finally jumped off the counter, furtively attempting to clench your thighs together. You could feel the wetness already staining your panties, your clit pulsating. Peter noticed the bright red blush across your cheeks, satisfaction bursting proudly within in his chest. He was a genius; it was blatant to him that you were flustered, and it was blatant you were trying to relieve yourself of the aforementioned flustering. He simply could not let you do that. He liked how you looked when you were tingling with arousal.

“I-I’ll help you get the ingredients out, and then I’ll change,” you breathed.

Peter nodded. You two gathered the ingredients, shifting between the fridge and the pantry for dry and wet necessities. Peter made that experience increasingly difficult, as he always found someway to just barely touch you. His arm would graze yours, his fingers dancing along the hem of your robe before brushing across your thigh. Sometimes he would reach up and pretend to fix an uncooperative strand of hair. Once you finished, you leaned against the counter.

Peter stood right beside you, his body intentionally aligned entirely with yours. Your faces were close, eyes flickering towards his lips. He reached forward, fingers hooking around the material of the robe. “I like this robe,” he muttered, playing with the material’s texture.

“Maybe I shouldn’t change then,” you drawled, a flirtatious grin settling on your lips.

“Maybe you shouldn’t,” he agreed. “It’s white though. Wouldn’t want to stain it, would you?”

You smiled at his cleverness, the lustful gleam glistening in his chocolate eyes scrutinizing your lips.

“Good idea,” you tilted your head, untying the robe. You allowed it to drop in a loose heap onto the cold floor, leaving you bare aside for the lacy gray panties and white bralette. “Probably best that I don’t wear it while we bake.”

Peter’s expression miraculously remained even. He clenched his jaw, his Adam’s apple bobbing when he swallowed thickly. His eyes trailed from your lips down to the lacy material of your bra, your breasts held up perfectly, erect nipples evidently straining against the thin fabric. He licked his lips when he came to your panties, eyes nearly rolling back into his head when he noticed the dark gray stain showing through the fabric. You were turned on because of him.

He couldn’t resist you anymore. His fingers made feather-like touched against your frame, sliding down from your hips to the lace hem of your panties. He played with it absentmindedly, pulling it up and down. All he wanted was to tear them off you. You wanted the same. His fingers grazed along your clit when he moved to the opposite side, your lips damp and parted.

“Fuck,” you whispered, trying to stifle your moans.

Peter grinned. “Are you wet for me, Y/N?” he asked huskily.

“Yes,” you exhaled.

Shock burst within your chest when Peter leaned in, his lips latching onto yours. Butterflies exploded in your stomach, your heart racing and palms sweating with bubbling excitement. Your lips molded together perfectly, your fingers tangling in his loose curls while his own hand rested on your waist, pulling you flush against him. It didn’t take long for the once gentle and slow kiss to turn sloppy and passionate, your tongues entwining.

Your mind was racing too fast to decipher any thoughts meandering through, and the only thing you could hear was Peter muttering the distinct word “jump” against your mouth.

You complied, jumping as his hands situated beneath your thighs. Your bottom quickly made contact with the cool kitchen counter, your back striking the cabinet, silverware clanging loudly within. He spread your legs far with his hands, his abdomen rutting against yours. You could feel the stiff bulge in his jeans against your heat, his lips beginning to trail from the side of your mouth, down your jaw and to your neck.

“Peter, Fuck,” you moaned, his lips fixating on one spot. He sucked gently, nibbling on the skin, earning small pleasured gasps from your mouth. His hands continued running up and down your thighs, slowly trailing up your back to locate the strap of your bralette. He continued showering your neck and collarbones with affection, leaving behind sloppy red marks wherever he left his lips. He pulled away for a moment, gazing at you as he unhooked your bra. The straps slid down your arms, your breasts falling free against your chest. He allowed the material to crumple to the floor before glimpsing at your pink nipples.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N,” he met your eyes. A blush graced your cheeks, and your eyes fluttered shut when he started to swirl his tongue around your pink buds, hardening them further to his liking. Your fingers toyed with the hem of his sweater before quickly removing it, his lips attacking the second breast. You were grinding beneath him, moaning with pleasure, completely intoxicated by the feeling of his lips on your skin. It was better than you could ever imagine.

“Fuck, Peter. I fucking need you,” you gasped, mewing when his teeth latched onto your nipple, pulling gently.

“You’re being so good, Y/N,” he unbuttoned his flannel, and you eagerly tore the shirt off, admiring his toned chest and the divots of his abs. The muscles on his back were prominent, your nails dragging down them, leaving faint marks when his lips started in again on your neck. He kneaded your breasts with his large hands, rolling your protruding nipples between his fingertips.

He continued pressing open-mouthed, wet kisses against your body, finally arriving at his prime destination between your legs. You gasped when he started to fervently place sensual kisses to your inner thighs, kissing you chastely on your clit through the damp fabric of your panties. A whine toppled from your mouth, and Peter groaned when he slid your panties down your gorgeous legs, his touch grazing your skin. He licked his lips, your eyes meeting.

“God, you look so fucking hot like this,” he whispered, inhaling your scent. He hooked your legs over his shoulders, his lips hovering along your slick folds. He dragged his tongue along your slit, lapping up all your sweet juices, his tongue working around your labia, never quite landing where you desired it to most.

“Fuck, Peter. Jesus, fuck,” you whined, your breasts jostling with every shuddering breath you took. You ran your fingers through his hair, encouraging him. “God, you’re so good. So fucking good. Just like that, baby.”

Peter buried his mouth harder between the apex of your thighs, his lips puckering around your engorged clit. You moaned as he began suckling, throwing your head back in bliss. He glimpsed up, relishing in the ethereal imagine of you squirming and glistening like a goddess. The light pooling in from the large glass windows made you seem like an angel from above. His hands tightened around your legs, maintaining their spread state, palms running upward to squeeze your ass.

You felt the tip of his tongue swirling hastily around your clit, your toes curling when you met the edge. “Peter, shit. I’m gonna come. Can I come? Please?” you whimpered.

Peter beamed at the thought of you asking him for permission to come. He savored the power, enjoying his ability to unravel you with his lips.

“Come for me, Y/N.”

At his words, your toes curled, your back arching as your longly anticipated orgasm came ripping through you. Gibberish was pouring from your mouth at this point, your eyes sealed. You found yourself pressing his head further against your dripping core, your body trembling with pleasure, and even though the affects of your orgasm subsided, Peter continued to work his tongue along your overstimulated clit, coaxing another orgasm out of you. You entire body was quaking with euphoria.

“Holy fuck, Peter!” you twitched, humming gently when he pressed a soft kiss against your clit. You were breathing heavily, his grip around your thighs loosening as he started back up your smooth legs to your stomach and perky breasts. He rolled your nipples, dipping his tongue between the valley of your breasts before sucking another hickey along the inside of your left breast. “So good. So fucking good, baby.”

You tugged on his locks, pulling his lips—still glistening with your juices—up against your own. It was wet and passionate, laced with love and driven by lust. Your palms slipped down his neck, trailing down the hard, prominent muscles of his back, your trimmed nails leaving faint white streaks along his flesh. He slipped his tongue into your mouth, your own sweet flavor exploding on your taste buds.

