#tom!peter parker x male reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

whyareyouhere66 · 8 months

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Omg cool I have an angsty request 😈(if you’re comfortable writing it<3)

Kind of Tom!Peter Parker x Male!Stark!reader x Tony Stark(platonic obviously) ??

Reader has a rocky relationship with his dad Tony, just wants his attention, to be seen by Tony etc. but once Peter joins and takes Tonys full attention reader just automatically hates him for ‘stealing his dad from him’. As time goes on reader just gets more hateful and jealous of Peter, maybe getting into fights with Peter on purpose. Suddenly there’s a new villain/anti-hero (??) that’s been interfering with there plans or just wrecking havoc to go after Peter. Plot twist when they finally catch them/they’re too hurt to keep fighting, it’s revealed as reader. You can make it as angsty as u want!

(A.K.A. Reader is Loki, Peter is Thor and Tony is Odin lol)

AHH THIS

I love this trope-

So glad you requested this, (and thank you for checking stuff first) and enjoy

Also note that I’m not too fresh on the marvel timeline, if you notice anything that doesn’t exactly align with the movie than I’m sorry just brush past it- this also might be the longest fic I’ve ever written so

Implied to be set around the start of Peter’s Spider-Man stuff.

Look What You Made Me Do

Male Stark Reader x Avengers

“If I loved you, was a promise….

Would you break it, if you’re honest?”

[idontwannabeyouanymore, Billie Eillish, 2017]

Cw: violence/fighting, Tony being a bad dad, slightest mentions of drinking, angst Kind of jumping straight into it too-

I’ll fix a few things later I’m tired I want this one to be out and about

Named after a Taylor song, starting with a Billie lyric 💪💪

If you were to ask anyone about the wealthiest men in modern day New York, it’s inevitable for Tony Stark to appear somewhere on that list.

He’s rich, handsome, a superhero. New York’s knight in shining armor.

Most believe his life is a dream, somehow oblivious to the fact that maybe a superhero doesn’t live life in the dream house. But when he’s made his brand through money, fancy houses, big parties, and shiny military weapons it’s easy for people to see no further than surface level.

That isn’t the case for his son, though.

From a wealth aspect of it- the young Stark knows how grateful he is, how grateful he should be, for his father.

If it wasn’t for him, he wouldn’t be currently sitting in this large bedroom, with a view most would pay a couple grand for, wouldn’t be surrounded by the various expensive objects linked to his little interests. It doesn’t even matter how much Y/n would insist on paying- he never seems to think much of it. Maybe it’s his way of showing affection.

That’s what Y/n hopes, at least.

Because if not- there’s not much there. Tony Stark has never been much of an affectionate person, some may blame it on his own father. Others would blame it on the business- no time for distractions on a long days work.

But neither of those reasons matter- for all his son ever wanted is for Tony to love him the way he wants him to.

Static crackles through Y/n’s small speaker, and quickly the boy perks up. A short glance over and he finds the old Queen record spinning aimlessly, with the tone arm at the end of its songs.

Pushing himself off the bed, he walks over to the stand where Tony’s old record player sits. Taking the arm off- he flips the record over to side b, before returning it to its place.

The intro of Queen’s “Hammer to Fall” begins ringing from the speaker, and a small, satisfied smile grows on Y/n’s face.

He hums the beat, nodding his head with it while turning back to his bed- but something catches his eye.

Outside, there’s two figures standing out front. One eyebrow raises, Y/n slowly steps closer to the window.

“Who-?”

Recognizing his dad, dressed in his best suit, Y/n leans closer. The other figure isn’t quite as tall as Tony, and looks quite obviously nervous.

Y/n furrows his eyebrows.

….That’s Peter Parker.

What the hell is he doing at Stark’s house?

***

The sound of a backpack falling to the ground echoes through the foyer- and immediately it’s a sigh of relief. The sweet, sweet air conditioning here is heavenly in contrast to the one at school.

Y/n faintly feels a vibration in his pocket- grabbing it only to see multiple notifications coming from a group chat.

‘What are they on…’ he wonders, scrolling through countless messages worth of nonsense. He goes to reply, when-

“Y/n!”

His head snaps up at the voice, echoing out from the couch.

‘didn’t realize he was home…’ he looks back at the window, finding his father’s car parked in the driveway.

“Oh.”

Deciding the group chat can wait, the teen wanders to where his father sits.

“What’s up?” Immediately Y/n sees the scattered papers piling on top of one another on the coffee table, the short crystal glass filled halfway with rum. You’d think he’d wait until at least five, but that’s not the Stark way.

“I found a uh, form on the coffee table,” his voice sounds bored, tired, “something about textbooks for school?”

Y/n notices the forms sitting at the edge farthest from Tony, as if they’d been pushed away as far as they could go.

“Oh, uh, yeah.” He says awkwardly, looking at the dirty laces of his shoes, “it’s fine, I got it.”

“Well I can pay for them, if that’s what you’d like.” The eldest Stark shrugs, finally looking at his son from over the rim of his glasses.

Y/n almost feels embarrassed- when had he asked for that? He shakes his head, though it doesn’t hide the surprised look on his face.

“No, no you don’t have to-“

“Oh please, I got it, education is our future or something, right?” Tony shrugs, taking off his glasses and beginning to stand up from his chair, headed for the black leather wallet he’d left on the dining table.

Y/n isn’t quite sure why he’s now rushing to step in front of his dad- there isn’t much harm in the gesture after all. Maybe he just doesn’t want the weight of depending on his father for everything to lay on his shoulders. Either way, excuses are already falling from his mouth.

“You really don’t have to, dad-“

“You’re acting like I’m handing you the presidents treasury,” Tony deadpans, “besides, you don’t have a job.”

Y/n pauses.

“Wha- yes, I do-“ does his dad really not know about his job?

“Look, it doesn’t matter, I can get them used anyways-“

Before he can take one step closer, a nervous voice quips up from the doorway and ends the race for the wallet.

“Um, Mr. Stark?”

Curiously, Y/n and his dad snap their heads to see who has just joined them.

“Peter-?”

Peter Parker stands in the large door way, curled into himself with his backpack strap folded between his fist. His eyes are wide and questioning, looking between his classmate and his idol as if he had walked into the wrong room.

Suddenly, Tony’s shoulders drop- and he’s no longer interested in any textbook or wallet.

“Ah, Parker, didn’t think you’d make it.” He says bluntly, strutting away from his son and towards the obviously nervous boy.

“Here, sit down kid.”

With the man’s hand pressed into his shoulder blade, Peter has no choice but to follow him towards the various seats lining the dining table. And from the side- Y/n watches, absolutely lost.

After he had seen his father and Peter talking, he kept it to himself. Knowing the boy, he had simply assumed Peter was asking for an autograph or a picture, just like half of the city.

But now, he is in his house. At his table.

What the hell is this?

“Um,” Y/n’s voice sounds blunt, almost too similar to his father- who’s already sitting down across from Peter with his arms crossed and his eyebrows raised, as if this was a press conference.

Peter looks at him first, while his father throws a glance over his shoulder.

“What’s this?” Y/n asks, pointing to the strange teenage boy sitting down in his seat. Tony tiredly leans back in the chair, twisting to the side just slightly so he could look at Y/n head on.

“Y/n, this is Peter, Peter, this is Y/n.”

“Uh, yeah, we know each other.” Peter pipes up, giving Y/n the shortest, most awkward smile it seems he could muster. Y/n’s face stays blank.

“Yeah, I meant what is he doing here?”

Tony doesn’t seem at all phased by the rude undertones of Y/n’s question.

“Peter is gonna work as my intern for a little while, I’m training him.”

Y/n’s eyebrows furrow.

“For what-“

“Hey, quit interrupting, will you?” Tony dismisses him with the wave of his hand, turning around so he’s fully facing Peter. And Y/n lingers there, processing. He doesn’t like feeling like a shadow, not in his own home especially, but that’s the feeling that begins to overtake him.

Intern…?

He tries understanding what that means- there’s many possibilities. Assistant, maybe. But when he looks between his dad and his classmate one last time, seeing that he’s been nearly forgotten in the room (aside from the short glances from Peter’s end) he turns around to retreat, fists clenched.

His dad has had interns before, Peter likely won’t be much different. Possibly.

***

It’s been 5 weeks.

And multiple times, for each of those weeks, Peter has been somewhere mixed into the tangle of Tony Stark’s extensive schedule, far more entangled than Y/n has been for the past few years.

He shows up to dinner, trains at the Avenger’s tower. He comes knocking on the door randomly asking for life advice, or something- he’s everywhere.

It wasn’t even until week 4 that Y/n discovered the truth behind his sudden presence, when he saw the suit for the first time.

He has his own suit, god can you believe it?

Y/n watches on as Tony seems to easily bring Peter under his wing- hating how he has to avoid the burning green envy that burns his ears. How has Tony managed to take on the father figure role to Peter, when he barely manages that role with his own son?

‘It shouldn’t hurt this bad,’ y/n will think to himself, ‘you’re independent, relying on him will only make it harder in the long run.’

But he couldn’t help the hardened glare that arose every time he saw his dad, his own dad, bonding with someone else the way he had been wanting for what- 16 years?

Even now, sitting at the table, while the teen stares into the bowl of cereal in front of him, it’s just so irking to think about.

His spoon scrapes the edges of the bowl, gathering the now soggy cheerios into a cluster in its silver dip. Then, they get lost in his mouth. Rinse and repeat- he does it over and over while staring a blazing hole into the wall.

What is Peter doing that he can’t?

“Mr. Stark-“

Speak of the devil.

Y/n’s grip on the spoon tightens.

Peter comes stumbling into the room, out of breathe as if he sprinted all the way here. He doesn’t even knock anymore, Y/n thinks, he’s made himself at home.

“Kid? What’re you doing here?”

The nickname sends a shivering twitch through Y/n’s already sore muscles, tugging his face so he can’t control the annoyed look that comes through.

They’re talking to each other now, Peter trying to tell a story far too quickly for either of them to follow. Y/n blocks their voices out.

His chair scrapes against the floor, and he grabs his bag to leave.

“I’m going to school.” He says loudly, cutting off their conversation.

“Oh, I guess I gotta go too-“

“No,” Peter freezes, looking at Y/n curiously, “no, no stay here longer why don’t you? Practically your house.” Venom leaks from his words, the sarcasm so loud it makes Peter flinch.

“Y/n,” Tony groans, rubbing the bridge of his nose tiredly. Y/n’s stare only hardens.

“What?” He snaps, now looking at his father.

“Really?” Is all that Tony manages, before Y/n is rolling his eyes and spinning on his heel.

“(F/n) is waiting for me.” He grumbles, snatching his phone and stomping out of the room.

How does his dad not get it? Is he so blind he can’t even see his own blatant favoritism?

The look of exhaustion displayed on his face would make you think hes working day and night having to put up with Y/n’s attitude- yet he’s unaware he’s exactly what’s causing it.

Y/n doesn’t want to blame Peter, in the back of his mind he knows that it’s his dad’s fault. But it feels like his father is being stolen.

But can it really be theft if there wasn’t much of him in the first place?

Y/n knows that he’s picking all the fights, starting all the arguments just so that twisted part of his head gets some satisfaction.

It shouldn’t be working so well.

The young Stark doesn’t return home until it’s just about dark outside, his backpack hanging loosely off his shoulders.

He walks the long halls of his home, past the doors that could either be a guest bathroom or a weapon closet. Even if there’s more entryways than doors, his father opting for large empty frames, he walks the length of it with no specific destination in mind.

He isn’t too sure where he’s headed anyways, considering he’s passed the way to his bedroom already.

Through half lidded eyes he guides himself through this maze of a house, bitter jealousy bubbling in his lungs. It’s such a haunting thought, a looming presence, and he wishes he could push it down the drain but it seems that he can’t.

“Stupid, stupid Peter…” he mumbles, hand grazing the wall beside him.

Ned’s voice still rings in his ears, breathy from how he had been exercising for most of the class.

“You don’t know what he looks like- what if he’s like seriously burnt?”

“I wouldn’t care, I would still love him for the person he is on the inside.”

Of course it caught their attention- Peter’s little crush on Liz wasn’t hard for most to notice.

“Peter knows Spider-Man!”

How horrible.

Across the room, Y/n’s head snapped to where the pair was on the gym floor- Peter’s jaw slacked. It didn’t matter how much he tried to quickly say otherwise- Flash already had slid down the climbing rope with another remark slick on the edge of his tongue.

And Y/n watched on, eye twitching, feeling how his friends slapped his arm in amusement.

“I can’t tell if he’s for real or not-“ F/n mumbled from next to him. Y/n’s eyes never tore away from the scene playing out ahead, tongue poking the inside of his cheek.

“Yeah,” and his eyes squeezed shut, “me neither.”

Y/n’s fists curl together, knuckles scraping the wall for a moment before he’s pulling away.

It’s so frustrating.

He’s walking further down the corridor, eyes sliding open just in time to catch a door left slightly ajar- and he pauses.

He’s passed the door many times, no doubt, but this time it’s different. There’s something pulling him inside, an unknown source that’s too intriguing to walk past.

Slowly, he pushes open the door. And there it is.

Old bins and cabinets with junk gadgets shoved inside- worn blueprints from his fathers old work. One eyebrow raises, cogs turning and grinding in his head.

There’s some things still in tact, some that have been broken apart and scattered about. Y/n kneels down to observe closer.

He feels the smooth surface of a metal clasp against his fingertips, grazing the jumbled objects.

This is his answer.

The backpack slides off his shoulders, thumping on the ground beside him. This room is one that his father doesn’t visit much anymore, now much more caught up in other things such as the Avengers, Peter, the scattered piles of paperwork that seem to constantly consume him.

And in the corner, there’s a bend in the wall partially hidden by a cabinet- if you were to tuck something inside, no one could see from the door frame.

Y/n already feels his mind blooming with ideas as he skims over the various parts and pieces in front of him.

If he can’t live up to his fathers standards, his fathers name,

then he’ll make his own.

***

Multiple nights pass, weeks go by and Y/n finds himself spending the time after dinner until midnight cooped up in Tony’s old gear room.

He likes to think it’s a family trait, something tying him to the Stark name, also known as his skill for parts. He can take a few glances at both his own notes as well as the old blueprints and suddenly have the necessary concept for a retractable weapon, built to strike out of an arm piece. And when he’s done, he simply drags it all into his tucked in corner- hidden until night falls again the next day.

Time not spent at school, occasionally in his room, or in his new lab- is now spent taking full advantage of the gym on the higher floors.

The Avengers don’t question it, barely even using it at the same time as him anyways. He’s planned it so no one is around to see the training he does, the work put in to not only muscle- but also skill.

He doesn’t have a vigilante name just yet- but perhaps that’s the fun in it. He’s totally anonymous.

And as the firm punching bag jerks beneath his incoming fist, he feels the creeping joy of power.

Y/n puts lots of thought into the first strike against the city- building an elaborate yet somewhat reckless attack plan, a formula.

No citizen will get hurt- it’s only the churning, growing need for revenge he wants so badly to be satisfied. Among the jumbled emotions, and new discoveries, he knows what he wants, and he knows just who he wants to be.

Y/n Stark may never be the millionaire superhero his father is- but he will be something. Something that no one will ever expect.

***

“A new vigilante seems to be on the loose, unidentified. They’ve struck many times already, but police have noticed that, interestingly enough, among the pattern of crime scenes none of the main public areas or citizens have been hit. Could this be the work of an Anti-hero, perhaps? Down at the Avengers Tow-“

The anchorman’s voice is cut off, mid sentence, and Tony holds the remote firmly.

Around him, on the expensive couches sit the Avengers themselves, but their faces are dulled by distress, their knuckles tense from a firm grip.

“We gotta find this guy,” Bruce sighs, taking off his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose tightly. Beside him, Natasha agrees.

“If we don’t catch them soon, people will start doubting us.” She says it like it’s so simple, lips pressed into a thin line. Steve groans.

“They aren’t gonna start doubting us-“ he tries, but no one seems to believe him.

“Oh really? Sounds like you’ve got some superstar solution then, huh?” Tony, always packed full of sarcasm, looks absolutely exasperated. He’s been looking tirelessly for this new ‘vigilante’ of the sorts - they don’t even seem to have a name. They work quickly and precisely, yet go at it with a powerful vengeance. Their skill- it’s almost something he wants to respect.

The group begins to speak again, switching between civil turn taking and overlapping words. They don’t even notice the figure standing by the door.

Y/n peaks his head around the door frame, watching these strong, powerful superheroes stressing over him. Oh, they just have no clue.

As they’re still talking, planning unknowingly within earshot of their own enemy- Y/n takes his notes. He listens, until finally he slips past the door and walks quietly down the hall as the sick, strong feeling of triumph sinks into his stomach.

He’s got them.

***

The rumbling fill of chaos echoes from all around- machines jittering, codes breaking, and a light flickers down the hall.

Y/n stands at the center of the room, looking around at one of his father’s many warehouses from all around- this one being stationed north of his own home state- Maine, USA.

His dad brought him here only a few times as a kid, once or twice perhaps. He always hated it- still does, actually, hence the small bombs scattered across the place.

It would be funny, to think that not even the Avengers have caught on to his pattern- but that may be jinxing it. Plus, he knows the common traits of each area he’s hit so far, the places holding the unjust power. This stop, though, he’s been waiting to finally hit.

“Stark Enterprises” - a sign once strung together in big letters, now laying at Y/n’s feet broken into pieces. The boy crouches down, picking up a chunk from the “E” and crushes it in his hands.

Under his mask, he grins.

His suit, not quite as advanced as those made by his father, fits him well. The sleeves are tighter, snugly wrapped around his biceps with streaks of purple running through the black material. Padding, like thin layers of armor, protect his torso and the pants are the most loose- cargo, with big pockets.

A mask is what pulls the whole thing together, though, concealing the entirety of his head underneath its black and purple coloring.

Littering his hands, and even weaved into the material all across, are the gadgets he’s spent so many hours on. Rings sealed into the gloves have enough sharp metal twisted together inside that when activated, spread into blades. In the pocket around his waist band- is a button, the button, that with one push turns this warehouse into a cloud of orange and yellow.

Y/n is still watching the crumbling sign fall from his palm, like grains of sand, when the door caves in behind him.

“Put your hands up, tough guy, we caught you.”

Captain America, confident as ever, bursts in at the front of the group with his shield held high. Behind him, Tony, Peter, Natasha and even Bruce waltz right in after him. For a second- a glimmer of pride washes through Y/n’s body, they brought 5 to a fight against 1- he must be special.

“Yeah, times up buddy.”

Seeing his father, dressed in the famous Ironman suit, reminds Y/n of the whole reason this started- and another twisted feeling knots itself in his stomach.

The moment he’s been waiting for.

They can’t see him as he smirks underneath the mask, deciding to toy with them just a bit. He doesn’t speak- no one’s heard his voice when spoken through the filtered material yet. It seems they’ll be the first.

Y/n’s head cocks to the side, and raises an eyebrow- something the Avengers can see through the imprint of his mask. A challenge.

Bruce’s battle cry cuts through the air- and suddenly the Hulk is charging. It startles Y/n for a moment, but quickly he steps to the side and lets the green giant crush the ground beside him. As Hulk gets back up, snarling and growling, Y/n is already grabbing a long beam, bent from where it fell with the rest of the Stark Enterprise’s sign, and strikes Hulk right in the gut.

The giant man stumbles slightly, yet still stomps forward. But Y/n isn’t in front of him.

“Hulk!” Natasha yells out, watching from across the room as Y/n comes from behind, mid air, wielding the same beam from before. Hulk is barely able to tilt his head an inch before the metal is crashing down into the area just below his head, and bruising his neck.

He’s out within a few seconds, stumbling around clumsily while black dots tease his vision. Then, he falls to the floor.

“Well shit.” Steve mutters, bending his knees like a bull preparing to charge. He should’ve known sending in Hulk with no preparations would be a bad an idea.

“Sending the big one in first, huh?” Y/n looks at them cockily, “do you see me as a threat, Ironman?”

Tony raises an eyebrow, “oh look at that, he can talk.” He doesn’t even skip a beat as his suit begins to whir, the arm unfolding so a mini blaster pokes out from the forearm.

The vigilante barely has time to react as strings of energy are thrown his way, jumping and dodging each of them narrowly. Tony doesn’t wait for him to regain his footing though, flying straight towards his figure.

Steve eyes Natasha, gesturing for her to move. The woman obliges, creeping around the fight so Y/n’s back is in front of her.

Ironman grabs Y/n by the shoulders, pushing down with such strong force that the latter is forced back a few steps. He holds the metal sleeves with a firm grip, and at first Tony doesn’t notice as the boy’s rings begin to scrape against the surface. Sparks fly like the touch of a welding torch, grazing the edges of Tony’s mask just in time for him to realize mini blades are beginning to prod at his suit. Y/n doesn’t hesitate to take the opportunity and shove the man away from him.

Natasha watches closely, seeing how Y/n stumbles from the impact. She jumps at him.

Y/n extends his arm in her direction, not even turning all the way around, and his rings grow from small blades to a sharp spiral of metal pointing right at Black Widow’s chest.

She freezes, he smirks.

Of course, it’s not his intention for someone to die. That’s not what he does. This, well, is simply defense.

“How about we get right to the point.” He says, slipping his free hand into one of the pouches around his waist band. Out with it comes a cylinder- black and sleek with some sort of dial built in, a bright red button on top.

Steve feels his stomach drop.

“Pick a number.”

Tony, seemingly unaware of the detonator to have just been introduced, rolls his eyes, he’s growing impatient.

“Alright, fine, 5- you wanna quit it with the games now?”

Big mistake.

Without skipping a step, Y/n is scrolling through digits on the small screen built into the detonator. It’s almost too quick for any of the Avengers to realize what he’s doing- and it’s far too late by the time they do.

“Alright, then.” Y/n presses the button.

Steve goes to lunge forward, tries to make a grab for the device, but he waited too long. The whole room rattles, and the section just to the left of them suddenly bursts. Bombs.

Y/n watches with a special glint in his covered eyes as everyone stumbles, yet his feet stay firmly planted in the ground. They’re startled, bits of the wall flying around and clattering against the floor. Peter snaps his head towards Y/n in shock.

“Who’s next?”

“Oh my god.” Peter mumbles, wide eyed. It’s the sound of his voice, his first time saying a word, that catches Y/n’s attention right away.

His teeth grind together, thumb smoothing over the button’s smooth surface. His mind mumbles, Do it again.

Staring into the large white panels of Peter’s mask, his guard is left fallen for just a moment too long. Tony sends one more blast his way.

A jolt of pain seers through Y/n’s thigh. The energy was strong enough to surpass the material of his pants, leaving a heavy ache in the area. Y/n glares.

“You asshole,” he grunts, spinning the dial with his thumb before slamming down the button.

Above them, part of the ceiling crumbles.

Bits of concrete come tumbling down, Peter and Natasha diving for cover. But Y/n is no where near finished.

“How many bombs are there-“ Peter asks to no one in particular. His question is soon to be answered.

“Let’s not wait to find out,” Steve grunts, sprinting to where his opponent stands at the opposite side of the room. Y/n feels the previous feeling of confidence, the smooth and cocky facade, slipping away. He wants to win.

Each of Captain America’s hits clang against metal couplets clasped to Y/n’s wrist- chaos ensues around them. Tony firing shots, Peter surrounding the fight, Natasha running for a hit at close combat- and hulk just starting to stir from his little nap.

But Y/n doesn’t let up- not until it’s too late.

A fiery blaze heads straight for him, straight for his face. It’s beginning to sizzle against his ears, he can feel it coming. But he doesn’t react in time, trying to defend himself from too many things at once.

The blast, coming from his own father’s hand, hits him.

His mask begins to spark, edges curling into themselves as slowly, Y/n feels the right side of his face being revealed.

His hand meets the wall, holding him up as he recovers from the impact. They haven’t seen him yet.

He hears Steve’s heavy breathing from behind him, something so familiar it almost tricks his mind. Then, Tony’s voice.

“It only takes a few hits, huh? If I knew that’s all it took I wouldn’t have wasted so much time.”

More sarcasm, Y/n almost laughs.

“Who are you.” Natasha doesn’t even make it sound like a question, her voice strong and firm.

Silence ensues, just for a moment, Y/n’s head is swimming.

Yet, over all the thoughts and noise, one thing screams loudest over the rest.

“Do. It.”

“Don’t you recognize me?” Y/n’s voice, no longer protected by a filter, is raspy and hoarse. He slowly turns around, head peaking out of the shadows.

“You know me already…”

Holy shit.

A loud clang echoes through the now dead silent room, the red white and silver shield rolling across the floor.

“…Y/n?”

Tony’s helmet folds into itself, revealing a sweaty face with wide eyes and a slack jaw.

A bitter smile is what he receives.

“Dad.”

Tony looks around, dumbfounded.

“I-“ he stutters, nearly speechless, “what- what the hell are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” Y/n steps forward, voice dry yet dripping with venom.

Tony chokes, “being an absolute moron, that’s what-“

Y/n barks out a rough, quick laugh. “Ooh, rough.” He rasps. Steve steps forward, putting a hand onto Tony’s shoulder and pulling him back. It’s like a warning, silent communication because next, he’s the one to step forward.

“Y/n…” the words die on the tip of his tongue, throat running dry, but he still tries, “what- I mean, why?”

Y/n has begun to pace slightly, taking slow steps around the shocked group. He peels the mask away from his face.

“Yknow, most people tend to turn to the worst of their options when in a dark time,” he says smoothly, feeling each and every set of eyes watching while he walks. Hulk watches through blurred vision, completely disoriented.

“I mean, hate to give you the classic origin story and everything, but…”

“Hold on,” the thoughts are almost visible, loud and heavy in Tony’s head, “is this about something I did?”

So he’s finally getting it.

“What could Tony have possibly done?” Asks Natasha, and Y/n looks at his father directly.

“You don’t care, ok, that’s what-“ his voice is breathy, and he scowls, “You can’t even talk to your own kid, Stark. It’s like you don’t realize what I am, to you- what you are to me!” Anger rises with each word that shoots like poison from Y/n’s mouth.

Tony gets defensive, shaking his head and squeezing his eyes shut. “That’s not true, I know damn well you’re my kid-“

“Oh really? Cause you seem to have it a bit mixed up.” Y/n’s eyes flicker to Peter’s frame, and everyone tenses.

“Is…is this about Peter?”

At the mention of his name, Peter tears off his mask, a concerned, heavy look on his face.

“I, Y/n it’s not like that-“ he tries, only to be interrupted.

“Yknow,” Y/n’s voice sounds so pained, “I always thought maybe you aren’t too upfront with your affection. For years, ok, I would wake up, go to school, come back, and go to bed all without saying more than a few words to you. Years, dad.” A lump is forming in his throat, but it’s too late to turn back now. “But then, out of nowhere, someone else comes into the picture and suddenly you’re taking him to lunch, you’re picking him up from school, basically spending way more time with him, than with me.”

Bold, bitter, and wavering- Y/n doesn’t stop. Even as his father, his classmate, the people he’d grown up with thinking were like family, just watch with feeling burning in their eyes.

“Y/n,”

“You made it look so easy with him.”

“Hey, kid, c’mon-“

“Are you serious?!” Y/n yells in disbelief. “Are you gonna tell me I’m wrong? Is that it? I’m just exaggerating, or what-“

Tony straightens his posture, swallowing hard.

Y/n’s face almost crumbles from the way his fathers face wavers. But he just doesn’t stop.

“You can be the greatest hero in the world,” Y/n breathes, sweat sparkling around the frame of his face, “you can put on a face for the interviews, and train Peter to perfection,” a step closer, “but don’t forget that I’ve always been here too.”

Y/n’s voice sounds so dark, unfamiliar and breaking, it’s gone raspy from the pounding drum of his heart beat.

Ringing silence once more. 6 melting souls standing in the waste of their own troubles.

Y/n feels budding tears threatening to spill.

“And now look what we’ve done.”

#x male reader #Avengers x male reader #Male stark ready #Tony starks son #Avengers x vigilante reader #Peter Parker #tom!peter Parker x male reader #66 recs&replies #Pls say you like it

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rowniebow · 11 months

Note

Fic where Peter and reader are already dating and Peter is distant because of his obvious job which leaves reader hurt and angry and starts becoming distant and detached with Peter which causes Peter to get mad and then they fight and peter blurts out “are you cheating on me?” Which causes reader to get furious and start yelling which catches peter off guard and reader leaves, can take the story where you want past this. sorry if this is long and confusing or doesn’t make sense (Tom or andrews pete but you can do Tom if it really matters) ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

it can be okay | tom!peter parker x gn!reader

pairings: tom!peter parker x gn!reader

cw: littol bit o angst but not much

word count: 3.4k+

an: went with tom's because i've yet to write abt his peter but i feel like he was left with so much turmoil after no way home, his peter fits well with this prompt...... ANYWAY thank you so much for requesting and i apologize for my absence, esp if u were waiting around for this ! i appreciate you, please stay safe! sry 4 long an

masterlist

⭒

you felt an arm wrap around your waist. warmth and pressure spread over your back. you flipped around to wrap your own arms around the man that had climbed into bed with you.

"sorry," his breath found its way to your ear and pulled the hair on your spine up. his quiet whisper held gravel in the smooth concrete of his voice. "did i wake you up?"

"yeah, i'm glad."

"oh, good. i'm glad i woke you, too. get more time to hear your voice."

you hummed, sleep fighting your coherent words.

"how was your day?"

"it was fine. i missed you for our movie night."

petter stuttered out several different sounds, none of them making any real words.

your eyebrows twitched at his struggle.

"i-i'm so sorry, sweetheart, i completely forgot. i-i-i-i got so caught up with homework i didn't even think... it's that stupid biology class! i always have so much reading to do for it.

"yeah, it's okay," you moved closer to him, desperate for as much of his warmth as possible. "school is more important than movies! let me know next time, though."

"of course," he kissed the top of your head. he lingered with an exaggerated 'mwah'. "i'm so sorry, sweetheart."

you hummed and slurred out a reassurance.

"go back to sleep now, sweets."

and it was okay.

⭒⭒

everything was so much louder when he wasn’t around.

the fridge’s song sung by instruments of kinetic energy hummed at the back of your head. the calm air against the glass window was practically visible with how loud it was. the dust that settled on the marble kitchen countertops and sunk it’s way into the fabric of your couch crunched and stretched the fibers of the masses. you couldn’t seem to turn the television up much higher than seven (you hoped the number might bring you luck to bring the man home).

sure, he’s missed nights that were supposed to be set aside for you two and his favorite star wars films. yes, you’ve noticed how he’s missed more than a few fairly important tests for his classes, causing him to fail (he was beginning to fall fairly far behind in his degree, but you weren’t going to comment on that. not yet, anyway).

but, he’d yet to miss out on a date.

he had yet to leave you waiting at your favorite shitty twenty-four hour diner in the middle of new york that was a forty minute walk from your apartment.

you wouldn’t deny to anyone other than peter that it bothered you a bit. your lip was raw and crumbs from a sad, newly empty plate of fries dusted your nicest clothes that you had put on just for him. your eyes wore heavy bags from how late you stayed up in hope that maybe he was just running a bit late.

however, when a bit late had become two in the morning, you gave up hope on that.

you looked outside at the nearly visible air and listened to the chill of the early morning crack at your window after you arrived back at your empty apartment at nearly three in the morning. you listened to the distant wind against the quickly moving vehicles. you listened to the retreating caw from a bird that didn’t sound like any you’d heard before. you listened to the dust float through the air and the television hum despite it being off. you listened to the deafening silence of the room and your mind.

cold three in the morning apartment air hit the back of your throat as you brought as much of the toxic oxygen into your lungs as you possibly could, and released it to be filtered and given to some other poor abandoned soul.

it was okay.

you understood his forgetful habits. you understood why he slept in and took so many naps. he has a lot on his plate. juggling school, and work, and the family issues that he’s mentioned from time to time.

it is okay.

maybe next time.

⭒⭒⭒

waking up alone after a warm night with peter seemed to hurt more than the missing arrangements.

the apartment's chill leaked under the blankets and burned your skin until you awoke. the emptiness of the space next to you in your bed was a sad physical representation of the emptiness in your gut.

the hole in your stomach that you awake with absorbs all the cereal you eat and leaves you feeling hungry for the rest of the day. it absorbs your joy and hope. it absorbs the warmth in your body (and especially in your smile).

your days are filled with sighs when you wake up with the hole of peter. with those deep exhales, you hope to breath out whatever haunts your stomach.

it sticks with you until the end of the day when you fall asleep alone. peter will climb in after you in the depths of the night and the ocean of your sheets. he'll whisper sweet nothings into your ear. he'll apologize if need be. he'll pepper you with kisses and hold you close.

and you'll be okay.

then he'll do it all over again.

⭒⭒⭒⭒

it just so happened to be next time.

he promised to make the last time up to you and promised to see you the next friday night for dinner.

so there you sat, leg bouncing under the table at a restaurant that was all too fancy for your taste but peter had insisted on.

you were on your third glass of an odd color wine (that really didn’t even taste good) and you were nearing the second hour of waiting.