When you pulled away, you were both panting, his hands still holding your jaw. You opened your eyes slowly, biting your lip at the lopsided grin washing across Peter’s handsome face. “Thank you. That was … amazing. You’re amazing, Peter.”

He laughed breathlessly, smoothing down your frizzy hair. A pink blush flushed across his cheeks, and he nodded. “You’re so beautiful,” he kissed you briefly. “I-I’ve been waiting forever to just … kiss you. It’s been killing me.”

“Me too,” you slouched against the cabinet, your fingers ghosting along the waistband of his jeans. You gazed deeply into his eyes, satisfaction sprouting within your core when you saw the look of surprise ignite across his face. You fiddled with the buckle, then palmed him through his jeans, eliciting a groan from the flustered boy. “What do you say I blow you after we get these cookies in the oven?”

“What—y-you want … Yes. Yes, definitely. Of course. Please. Only if you want to,” he sputtered.

You scoffed, leaping down from the counter. You bent down and picked up your bunched up panties from the floor slipping them back over your legs. “You think I’d just leave you hanging like that, Parker? No. After all, I’d say you earned a reward …” Your faces were close again, your hot breath fanning across his face. He looked so innocent with his speckling chocolate brown eyes, and you loved it. You grazed your thumb along his bottom lip, dragging the pads of your fingers across his bare chest. You finally dipped your hand beneath Peter’s jeans, giving his hard member a firm, generous squeeze. Peter moaned. “Don’t you think so, too?”

“Fuck,” he whimpered. “Yes. Please, Y/N.”

You withdrew your arm, waltzing towards the kitchen sink to wash your hands. Peter soon joined you, his eyes occasionally dancing across your nude body.

“Thank God we have this whole day to ourselves,” he sighed.

You flashed him a dimpled smile. “You have condoms?”

Peter’s brows shot up at your question. “Yes.”

“Perfect.”

1K notes · View notes

peterporkerpeter · 6 years

Text

God is a Woman [Liz Allan x Reader]

SUMMARY: Your end of semester art project is to paint anything you desire. You paint the one thing you desire–a girl by the name Liz Allan. Well, that is until you’re distracted by her seashell eyes and lustful gaze.

CONTAINS: so much smut jesus fuck this is filthy, oral x2 (fem receiving), fingering, LOTS of dirty talk, teasing, orgasm denial-ish, fluff LOL

WC: 5.300 (I WENT SO OVERBOARD)

A/N: so ik liz isn’t that popular of a character but i don’t really give a shit about how many likes this gets or whatever. i needed this shit in my life and I’m sure at least one other person did too. anyway this is soooooo fucking smutty but let me tell you, i could’ve made it a whole lot worse!!! i could’ve gotten really kinky!!! but i didn’t!!!! you’re welcome. anyway, Liz Allan gets me hot n bothered, so i just had to go off. sorry not sorry. prepare yourselves.

MASTERLIST

ALL CHARACTERS ARE OF AGE

Keep reading

380 notes · View notes

peterporkerpeter · 6 years

Text

Comfort [Peter Parker x Reader]

SUMMARY: After a rough night at home, you seek comfort in your friend, Peter Parker.

CONTAINS: fluff, swearing, mentions of divorce, mentions of alcohol

WC: 4.000

A/N: hey so i whipped this up the other night and its not my best work but i decided i might as well post it for the hell of it! i’m opening up requests now to anyone who has anything they would like me to write about. i hope you enjoy this and if you do, feel free to check out my other works! :)

MASTERLIST

THE NIGHT WAS COLD, rain pouring like wet curtains from the sky and splattering across the sidewalk. You quickly trudged through, your sneakers soaked and clothes sopping. You were shuddering against the heavy wind, hopelessly trying to tuck your hair out of your sight. It refused to remain snug behind your ear, your Y/H/C locks opting to smack violently against your face.

You and your father had been arguing again. It was something that hat occurred often, so you never really dwelled to much on it to avoid having to face your feelings about it. This time it was different. He yelled at you this time around. Loud. Your mother was out of town on a business trip so she wasn’t there to defend you, and the divorce between them was pretty nasty so you didn’t expect him to be any lenient on you for wishing to live with her.

You finally arrived at the apartment complex of your friend, Peter Parker. You two weren’t best friends, not like him and Ned. But you were close—close enough for you to develop the tiniest of a crush and close enough for you to open up a little to him. He knew somewhat of your situation and he always insisted that if you ever came down to it and you needed a place to hang for a little, his home was always yours too.

You rushed up the stairs, your sneakers sloshing with ever step. Once you found yourself perched before his doorstep, you raised an arm, holding your knuckles inches away from the wood. Your heart was racing. Maybe I shouldn’t, you thought. Maybe I should just find a diner or something instead.

It’s fine. He’ll understand.

You knocked on the door, a few seconds passing before the locked clinked and the knob shifted. The door opened and your heart dropped.

“Hey, Y/N,” Peter’s voice was laced with concerned. He opened the door wider, absorbing your disheveled state, urging you to come inside. “What’s wrong? Are you okay? Here, let me get you a towel?”

“Thanks,” you sniffled, wiping the back of your hand along your nose. Your body was convulsing with shivers, hands working desperately to warm up your arms. You hadn’t even thought to bring a sweatshirt before you mindlessly stormed out—not that having a sweatshirt would do much to fend off the rain.

Peter returned hastily with a towel, instantly wrapping it around your body. He held it firmly against you, rubbing up and down on your limbs to create some friction. You grabbed on to the towel and patted it across your face, the tears and rolling water droplets sinking into the soft fabric. He kept his hand firmly on your shoulder, his thumb drawing comforting circles.

“W-where’s May?” You panted, your body disappearing beneath the towel. You felt awful for intruding so late, but you didn’t know where else to go or who else to talk to. Peter said he was always there, so by default, he was he only option.

“She’s uh, she’s working late tonight. So it’s just me,” Peter replied calmly. “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head, wiping away at your lashes still coated with your hot tears. “It’s just my dad. You know how he can be sometimes, and tonight he just … sucked. He-he first got made at me because I got a C on that one math test we had, a-and I tried to tell him that I forgot about the test because I was working so hard on the prepping for the Robotics Club and the Environmental Club, but then he just got mean about everything. About my friends, how I spend my time, about me. Not just that one stupid grade! I-I know it’s sounds stupid, and I’m probably being so, so overdramatic and completely sensitive about this—”

“No,” Peter cut you off. “No, it’s okay, Y/N. He shouldn’t be giving you a hard time for one bad grade when you’ve been working your ass off on a bunch of other things. It’s okay.”

You nodded, using the towel to wipe again at your eyes. “I think he’s been drinking. That’s why he’s always in a pissy mood now. That, and the divorce. He-he gives me shit for everything. I can’t ever say ‘no’ to him without getting nervous about how he’d react. My anxiety is off the charts because of it.”

Peter curled and arm around you, listening attentively as he led you to his room. Once you arrived, he pushed the door open for you, then started to pick through his dresser for some spare clothes to lend you.

“I-I’m really sorry, Y/N. That’s really shitty of him. I’m relieved that you came here. We can uh, just hang out the rest of the night and-and you can have my bed. I’ll take the couch,” Peter sounded sincere, his hand resting on your knee. Your smile was watery when you accepted the bundled up t-shirt and sweatpants. “I can um … t-turn around. If you don’t want me to leave.”

Your cheeks flushed pink and you nodded profusely, not wanting to be alone. It was cathartic to you knowing that Peter was close by, living and breathing the same air as you. And Peter smelled like birch wood and peonies, unlike the stench of bittersweet alcohol and burned out cigarettes that your home usually reeked of. Peter, to you, was a breath of fresh air. You found comfort in his embrace, always wanting to savor the warmth his arms radiated whenever the coiled around you. You felt safe and protected, like you were buried in a home you never quite knew you craved.

“You can turn around,” you agreed, smiling softly. Peter obliged, shoving his hands into his pocket before standing up from the bed to turn his back to you.

You stood up, lifting the soaking wet shirt up and over your head, discarding it onto the floor. There was something about changing with Peter just feet away that made your stomach explode with butterflies. The part of you that wasn’t so focused on the painful events of your evening wished that he would turn around and look at you for a minute. You wondered what he would think and how he would feel. You wondered what he would do with his hands and where he would place his fingers. Where would he place his lips?

But tonight was certainly not the night for any of that. That’s not what you needed. What you needed was a friend to protect you and a shoulder to cry on. You needed Peter Parker, your friend. Not Peter Parker who you loved more than just a friend. You reached behind your back and unclasped your bra. Your fragile, perplexed mind wandered once again.

Turn around.

You tugged the shirt over your head, Peter’s scent fanning pleasantly across your nose. After kicking off your shorts, you pulled on the baggy sweatpants and ran the towel through your hair once more, giving it one final drying.

“I’m done,” you announced.

Peter bounced back on his heels before turning around, his heart racing when he saw you in his clothes. You looked good. He scolded himself for having the crude desire to turn around earlier; his conscience would’ve never forgiven him, and neither would he. Maybe to you it didn’t mean anything, but to him it was everything. You were everything. With your crystallized Y/E/C eyes and youthful cheeks and glowing smile. With your good heart and golden personality.

“So-so do you want to watch some movies? Or we could just uh … we could hang out and order some Chinese food. It’s only eleven so they’re still open. May left me cash for dinner but I never got around to it.”

You nodded, your lips curving up softly. Peter started towards the kitchen, subconsciously placing his hand on the small of your back to usher you towards the living room couch. Your cheeks reddened with the gentle contact of his palm, but you leaned back into the touch, desiring something stronger. When you sat down, you pulled your knees to your chest, billions of thoughts whipping violently through your mind. Some of them pertained to your father others were more fixated on Peter and why he made you so nervous. Some of them even revolved around the stupid test you had Monday and the club meeting you had after school. You had so many thoughts and nothing to do with any of them besides dwell and ponder until your brain was sore.

“W-whatever you want to do. I don’t want to intrude or anything,” you shrugged.

Peter flashed you a grin. “Let’s get Chinese. I’ll get like, fried rice and noodles or whatever. You’ll like it!”

After Peter ordered the food and joined you on the couch, he flipped on the television, using the remote to flip through all the stations. He settled on Criminal Minds, a show you didn’t mind watching. All you really wanted was some background noise to kill the crippling silence. You got comfortable on the couch, burying yourself into the corner, stretching your legs out just enough to not invade Peter’s personal space. Laying your head against the pillow, you curled up beneath the throw blanket and watched the show.

Peter anxiously tapped his toe against the floor, staring at you out of the corner of his eye. His cheeks were bright pink, and he desperately wanted to start a conversation. But for some reason, he was so nervous. His stomach was churning and twisting into knots, and he hated himself for wanting to kiss you even during the most inappropriate of times, yet he still couldn’t help himself.

“So uh, did you go to Betty’s party last weekend? I-I know she invited everyone from decathlon, so …” you trailed off, threading your clammy fingers together, eyes cast upon the floor.

Peter nodded. “Yeah, yeah. I left early though. Parties aren’t really my kind of thing, I-I guess. I saw you though, before you left.”

You finally mustered the courage to meet his eyes. The bright lighting of the television screen reflected off his glistening, chocolate brown irises. “You should’ve said something,” you responded. “I’m not really that big of a partier either. I-I just go to get out of the house, but I’d rather be doing anything else.”

“I would’ve said hi, but you were talking to that guy from our Spanish class, so-so I didn’t know if I’d be interrupting you or anything?” His pitch got higher as he grew more anxious. He didn’t want to be stepping over any boundaries or anything. The look of shock that flushed across your delicate gestures made him regret every word he’d uttered.

“Who, Jacob?” you giggled, shaking your head furiously. “No-No! No way! Never! He was just totally wasted, and he-he kept going on about his dog. I gave him a ride home. That’s all though,” you assured Peter. You definitely didn’t want him to get the idea that you had a thing for Jacob—if anything, you were trying to drop hints to Peter that you were interested in him! But you weren’t exactly keen in those particular types of romantic situations, so it wouldn’t be baffling to you if found out you were doing a mediocre job at it.

“O-oh,” Peter stuttered. He felt stupid. “Well, you still looked really pretty that night. I wanted to say hi. Really.”

You gaped, blinking blankly at him like his words were some sort of spell in a foreign tongue. Peter Parker just called you pretty. You could feel your heart racing and the butterflies in your stomach only magnified with the flustering compliment. “You thought I looked pretty?”

Peter laughed anxiously, his eyes darting between you and the floor. “Y-yeah. You were wearing that blue blouse and that pair of jeans you always wear. The ones you got from Old Navy.”

Grinning fondly at him, you eased back into the couch, flattered that he’d remember something as ridiculous as an outfit—flattered that he’d remember you at all. You shrugged, “Yeah. I-I guess I was. I can’t believe you’d remember that.”

Peter was relieved when the doorbell rang, because he definitely didn’t want to come up with some ridiculous excuse as to why he remembered what you wore on that very particular evening. He was practically staring you down from across the room whenever you weren’t looking, jealousy flaring like a fire in his stomach whenever he saw how fondly Jacob was looking at you. He watched and noticed the way the corners of your eyes crinkled whenever laughter came bubbling like a melody from your tongue. He watched and he noticed the way you fiddled with your bracelets, a nervous tick you had whenever you were placed in stressful situations. He’d known you long enough to pick up on those little quirks.

Once he paid the delivery man and grabbed the bag full of Chinese, Peter carried it to the kitchen and placed it onto the counter, immediately diving in. You jumped up and joined him, ferreting through the cabinets for some plates and silverware for you both. He picked out the boxes of rice and noodles, and the sweet and sour chicken, and cranked them open as if they were eating at some prestigious, gourmet buffet. He gestured towards the food, urging you to go first, your mouths watering.

The remainder of your evening was spent balled up on the couch, eating your Chinese food. The tension had finally subsided with your laughter, and you continued to talk and talk until your eyelids started to droop.

“I can’t believe you said that to Flash! What did he do about it?” you listened with ignited eyes, twirling a noodle around on your fork.

Peter snickered. “Nothing! Well, nothing yet. I’m totally not looking forward to going back Monday. He’s going to give me such a hard time at decathlon,” he groaned.