“would you like to order yet, sir?” the waiter asked for the fifth time that night.

perhaps it was the alcohol that brought a sting to your eyes when you checked the time on your phone. but you smiled and shook your head and asked for the check instead.

looking at the number on the check, you nearly sobbed at how much three glasses of wine cost you. but you sighed and gave an eighty percent tip anyway as reparations for the waiter having to pity you all night. you almost sobbed, again, when you could hear a couple that had gotten there after you comment to one another about how long you’d been there.

cheeks warm with embarrassment, you made your way back to your apartment. the chill of the late night spring mildly helped cool you down.

the pity in the waiter's eyes and the couple's comments haunted you all the way home. only when you undressed into your sleep clothes and climbed under the covers could you manage to excuse peter's actions.

peter must have simply gotten caught up in homework. he must have just fallen asleep.

it's okay.

perhaps he got the days mixed up and forgot it was friday. or he got his hours for work wrong and he ended up having to work.

it is okay.

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

you truly didn’t mean to lean away from his kiss when peter tried to wish you goodbye that evening.

but you did.

you leaned away as if it were a stranger that was trying to kiss you. you truly didn’t mean to. you also knew that you truly felt as though it was a stranger trying to kiss you, though.

you knew it hurt him. quite honestly it hurt you, too. whether it was the pain in his features that hurt you or the fact that you felt that way.

either way, your actions hurt the both of you, and you knew you should apologize. you nearly did right then and there.

"are you cheating on me?" the quiet whispers of words that he choked out hit you like lightning. the frown in his lips and the way he avoided your eyes made your heart crack before you could process the words he spoke. his broken voice distracted you from the content it delivered.

you felt your eyebrows pull together at first. you felt the apology creep in your throat and nearly spill out.

his hurt was a new language for you to learn. it forced you to think over each word and remember the meaning of it similar to how you did in spanish class in high school.

and as the syllables set in and your brain wrapped itself through the vowels and consonants, you scoffed. maybe even laughed.

did he really just say that? did he truly feel like he had the nerve to say that?

"am i cheating on you?" a glare made itself comfortable in your features.

it's not okay.

"...no?" peter’s stuttered, hesitant disagreement made his regret in his words clear. but how could you just brush over his accusation?

"peter parker, i should be asking you that question."

"wha-what do you mean?"

"you're the one who's hardly fucking here. you’re the one that’s left me waiting until the morning for you to come around. you’re the one who ‘forgets’ anytime we agree to hang out.”

it is not okay.

“i-i didn’t-,”

“‘you didn’t’ what? remember? show up?”

his silence was as loud as it is when he’s gone.

“where are you all day, peter?”

“where are you at night?”

fucking

“where are you right now. are you even here?”

loud.

“get out.”

“what? no - no, please, y/n, you gotta trust me on this.”

nothing is okay.

“i trusted you to be here!”

“i know, and i’m so sorry, but - ah - i can’t tell you. you just-just gotta trust me!”

“no, peter!”

“please, i’ll make it up to you, i swear!”

“you’ve had plenty of chances for that.”

“c’mon, y/n,”

“no! even if you’re not cheating on me, you obviously don’t have time for me!”

“i’ll make time for you,”

“you really should have already been doing that.”

“i’ll make more time for you!”

“you don’t get more time in a day, and you’re not getting anymore from me, parker. christ- are you going to leave?"

"no! y/n, please, let me make this right, i-i can't lose you, too."

"fuck. i will leave then, jesus!"

"what?"

you slipped your shoes on, ignoring his words.

peter called your name as you opened the door.

"goodnight, peter."

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

you stayed at your parents house for a couple nights then came back to your empty apartment. the silence wasn't as loud as it normally was, but the intensity of the emptiness, both in the apartment and in the pit of your stomach, made up for the lack of overbearing volume.

you went about your life for two whole weeks with that emptiness haunting you. not a word from peter. about anything.

you went to your classes, studied in your room, went to work, came back and went to sleep: the college dream.

you hardly even noticed two weeks had passed with the way you had just been floating through the days.

with your mind blank without the joy and excitement of peter parker in your life, you filled it with the words from your humanities textbook to prepare for a final.

the jiggling of your apartment doorknob cut through the sound of the words in your head. your eyes immediately went wide. the air became thick as you heard the door squeak open slowly but surely.

your breath was stuck in your throat, but you found it in you to pick up your heavy textbook to toss if you needed.

you listened to the door creek shut and click closed.

perhaps someone just mistook your apartment for their own? maybe a new neighbor who's mixing it up? you're sure it's just a simple mistake and not some horrible, evil, scary, stronger-than-you criminal who wants to steal the little bits of items you have. certainly they won't murder you brutally, or kidnap you and sell you.

certainly not, right?

your mind ran wild with what-if's and dangers of the situation. what else was there to do in the face of danger, though? hide under your blankets and hope they don't come in?

no, you'd at least like to look death in the face before you go.

that didn't stop your racing heart and shaking hands, of course.

so you crept around your door frame and down the small hall that lead to your tiny living room. you could hear the person rattling through your pots and pans.

you stood behind the corner, telling yourself it'd be fine.

you can do it. just go and ask what's going on. you're sure this is probably just some huge mix up.

"hah!" you huffed as you turn the corner and toss the heavy book at the person.

they immediately turn around and catch the flying pages. your heart drops to your stomach. your only weapon failed.

"y/n? i didn't know you were home!"

your heart manages to repair itself in your chest as the voice and face process in your mind. "peter?" you practically shriek. "what are you doing here?" a breath (that you were fully aware you had been holding) left your lungs, your hands finding their way to cover your face from the stress.

"i-i-i didn't know you'd be home, i'm sorry,"

"so you sneak into my apartment when i'm not home?" the glare you sent him reminded him how snappy you get when you're upset.

"no, no, no, no, no-!"

your questioning glare had him pause his denial.

"well, yes,"

you groaned.

"but listen!"

"i don't want to listen to you when you just broke into my house, peter!"

"well, the door was open-,"

another groan.

"okay, yeah, i can...see...that..."

"leave, peter!"

"wait, wait, wait! okay, listen," he took a deep breath. "i can explain myself-,"

"which part: when you forgot about me constantly or when you broke into my house?"

"all of it! i can explain and i just want you to know that i haven't been telling you for your own safety."

"what the fuck are you talking about?"

"just-just come with me."

"where?"

"it's a surprise!" his apologetic smile willed you to trust him.

you stared at him. his waves framed his face - his hair seemed to grow a lot in the last two weeks. his eyes were a whirlpool that sucked you in.

"jesus, peter." you shook your head, but found some shoes and a jacket to slip on anyway. the bright smile on peter's face made you want to forget about everything.

you followed him down the stairs to the quiet, three in the morning college town streets on a tuesday.

"how far away is it?" you asked. your eyes followed a plane as it blinked through the sky.

"kind of far," he moved in front of you to block your path. "but," he sung his vowel. "i know a quicker way to get there!"

"do we need to take the subway-?" you looked around, only for peter to wrap an arm around your waist. "what-?"

"it's going to be a little scary but you gotta trust me."

"what are you doing, pete?"

"you gotta hold on okay?" he guided your arms around his neck. "trust me, okay?" his sweet enchanting smile encouraged you to trust him despite everything. that didn't stop the groove between your brows from forming, though.

"what-?"

and you were in the air. screaming, obviously. you could hear his reassurance and apologies, willing you to keep holding on.

after several minutes of being in the air and coming to the consensus that you wouldn't fall even if you tried with peter's death grip on you, you took a glance around at your setting.

the street was far below you. cars and lights from down below smiled up and laughed at your fear. apartments on the thirtieth floors were eye level but passed so fast that you couldn't see who resided in them.

"isn't it nice?" peter whispered. he was your only lifeline; the only thing keeping you from falling to your death. "it's so peaceful up here." his quiet words didn't calm your racing heart or sooth your stressed features, but it brought you to stay present until your feet hit the solid ground again.

your legs shook you until your knees met the surface you stood on.

"sorry-,"

"what was that, parker?" you sparse breath made your voice come out as merely a squeak but peter knew all too well that you would be screaming at the top of your lungs if you could.

"it- well- i- uhm," the wind helped you push yourself off of your knees and back to sitting like a normal person rather than someone who thought their feet wouldn't ever touch the ground again. "i'm not really sure how to say this i-i-,"

"peter, i swear to god-,"

"i'm spider-man!" you looked up at his avoiding eyes that were as wide as yours. as if he couldn't believe he actually said that.

"excuse me?" you said after several moments of silence passed.

"i-i'm spider-man," his quiet voice was nearly drowned out by the blowing wind.

you laughed.

his eye brows came together in frustration. "why are you laughing?"

"you're not spider-man."

"i just swung us to the top of central park tower and you're going to deny that i'm spider-man?"

your smile slowly faded as you noticed where you were. that he was right. you were among the stars, the moon within inches of your fingers. the street glowed up at you, laughing once more. the usual honking screams from the cars could not be heard from how high you were. all you could hear was the growl of the wind and peter's shy voice.

"oh my god,"

"no-no, don't freak out!"

"i'm not freaking out, i never freak out. you're just spider-man and that's a thing and we're on top of the central park tower and i could totally fall right now but i'm not freaking out."

you were freaking out.

"doesn't spider-man have webs or something?"

peter stuck out his hand, and a white web came tumbling out after your hand that rested on the ground you still sat on. he tugged at the string that stuck itself to your hand and pulled you up with it. you stumbled into him, his hands steadying your shaking.

"that's insane."

"i know, and i'm so sorry. between juggling school and work and this, it's really difficult to keep track of everything. this doesn't have a schedule and gets in the way of you a lot more than i'd like it to."

"i-i guess i get why you didn't tell me."

a breath left through peter's lips. "i-i put together this as an apology, though." he motioned behind you to yet another thing you didn't notice throughout the stress of it all.

a blanket laid out with food from your favorite take out place scattered all over it. small electric candles flickered around the setting providing as the only light that wasn't coming from the city down below along with his laptop that was glowing and set up to browse through netflix for something to watch.

"i'm really sorry. i'm sorry i'm never there. i'm sorry it's taken me so long to see you again. i'm most of all sorry that i can't change it."

your eyes met his once again.

"if how i am is too much for you, i completely understand. you deserve someone who will treat you as good as you deserve and who will show up. but i want you to know that i miss you, and love you, and i will keep trying so hard to show up."

"you love me?"

"i-i-," peter's sure eyes suddenly fell to the floor and his hands found the back of his neck. "i mean, yeah," he stuttered. "but like it's okay, like, i get it, you know? i don't-,"

all the fears of being at the top of the central park tower and dating spider-man and what it means to date spider-man left you mind. all you could think about was how much you really did love peter despite his absent habits. maybe even more so now that you knew this huge secret and what that secret told about him as a person.

so you kissed him.

the heavenly feeling of his lips was something you didn't know you missed as much as you did. as soon as your lips met, tears pricked themselves at your eyes but you refused to let them fall.

you were okay.

peter was okay.

you were both okay.

it was all okay.

⭒ taglist ⭒

@fadedver @1ischai @djmalik52 @garlicforthewin @cryinked @armand0alg0 @softboi14

please dm me if you would like to be taken off of the taglist

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xmalereader · 4 months

Text

Tom! Peter Parker x Stark! Male Reader

☆ — MASTERLIST — ☆

REQUEST: I need a Itimidating Reader x Tom! Peter Parker. Like reader could be Captain American or Iron Man's son and he has been dating Peter secretly cause you know Peter is shy about things and doesn't want to make things big. So reader holds back but he had enough when one days he witnessed Thompson and other bullies doing the worst to Peter. So he does what any boyfriend will do, show those bullies their place and maybe maybe, Avengers comes and gives a piece of their mind as well to those bullies. Cause I like Avengers being a found family with them being protective of their youngest member 😭😭🤌🏻🤌🏻

CONTENT/WARNINGS: Fluff, slight angst, reader is Tony starks son, mentions of Morgan and Pepper, Ned being terrible at secrets, MJ supports, mature language, slight kissing, short shot, flash is a bully, mentions of violence, mentions of hero work, teenage love, school stuff.

TAGS: @nobodylivesson

WC: 2k

NOTES: I tried my best to suit to your request, I wrote this one late at night and was probably half asleep after completing it 🥲, but either way I hope you really enjoy it! I wasn’t able to bring in the rest of the superhero family since I didn’t know how to slip it in without going off track. But either way I love the whole superfamily fics and the concept of Stony adopting Peter ( ´∀｀) those are my comfort fics.

Peter wasn’t ashamed of who he was dating he just didn’t make it a big deal that he was dating Starks son. When Y/n joined the school he had already known him from the time that he was working at Starks internship. He’d see him around the lab either helping his father on a few side projects or just to bother Tony into leaving work and getting a proper meal and rest.

While Tony was away it left both Peter and Y/n on their own and giving them time to actually know each other. Their side conversations turned into flirting and then light touches until Y/n was the first to make the move on Peter and asking him out. Peter was a shy kid and never got the attention from people he liked nor was he good at socializing without stuttering or hesitating on his conversations.

Ever since Y/n joined Peters school the two were closer than ever and enjoyed their time together. Peter kept their relationship a secret in order to prevent the other students from finding out that he’s dating Tony Starks kid. Even if he told anyone about it they wouldn’t believe that he’s dating someone like Y/n.

It didn’t take long for Ned to find out that Peter was dating.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Ned, his best friend since childhood. The reason he never told him was because he knew how terriable his friend was at keeping secrets. When he found out that he was the cities hero there were times that he almost slipped up and exposed his secret to those around him and always had to remind his friend that no one was suppose to know that he’s Spider-Man.

Ned had caught the two making out on Peters bed.

Peter had forgotten about inviting Ned over for a weekend sleepover due to him being distracted by Y/n coming over and having dinner with both him and his aunt May. After that they’ve left the table to spend time in Peters room which resulted into them making out like most teenagers would and then getting caught by Ned.

His poor friend could only stare in shock when he found out and after a couple of minutes of shock he finally started to ask them question such as; “How did you meet? When did you start dating? Are you really dating Starks son?”

The sleepover turned out to be a very interesting night for Ned.

Ned was still getting used to the fact that Peter was dating Y/n, but Tony wasn’t too happy about the fact that his son was dating Peter the kid that he chose to pass down his work to. Y/n did work with Tony but the kid was never interested in becoming an inventor or an engineer and instead focused more on things that made him feel happy. Tony never pressured his son to take over and instead accepted his goals and dreams.

Peter expected Tony to interrogate him when finding out that he’s dating his son, but instead of being asked on why he was dating his son. His question so we’re mainly aimed towards Y/n who ate in silence during their dinner together with Pepper sitting next to Tony and his sister Morgan sitting across from Peter.

“Why him?”

“Because I like him.”

“Why not some other guy or girl?”

“Do you not want me to date Peter?”

“I don’t want you distracting him from work.”

The conversation was mainly between Y/n and Tony while Pepper was kind enough to speak with Peter about school and his aunt and how they were doing, trying to keep both son and father from killing each other while having their first dinner. By the end of the day Peter became a favorite to the Stark family especially with Morgan who loved Peters attention and placed puzzle games with him winning the little girls heart over in less than seconds.

Things were going fine until the bullying picked up at school.

Flash had noticed how close Peter was being with Y/n during lunch and class hours, thinking that Peter was trying to get extra brownie points with Mr. Stark and befriending his son in order to get closer to the man. He knew that Starks kid was going to be in their school and had grown jealous by how close Peter was getting, ruining his opportunity to befriend Y/n.

When Y/n wasn’t around, Flash and his goons would quickly go after Peter. The good thing is that Peter was great at escaping and was always getting around from Flashes wrath, either running inside a full classroom during lunch hours or running outside where he’d climb onto the roof top in order to avoid Flash.

Peter never told Y/n and he never found out.

The bullying never happened when Y/n was around and whenever Flash approached them he’d always fake his emotions which Peter hated seeing. He could see through Flashes fake smiles and laughs when he conversed with Y/n, trying to act like he’s the most nicest person ever to meet.

Peter wasn’t the only one who saw through flash’s lies so did Y/n. He could see a liar from across the room and knew how they acted. He spent enough time working in his dads company to sniff out liars and had gotten very good at it.

It was the week that Y/n was suppose to work with his father on a new invention, testing them out and figuring out if they have potential to be sold to the public, but recently Y/n had joined a club with Peter and took place after school hours. He’d shoot his father a quick text that he wasn’t going to the lab and quickly rushed off to join the club in hopes of spending more time with Peter and their other members.

When entering the room he finds MJ and the other students sitting on a round table, discussing about their new plans for the club. His eyes search the room and doesn’t find Peter which makes him frown a little before sitting next to MJ. “Where’s Pete?” He whispers to her and noticed how her lips twitched into a smirk.

“Miss your little boyfriend already? Don’t you guys have all periods together?”

MJ had figured Peter and Y/n out in less than seconds when they first met resulting in Y/n befriending her. He rolls his eyes at her comment. “We aren’t always in class together…he has biology eighth period and I have history.” He mumbled out the last part knowing that he wasn’t really providing much and that he and Peter did in fact have majority of classes together.