You tilted your head, frowning slightly. “I’m sorry. It sucks that he’s a dick to you, but you should take what he says to heart. You’re totally awesome, Peter. And Flash just kind of sucks. I mean, for God’s sake, what kind of person calls themselves 'Flash’, and for what? It’s not like he’s fast or anything.”

Peter laughed at your statement, flashing you a toothy smile that made your heart feel warm. “Thanks, Y/N. And yeah, I guess you’re right. I still can’t believe you had a thing with him.”

You moaned, sinking down into the couch. Swallowing the last bit of your food, you buried your face into the palms of your hands, wanting nothing more than to shield yourself from the world. “Please don’t talk about that. It’s so embarrassing. I genuinely feel so sick,” you joked. You ran a hand through your hair. “Yeah. We don’t talk about that, ever. That’s one of the things we are locking away in a vault for eternity.”

Peter’s face grew curious, and his eyes flickered with an emotion you couldn’t quite identify. “Why did you even do it?”

You pondered. “I-I don’t know. I guess I was just really excited. It was the first time a guy had asked me out, and I really wanted to go on a date. So I did. And like, he was kind of nice to me. Still Flash, but … nicer than my dad. Then he asked me for nudes,�� you stared to giggle at the silliness of it all. “Such a tragic demise to a fruitful relationship, don’t you think?”

Peter scoffed. “Yeah. I guess you could say that. That’s shitty though. That he’d ask you for stuff like that. You don’t deserve that.”

“Thanks, Peter. What about you? Any first date stories you want to share? First kiss? First whatever?” you bit down on your bottom lip, watching the way his wavy chocolate locks bounced whenever he turned his head. Your eyes met for a brief moment, the gaze impenetrable and laced with affection.

“I’ve been on a date once, with that Ally girl in your Environmental Club in freshmen year, but … I wasn’t really into it. I don’t really know what I’m doing,” he confessed. “And I’ve never kissed anyone. What about you?”

You shook your head. “No,” you hummed. “I’m still waiting for the right person.”

“Me too,” he said.

Eventually, you two had feasted on just about all the Chinese food you could stomach for one evening. After packing the leftovers away into the refrigerator, Peter let you borrow an unopened toothbrush, and you went to brush your teeth. The both of you were beyond exhausted, and you wanted nothing more than to curl up beneath a heap of blankets and pass out.

Peter fixed up his bed for you, fluffing out the pillows and asking you if you needed anything—a glass of water, more blankets, anything.

Once you were in bed with your sheets pulled to your neck, you couldn’t push away that lonely feeling prodding away at your core. You were scared. You didn’t want to be all by yourself alone in the dark. Not after what happened at home. You felt horrible and guilty, intruding on Peter’s evening, having him buy dinner, having to give you his clothes. He was probably exhausted from the week, and you had just barged in unannounced in complete and utter disarray.

“Peter!” you blurted his name before he could leave. The boy stopped, poking his head out from around the door.

“Yeah, Y/N?”

Your heart was pounding harder. “C-can you stay with me? I-I don’t really want to be alone right now. It’s okay if um … if you don’t want to, so don't—”

“No, it’s okay,” Peter’s tone was soft. You could hear his bare feet padding across the carpet.

You relaxed once you felt the weight of his body dip into the mattress of his twin sized bed. You scooted over as much as you could, turning your back towards him. He pulled up on the comforter, getting comfortable in his bed. You felt a lot warmer and a lot safer.

“Thanks, Peter. For everything,” you whispered. “I’m sorry for—”

“Hey,” he rolled over to face you, and in response you turned back. Your faces were inches apart, hot breaths fanning across each other’s parted lips. “You don’t ever have to apologize to me for anything, Y/N. I would do anything for you. Anything. I had fun hanging out with you.”

You smiled, relief fluttering in your chests “Me too, Pete.”

“And for the record,” Peter’s words were shaky, his breaths growing shallower by the second. You anticipated his next words, a lump growing in your throat. “I-I think you look really pretty even when you’re wearing my clothes. I mean, e-especially.”

A smile blossomed on your lips, and you felt his lashes brush across your brows. Your lips were so close, if you moved your head even an inch the gap between you would be closed and everything would fall into place. He was so close. So close. You didn’t know how much longer you could tolerate feeling him like this against you. Never in your whole life did you feel the way you did when you thought about Peter and his illuminating smile and mussy curls and dorky personality, and you were afraid if you didn’t kiss him now you would never feel that way with anybody every again.

“Peter,” you whispered his name like a prayer, your tone thick with love and adoration for the boy.

“Y-yeah?” his nerves were inflamed.

You couldn’t take it anymore. With every ounce of courage you had festering within your core, you took a leap of faith and leaned forward, your lips meeting Peter’s. The silence grew loud, and he responded instantly, craving your touch just as much as you craved his. It was better than you could ever imagine—a dream come true. He was beautiful and you loved nothing more than the softness of his lips pressed against yours. They molded together flawlessly, moving in sync. It took a few seconds to grasp to concept, but together you eased into it, finding a pattern to move to as you explored each other.

His heart soared, his stomach performing summersaults. He couldn’t fathom a moment more perfect and tender than this. And you were perfect. Everything was perfect. You tasted of mint toothpaste, and he loved it. He placed his hand onto your waist beneath the covers, his fingers pressing into the skin where your shirt had ridden up. He felt you sighed contently against him, and he pulled you closer. He always wanted you closer.

You pulled away, your foreheads pressed together, your taste now glowing on each other’s lips. You panted against each other, basking in the silence and savoring the tender moment before delighted laughs cut through and decorated the atmosphere in bright hues. There were simply no words to describe the happiness flooding within both your hearts.

“I-I was kind of hoping to kiss you,” Peter admitted breathlessly.

You chuckled lightly. “Yeah, me too. We can uh, do it some more if you’d like?”

“Oh, yeah,” Peter agreed eagerly.

He needed no other words to latch his lips onto yours again. You cupped his face with your hands, the pads of your fingers running intimately across his cheekbones, admiring the softness of his skin. You trailed a hand back to tangle in with his curls, combing them fondly. His arms boxed around you, pulling your frame flush against his on the bed. You weren’t entirely sure what you were doing, but thankfully neither did Peter. Whatever came naturally, you did it. You swiped your tongue along his lip, and he parted his mouth, your tongues tying. The kiss grew deeper and more passionate, bodies aflame with lust and desire.

Your shirt continued to ride up further, and his hands followed until he stopped at you diaphragm. Your noses brushed together, cheeks painted a shade of coral. He was magnetic, and you clung to him like never before, never wanting to slip away from the comfort of his embrace ever again.

You kissed for a while, peppering each other’s faces until you both could no longer stand yourselves. You curled up beside him, your head resting on his chest, ear pressed against where his heart would beat like a drum. His chin laid on the top of your head, arms coiled around you, his thumb drawing soft circles on your forearm. There was something incredibly comforting to you about listening to his heart beat, firm and steady. It reminded you of how safe you were with him.

You fell asleep that way.

Aunt May was a little bit confused when she came home, but she didn’t have the heart to wake you.

After all, you left dinner in the fridge and cleaned up after yourselves. What could she possibly be upset with?

That didn’t keep her from having a stern conversation with you both in the morning. She didn’t let you leave for a breakfast date until getting the words “be responsible and use protection” drilled into your heads.

631 notes · View notes

peterporkerpeter · 6 years

Text

Dirty Dancing P.III [Peter Parker x Stark!Reader]

SUMMARY: Y/N Stark is a dancer and Tony invites Peter to come watch her performance. The two teens meet and are immediately infatuated with each other, Peter especially being as he can’t seem to take his eyes off her when she appears on stage. The first night they meet, Y/N teaches him a few moves, and the infatuation soon leads to something more.

CONTAINS: kissing, fluff, swearing, angst (?)

A/N: hey guys and welcome back to this series! so i know it might seem a little slow right now and tbh i feel like this series isn’t the best. but i personally like it so since i have no other ideas at the moment, i’m just going to continue writing for this. i’m going to put together a spotify playlist for you to listen to because i’m listening to some good songs and they really just make the story! anyway, those who are enjoying, i’m glad you’re liking, and those of you who are waiting for something else–i am finally working on something that should come out relatively soon! i’m also doing a liz allen fic because i can’t help myself. that is all! :)

| ONE | TWO |

THE FOLLOWING MORNING, Y/N awoke later than usual, her phone laid out beside her extended hand. She’d fallen asleep talking to Peter last night over FaceTime after Happy had begrudgingly taken the two kids home. Pepper was perched on the edge of her bed, gently shaking her arm.

“Morning, Y/N,” she hummed. Y/N rubbed her eyes with the back of her hands, sitting up slowly in bed while the golden sunlight streamed in through the glass windows. “Why are there bruises on your neck, did you—oh. Oh. Okay.”

Suddenly, Y/N didn’t feel so drowsy anymore. She shot up in her bed, yanking up on her hoodie to shield the vast array of purple bruises splashed across her neck and chest. Her cheeks flushed red, eyes widened and mouth agape as she tried to ponder up an excuse. “Pepper, no, wait—”

“Did you and Peter do something last night? You didn’t. Did you? What—”

“We didn’t do anything!” Y/N insisted, lurching up from her bed, bare feet sinking into the plush carpet. She padded over to her closet and ferreted through for her practice clothes and another change of clothes. “Pep, I swear! We didn’t do anything bad. We just hung out and kissed a little bit. That’s all.”

Pepper stood up, arms folded across her chest. The expression on her face was reeling of incredulity, her lips parted. “I thought you two have never met before? Why is he giving you hickeys?! Have you been dating?”

“What? No!” Y/N replied, shaking her head. Her brows pinched together, nose scrunched up. “No, we did just meet last night. After dinner I took him to the studio and was teaching him a few things and it just kind of … I don’t know, it happened.”

“It’s just ’happened’?” Pepper screamed.

“Look, Pepper,” Y/N sighed. “I need to shower. Please, don’t tell dad. I’m sorry. I don’t want him to get mad.” She pleaded with her hands folded, practically on her knees. Tears were beginning to glimmering her eyes. “He can’t know about! Please! He would ground me the rest of my life and-and he’d fire Peter from the internship! I-It’s my fault, I got carried away—”

Pepper sighed, completely exasperated. After a few agonizing moments she nodded, swallowing hard. “Fine. Fine, Y/N. But something happens, you come tell me immediately. I’m not hiding this from Tony forever, so anything else serious that occurs, you tell him or I will.”

Y/N felt her heart ease, pursing her lips to form a pressed smile. “Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you! I’m sorry. We didn’t do anything else though, really. And if we did I’d tell you.”

Pepper licked her lips, balancing on her heels. She ran a hand through her thick strawberry blonde locks, the anger melting off her face at the apology. “I know. What else did you two do then last night? Is this going to be a thing? Am I going to have to give you the talk?”

“No! No, no, no. No, I don’t need the talk!And I-I mean, I’d hope so. We just walked back to the dance studio and talked the whole way and then I taught him a few moves. Well, kind of. I taught him a move.”

The woman scoffed, the glimmer of a smile on her lips. “Well, Y/N … Just be responsible. Please. I’m not going to lie and say I enjoy the idea of you hopping so quickly into a somewhat relationship with this boy, because I don’t. Even though I love Peter. And I’m sure Tony would agree with me. But since I trust you, I’m at least hoping you’ll make good choices.”

Y/N listened attentively. She shuffled towards her bathroom door, her hand loosely draped onto the brass handle. “I know, Pep. Thanks. Seriously. And I will. I promise.”

Pepper grinned. “Okay. Now, I need to go. Get ready and cover those things up before Tony blows a fuse. And I’m not kidding Y/N—anything that happens with you and his mentee, you tell me ASAP. I will tolerate no dirty dancing between you two hormonal teenagers.”

“Okay,” Y/N swore, stifling a scoff. “I will. Bye.”

Once Pepper left and Y/N departed into her bathroom, she closed the door behind her, stripping of her large hoodie and shorts. Her cheeks were pink and youthful, intriguing eyes skimming over the constellation of hickeys scattering her neck and chest like dark splotches of purple paint. Peter Parker sure could suck. There was no doubt about it, but it wasn’t just about the fact he was good at it. He was kind about it. He was kind and he was brilliant, and not only with books and math homework and science projects, but with everything else deemed less important when the word ‘intelligent’ was used to describe an individual. She remembered how close she was to him, how his lips were soft and wet pressed against her skin, goosebumps shuddering down the entire length of her body. She would do anything to feel that close to him again. She would do anything to feel his warmth.

Her fingertips outlined the marks, her breaths growing shallower as she remembered him and his features, his large brown eyes flooding over with blinding curiosity and thin lips damp and parted with prominent, rumbling hunger. She could see his jaw, sharp and angular as her fingers glided along its chiseled edge, her nails soon dragging down his toned chest. Her own lips on his body. Her own hands trailing every inch of his body.

Y/N cleared her throat, shaking her head. She turned on her shower, then removed her undergarments before allowing the weight of the warm water to cascade down her marked skin. She still thought about Peter. She couldn’t get him off her mind. She could still feel his hands digging into her waist, pulling her closer against him, his fingertips traveling down to grip firmly onto her thighs. She couldn’t get Peter Parker off her mind.

AFTER A LONG WHILE OF covering her hickeys with foundation, Y/N was finally dressed and ready for the day. She grabbed her backpack and headed for the kitchen, anxiously fiddling with her hair. She was nervous that if she pulled it back, her father would notice the uneven shades painted along the surface of her neck.

She rounded the halls, making a beeline for the fridge to grab a water bottle. Her breath caught in her throat when her panicked eyes fell upon a mop of messy, chestnut tendrils facing her. Peter Parker was in the kitchen, perched on one of the stools, his zipped backpack strewn across the table with a book nonchalantly balanced in the palms of his hands—the same hands which had roamed the surface of her body just the night before. She felt her heart thump violently in her chest, hands growing clammy. Her fingertips coiled around the fabric of her t-shirt.

“Hey, honey. Good morning!” Tony cheered, rounding the corner and strutting into the kitchen, his sneakers smacking against the tiled floors. “You heading off to practice?”