“You guys are gross.” MJ comments with a grin on her face. “You two are perfect for each other.”

Y/n had dealt with MJ’s teasing for a long time that he’s grown used to it. He gives her a small nudge to the shoulder and focused back to the other who were still planing out this years activities within the club, writing things down and getting the teachers opinion. It went on for ten minutes at Y/n was the first to realize that Peter still hadn’t arrived which slowly started to worry Y/n. His instincts were telling him to go look for him.

“I’m going to the bathroom be back in a bit!” He tells the others with a smile before rushing out of the room and down the hall. Whenever Peter came late to the club he always told him before hand, either letting him know that its a spider thing or perhaps his aunt needed him he was always made aware until now.

He didn’t get anything from Peter and started to get worried as he searched the hallways. They were packed a few minutes ago with students getting ready to head home and now the halls were half empty with a few students lingering around and either attending their own club's or waiting on a ride or friend.

As he rounds the corner he noticed a small crowd of students up ahead, raising a brow as he decides to make his way over. It doesn’t take him long to recognize that familiar beat up backpack that Peter always carried. He’s told Peter many times that he could get him a new one since the one he had was already tearing up, but Peter always declined his offer since he wanted to be the one to earn it and claimed that his bag was still in ‘perfect’ condition and survivable.

The sound of someone colliding into the lockers makes him walk faster to the point where he’s jogging over and finding Peter with a pained look on his face. “Trying to win yourself another internship, Parker? One wasn’t enough?” The sound of Flashes voice gets Y/n’s attention.

Noticing the state that Peters in makes him frown.

“You’re always following Y/n around like a puppy, I bet he’s finding you annoying by now. He should hang around someone who isn’t boring.” Said Flash while Peter glared up at him and tried to get back up without being kicked down by one of his little goons again, before Flash could saying anything else a fist connects with his check, startling everyone when he stumbled back in shock.

“Hey—What the hell!?”

Flash had a hand against his bruised up cheek and turns to see who was responsible only to freeze in place when his eyes land on Y/n who was huffing angrily at him. He’s standing in front of Peter in a protective way while glaring at Flash. “Touch my boyfriend again and I’ll make sure to break your nose this time.” He speaks up.

His words catch everyone by surprise, but was surprises everyone is the fact that Y/n and dating Peter.

“Boyfriend?!”

Y/n smirks at Flashes shock. “Yeah and I love his annoying ass.” He points over his shoulder to where Peter is getting back up and blushing deeply by his words, wanting to roll his eyes. Once Y/n finishes his threats and Flash and his little goons run off he’s quick to turn around and face Peter. His angry expression quickly fading into one of worry as he approached Peter and quickly checks him. “Are you hurt anywhere did you break anything? I swear to god if he did I am going to fu—“

“I’m okay, I’m okay.” Peter is quick to cut in, chuckling a little before placing his hand on Y/n’s wrist and pulling his hands away form him, reassuring him that he’s fine. “Did you forget? I can heal pretty quick.” His words cause Y/n to pinch his shoulder. “You idiot! I don’t care if you can heal I was worried for you, why didn’t you tell me this was happening?”

“Because I can handle my own battles.” Peter mumbled in response which didn’t make Y/n any happier. “That doesn’t mean that you have to do them alone,. I mean what if something happened to you? Who was going to know or help?” He continued to rant out to Peter, pouring out his own feelings and frustrations towards Peter being a stubborn person.

Once he’s ranted and calmed down he placed his hands on Peters shoulders. “Please, tell me when something like this happens again. I won’t hesitate to punch Flash again.”

Peter slowly smiles and laughs. “Can’t believe you punched Flash, I always wanted to do that but never had the guts too. I was afraid that my strength would probably kill him.”

“Yeah, well it felt great doing it he was a pain in my ass.” Peter laughs at his boyfriends words. It was satisfying to see Flash getting punched and the look of surprise when he found out that they were dating each other.

Peter looks up to Y/n. “Flash knows about us and knowing him he’s gonna tell the entire school.” He was growing nervous at the idea of everyone knowing that he’s dating Starks kid only for Y/n to pull Peter into a quick kiss and smiling at him. “Let him tell everyone at least I can kiss you whenever I want without hiding it.” Peter admired Y/n for being so calm during situations like these.

“Think we should get to our club meeting?” Said Peter.

Y/n smiles with a nod. “Yeah, come on you were missing out on the fun plans we were making.” He takes Peters hand into his own and heads down the hall feeling better now that he’s able to hold Peters hand without needing to keep their relationship a secret anymore.

#Male reader #Peter Parker x male reader #stark reader #Tony stark #superfamily fic #tom!peter parker x reader #Tom!Peter Parker x male reader #Spider-Man x male reader #Spider-Man x reader #marvel x male reader #marvel #irondad

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nouearth · 9 months

Text

a sticky situation.

peter parker x male reader.

summary: peter has a major crush on his roommate: you. everything unravels when he walks in on you changing.

wc: 4.1k. genre: smut. warnings: holland!peter, sub!top peter, voyeur!peter, college!au, dry-humping, grinding, frotting, handjobs, kissing, peter's first time, dubcon, cumplay, peter and reader are shooters, characters are aged up!

a bite of the cold air shuddered your damp and nude body once you stepped out of the bathroom, cataloguing the tidiness of your shared bedroom after. your shoulders tensed when the heated air and cold draft clashed for an estate of your body. but by the way your muscles eased into the green towel around your waist, you’ve figured which side won the war. a warm cheer to victory buzzed in your head.

god, did i luck out with peter…

you found yourself repeating that observation often these days. it’s only been two months into the semester, but you’ve already concluded that peter was leagues better than your previous roommate. though, the bar was low—he was kind of a homophobe. that guy was a walking proof of evidence that opposites, in fact, do not attract.

on the other hand, peter had proven that similar interests and personalities were the foundation of beautiful, growing relationships: both platonically and romantically. still, relationships were never that black and white—a grey area. a theory that will forever be tested on, only for the outcome to come out vaguer than before, you’ve realized.

peter was like you: friendly, smart, awkward at times, funny to some. you and him basically have the same qualities of a dog, but there was more to it.

you both shared the same liking down to the genre of video games, the magic of fantasy novels, the cleanliness of a room, the color-coded organization of study notes, and more.

from there, the similar line of characteristics began to blur. whereas you’d prefer to learn from experience, peter liked playing by the book—sticking to it if he could. peter liked red, you liked blue. he favored savory snacks, you devoured them, but preferred sweet drinks.

opposites attract—the theory was once again, broad in your honor.

difference and similarities aside, you were lucky to have peter in your life. the bedroom was colder before you went to shower, but now it blossomed with a gentle heat.

he knew you hated the cold after a warm shower.

taking the other towel, you dried off the rest of your body while you checked your phone for notifications: a missed call from a friend and a few emails regarding construction around the building you had your classes in.

seriously? still? it’s been almost a year already…

normally, you wouldn’t have walked into the bedroom like this, baring skin and all. but peter went to get food because you both have become familiarized with what they served as food at parties.

note to self: you cannot get full off alcoholic beverages. you and peter both tried two parties ago, and it ended with you two sharing the toilet bowl, detoxing your insides of that liquid poison the entire night. the only enjoyment that resulted from that night was learning that peter was a drunk-crier, and you, a drunk-dancer. your friendship had only leveled up since.

you slid on your white briefs once you dried off before shuffling to the other side of the room, browsing through your shared closet aimlessly: he took the left side, you took the right. it was always dim at those parties, so a nice outfit would be wasted. also, you somehow became a magnet for other people’s misfortunes. it took hours to get rid of the smell of this one girl’s vomit—you threw it out in the end.

“no, no… it’s going to be cold later…” you cycled through your clothes again, sighing when nothing caught your eye. “guess i can wear this aga-“

“hey!” out of nowhere, peter’s voice sprung out from the side of the room, followed by a quiet thud, and you twisted your bare body towards the source out of fright.

“jesus, you scared me.” the closet door blocked your view of peter, and vice versa, but you presumed he was leaning against the frame—a habit you noted. “i didn’t even hear you come back.”

“sorry- what was i saying..? oh!” his shadow loomed between you and him, growing as he stepped closer to the closet. “did you want to eat now or-“

judging from the volume of his voice, you should’ve expected how close peter was when you shut the closet. “fuck!” you jumped back, eyes widening when he was practically chest to chest with you. “dude, you really gotta stop doing that.”

on a daily basis, you always looked up at him, but you never paid it much thought to how much taller he was.

“sorry! guess everyone’s a little antsy with the- oh.” he paused.

“what?” you curiously looked up at him, catching sight of his wandering gaze. you were quick enough to follow it, flickering between glimpses of your bare body and face several times like a tennis ball. somehow, you didn’t puzzle the pieces between his shock and your curiosity until he backed away, skittish in nature.

you were in your underwear. still in your underwear. the barrier was the captor of your embarrassment, heat rosed your cheeks as you stood frozen. and with it, the barrier was also your savior.

“oh- OH!” the size of your eyes matched his and upon realizing he’s been staring for far too long, peter cowered his gaze to the side, a gentlemanly hand blocking his sight as he further backed to the door frame, then blindly bumped his shoulder into the door. “i’m so sorry-“

“no, no! i should’ve knocked. i-“ he groaned out, pacifying the sting to his shoulder with his palm. “that was stupid of me, i’m gonna-“

that was another similarity that you both valued: privacy.

before you could reply, he scattered off. for a moment, you felt hot in the face, in the neck, even on your chest. but it would only take a few more seconds for your skin to cool, comforted by the fact that you could’ve shown more—you didn’t.

when peter scrambled out of the room, his gaze fixated on the ground, to the stripes of his socks as they shuffled to the kitchen.

but he never made it very far, because he was easily persuaded. either by his hormones, by the shape of your body, or by his closeted feelings about you. in the end, it didn’t matter because a tightening feeling conjured him back to his original spot—it was always going to be about you.

he was silent in his footsteps, treading backwards to the bedroom as his throat ran dry—heartbeat equally.

tonight. i should do it tonight. are my feelings that obvious? god, i hope not. wait, no- they are! they gotta be… who the fuck wipes marshmallow off of your roommate’s lips and calls them cute?!

peter does.

as his thoughts ran rampant, clouded his regularly murky mind, you were in his line of sight, perfectly captured in the middle of his gaze—now stilled—awe-strucked while he watched you change.

quick portraits of your thick thighs and calves came and went before they were completely masked by the slide of your shorts. then your stomach and chest; pliant, moist skin that layered over the contours of your body before being covered by a tee. he exhaled, then inhaled, smelling the scent of your shampoo and body wash, and he was delighted because you own that scent.

enraptured because only peter could have his senses triggered by you on a daily basis.

if peter could frame this moment, it would be an expensive endeavor that would sacrifice all the money in the world to find the most perfect materials that complemented your textured skin. your smooth body. your handsome face.

you. that was all he wanted.

peter had been trapped since the day he saw you unpacking your things into the dorm. sweaty from the sun, and you knew that, because you refused to shake hands with him until you insisted on washing up first. he wished you never did—your thighs looked better sweating under those shorts.

he’s had crushes before. one in middle school, three in high school. but they amounted to nothing, he never had the confidence. rather, he preferred isolating himself and admiring from afar. rejections had already been predicted, and he was used to the feeling of defeat. if someone were to accept his advances one day, then that would lead to a disruption of events—a catastrophic end to humanity—he joked.

you were different to peter. he loved how, for once, he didn’t have to be the one initiating conversation. he also loved how you didn’t use him for answers because instead, you would help him out with his assignments.

oh, is that professor warren’s class? I think i still have the textbook for her class… let me look.

even when it would only take five minutes to grab a drink down the street, you still invited him. not out of pity like everybody once did, but because he was your friend. parties have never been your thing, but you accompanied them with him because it made him feel better—to know someone.

maybe since he’s grown more mature since then, but now that he was off on his own, it was up to him to predict his future. it was an advice you gave him one night, and he’s kept that close to his heart since then. not the hate that had inflicted his mind, not his peers telling he wasn’t good enough for someone—but him.

in his imaginary world, peter could feel the walls shake when he was around you. the buildings would then fall apart, the earth would scorch civilians and planetary life with heat, and the thundering rain would only make it worse. it was a morbid image. yet, if it meant that you truly liked him, then…

aliens, come do your thing. we insist upon an invasion!

peter wanted you. point, blank, period. it wasn’t his preferred way to confess, but intense sentiments of like, love, lust—all at the same time—ate him up on the inside, and he was scared of being devoid of feelings for you.

“i want… you,” peter muttered, and you jolted again, turning back around in case you misheard him. you were bewildered at the sight of him. once again, you didn’t hear his footsteps.

“what?” you shuffled nervously on your feet. the tension in the air was thick and hot now with the way he stared back at you, frightened yet assured.

“i want you.” there was credence in peter’s tone, and he neared to the door now.

your eyes narrowed into the deep abyss of peter’s eyes as you sat on the foot of your bed, putting on socks. somewhere in your endeavors, you found a flicker of that familiar joke. “ha. ha. very funny,” you muttered bitterly.

it haunted you. as soon as you came out, you were taunted by those same exact words by your ‘friends,’ by your previous roommate. what made you different from them became a simple reason to cease empathy and kindness, and you were baffled that this was happening again.

maybe peter was like the others after all.

you avoided peter’s gaze in favor of the floor, the legs of your desk, your rug—anywhere but him—and you could feel the color drain out of your face, out of this room—deja vu. “look, i know it’s funny to you because i like guys and for whatever reason, straight guys like to flirt with gay men to get a reaction out of us,”

the rug cushioned the weight of a familiar pair of feet, and you looked up, a great frown etched in your face when your eyes met peter’s. he towered over you, bewildered. “but it makes me uncomfortable. and it’s not funny to-“

he didn’t know what roused him. the pain in your voice made him want to apologize without any resort to excuses. the pout on your lips made him want to cradle your head, yet kiss you at the same time. the growing tent in his pants made him want to pin you to your bed, and simply ravish you.

it was all a blur.

his impulsive thoughts became a reality once he stole the remaining words left in your distress, and clumsily swallowed them with a kiss. you didn’t have time to process his lips on yours because you were then pushed onto your back, stilted and surprised, as peter applied his weight on top of yours—his broader build shadowed you in welfare.

“pete-“ you groaned into the hot, breathy kiss, and despite the light attempts to push him away, you were compelled to return the wet exchange. breathlessly, you repeated, “stop, this isn’t funny-“ he kissed you again. all this time, you could’ve had him, but you deluded yourself into thinking otherwise.

“i’m not laughing,” peter muttered, and his hips began moving into yours, aimlessly trying to alleviate the stiffness in his pants. “i want you.” his voice lowered—no longer a confession, but a demand. he rocked into you harder once he felt you throb under those tight short, and you slipped out a moan, memorizing the beat of peter that pulsated against you.

you remembered him being bashful when you two talked about your firsts. you weren’t completely inexperienced like he was, but you mentioned that it’s been a while since you’ve done anything remotely intimate. school was your focus, a relationship was your reward.

“peter,” you repeated again, he wasn’t listening. “peter.” he whispered a demand; to keep calling his name, and you couldn’t help but quietly chuckle at the cliché line often heard in soft porn.

then, you cupped your hands around his temples to pull him away. he gazed into you with ardent hunger, almost annoyed that you ruined the trail of kisses he began leaving on your neck. “did you drink without me? because if you did, then i don’t think we should-“

“i didn’t,” he sobered on the softness of your lips, and like a flip switch, he snapped out of his fictional world of you. “fuck- i’m so sorry, i didn’t even ask you if you wanted to- fuck, i even forgot to say that i like you.” he ranted to himself, beginning to pull himself away. “this was not how it was supposed to go.”

infatuation had expanded into something beyond your control, and your feelings for him ignited even more. a wick bursted into powerful flames, and it warmed your body knowing that you two shared the same sentiment.

before he completely peeled himself off your body, you pulled him down by the neck, then pressed your nose to his, grinning. “I like you too.” a peck to the tip of his nose, then the center of his lips. your onslaught of fleeting kisses to his skin drowned him, pacifying every muscle in his body until it became jelly, and also making it all the more easier to roll him under you.

“not exactly how i imagined my first date with you, but,” you straddled his lap, roaming your hands around peter’s chest, an asset of his you’ve frequently daydreamed about. “you sure?”

the applied pressures to your waist, then bottom should’ve been a definite measure of his answer, but he smiled up at you, guiding a steady pace of your hips to his groin. he was easily distracted, suddenly cascading his other palm up your shirt then down to finally feel the bare skin he had spent long showers jerking off to. fantasies had now been served onto a platter before him, and peter planned on devouring you, piece by piece. “please.”