Peter’s head shot up from the book, the hardcover slipping from his hands and clattering to the floor. The pages wrinkled, but he couldn’t care less about the creases in the paper—all he seemed to care about was the fact Y/N was there, in the flesh, standing before him yet again, still just as beautiful as she was last night. He swallowed the lump in his throat, a faint smile curving up on his thin, pink lips, the indecisive, yet spectacular thoughts in his head still roaring like a storm. It was almost like he was seeing her again for the first time.

Y/N shifted, tugging up on the collar of her corduroy jacket to reassure herself the hickeys on her neck remained hidden. A smile illuminated her face at the sight of Peter. She was thrilled to see him again.

“I-uh, yeah! Yeah, I’m leaving now. Hey, Peter. I didn’t know you were coming by this morning?” Y/N redirected toward the young boy.

Peter fumbled, rubbing his palms against his jeans. “W-well, your Dad needed some help with a new prototype he’s working on, and-and I volunteered to help. I-I was around? I guess.”

She bent down and picked up the book from the floor, closing the collection of pages. “Wuthering Heights?” she commented, intrigued. Y/N flipped through the pages, tracing the boldly printed words with her groomed fingernails. “I uh, haven’t gotten the chance to read it yet. My English teacher recommended it to me. Do you like it so far?” She handed it back to him, a shiver running down her spine when his fingers gently brushed against hers, her cheeks flushing an electric pink at the flustering warmth.

“Yeah. Yeah, yeah, I do. It’s not like anything else I’ve read before. You’d really like it, I think,” Peter fumbled through to find the page he’d previously been on before clumsily dropping the book.

“Maybe I could borrow it from you when you’re done?” Y/N clasped her hands together, shrugging her shoulders. The gleam in her eyes was leaking with hope and adoration.

Tony glanced between the two, practically growing dizzy from the amount of times his eyes would dart from his daughter to his mentee. The tension suffocating the room did not go unnoticed by him, much less the blush on their cheeks. He felt his stomach churn, an unsettling feeling surging through his bones and seeping through his veins like a threatening poison. He knew it was such a bad idea to allow Peter to walk into her life, especially since he was Spider-Man, but … but she looked so excited. There was happiness glowing in her eyes brighter than the sun, and the smile pressed on her lips was something he felt made his heart soar. He just couldn’t bare the thought of keeping her from feeling what he knew she couldn’t control, but he also couldn’t bare the thought of her being hurt. He was trapped at a crossroads.

“Yeah, definitely!” Peter beamed. “Um, if you’re not practicing later tonight, I’m going to the bookstore. I have a few thing to pick up for school and stuff. I-If you want, you can come. Only if you want to though! You can say no!”

Y/N bit down on her lip, shifting her gaze towards her father’s. He was tapping away at his phone before looking up and nonchalantly nodding his head. She gave Peter a toothy grin. “I’d love to! God, I haven’t been to the bookstore in forever!”

“Hey, you two talk for a few more minutes. Happy is calling me. I’ll be back. Don’t get handsy, please,” Tony quipped, disappearing from the kitchen.

Peter and Y/N both seemed to instantly relax as Tony exited, their shoulders falling and lungs deflating with long held breaths. A breathy laugh fell gracefully from her mouth, and Y/N tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Peter stared at her in a daze, eyes raking over her dark lashes and the milks of her big eyes. He noticed the foundation lazily blended along her neck, and it took everything within him to not burst out into hysterical laughter. Instead, he opted for a comforting hand on the crook of her neck, his thumb running along the center of her throat.

Y/N’s breaths grew shallow. She leaned into his magnetic touch. “Hey,” she hummed.

“Hey,” he replied. “H-how are you? Are you good?” He was mesmerized by the grooves in her neck.

She nodded. “Yeah, I-I’m great. I’m amazing. I know I already told you, but I-I really enjoyed being with you last night. And I don’t want you to think that I led you on or anything—because that wasn’t my intention in the slightest—but I just really didn’t want to go further or anything, and I was lowkey totally freaking out the entire time because I was nervous about going too quick about this—or whatever this is—and scaring you or making you uncomfortable—”

“Y/N, it’s okay,” Peter assured her, saving her from anymore incoherent word vomit. His smile radiated warmth and Y/N reveled in it. “Really. I get it, and I feel the same. And you didn’t lead me on at all. I-I kind of really like you.”

Y/N internally gasped at the statement, her cheeks the color of a rose and her Y/E/C eyes sparkling like crystals. She wanted to squeal, she wanted to leap around and scream with excitement, but somehow—some miraculous, unearthly way—she managed to keep her cool. Her fingers pressed against his face, still just as smooth and warm as it was last night. Leaning in, she closed her eyes and placed her lips firmly against his. The kiss was slow and tender, laced with confirmation. He melted against her frame, allowing his hands to drop to her waist.

“I really like you too, Peter Parker,” Y/N whispered. “I-I think you’re cool.”

“You think I’m cool?” he asked incredulously, smiling like a fool. She could feel his happiness against her lips, and she’d never enjoyed such a feeling in her whole life.

“Yeah. I think you’re awesome. And I-I want to hang out with you more,” she continued. “I want to go to that bookstore with you and dance with you and kiss you—as cheesy as it all sounds.”

“It’s not cheesy,” he denied.

She wasn’t convinced. “It’s … pretty cheesy, Parker.”

He tilted his hand, admiring her. “Okay, so maybe a little, but it’s whatever, Y/N. I like anything that comes out of your mouth.”

Now, it was Y/N’s turn to smile like a fool. “God, I just want to be with you alone again like last night.” She sighed, snaking her arms around his neck, the two swaying gently in the middle of the kitchen with their limbs wrapped loosely around each other.

“M-me too,” Peter responded. “I can’t wait to hang out with you later. I-I wish I could come with you to practice. I want to watch you dance again.”

Y/N peppered his face with kisses, hovering above cloud nine. It made her heart sing knowing that Peter was so interested in the things that made her so unbelievably happy. She wanted to do the same for him. “Soon,” she said. “Dad is completely extra and had a studio built in upstairs—well, it’s not just for me. Natasha likes to dance, too. Sometimes we do it for fun together. But … Maybe sometime we could go up there together and … you know. I could teach you a few moves.”

Peter bit his lip, nodding eagerly. “Okay. Cool. I-I’d like that.”

“Perfect. Then the bookstore is a date. And so is that.”

“So, we’re dating now?” Peter’s cheeks were hurting from smiling so hard.

“I-If you want to date,” she stuttered.

He kissed her, their lips entwining. He tasted just as he did last night, a flavor reminiscent of mint lingering on his damp lips. His tongue swiped along her bottom lip, and she granted him entry, their tongues tangling. Y/N moaned contently into the passionate kiss, her fingers curling through his mussed chocolate locks. He felt him push back on her, their bodies aligned together until her back struck the wall of cabinets, silverware rustling beyond the drawers. A muffled giggle fell from her mouth, silenced by his lips, and she groaned pleasantly beneath his fingertips, relishing in the warmth they casted when he slipped them beneath her shirt and dug them into her waist.

“Peter,” she hummed against his mouth between heavy kisses. “As much as I want to, we can’t do this now. My dad is literally in the next room over. I don’t want him to have a stroke.”