“must have had a lot on your mind if you couldn’t even confess to me.” it was unusual to see him like this—absolutely enthralled by your presence, high off of it. aching for more of you with the way he pushed his groin into you. “how long have you been thinking about this?” being unusual always had negative connotations to it.

you pressed into him harder, rubbing at his print with gallant grinds. not in this moment.

he moaned, “far too long…” then fumbled with the waistband of your shorts before doing the same with the zipper. “you’ve been driving me crazy, especially these days.” it was a simple task, a daily labor that peter was great at, but his hands shook when his finger met metal. you chuckled, and placed a comforting hand to his cheek, stroking the soft skin with the amplest caress.

take your time. i’m not going anywhere.

“mind sharing what you thought about then?” the only time you peel yourself away from peter’s groin was to help him slide your shorts off, then his jeans. peter lifted his hips, and you two were joined together again. aching together. “just curious.” you joked by pulsating your bulge, and he shyly laughed when he saw the restrictive twitch.

felt it.

“well... where do i start?” peter’s warm hand rested on your inner thigh, dangerously close to your erection while delicately exploring your soft skin. “there’s been so many times where i just wanted to…” he was too ashamed to finish his sentence, looking away.

“wanted to…?” your body arced over his, placing a persuading kiss to his cheek, then neck. “what was it?” they lingered, sunk deep into his skin with the utmost affection, and he left the deepest, pleasurable sighs as if you withdrew it from him. you commenced his dilemma. “tell me what you thought when you first saw me. saw that i was your roommate.”

“i...” peter began, and you could tell his nerves got the best of him, so you rocked into him again, begged with your hips. the position made it easier to feel all of him, press into his warmth more, and you couldn’t stop. wouldn’t. “i didn’t know what to feel. i was happy, that i had someone as kind as you…” you gleefully hummed, agreeing as you continued leaving kisses to his neck.

“then i was nervous, because you were so… cute. handsome. beautiful.” he moaned when you began to grind in slow, deep strides. your bulges squeezed and pushed one another, peter did the same, growing impossibly bigger against you. “but when i saw you in those shorts, sweating because move-in day was always on a hot day…”

“yeah?” you beckoned him to finish his sentence because you were closing your eyes now, remembering that very moment because you felt the same. the way peter’s chest, his muscles, were broad and stunning under his own layer of sweat, under his loose shirt, under that naivety that you would never have dreamed to think of him as such a…

“i just wanted to fuck you.”

pervert.

the shy smile he gave you messed with your perception of him. clearly, you’ve underestimated him all this time, and you kissed him again. “so, you only thought about pleasuring yourself.”

he quickly broke the kiss to defend himself. “wait, no! t-that’s not what i meant.”

“peter, relax.” your laugh calmly settled into a comforting smile, and you blindly reached down to his thick print, feeling and squeezing at whatever you can because you were desperate to explore him. “i’m joking.” his chest rose.

for the remainder of time, you spent it stroking peter through his underwear. dryly to his frustration, but he never told you because he wanted to experience you in every way. his lips never left yours, only parted to moan into your mouth when you shoved your hand into his briefs to sate your desire to feel him bare.

peter was big in your small hand. the weight felt suffocating to your palm when you grabbed ahold of his sack, fondling his balls, then stroking his cock again, and you were intoxicated in the way he melted under you, looked into you, begged for you to go faster.

you did. who wouldn’t when he gazed at you with the most puppy-like eyes?

he had complete control of you now, because every action, every stroke, from then on had been a journey to his personal paradise. you didn’t care that you were left abandoned, that you were aching harder than he was. watching him was more than adequate.

both pairs of briefs and shirts have been tossed to the side now, and you maintained your straddle. it was riveting to watch how much bigger peter was when you took both of your cocks together and stroked. he practically enveloped you with the weight of his length, the girth of his shaft, and you wallowed in the fact that he was incredibly bashful about it.

peter’s hand never left your body. he charmed you by his neediness. it was clumsy in execution, but he always squeezed a moan out of you with he felt your ass, your chest, your nipples, your thighs. “fuck, pete.”

everything about you was beautiful, incredibly more so when you caved into him as he dealt kisses to your bare skin and took his own turn at jerking the both of you off.

he was eager. delirious. hard, stiffening hard, against you, and you felt every vein pulsate the harder— the faster—he squeezed and stroked. you leaned back, hands planted to the mattress beneath you, then maneuvered your hips to the rhythm of his fist. you found a pace while peter kept you steady, and fucked into his fist, against his wet cock, sliming your dripping pre-cum together with the utmost fervor.

“wait, (m/n),” he hiccuped, and his hold on you tightened, nails dug into your left waist but you ignored his plea, fucking steadily into his fist. “stop, i’m going to-“ they fell on deaf ears, and mouth agape, peter watched you with incredulity. you can feel his body flex, your balls smushed to his when you grinned up, your pre-cum sticking to his, his to yours, like a sick web. “s-stop, oh god.”

and peter unraveled before you with a guttural moan, finishing the rest of his plea with a blasting of thick and creamy ropes to his chest, like a cannon. the force was strong enough to have a few shots land on his face, then his hair, and then somewhere above because peter was a big shooter—a strong one, you’d passionately testify. “f-fuck, i didn’t mean to cum so-“

“holy shit.” you watched peter in all his glory, then in his embarrassment, while stilted on his lap and sweating, not taking notice of the delay of your climax because it crept up on you quick. a rocket broke the cloud in your thoughts with a boom, and you spilled all over him, shooting like fireworks. “shit!”

peter was your canvas, and it was your duty to paint him. debris of sex splattered everywhere, because you somehow found the strength to continue fucking yourself into the cream of fist, unloading and unloading onto him until you were dry, heaving and dripping.

“fuck- I didn’t mean to ruin your sheets-” he mumbled, a blush stained his cheeks, and you joined in the warmth with a kiss, panting.

“where’s the fun in all of this if you aren’t going to stain at least one thing.” your brows raised at the wet stain on the wall above peter’s head, right below your wall-shelf, and peter’s gazed followed.

he groaned, distressed by the evident he made. “fuck, sorry…” his bashfulness only endeared you even more.

“it’s okay,” you hopped off his lap, stretching your arms into the air. “i’ll clean you up.”

“okay,” peter lay still, his hand cautiously held over his stomach to catch the drips of his cum and yours. it was fascinating to watch the mixture flow together, strands of it melding and un-webbing as he played with the sticky residue. it was the scientist in him. “my towel is on the- fuck-“

without a beat, you took his dripping flaccid cock into your mouth, sucking off any remnants of spunk. an unfamiliar taste you weren’t used to, bitter and salty. it wasn’t until you noticed how peter’s eyes glazed over you, half-lidded because he was in heaven now, that you found the taste of him delectable. peter’s caution for staining your bed sheets was disregarded, because he knew you’d clean the rest of him off.

after you pulled away with a soft pop, he traced your wet lips with the cum on his fingers, then his knuckles, before he pushed one by one into your mouth. one finger at first, then two, then three, you moaned erotically around his digits as peter pumped, marveling in the eagerness of your mouth. he slowly pushed more cum into your mouth. the creamy residue gathered at the corner of your mouth at first but he made sure to scoop it back in, and continued doing so until he was polished clean.

nothing was wasted.

the taste of you and him spread in the warmth of your tongue, and you have never felt more intoxicated.

to peter, you have never looked more beautiful.

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

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justice-maul · 9 months

Note

Can I request Tom's peter parker x male reader

Peter hasn't seen his bf for a while and when they finally meet they try to have sex and make out but are getting interrupted by the avengers every single time. Getting Peter annoyed little by little until he finally reaches his limits and tells the avengers to leave them alone since he is going to get fucked by his bf and doesn't want any interruptions

With a breeding kink, eating out peters ass, playing with peters pecs, praising kink

Thanks :)

«Temptation» Tom!Peter Parker x Top Avenger Male Reader

Word count: 1,366

Author Note: thank you anon I love this request so far it’s one of my favs! English isn’t my first language!

WE WERE JUST AT 400 A FEW DAYS AGO AND NOW I HAVE NEAR 800 FOLLOWERS?!?! YALL ARE THE BEST I LITERALLY LOVE YOU GUYS SO MUCH ❤️

Warning(s)⚠: Sub Peter, breeding, rim job, breast/pec play, nipple play, p in a, and of course, praise

It’s been so long since Peter has seen let alone touched his boyfriend, with the constant missions you two weren’t able to do anything together but finally, you two were both free and he was desperate to just feel you…

You two were in his room on the bed with Peter in your lap straddling your waist, his hands rested on your shoulders, your lips on his just as desperate to taste him as he was eager, you gently sucked his lip between your teeth, nipping at his bottom lip signaling him to open his mouth just enough for your tongue to slide into his warm wet mouth

But suddenly there’s a knock on the door and both of you are forced to pull away as Tony comes in to grab Peter for yet another time-consuming project, and it wasn’t the first time the Avengers had cock blocked both of you

Last week you were on top of him your hands trailed down his pants and felt up the fat of his ass as he let out a soft noise of pleasure in your mouth before Sam sent you a text to help him train. After a mission, Peter and you were desperate to feel each other as he palmed your cock but Steve sent out a message to all the Avengers for a long meeting

You can see that it was starting to get to Peter so one day as you two were on your couch in your bedroom you gently gripped his thigh moving your hand deeper in between as you began to kiss his neck in order to calm down his nerves, he let out a little whine as he’s been needy to just feel any sexual contact these past few weeks

Your lips gently sucked on his neck, pressing in hickeys to his skin as you began to leave light bites along his nape letting your teeth graze his skin causing him to let out louder noises but just as your hand moved to his pants one by one the avengers all came into the room

You saw Peter’s hands clench into fists as he watched all the Avengers swarm into your room and began to talk as if you two weren’t even there trying to spend time together alone and he couldn’t help but just snap, finally reaching his limit and stood up

“All of you, get out NOW!”

He yelled, it was unusual to see Peter yelling at anyone but it was clear he was pissed. “You have been bothering us all week can’t you leave for one day?!” He snapped and slowly the Avengers began to leave and he slammed the door shut behind them making it clear that he didn’t want anyone to disturb him

He let out a sigh of relief and turned back to you and you couldn’t help but just chuckle and you grab his waist pulling him in against your body and smashing your lips against his and soon you two were on the couch again making out, your hands snaked up his sweater lifting up right above his chest and began to gently grope his pecs

"Your body's so beautiful baby" You whispered against his lips causing him to shudder as your hands felt up his pecs gently squeezing and groping the fat, Peter was always incredibly sensitive and his chest was one of his weakest areas, especially his pink little buds

You pushed him against the couch getting in between his thighs as you began to grope his chest, feeling the supple skin against your fingers through his sweater was already driving you crazy and causing him to make the most pornographic noises only by you just you barely touching his chest

“Keep making those pretty noises for me sweetheart," you manhandled him on his knees with his ass raised in the air and removed both his pants and underwear, his sweater being the only piece of clothing left. He hid his face on the armrest as you grabbed handfuls of his cheeks

You waste no time in spreading his plump ass making his pink hole twitch as your breath fans over it jerking forward when you press your tongue flat against his rim and you began to take long strips along his hole making him whine pathetically which turned into a string of cusses as you pushed your tongue inside his slick heat

You can barely make out anything he was babbling but you continued to fuck his hole with your tongue, pulling back for a moment, you licked your own fingers, coating them in saliva before pushing two inside of his heat, your tongue joining them, spreading him open while enjoying the way he arched his back against your face

Your cock throbbed and harden between your legs, leaking precum into your boxers as it begged for attention when you finally were able to scissor and put three fingers inside him, is when you decided he was ready and pulled your fingers out of his cunt unbuckling your belt

When Peter saw you pull out your hardening length he felt a wave of nervousness and excitement coursing through him as you gently flipped him over on his back. Slowly, you began pushing into him inch by inch, “You're taking me in so well Peter, just relax for me baby, I’ll always take care of you,” you continued to praise him even as you bottomed out letting him adjust to your size

“I’m ready… you can start moving now…” he said nervously but you both knew when it came down to it he wasn’t shy about wanting your cock at all “Fuck, you feel so good,” you groaned feeling his tightness wrap around you, you began moving slowly inside of him his eyes locked in yours the entire time as you made love to him

“You’re so fucking beautiful Pete,” you added, your voice full of praise making him moan softly “I can’t believe I get to be with you like this…” Wordlessly, Peter pulled you into a passionate, heated kiss. You moaned into his mouth feeling your passion for him growing with each passing moment.

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer as you continued to thrust into his sloppy hole. "Fuck, baby, you're so fucking sexy," you whispered against his lips making him whimper. "I can't get enough of you." You deepened the kiss, your tongue tangling with his. Peter’s brain turning to mush as he whispered “I love you” over and over again, against your lips

“I love you too baby, M’gonna fill you up so fucking good, gonna make you mine…” your voice thick with lust as you began to thrust harder and faster, slamming your body into his with each movement making him babble and moan loudly from your length dragging along his heat

“Come on baby, let me hear you scream,” you added with your eyes locked on his “Let me hear how much you want it.” He yelled out wordless moans, screaming for your cock so loudly there was no way the Avengers hadn’t heard you two now but neither of you cared at the moment

Your hips moved faster, fucking into him relentlessly “Gonna cum, gonna cum, f-fuck!” You felt him tighten around your hardness making you groan loudly as he screamed, your thrusts becoming sloppy as you both came together, feeling your cum gushing out of your cock filling him up, and his shooting out over his own stomach

“Feel so full…” he said breathlessly, you put a hand over his lower abdomen and pulled out, watching as his cum seeped out of his messy hole, “That was just what I needed,” he said panting and resting his head on the armrest as you chuckled and gently helped him to the shower to get you both cleaned up.

Let’s just say when you guys both came out of your room no one made eye contact and made sure to always ask you two if you were busy before bothering either of you, some of the Avengers made jokes about it (especially Tony) and every time they did Peter would groan and hide us head in his hands making you laugh

If you want more… check out my Masterlist

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supercap2319 · 7 months

Text

"I can't believe this." Y/N said, shocked at the sight before him. His boyfriend was naked as the day he was born, leaving nothing at all to the imagination while wearing slippers.

Peter gave him a small smile and blushed slightly. "That I'm naked for you?"

"No. I can't believe you're naked while wearing my slippers. Those are my favorite slippers. Take them off now."

Peter frowned. "Wait, I'm literally naked for you on a silver platter and you care about your slippers?"

"You're darn right. Those are my SpongeBob ones." Y/N said.

#x male reader #male reader insert #male x male #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #Tom Holland x male reader #peter parker #Peter Parker x male reader #spiderman #Spiderman x male reader

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crims0nwritess · 1 year

Text

The cat rule

___________________________________________

Peter Parker x Male!Reader

___________________________________________

Summary: Tony needs Peter for a mission, unfortunately he cant go

Warnings: None

Word count: 393

___________________________________________

You were currently asleep, arms thrown around Peters neck and head resting on his chest, Peters arms were wrapped around your torso and his hands were slung up so he could run his fingers through your hair, your legs were tangled together as Peter softly pet your head and listened to your soft snores.

After a while of this, you two relaxing together quietly, Peters phone rang, in an attempt to not wake you up, Peter, in a moment of quick thinking, grabbed one of his web shooters from his nightstand and webbed his phone, that was sitting on a desk on the other side of the room, pulling it towards him and catching it expertly.

"Hello?" He asked quietly as he answered the phone.

"Hey kid, you busy?" Tony asked.

Peter looked down at the sleeping boy on his chest, he pulled the phone back up to his ear and responded.

"Not technically, why?"

"Great, I need you for a mission, me and the old man are in the city and theres a situation, a spidey situation, so get on your suit and meet me at the bank" Tony explained.

"Oooh, no can do" Peter said.

"Excuse me? I thought you said you weren't busy" Tony asked.

"Im not, but, theres another thing, Y/N is currently asleep on top of me, soooo yeah, ask someone else, pretty sure Wandas not doing anything right now" Peter said.

"I asked YOU, Y/N being asleep is not an excuse, now get your goddamn suit on and come here, now" Tony said.

"Hey, lemme ask you a question, do you know the cat rule?" Peter asked.

"The what?" Tony asked.

"The cat rule, if a cat falls asleep on you you're not allowed to move" Peter explained.

"You see, Y/N is like a cat, he hates mondays, likes cuddles, and knocks stuff off of tables, both on accident and on purpose, so, I apply the cat rule to him as well, so, legally, I cant get up and wake him up, which means, I cant help you, sorry old man"

"Peter that is not-"

"Yeah? Uh huh, sorry cant hear you, bye!" Peter said.

"PETER DO NO-" Tony said, cut off as Peter hung up and carefully set his phone on the nightstand, running his hands through Y/N's hair and smiling smugly.

#peter parker x male reader #peter x male reader #spiderman x male reader #marvel #marvel x male reader #mcu #mcu x male reader #tom holland #gay #fluff #fanfic

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fandomnerd9602 · 2 months

Note

Just the idea of Peter having Male Reader as the friend who acts gay but isn't gay and being frenemies with MJ

After patching up Peter

Ned: So we're going to head out now okay

Peter: Sure

Male Reader: Ok get well soon buddy *gives Peter a forehead kiss*

MJ: We'll see you tomorrow *Kisses Peter*

Male Reader: Wow really flexing your girlfriend privileges

MJ: Shut up your just jealous

Peter: Guys please not know I'm in pain

MJ: you’re totally gay for Peter!

Y/N: I am not!

Ned: when did this start?

Y/N: it all started when I held Peter’s hand during the movies hang out. MJ wouldn’t hold his hand so I did

MJ: I was holding my soda!

Y/N: your boyfriend needs his hand held during the movie and I stepped up. That’s called true friendship-relationship

Ned: a Bro-ship!

Y/N: thanks Ned

#marvel #marvel imagine #marvel fluff #mcu #mcu imagine #mcu fandom #marvel incorrect quotes #incorrect marvel quotes #spider man #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x mj #peter parker x male reader #tom holland #spider man x male reader #ned #michelle jones #zendaya

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g4yforethan · 3 months

Text

new idea

pairing: peter parker x male!reader

summary: peter is sad but reader knows just the way to help him

warnings: cursing, top!reader, bottom!peter parker, reader and character are 18+

a/n: been a while since i've written so if this seems all over the place pls forgive mee

you were on your way to peter's house to finish the project you two had been assigned. he had texted you to come over but earlier in class, he looked upset and stressed. you thought you would be able to cheer him up so you brought a movie along to watch together. you arrived and rang the doorbell and aunt may opened it. “oh hi y/n! it’s been so long.” the both of you hugged. “hi aunt may! where’s peter?” she looked towards his room. “he’s in his room right now. PETER Y/N IS HERE! anyways come on in, i’m gonna go to the store and get some food. you’re welcome to stay for dinner.” “aww thank you aunt may. it’s good seeing you.” she smiled and closed the door.

“PETERR! where are youuu?” you went to open the door to his room and saw him in his bed with the covers over his head. you went over to him and removed the blanket to see his cute and soft face. “peter what’s wrong?” “nothing y/n just feeling out of it that’s all.” an idea sparked in your head and so you went over to his bed and started massaging his thigh. “thanks y/n but i don’t know if i’m in the mood right now.” peter said as he looked at you with his puppy dog eyes. you grabbed his face and stared at him in his eyes. “trust me peter this’ll make you feel better.” you leaned in and touched his sweet, soft lips. you stopped to look at him and saw him still puckering for a kiss. you laughed and he opened his eyes as his face turned red. “you look so cute like that. you want more?” “yes please.” he said in a shy voice.

you grabbed his and laid him on his back and continued kissing his face and went down towards his neck. his soft moans turned you on even more as you left hickies all over his neck and chest. "i wanna fuck you so bad." you said as you massaged his crotch. "fuck me please."peter begged for your cock as he took off his pants and underwear. you did the same and flipped peter over with his ass facing towards you. you started licking his hole and slowly putting one finger inside. peter's moans filled the room as he arched his back ready for your cock. you listened as you slowly entered his tight hole. your grabbed onto his waist and continued fucking him. each stroke you gave become stronger and faster. peter reached his hand out, begging for you to stop, but you didn't.

you flipped peter over on his back and lifted his legs up. you rubbed your fingers on his hole before putting your dick back inside of him. you fucked his hole for a few more minutes before it was time to cum. "fuck peter. i'm gonna cum." he looked at you in your eyes. "cum inside me y/n." you listened and came inside of him wrapping your arms around his neck and shoulders. he rubbed your back and kissed your neck before you flipped over laying next to him. "so how do you feel now? better?" you asked him as he smiled and kissed you. "yeah of course. way better." the two of you kissed before a knock interrupted you both.

#male reader #male reader insert #malereader #gay love #gay smut #gay reader #marvel #marvel x male reader #peter parker x male reader #peter parker #peter parker smut #peter parker x y/n #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x male reader

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mlm-writer · 7 months

Text

Test Ride Pt. 2 (Peter Parker x Android!Reader)

Pairing: Peter Parker (TH ver.) x Android Reader (with a robovagina) Rating: Explicit Words: 1189 POV: Second Summary: The Big Tober Day 10 - Robotfucking Note: A sequel to a piece I did for kinktober 2020. Reader is a robot and has no gender. Last time reader got a robopenis and I thought it only fair to give reader a robovagina this time. Reader's chest is unmentioned. Tags: robotfucking, unnecessary use of fancy words to make it more sci-fi, at least I don't put 'quantum' in front of everything to make it science, dom/sub dynamics, overstimulation, safeword ignored(?), robot tentacles as restraints, vibrating pussy, nipple play and software/hardware updates gone ' wrong'

A new HUD interface greeted you as you booted up after your last upgrade. Your physical statistics and environmental parameters were found in new places, but that mattered little. Your optics activated after a short delay, visual input now also available to you. Your creator stood before you, his lips moving, but you received no audio input. “Audio module connection failed,” you replied to whatever he said. You saw him curse, or at least that was your best prediction of what his expression conveyed. He motioned your head down. You bent at the hips, allowed him to unplug and reconnect your audio modules.

Once the cables reconnected, you could hear Peter clearly. “Please, don’t be ruined, please don’t be ruined,” he muttered to himself.

“All modules operational,” you informed him. He jumped at your voice, but let out a sigh of relief right after. “Awaiting command,” you added. As per usual after an update, Peter started poking and prodding your frame, confirming your sensory input was still operational. When he was done testing your basic functions, he dragged you to his bed.

“Program D.O.M. version V, please,” he spoke nervously. You detected an increase in heart rate and blood flow to the genitals. You confirmed the break command, as it was standard protocol, before you could execute the D.O.M. program. Once the safety protocols were satisfied, you had your digits on Peter’s clothes. You unbuttoned his flannel, revealing his pale chest underneath. There was minor bruising, but a quick scan revealed no serious injuries that were contraindications to the program. You pushed him onto the bed and started running your tongue over his chest, paying extra attention to his nipples.

Peter whimpered as you played with his chest, artificial tongue and teeth taking turns with your digits pinching his sensitive nubs. You kept track of his arousal, only stopping your onslaught once his involuntary noises got a little louder. You sat up, retracting your pelvic panel and rubbing your wet hole over Peter’s crotch. He whined as you slowly soaked through his jeans and underwear, until he could feel your wetness on his cock through his clothes. “Please, I need to be inside you,” Peter eventually moaned, his mind tethering on the edge of madness.

He was hard underneath you, so you deemed him ready for the next stage. With superhuman deftness, you removed his clothes until he was naked on the bed. His cock protruded from his body, the tip red and leaking. You wrapped a servo around his rod, stroking slowly as to tease him. When he started thrusting into the tightness, you placed your other servo on his hip, your mechanical strength counteracting his. He was forced to only take what you gave, which was exactly what he programmed you to give. It was not enough to get him even remotely close to orgasm, but the build-up was perfect to make him start begging. Once the begging got frequent enough, you proceeded on to the next stage; you mounted him, letting his cock slide into your wet and soft hole. Peter moaned, his eyes rolling back as you rode him at a decent pace. “Please, give me more, I’ve been good. I will be even better, I swear.”

His moans filled the room. You took his dick all the way inside and paused on top of him. “I will grant you more. However, unpermitted orgasms will be reciprocated with punishment.” He nodded, promising he would not cum. You decreased the elasticity of your inner walls, giving him a tighter squeeze as you proceeded to ride him. Your movements were quicker than before, fully intending to make him cum without permission. Peter was moaning to the ceiling, eyes squeezed closed sometimes and other times wide open. His mouth stayed wide open, tongue peeking over his lower lip.

Just as predicted, your inner sensors detected his cum painting your inner workings. You rode him until the spurts seized. Then you planted yourself firmly on him. Tendrils extended from your body and wrapped around his appendages. “You have disobeyed my orders,” you stated as you held him down and turned on the vibrations of your inner walls. Peter wailed as his sensitive cock was forced to endure the intense vibrations. He writhed against your restraints, but not even his super strength could remove you. Just like he had begged you before to fuck him, he was now begging for your mercy. You bent your upper body, putting a servo around his throat. You put a little pressure on the blood vessels below his jaw. Tears poured down Peter’s eyes as you forced a second orgasm out of him. You detected more cum inside you as he cried out.

After his second orgasm, you ran a scan on him, the analysis showing that he had enough. You removed your servo from his throat and turned off the stimulation or at least… attempted to. “Error: deprecated code, V-module unresponsive.” You stated, your tendrils no longer retracting and your hole vibrating on and on.

“What?” Peter exclaimed, clearly in panic. You ran a diagnostic check, your hole trying to reboot by first ramping the vibrations all the way up, so it could be brought down again. Peter screamed during the process, his brain unable to process the stimulation.

The tactic worked fine, but the module got stuck again at the same level of vibrations you started at. “Tendril module interfering with V-module. Attempting tendril reboot.” Peter did not perceive a word you said. As the tendrils rebooted, they lifted up a little, Peter’s body now hanging in the air except for his pelvis, where you still sat, vibrating his cock.

Peter cried, feeling like his brain had melted away from the intense pleasure. “Stark! Stark!” He screamed the break command. You tried to terminate the program immediately, but the backlog of reboots and diagnostic checks made it impossible. Your creator, against your predictions, came again, barely a drop of cum leaving him. He kept screaming, trying to get through to you. Just after his third orgasm, you regained control of the tendrils. In a flash, they were retracted and you uncoupled the module for now.

Peter’s cock was gradually turning limp inside of you. The poor boy was hoarse from screaming. Without the tendrils, you regained full control, the vibrations stopping instantly. “Thank you, thank you,” Peter whispered over and over as you lifted your frame off him.

“Program D.O.M. paused,” you stated, “do you wish to continue after a delay or shall I proceed with aftercare protocols?”

Peter laid starfish-style on the bed. His chest was heaving. He could use some aftercare, but it was hard to trust you right now. “Terminate the program all together,” he groaned, “initiate shutdown.” A second later, he was met with the sound of your vents shutting down and your pelvic plate closing to protect what was behind it. He was left in silence. As far as updates went, it still wasn’t as bad as that time Windows went from XP to Vista. He counted it as a win.

—————

REBLOG TO SUPPORT YOUR FANFIC WRITERS

Likes do not help exposure!A comment in tags or replies can sustain a writer for months!

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nowayspidey · 6 months

Text

The beetle x The spider.

(Peter Parker x Male!Reader!blue beetle.)

Your ass was on fire. Literally. Burning sensation all over your back along with a throbbing pain that only intensified more and more as soon as you got to the room. Or better said; fell on the room, rolling on the cold floor. Chest rising and falling with no signs of stopping a frantic breathing. Or maybe because Peter let go of you to run and close all the windows in the apartment.

'What's all that sound?' A feminine voice followed Peter steps as he returned with a panicked expression to the room, standing next to you.

That's when you experienced one of the most embarrassing moments in front of your mother-in-law's figure. Peter had slipped the suit off his body, and you.... almost the same. Peter was in his boxers while your's were revealed on the part of your butt. You had gotten up and were on your back checking for injuries. Peter's hand hit your back, catching your attention.

"WHAT?!?!" You snapped angrily.

And yes, you were angry with him. But your anger had blinded you the fact that you were showing your ass to May Parker and Happy Hogan who were now standing at the door-room frame.

'What's going on....? (M/n)..? Can you-- can both of youput on some clothes right now and explain to us what's going on?'

'Yes. May.' Both of you said in unision.

'I don't think I'll ever get used to seeing that beetle embedded in your back (M/c).' Happy had an expression between disgust and curiosity.

'I know. It's unpleasant. But she's sensitive so let's try not to say it out loud.'

But nevertheless, you spoke again first.

'Peter decided to trust a complete stranger on the trip to Italy and NOW after trying to kill us, he revealed our identities!'

'(M/c)!' Peter hissed. He had heard your complaints since you boarded Happy's jet in that tulip field that day on the netherlands.

The two of you had a complicated "relationship."

'Just telling the truth.' You answered, almost eating him with your eyes as you remembered everything that happened in Italy and London.

You spat out the words like venom as you dressed in blue pajama pants and a Hello Kitty shirt you found in Peter's closet.

Helicopters surrounded the building. You ran to the living room in your Hello Kitty pajamas to find every news channel the revelation that Quentin Beck had recorded.

'This is bad. Really bad.' You murmured.

'This is a shithole.' The voice of the beetle responded.

'Yes it is.' You ran a hand through your hair.

Authors note: i know i took a looong break from writing. But im better (mentally) now and back on trying to write more m/c fics!♡

This is a small series i have planned base on no way home movie x blue beetle movie!!! Also, If you want jaime reyes fics you can drop request at my box ;)

#male reader #male!reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland #tom holland one shot #writing inspiration #angst prompts #tomhollandmale!reader #peter parker fic #peter parker #peter parker male reader #peter parker male!reader #blue beetle male!reader #jaime reyes male!reader #marvel male reader #x male reader #xolo maridueña one shots #peter parker oneshot

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qsphyxias · 4 months

Note

idk if your requests are open but i was wondering if you could write a (tom)peter parker x male reader fluff because i really enjoyed the other ones that you have written 🫶🫶🫶🫶 much love

if you read yaoi and/or bl regularly as a woman, get the fuck out of here!

synopsis ; peter parker x male! reader

warnings ; male (he/him) reader, cussing, (tom holland) peter parker, established relationship

note ; love me some classic peter parker fanfiction - and thank u for requesting!! not sure how long this has been sitting here for whoops

words ; 0.8k +

"Hey, boyfriend." You snickered, hanging your head over him. Multiple strands of hair followed your sudden movement — blocking your view of him, or rather, his view of you.

He looked up at your face and pushed the strands of your hair to the side of your face without thinking much of it. The smile he beamed right back at you made you feel as if he was trying to move away curtains that revealed a most breathtaking view — you, his wonderful boyfriend.

As cheesy as it sounded, the way you looked at him and leaned down made his mind play one of the most righteous theme songs of the Star Wars trilogy. The feeling of your face against his hand, the desire to just hold you and never let go, the heat of his blood rushing everywhere, it was scary. Peter could hardly think straight when you let a small smile shine through your expression, where was he supposed to look? What was he supposed to touch?

As if on instinct, Peter's hands that were once placed on either side of him on the bed, took action and slid up your waist to gain a little bit more control once he saw you close the distance a bit more by resting on your elbows instead of your palms when hovering over Peter.

His grip caught you by surprise, who knew he could be so initiating?

"Is... Is that okay?" He murmured, watching your expression, terrified he was maybe too assertive this time.

He already went through this struggle with where to touch, back when he thought he only liked girls — but now, it's different. Despite all those experiences, It's like he had to relearn everything about the boyfriend world. It's not the same, because this time, he's the one with the boyfriend, not so much the one having to worry about his role as the only boyfriend in the relationship.

And Peter really doesn't want to fuck it up with his boyfriend.

To his shock and awe, you snorted, dismissing all his worries with one single breath.

"Peter, your heart's made of pure gold, isn't it?" You sighed as you fully relaxed into your new boyfriend's arms, letting your arms slide underneath the small of his back and lock softly.

With your eyes closed, and ear against his heart, Peter could comfortably wear his expression of pure exasperation as he settled into your embrace — not having to worry about you reading his face.

"Uh," Peter leaned his head back against the pillows to think, causing his throat to relax under the pressure of gravity — producing a scratchy tone in his larynx, once could only describe it as infatuation-inducing. "Well, maybe. I mean, I let you be my boyfriend, didn't I? I must be a saint!" He joked, a complete 180 to his previous attitude as he attempted to lighten the heavy romantic tension. A smile adorned his face with ease as he looked down at you for a (hopefully) good reaction.

You opened your eyes to playfully glare at him, "I take back what I said; your heart's made of pure lego — it's completely evident."

Peter feigned offence, "Hey, what makes you say that?" getting a bit more comfortable, he rolled over to face you instead of having to crane his neck down, keeping his hands flush against your back throughout.

"The way your joints click and clack, the way you get all stiff and plastic-like when you get nervous, the way you're practically indestructible — not to mention how much space you allow Lego Star Wars to take up in your heart; there's lots of things, Peter. " You laughed near the end of your mini-speech, fiddling with the the collar of Peter's shirt right in front of your point of view.

"And hey, you're basically built like Lego Batman with those 12-pack abs. Not that I'm complaining..." Peter flushed at the blatant flirt directed at his body.

"I did not come here today to be berated, s/o." Peter chose to ignore the last thing you said, "and I do not get 'plastic-like' when I'm nervous." Peter frowned, to which you chuckled.

"You came here because you missed me, be honest." You corrected.

"Well... Yeah, but you don't have to say it out loud." He mumbled, his shy expression breaking into a grin when he saw you smile first.

"Why not? it's true, isn't it?" You closed the distance between the two of you even more, chest-to-chest, stomach-to-stomach, lips-to....