Peter panted, a chuckle emitting from his mouth. He took a reluctant step away from her, already missing the way she felt. Anxiously, he ran a hand through his hair, scolding himself for not being able to control his actions. “Sorry. I-I just got carried away.”

“You and me both,” Y/N patted him on the chest. She picked up the book from the counter and pressed it against his chest, tilting her head back to find his eyes. “S-so, is that a yes? Do you want to date me?”

Peter grinned. “Yeah. I’d love to.”

On cue, Tony reappeared from around the corner, tucking his phone into the back pocket of his jeans. He tugged a hand through his messy brown hair, gaze settling on the two teens leaning against the kitchen counter. They whipped their heads toward the man, cheeks dusted pink and lips pressed into smiles.

“Hey, dad. Everything okay?” she squeaked.

He furrowed his brows. “Yeah. Fine. Everything’s fine. What are you two kids talking about?”

“Wuthering Heights!” Y/N tapped the book. “It’s okay for me to go with Peter to the bookstore tonight, right?”

Tony shrugged, not thinking much of it. He trusted his daughter to make right choices, and he knew that with Peter’s identity under wraps, no Spider-Man business would put her in harm’s way. She was just going with Peter Parker to the bookstore—Peter Parker his intern. It was nothing. It was nothing. He repeated it like a mantra in his head.

It was nothing. Peter watched the way Y/N’s face curved up when Tony approved the request. It was nothing. Her smile was so, so bright. It was nothing. Peter smiled back.

It was nothing.

Keep reading

123 notes · View notes

peterporkerpeter · 6 years

Text

Dirty Dancing P.I [Peter Parker x Stark!Reader]

CONTAINS: fluff, swearing

WC: 2.300

A/N: will i ever stop writing Stark!reader? No? Why you may ask? because i try to make up for my own relationship lacking in the father department! tragic! anyway, on a much more optimistic note, i have had this idea in my head for a long time because i watched black swan the other day with Natalie portman and i was left utterly speechless. God i love her. I also watched dirty dancing for the 9283729 time, so then this story was born. hope you enjoy and have a great day/night! :))

| TWO |

THE FIRST TIME PETER saw her, infatuation immediately blossomed within his core. Mr. Stark had offered to take Peter to his daughter’s ballet performance one day while they were hard at work in the lab. He poked his head up, his attention drifting from the Spider-Man suit and latching onto Tony’s whisky-shadowed eyes.

Peter had never met her. He always seemed to arrive at the Tower just as she seemed to leave for practice or hang out with her friends. Sometimes she would be with Pepper going shopping, other times she would be napping in her bedroom. No matter the time, it always seemed like he had just missed her. Of course, he knew about her and had seen pictures, but he’d never shaken her hand or had a conversation.

It didn’t take a lot of convincing for Peter to respond cheerfully with a stuttering, “I-I would love to, Mr. Stark! Thank you!”

A week later and here he was, seated beside Mr. Stark and Miss Potts in a large, luxurious auditorium. The stage was illuminated with bright lights, the glamorous red curtains hanging heavily from the ceiling and brushing against the floor. Intricate designs and patterns were etched into the beige walls, giving the auditorium a picturesque, almost ethereal appeal. Peter felt as if he were touring some kind of heavenly Roman cathedral.

He’d worn the best clothes he had for her performance, hoping to leave an impression on the girl he’d heard so much about. He didn’t want to look overdressed or underdressed, therefore he sufficed for something that settled quite nicely in the gray area. He wore a clean pair of khakis that May had washed just for the occasion and a navy blue button down. The sleeves were rolled up past his elbows, a fair amount of gel slathered through his chestnut locks to tame the mussed curls. For some reason, he wanted to look the absolute best he could for her, and he certainly did not want to be disrespectful to Y/N in front of Mr. Stark either.

“You’re gonna’ love this,” Tony beamed, turning his head so he could speak lowly into Peter’s ear. “Y/N’s great. She’s just awesome.”

Peter smiled. “Thanks for inviting me, Mr. Stark. This is fun—really! I-I’ve always wanted to meet your daughter—”

“Why? You think she’s cute? Oh, I bet you do. She is cute,” he teased, humor thick in his tone.

Peter’s eyes widened, pupils dilating with fear. His jaw his dropped, and he tried desperately to get some coherent words out, but all he could managed was a sentence strewn with incomprehensible gibberish. He swallowed. “W-well, she-she is pretty! I-I mean, I’ve seen pictures and-and other things! But I don't—uh, I-I don’t like her! I haven’t even met her!”

Tony’s brows pinched together, his lips pouted as he tried to make sense of Peter’s crappy excuse for a sentence. Pepper rolled her eyes at her absolutely childish, ridiculous fiancé, placing a reassuring hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Don’t mind him, Peter. He’s just acting like a middle schooler like he always does.”

“Then you’re in love with a middle schooler. That makes you creepy,” Tony retorted, slouching back in his chair, folding his arms dramatically.

Eventually, the lights had dimmed, the stage now the center of the audience’s attention. The lady in charge walked to the front, a microphone clutched in her hand. She wore a black form fitting dress that hugged her down to her knees, her brown hair cut into a curly bob. The jewelry she wore looked expensive, and the woman—who later introduced herself as April—gave the crowd a warm welcome before presenting her talented group of dancers.

Peter stole a quick glance at Mr. Stark out of the corner of his eye, a content smile curling up on the man’s lips.

The poised dancers quickly filed onto the stage after the woman’s introduction, the melodies of violins and cellos filling the atmosphere. Peter’s eyes glistened as he found himself entirely captivated by the ballerinas. They balanced on the tips of their toes in sleek, baby pink ballet shoes, seamlessly gliding along the smooth floor. The ribbons from the shoes adorned their calves and were tied off into neat bows.

His irises skimmed the group of dancers before he finally found Y/N, and wow … she was beautiful. Once his eyes had found her, he couldn’t bare to look away. His damp lips parted slightly, and he weaseled forward in his seat as if a few inches would give him a better view. The way her shining Y/H/C locks were pulled back into a tight bun, not a single strand deemed out of place sent his heart thumping on a tangent. Her makeup was flawless, eyelashes long and enhanced by fake lashes and several coats of mascara. Her cheeks were painted a coral pink, the youthful tint of her skin countered by he dramatic contour hollowing out her cheeks.

Y/N’s motions were water-like as she gracefully danced across the floor. Her movements were sharp, decorated by the stunning navy blue costume accentuating her toned muscles and structured limbs. The outfit hugged her upper body, artificial crystals and glimmering stones ornamenting the golden straps tracing the sweetheart lining. The costume descended into a white skirt that rustled whenever she leaped miraculously through the air. She looked like a colorful bird in flight.

Peter felt absolutely engrossed with Y/N and her fluidity in the art. Her movements continued to be crisp, her legs straight whenever she casually pointed a toe towards the sky. He didn’t understand how she could be so fluent with her steps, and he didn’t understand how any of those girls could have the right amount of balance in their bones to perform so brilliantly. If anything, it looked painful. He wouldn’t be able to maintain those strict movements even with his enhanced abilities.

Miss Potts turned her head, catching a glimpse of Peter’s fascinated expression. She knew exactly where he was looking and who he was looking at. The faint smile on her glossy lips grew brighter as she continued to watch.