Your eyes fluttered shut as you leaned up to kiss him, shuddering when you felt his hand rub your back with a gentle force, pulling you impossibly closer to him to fully close the distance.

As the two of you kissed, Peter held you close and vowed to himself in his head, to always protect you. Because to protect you, means he'd be protecting precious moments like these.

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clarks-letterman · 1 year

Text

lost in reality | perv!peter parker x gender-neutral!reader

a/n — this is not what i usually post! there was going to be more smut but i didn't know how far to go with it, so if anyone wants to see something more extended, let me know! (Peter is a bit of a perv in this but i tried to make him get his comeuppance) gender-neutral, i think

warnings — smut! 18+, some brief facefucking, gore (sorta mild, but don't read if you don't like it!)

summary — Peter uses the reality stone to practice his pickup skills. With such a powerful device at his disposal, what could go wrong?

words — 3.7k

~~~

A mesh of red and blue ambled to the quarters of the Avenger's compound. No rush nor worry affected Peter as he kept one foot light over the other, heading into each step, furthering him down the hallway. It was another neighborhood saved and another day where he would be free from the thoughts of letting his powers go to waste, and his life could finally regress into normalcy for the start of the new day. While he had a kick in his step from how smoothly the night had gone—and how much his mentor acknowledged the fact—Peter felt the need for something a little more caffeinated to help him instead.

As Peter returned from his latest venture, taking no rush to get to his room, you were on your way out of the resident android's room. In your hand, a pad of Stark Industries-branded notepad paper with all but one of the Avengers' coffee orders scribbled down filled it. You would not be in Vision's room with the question of coffee being the reason, something he was physically incapable of drinking, but Wanda frequented the room, and it was likely that she was in there. You were right to assume that, and now, you planned to check the door just further down the hall to see if Peter was around.

It turned out that you did not need to go far; the bright colors of his suit caught your eye the second you stepped out into the corridor. Anything resembling Peter's mood of being on top of the world was gone, and so was that little kick that pushed him further—you could almost see him lose it in his eyes once he saw you, even from afar. You approached him with one thing on your mind, the pen and paper used to record everyone's order at the ready.

"He-," he cleared his throat before lowering the pitch of his voice, "Hey."

There was an awkward silence between the following words until you reminded him by tapping your pen to the side of the notepad to draw his attention to it and speaking up, "Your order?"

"What?" He was already blowing it. Peter glanced down to his red-spandex feet and then back to you, his voice returning to its natural pitch, "Oh, yeah, uh—"

Peter paused. He realized he did not know what he wanted, and while you found the evident attempt to appear cool somewhat endearing, you could have already been heading out to get coffee for everyone by now. Almost by reflex, you started to tap the pen against the nearly completed list of coffee orders ranging from simple menu items to oddly specific modifications to non-existent drinks. And in seconds, the pen slipped from your grasp and unceremoniously landed on the laminate of the hallway floor.

"Shit," you reached down to grab the ballpoint, but Peter stopped you.

"I'll get it."

He attempted to bend over, only to find his hand stuck to the wall. Peter quickly stood straight, subtly tugging his hand away from the wall without tearing a new hand-shaped hole in the plaster and paint. In his panic, Peter's hand stuck itself to the wall, and no matter how hard he tried to pull away from it, his hand wouldn't budge. That left you to get the dropped pen, reaching for it without the trouble of spider-centric powers messing with you.

You looked to Peter, scribbling down his name next to Tony's order, "I'll just get you what Tony gets and leave you alone with your hand. See you later, Peter."

With that, Peter was left alone and sufficiently embarrassed as you strode down the hall, and, finally, his hand let him free once you were gone. He scuttled to his room in a bout of shame and locked the door, heading to his mirror with a plan to practice asking you out. It was a simple mirror resting on the opposite side of the wall that had betrayed him, even if it was an inanimate object that could neither sway nor influence his spider abilities. He planned on using the reflective rectangular sheet as a stand-in for you but decided to change himself into something that didn't remind him of the awkward encounter he had moments ago.

Now, he stared at himself in the length of the full-body mirror, dressed in a tee sporting Midtown's gold and navy-blue colors and a simple pair of beige cargo pants. It was more on your level, casual clothes that were unlike the striking symbolism of his superhero suit. Peter hoped it would make him feel more comfortable talking to you, as he wouldn't discern the need to be perfect in everything he does around you. He could be Peter.

The first words he spoke to himself in the mirror were natural, not meant to sound broody or cool. It was how he usually talked: voice cracks and diffidence-galore, "Hey, I was wondering if you wanted to swing me to get coffee with you?"

Peter realized his slip-up and started the question over again.

"Oh my God, that's so funny that you get coffee!" He placed a hand over his chest with a fake smile to match, "I love caffeine and wanted to know if you would drink me. I mean, drink it with me?"

“Hey, I was just in the neighborhood—saving it, and all. Coffee, you-me? Then, we could come back here for. . .” He paused, knowing that he could never be that smug with you—he could barely get his powers to work! How would the Parker-Charm not blow up on ignition? “Okay, dial it back, Pete.”

"I'm hopeless," Peter let his head fall, staring at the floor. He could hardly watch himself fumble in the mirror, but the glint of a red sheen in the mirror pulled him back—the reality stone, sitting on one of the few bookshelves resting against the walls of his room. This one housed various meticulously assembled Star Wars-themed Lego sets, and the stone quickly became an amenity on the set of Boba Fett's Starship. Could he use it for this, of all things? If he did use it, it would only be for a couple of minutes. For practice, he told himself.

Many people would probably ask why a teenager would have one of the most mighty pieces of rock sitting on a shelf in his bedroom, and well, Peter wouldn't know the answer himself as to why he was allowed to keep it. According to Tony, he was a good kid, and the rest of the team knew he wouldn't use it for anything malicious, like obliterating half of all human existence. So, it was a souvenir, a relic that Peter never utilized for anything apart from letting it be some seriously cool decor and a piece he constantly bragged about to his only two friends.

He turned away from the mirror, retrieved the stone from its entrapment in the plastic bricks, and returned to his full-length reflection. The jagged edges dug into the soft inside of his palm in retaliation to the pressure as he squeezed it with a closed fist. With a single thought—one that held details of nearly everything about you—a soft ring of smoke formed a couple of feet away from him on the carpet. His heart thrummed as it quickly moved upward, revealing your form as it went. After a few moments, the puff of smoke faded as it rounded your head, topping off the manifested version of yourself.

Nothing could compare to the real you, but this was close.

The imagined version of you standing before Peter looked like the spitting image of you, almost to the point where, if dressed the same, it would be impossible to tell the two of you apart. Almost. But, there was one thing that let Peter tell the visually deceitful version of you apart from the real one: he couldn't hear a heartbeat. He figured that, while you looked the same on the outside, the inside was missing a few vital features of the real you.

Regardless, Peter struggled to remember that information since your lesser interpretation was still stunning enough to make his heart sink into the never-ending pit in his stomach. His feelings got the better of him, and Peter started his practice in err from the moment he opened his mouth.

He held the stone tight, waving his other hand to you, "Hey—hi, do you know who I am?"

"Yeah, you're Peter." You stated it as if he should have known that already, and he noted it. From what he could tell, you had at least some part of the memory of your actual self, so maybe this version of you could provide an accurate reaction to asking you to get coffee with him.

"Okay, cool. Cool. Yeah, that's. . . cool," Peter trailed.

"Why do you keep saying cool?"

The only problem was that you were real. Unduly real. Down to the slightest mannerisms that anyone but Peter would be able to catch when they spent time with you, and with your stunning looks and perfect quirks brought about by the stone, Peter could remember everything about you. He could hardly hear the absence of your heartbeat from his' sonority, ultimately distracting himself from his original intent.

"So, what did you wanna ask me?"

"You. . . you ask a lot of questions. But, I wanted to know if you could—"

Peter was finally going to get the words out, albeit to someone who was only pretending to be you. He wouldn't have to worry about finishing that project he procrastinated on—this would be his big success of the day. But his web-shooter had gone off erroneously across the room, spraying against the walls and pouring onto the floor from its canister. He jumped away from the source and nearly dropped the stone in the process.

Peter's mind was fleeting, even his rehearsal was going wrong, and he immediately thought of an old trick for speaking to people that he hadn't needed since a young age—he imagined you in your underwear. He didn't mean for it to happen, but if he thought it, the stone made it a reality for as long as he held the little rock. He watched as a red puff of smoke took your clothes into the air, vanishing from your body in less than a second. Underneath, a simple pair of boxer briefs clung to your nether region. Maybe it wasn’t all about the practice to Peter. His mind had thought of this, so it couldn't be that bad to indulge in it.

"Could you come over here?" He asked, throat dry. He needed to feel you to confirm he had not gone completely insane from one too many hits on the head. Peter defeatedly took a few steps to his bed, sitting down on the edge of it. "Please?"

His heart pounded with each step you took, accepting his wish to draw near. Peter could not help but watch your vulnerability follow ostensibly close behind. In just one beat, you stood directly in front of him. He watched your knees rise and fall on either side of his legs as you sat on his thighs. Peter felt the warmth of your presence, the surprising weight of you on his hairless and sinewy thighs, even if you were empty inside.

Peter was bristling, brown eyes wandering over your exposed form. His body felt immovable, no matter how much he wished to drop the stone and watch you vanish. His head was the only thing not to freeze, the rest of his body turning into a well-sculpted monolith. His jaw moved with a bit of tension, "I didn't ask you to do it like this."

"No, but you thought it."

"How did you. . . ?"

"You thought that, too."

Peter realized that he was practically having a conversation with himself, just through the guise of your face. The details became more apparent; the color of your eyes, the set of your mouth, and the same smile lines appeared as he thought about its utter perfection. He connected that now, asking you to come closer only worsened his issue. Your presence over his prominent bulge made it push the limits of its cotton confines. Slowly, his marble arm broke from his reserved mold, and an empty hand cupped your cheek the same way he had always thought about doing it. He would use both, but one was occupied with creating his living dream. Then his hand slid away and around to the back of your neck, your hair brushing his chewed fingernails and overly scraped knuckles.

He knew that guiding you into the kiss was redundant as he could think about it, but this was far more passionate. As he brought you close, the thought of your smell and the feeling of hot breath joining in concordant timing against each other's skin started to fill his head. At the touch of your lips to his, Peter kissed like someone who had nothing to lose. Like he didn't have the responsibility of seeming to have it all together placed foremost. Like he could be a needy and desperate mess for more than a passing swing around New York. Only now, and only because of you.

His impetuous thinking decided that taking care of his problem now would mean that he could resolve everything else later. He needed to take care of it now; it was the only thought running through his head. Desire.

Breaking away, Peter silently commanded you to slide off your boxers and get on your knees. He caught a glimpse of you as you followed his direction, surprised by how his mind subconsciously filled in the gaps for everything he had never seen.

Your hands worked in a way that left their presence unknown until they were hooked into the band of his boxers, easily tugging down on the well-worn stitching to free Peter's springy dick. He watched your eyes ogle it and how you took it into your hand without a second thought, and while he filled your hand well, he couldn't help but think about his inadequacy. He had seen his teammates' sizes after sharing training sessions with them. Not that he was looking on purpose, but mostly out of insecurity. Peter already paled in comparison to the heights and builds of the others, and while he was far from small, they didn't make him look all that great. Peter started to wonder if the stone affected him in the same way it did you.

With a single thought, he decided to test it. He watched his shaft grow bigger and chub up with a thicker girth. Your hand could barely wrap around it as it had with his true size. It felt like an innocuous veneer to gaining the confidence that he never had. As a result, he was eager to get you on him and make you squirm like one of the criminals he spun webs around.

In seconds, your lips formed an imperfect circle and took the head of the arachnid, and the rest of him, as if it were nothing. Your lips brushed his decent smattering of hair around the base of his cock without convulsion. This version of you had a throat that fit around him like a cock-sleeve, hugging his girth without any of the need for restraint.

"No gag reflex? This is better than any toy I ever made."

Peter's hands found their way back to the rear of your head, controlling the pace at which you took him for his own pleasure. The sheer feeling of something far better than lubed-up rubber made him go wild.

At a certain point, he couldn't remember when his mind started to break reality further than he thought until he was suddenly yanked back to it. Peter started to feel effervescent guilt towards his actions. This is what he wanted, but not how he wanted to get it. Quickly, Peter felt the heavy weight on his chest return, the need to right himself by putting an end to this. He hated that he changed himself to impress something that wasn't even you. He wondered what his mentor would think, what you would think, or how you would react. A small shift inside him sent that weight toward his hand, the one he held the stone in, and it went from its dormant glim keeping the illusion alive to a bright shine, creating something new.

"Get off, get off, please," Peter asked, thinking the words in his head as hard as he could to free himself from his twisted fantasy. You let his stiff, unrelieved dick pop out of your mouth and got off your knees.

"What's wrong, Peter?" He had thought that, too. What was wrong with him?

He could barely stand to face you, but he needed to acknowledge you to make you leave. When he did work up the nerve to look in your direction, the guilt glared back at him. He felt like a creepy monster for even thinking it was a good idea to give in to his urges. The feeling overtook him so much that he didn't even realize your gradual change.

At first, it was your face. The pleasureful expression turned into a sour one, eyebrows funneling together and your upper lip upturned. But, the features of your face pressed forward as if they were made of putty and someone was trying to claw their way out. They stretched out and ballooned until they burst, leaving you headless. Your body went without a head for a few seconds before the more seasoned details of his mentor formed in your absence.

He kept his hand flat, wicking it away from his body and the rest of his arm with the hope that the stone would fall off, but his powers had already made that choice for him. Then, he thought of his suit, his web-shooters, and the communicator that could signal Tony. If he drew attention to the issue, it would resolve itself, but could he successfully explain everything as if it were the typical morning paper arriving at the doorstep? He could try, or at the very least, lie. But that would never solve this issue, though, not in the long run.

Peter formed a mental map of the fastest route to his closet in his head and decided that his backup web-shooters might be strong enough to hold the illusion down and give him time to pry the stone from his nonreciprocating palm. He turned, locking eyes with the monster as it started changing again.

Peter looked on in horror, the stone shining its brightest and shading the monster in terrifying red like a stop sign you see at the last minute when your heart sinks at the thought of being crushed. The soft tear of wet, stretching flesh and its stringy reformation flushed his ears as the beast before him grew. The harsh snap and sound of bones splintering from the fattening weight pierced his sensitive ears; nothing new to him at this point in his life, but he had never heard so many cracks and gushing wounds. Yet, through all the bodily changes, Peter never broke his stare with the amalgamation of his worst thoughts. Its eyes never left him, either. The cold and frighteningly dead stare of non-existent emotion didn't phase him until he heard a heartbeat, one that he believed came from the creature itself.

However, it wasn't the monster's—it was yours, heavy-thudded blood-pumping. The real you and your usually pleasant voice calling for his response. From the other side of the door, he heard you pleading for him to answer and affirm that he was okay. He figured that you must have overheard his distress and the ensuing raucous.

Peter reached for the stone but stopped. Everything was gone. His suit still sat in a messy pile on the floor, but the webbing was gone from the walls. The stain on the carpet was no longer there, and his pants were the only thing absent from his body, but nothing left the confines of his boxers. Had all of it really been in his head?

He quickly answered the door without any precaution, seeing your face still intact.

"Hey, I got you something different than Tony's. I was in line and remembered when you drank out of his cup by mistake and spat it all over the counter. Are you okay? I thought I heard a girl screaming."

“Thank you, and it wasn't a. . . never mind. Do you want to come in and hang?”

“Yeah! But get some pants on first, Spidey. I can't have my thoughts get to me.”

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noamm7 · 15 days

Text

the new boy

paring : peter parke (tom holland) X male reader

cw : fluff

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✁ ..time cut..

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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nouearth · 9 months

Text

12 Months

peter parker x male reader.

series: 12 Months. part i.

summary: where you couldn't possibly imagine to find love and sanctuary anywhere else, you somehow find it in the presence of a boy named peter.

wc: 4.3k. genre: angst. warnings: loner!reader, sad!reader, implied abuse, implied bullying, high school senior year, slow-burn.

a/n: i'm trying something new with my writing! mostly not using all lowercase because it became a pain to type on my phone, LOL. but i welcome you guys to my fully planned series! it's exciting, but especially kind of scary since school is coming up. i might put off requests to focus on this, if it does well, but if not, i'll slowly update. i guess the reader kind of hits close to home, a little too close, since i've been feeling some type of way recently. nonetheless, i hope you enjoy the first part!