The music grew louder and more profound as the harmonies and melodies blended together in a symphony of wind and band. Peter noticed the way her facial expressions altered to the mood of the song. One minute she looked sorrowful, the other she looked relieved, then as the song came to an end, her eyes had cleared beneath coppery shadows and iridescent glimmers. She glided to the center of the circle of dancers prancing perfectly in sync like swans, spinning gracefully like a record. Wonderment and adoration for the girl he hadn’t even gotten the pleasure to meet yet filled him to his core. She was enchanting.

When silence filled the auditorium and the ballerinas came to a halt, Y/N finished her sequence of turns, completing the choreography as applause echoed off the engraved walls. Peter followed in sync with the other spectators, standing up from his seat. He tried to poke his head over the shoulder of the man standing in front of him to gain a better view of Y/N. His eyes finally settled on her, still frozen in her position while she reveled in the applause with her friends. The smile on her face was luminous, her red painted lips tugged up. Peter already found himself falling in love with it.

He mindlessly clapped his hands together, unaware of how loud he was. Mr. Stark spared him a look to see if he had enjoyed it. Sure enough, Peter’s reaction was all the confirmation he needed to know the kid enjoyed a lot more than just the performance.

Finally, the curtains drew shut, and the ballerinas slipped properly off the stage. Y/N grinned and hugged her friends as they all ran back towards the dressing room with adrenaline and exuberance still coursing like a drug through their veins. The phrases “I’m proud of you” and “good job” continued to soar around the room, everyone praising each other on their achievements.

“Y/N!” Cheryl cheered, handing the girl her backpack. “You did amazing on your turns! Next time leave at least a bit of the spotlight to us,” she said playfully, clasping her on the shoulder.

“Thanks, Cher! You did great too!” Y/N complimented. “See you tomorrow.”

With that, Cheryl and the other girls quickly filed out of the room to seek out their parents and family. Y/N took a few seconds to gather her things, her fingers working to untie her ballet shoes and place them into their respective bag. She removed the lashes weighing down on her lids, instantly feeling free before she fished through her bag for the pack of makeup wipes waiting impatiently to liberate her suffocating skin. She headed out of the dressing room, running the wipe across her face while she skimmed through the crowd for her father and Pepper. Luckily, she found them swiftly. Her hand shot up in the air as she waved exuberantly in their direction.

“Found her!” Tony announced. “Here, Pete, you can give her the bouquet. Think of it as a thank you gift for being given the honor to stand in her unearthly presence.”

Peter flimsily clutched onto the bouquet of flowers. They smelled amazing, almost like the perfume that Pepper was wearing. The pink rose petals were soft and fragile, the rose choice glowing with simplicity. Peter followed behind Tony like a lost brown-eyed puppy, a sudden wave of anxiety crashing over him when the man enveloped his daughter into a tight hug. The girl laughed—the first sound he had ever heard her make and already he wanted to listen to it forever.

“You did great, Y/N! God, how did I manage to raise such a well-balanced, not-clumsy child?” The question was genuine as he placed a hand on the side of her face. “Jeez, you are sixteenand already waaay cooler than me. Way to make me feel insecure.”

“Yeah, okay, Dad,” Y/N scoffed. She ran the wipe over her eyelids, the white wipe turning a shade of brown and gold. “Hi, Pepper! I’m so glad you could come this time around!”

“Me too, honey!” The women gently ran her hand along her tightly styled hair. “You did so good—you always do!”

Y/N was just about to address the two again before her eyes fell upon Peter practically folding in on himself behind Tony. She blinked a few times, cheeks flushing pink. Peter Parker, she recalled. She was almost beginning to think that the genius boy her father raved about constantly was a myth until he finally stood before her. The two stared at each other for a timeless moment, their eyes glued into a impenetrable gaze that drowned out the chaos of the outside world. His eyes were dark and projecting with a sun-like warmth she felt pressing into her bones, his hair slightly wavy yet domesticated all the same. She parted her chapped, apple red lips at the sight of his chiseled, angular jaw, the prominent dimples on his cheeks evident when a windy smile flushed across his handsome features. He was beautiful. No pictures did him any justice.

“Oh, yeah! Y/N, this is Peter Parker. He’s interning for your father,” Pepper broke Y/N from her trance, using a cleanly manicured finger to point at Peter, who held a dazzling bouquet of flowers with an equally charming grin.

“Wha—? Oh! Y-yeah! Parker. Peter Parker,” she stuttered, feeling frazzled and embarrassed. “Hi! I-I’m Y/N. Stark.”

“Hi,” the boy chirped. He stumbled forward and handed the girl the bouquet of flowers. His face felt like it was on fire. “T-these are for you!”

Y/N licked her lips, already finding herself infatuated with him. She wanted to get to know him immediately. Graciously, she accept the flowers. “Thank you! You really didn’t have to, I mean—it’s sweet, but we-we haven’t even gotten to know each other yet and just to think you’ve spent your own money that you’ve worked so hard to—”

“Yeah, you can breathe, kiddo. I got those for you,” Tony patted her shoulder. A part of him was beginning to regret ever introducing the two, knowing well that they were both evidently already interested in each other–at least on a physical level. Usually, Y/N managed to be collected and fluent when it came to meeting new people, including those her age. The fact she was turning into a sputtering, incoherent mess because of his intern … Well, he knew a crush when he saw it. Pepper seemed to be thinking exactly what he was thinking, a sheepish grin masterfully hidden behind a casual hand.

“Oh! Sorry!” Y/N’s eyes widened with sincerity. She reached forward to grip Peter’s arm. “And thanks, dad. You’re the best!”

Peter was absolutely flabbergasted. Y/N was beautiful and she seemed kind. The makeup wipe removed majority of her makeup, her skin now rid of coverage to reveal a vast array of freckles and a splash of acne. Her lips were still red, but the dramatic shadows around her Y/E/C eyes were removed, making them appear softer and youthful. He couldn’t stop gazing at her as she talked merrily to Tony and Pepper about the performance, asking them what they enjoyed and if she did any good. Peter thought she was perfect.

“Can we get Chick-Fil-A? Please? Or McDonald’s?” Y/N asked as the group emptied into the parking lot. The air had grown crisp, the sky a slab of black hanging above them, mirroring the cracked street. “Peter, do you want to come eat with us?”

Peter smiled, nodding. “Yeah, sure. I-If it’s okay with Mr. Stark, obviously.”

She shrugged, lingering behind the two adults, the material of her skirt briskly brushing past the tips of Peter’s fingers. He couldn’t get over how interesting he found this girl, and he couldn’t believe that he hadn’t met her earlier. The moonlight was pale, and the stars were faint, covered by a hazy cloud of smokey gray, but that didn’t take away from the ethereal beauty captivated by her bare features. They were walking closely beside each other, his mind already roaming on to think about the hobbies she had the quirks she had. He wondered about what she hated and about what made her laugh. He wondered about her.

Y/N titled her head, realizing Peter was deep in thought. She grabbed his wrist, hoping she wasn’t crossing any boundaries. Immediately, she released him. “What are you thinking, Parker?’

He licked his lips, shaking his head. "Nothing. I’m just starving.”

MASTERLIST

284 notes · View notes