SEPTEMBER.

The big hand of the clock flicked closer to the end of the day, the small hand circling around the circumference to pass time.

Conversations of peers were usually drowned out with the help of your earbuds. The gentle strum of acoustics would counter the excitement of the students’ well-being; friends opinionated in after-school activities, athletes talked about the upcoming game with your rival school, artists boasted over the amount of commissions they’ve received overnight.

For the first time, you heard it all, and took it all in with an inhale, then silence as you stared at Peter Parker. The earbuds were slotted into your ear canals, but today, the wired nubs were worn to merely dull your surroundings as you awaited the intercom to bid the occupants of the building farewell for the day. Your leg shook, bouncing your book bag atop of it, and you held it steady when you hugged it close to your chest, chin resting at the strap. It appeased the throttle in your chest, but every time the classmate opened his mouth for a laugh, it swelled painfully larger. A pump to the husk of a balloon, a breath to the bubble of blue raspberry bubblegum, a vapor to the particles of billowed smoke, it continued swelling and roped your anxiety along for the journey. A part of you needed to talk to him, but the other part begged for reconsideration.

At some point, you forgot to breathe. Feeling blue in the cheeks, you finally exhaled the caught nerves. They drew out of you in shivers, spaghetti boiling in bubbling water if the warmth of your breath could change matter. While the man listened, then talked within his small group of friends, chairs and desks were gathered around to form a circle, you examined him cautiously. If Peter was to turn his head and meet the affection in your gaze, you were lucky to have the window by your side to turn back to, feigning interest in the clouds, the sky, the breeze in the trees. Until then, his smile unmasked pearly whites that rivaled the lights that illuminated the classroom. His russet hair was pushed back, wavy locks that were brushed simply so people could easily follow the pattern with one glance.

“Gooooood Afternoon, Midtown!” The intercom blared, and a warning from your teacher hushed your classmates into a sea of scatters. “Before we send you kiddos off, we would like to remind all of you that the Midtown Tigers will be playing against Weston’s Sea Hawks tonight! Show your support by attending the game and cheering for our team. Let’s show those dirty hawks that tonight will be the night that we can bounce back from our 18th consecutive loss!” It continued with its usual announcements of bus delays and afternoon activities before finally blaring that cathartic bell.

Footsteps crowded the halls, and your classmates joined its symphony in heavy to light strides. While you watched, your pace slowed deliberately as Peter’s friends bid him farewell. You overheard them asking him if he was going to join them in the mall, but he declined, blaming his absence on his aunt. They left one by one, until the only occupants were you, your teacher, and Peter.

“Peter?” You were up on your feet, approaching him from the back of the classroom as you slung the bag over your shoulder. Your voice cracked from the parched of your throat, mousy in performance, and you were unsure if Peter heard you. Your mouth opened again to call to him again, but he turned with a friendly smile, raising his brows in interest, and they closed.

“Oh, hey!” His face lit up when he saw you, or maybe you were convincing yourself. Not even your reflection looked at you the way Peter did. You were even surprised he recognized you. Cared to remember you. He hurriedly threw his books into his backpack before swinging it over his shoulder, meeting you in the middle of the row of desks. “What’s up?”

“I…” You’ve only spoken to him twice. The first was a mere greeting, and the second was a painful answer to his worry.

Are you okay? Yes.

The beating in your chest hiked in rhythms, compelled gravity to rob your voice, but you were conscious enough to steal it back, softly speaking. “I just want to thank you for… last year. I never got to… properly thank you. So, thank you…” You were intoxicated by the amount of times you said those appreciative words, but gratitude sobered you up, offering the latter a small, grateful smile.

“Oh…” The smile on Peter’s face simmered into a relieved line. He then nodded towards the door for you to follow him, and you did, silently by his side. “You don’t have to thank me, (M/N). I did what anyone would do.”

Everyone let it happened, except for you.

The hallway was quick to clear as students rushed to spend the remaining hours of their Friday without any regrets. The silence was deafening except for the squeak of your shoes and the whispered gossip between faculty members, and for a place you often labeled as your personal hell, it wasn’t so bad when it was purged of those that spawned that definition in your life.

Maybe you were walking slower, or you were keeping with Peter’s pace, or the hallways had undergone construction to stretch the floors, or the awkward silence between the both of you that blurred your perception, but the travel from your classroom to the exit of the building was a journey.

“Is he still bothering you? I don’t know if he’s in your other classes, but he’s not in mine, so…” Peter spoke up, alluding to the classmate who called you disgusting names, shoved your books to the floor, stole the change of your clothes during gym. And you wished it would stop there, at the actions of the cliché bully trope, but it never did. He pushed the door open, politely letting you out first, and you stepped into the warmth with a small thank you,’ and continued walking with him. Summer cicadas harmonized in their greeting.

“No, not anymore.” You lied, dropping that hand that once held onto the padded straps of your backpack to your side. The dark color of your pants masked the bruise on your wrist when you shoved it deep into your pocket. “I have him in a few of my classes, but luckily he’s preoccupied with his friends.”

“Geez, you got his friends too? That’s… gotta be a loud classroom.” He laughed, and you joined in to delude yourself, and Peter, into thinking everything was okay.

The sound of multiple engines running within the yellow busses reminded you how incredibly enamored you were with Peter. By now, motors would’ve been buried by earbuds, and the walk wouldn’t have been so deafening to your ear canals. But hearing Peter’s voice soothed the damage, and you wished you had a playlist of him saying your favorite words, reading your favorite novels, rescuing you with worried comfort. You wanted to continue the conversation, change the subject, but you never knew how, so it fell to silence. Again.

“I’ll see you around, Peter.” You spoke softly again, paused when you and Peter reached the end of the sidewalk. You were familiar with Peter’s route. He lived in the opposite side of your street, and the curved path to the right practically led him back to his apartment. All he had to do was follow the beige pavement. “…and thank you, again. It means a lot.” A genuine smile, one that you haven’t been able to sprout for weeks, months you could argue, and Peter’s breath hiked.

“Of course…” It took his breath away. The cloudy day was drawing in the last of its colors, but the rare hint of your teeth, the curve of your lips, made the sky above him, behind you, bloom in the softest blues, yellows, and whites. Selfishly, he wished you smiled more, because the release that was pulled from him evened the astonishment of a child seeing stars for the very first time.

“I’ll see you around, (M/N).”

OCTOBER.

The workload in your classes had picked up, and with the part-time job at the local bookstore, you were envious of customers who had finished their backlog of novels. Mainly working adults. Still, there was never enough hours in the day to immerse yourself in the world of a brave protagonist, slaying off demons and dragons in the pursuit of love. You never got to finish the fantasy novel you were reading, but you’d imagine it ended with the hero beheading the fire-breathing behemoth, and its head would be pridefully worn on a stick like cotton candy. Cheers erupted when the character returned, then roared when their love blessed them with one thankful kiss.

The ladder was anchored to the wooden, though creaky, floors as you held your breath from inhaling dust. When the door was pushed open by curious passersby, particles of dust sailed with the draft that was invited in, and you coughed into the crook of your arm whenever one floated into your throat. Though, you couldn’t be too annoyed. It also provided a test to see if the Halloween decorations could withstand the wind as they sat on hooks that were nailed into the ceilings. Spirals of orange and black ribbons roped cartoonish gravestones, black cats, pumpkins, skulls, ghouls, all the mascots of the holiday, from above. The draft animated them in gentle swings, delicate arcs that cooled the confined space of the bookstore, but as far as you could tell, none of them had landed on the ground.

“Looks great, (M/N)! I think we’re good on the hanging decorations!” Your manager, Anna, gave the metal ladder a strong pat before tending to the fallen dust. It shook in fear, and you did too, immediately clutching to the fly to stabilize it.

“Any else? We still haven’t decorated the windows.” You climbed down cautiously, making sure she was in your line of sight because for all you could know, she could be an omen.

“The stick on the ones I got suck, so I was thinking that we’ll decorate it on Halloween? Before opening?” She said, opening the door after to sweep out the culprits of your coughing fits.

“Sounds good.” You collapsed the extension of the ladder once you stepped off, folding it into a thicker shape, and nodded before returning the ladder to its rightful place in the storage room.

“Doing anything fun for Halloween?! Parties?!” Anna’s voice boomed despite the door muffling it. The natural luminous of her voice was something you usually cowered away from, especially when she called for you in front of customers. Luckily, the store was closed, vacant of any witnesses to the flare of your cheeks. Cardboard boxes stacked atop of one another, and for some reason, you were suddenly determined to face your procrastination head-on. “Horror movies?!”

“Uh…” The volume of your voice was still muted despite forcing yourself to make it sonorous. It came out in staggered breaths as you flattened the boxes with your weight, stepping on them at the crease and fold, until you were able to fold them into neat, flat shapes. “Not really! I usually don’t do anything for celebrations.”

“Seriously?” The sound of sweeps came closer to you. They sounded like laughs, almost as if they were mocking you. When you looked up, it was Anna’s fretted expression that reminded you that they were just sounds. No one was here to hurt you. Laugh at you.

It was just you and Anna. And sounds.

“Mm-hmm.” You simply answered, packing the flattened boxes into a trash bag before storing it back to where the stack previously harbored. The room felt bigger now. You exited after switching off the lights, and took Anna’s broom to sweep up the fuzzy stray materials of cardboard.

“How come?” Her shoulder supported her leaning stance as she pressed to the wall, watching you diligently work with crossed arms. She gasped out of realization. “Oh no—did something horrible happen on Halloween? Is that why you don’t celebrate?!”

“No, nothing like that!” You laughed. It was always genuine with her. Anna was at least twenty years older than you, but she still kept the youthfulness of a child. You were envious of it.

“I just…” Big sweeps to walnut flooring kept your mind at ease. The thick hairs brushed evenly, catching lint in the hay. They clung protectively onto the strands the more you brushed, the harder as well. It reminded you of nights, lonesome in your bed. No matter how hard you tried to remove those pesky lints, they always stayed. Always found a way to intrude. “—don’t have parties to go to.”

Nor did you have friends to watch movies with, or a willing family to celebrate with if all plans fell through. It’s been you since you can remember, and you’ve gotten used to it. Though, you’d never admit that to her.

The trail of your voice and the mindless polishing of walnut immediately foiled your discreet speech, but Anna knew better than to prod. From the day you came in for the interview, she remembered the timidness of your slouch, your pattern of speech, your orbs. One could argue that they were nerves, universal tremors one every eighteen year old got when applying for their first job. Then, she trained you. It was just you and her, and the shelves of delicate books. Over the next few weeks, Anna learned that you were as frail as the old spine of donated hardbacks.

Her knowledge of you only sank surface-deep, barely a scratch or a wound. At one point, she thought it was because of her personality: chipper as a mourning dove, loud as her neighbor’s lawnmower on Sundays, but compared to how she met you five months ago, it delighted her to see progress. Slowly but surely, you opened up to her. She knew your favorite color, your favorite meal, your favorite novel, and she was no longer insecure. There will be a time when she’d meet the root of your soul, and if it took a month, a year, or another, she’d wait.

“Everything okay at school?” She’s been meaning to ask. It was an exciting time for a new business, but incredibly stressful as well. Most never made it after six months, especially within an industry where independent bookstores have become increasingly difficult to sustain with the presence of technology. Anna was just fortunate enough to have seen such quick growth.

Anna took the broom from your hand, stashed it back in the storage room, then guided you to a table for two near the entrance of the store. It was her favorite spot because she loved seeing the wonderment of her customers when they left with the book they couldn’t find anywhere else.

“Yeah,” You quickly answered and offered her a simple smile, devoid of any purpose but to pacify her worries. It worked on your parents, and you liked to think that it worked on Anna as well. “Well, they’re doing some construction in the school gym. I heard that they’re planning to add a room for—“

“That’s great, (M/N), but…” Her arms remained crossed, below her chest, and she nodded to the bruise on your cheek. Purple bloomed high on your cheekbone. Occasionally, it throbbed whenever a draft hit your frail skin. You assumed it was its way to kiss it better, and so you would let it in seek of sating the empty feeling in your stomach. “That. I meant the bruise…”

“Oh—“ Out of instinct, your hand reached up to dab at the purpling skin. Numbed at the first layer, but you pressed deeper, and you hid a jolt with a sudden clear of your throat. “Uh… cat— got me. My mom always said to never play with strays.”

It was a lame excuse and you knew it. Anna did too. Before you could see her face scrunch into a stew of concern, you turned the bruised cheek away and looked to the heights of the sky, out the window, and wished you could fly into the night.

On Halloween, the promotion regarding a sale on donated books, though only paperbacks, if you wore a costume propelled the place to a considerable height. The small size of the store felt even smaller, even more so as Anna’s playlist Halloween music blared in the wall stereo. The sound waves and chatters of excited customers confined you, and you shrunk yourself in corners where it would be coldest. Anna took care of the crowd of patrons, while you assembled the paperbacks in a neatly order within the shelves.

Anna didn’t expect you to comply in participating in the event of Halloween, so the elation in her face was immediately framed in your mind when she hugged you tight, bruising enough to beckon the former bruise on your cheek to reappear, in your Where’s Waldo outfit. Simple, but you were a simple man.

“Excuse me?” An inquisitive voice tore your focus from arranging the novels in alphabetical order. You were kneeling to fill the lower shelf that was too low for anyone to comfortable browse through, but maintained the position as the crowd seemed to have closed in on you. “Do you know if this book qualifies for the sale, or is it paperback only?”

You looked up through your artificial glasses, and the size of your eyes matched the roundness of your frames when it embarrassingly didn’t take you very long to uncover who was under the layer of green face paint. “Peter?”

“O-oh! (M/N), you work here?” His eyes also widened, but he was sober enough to reach his hand out for you to grab onto. “That’s fitting, I guess. You always went to the library during lunch—I-I mean, not that I watch you or anything. I just— happened to notice…” The heat from your palm jumped onto Peter’s when you held on and pulled yourself to your feet. You weren’t sure what to respond to first, but the closed distance between you and Peter was distracting. A fleeting feeling in your chest, and it still overstays it welcome when you backed a step away.

Peter’s never been so close to you. He could smell the scent of ocean mist that he likened to previous shopping trips ago. His aunt may would drag him to the nearest retail store and he’d spend every second of the agonizing trip smelling laundry scent boosters while she stocked up on the pantry. He laughed to himself. You seemed like the type to use those.

“Thanks, uh…” You carefully took the hardback in your hand, examining it with several cycles of flips. It was in mint condition. Usually, a poorer state allowed an extra discount. “The sale is only for paperbacks, but…” Your eyes scanned the room. Fewer people now. Anna was still busy entertaining those that came to participate in the costume contest, a sudden endeavor to drive engagement.

“I can make an exception.” There was a swell in Peter’s heart when you gave him a smile, an uncertain small one, but nonetheless, a smile that warmed his insides. He wouldn’t have minded if he had paid full price anyhow, but he also wouldn’t reject the opportunity to save money.

He followed your steps to the back, away from the engaged crowd, and stilled as you began checking him out. “Just one book?” You looked up, and his lips were already parted as if he was about to say something, but he nodded instead.

Another moment of silence as you took his card after applying the sale to his book, and your fingers drummed to the beat of the music to fill it out, awaiting the receipt to print out. Whenever you had the courage to look at him, he was immersed in the ambiance of the bookstore. Smiling to himself, to Anna, to the laughter of the crowd, and you couldn’t help but hide one yourself, to the ground. When Peter faced you again, you quickly looked away in time, and the receipt rolled out in one smooth motion.

“How are you? Is it always this busy? I’ve never heard of this place.” Peter had a habit of stacking multiple questions with his own observations, with statements, with more questions. Rambles, people would call it. He was attentive, curious, and it all made him the more endearing.

“I’ve been doing okay. Tired, mostly. Miss Wilson’s been keeping me up though.” It was your attempt at a joke, and luckily, it landed when Peter laughed in agreement, elated as if he’d been waiting for the culprit of all-nighters to be of subject.

“Right?!” Peter shook his head when you asked if he wanted a bag, and continued, tucking the book in his armpit when you returned it to him. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. I love her—she’s awesome. But chill out on the essays! An essay about our essays is a task sent from the devil himself.”

A chuckle escaped from your lips, and a wider smile brimmed your face in support. For the first time, you felt compelled to talk, to engage into conversation. “Yeah, I missed a few deadlines, but she’s pretty lenient with late work, thankfully.”

“Really? I have a feeling it’s because it’s you! You’re probably her favorite student since you always get the right answers when she calls on you.” He laughed again to escape the awkwardness of his compliment. Subtle, but he hoped you took it pridefully.

Peter looked to the side to see if anyone was coming to conclude their purchase for the night, and was delighted to see the hardwood floor left unattended. “Are you doing anything after this? It’s Halloween, so I imagine people are probably out partying or something.”

“I’m not really a party person.” You nodded to assure yourself, mindlessly rearranging the supplies around the desk to avoid the gaze of his eyes. It sucked you in once, couldn’t look back even if you tried. It was only when Peter turned himself away that you were no longer staring into warm chestnuts. “I only dressed like this since I’d probably look a little out of place if I showed up in my usual uniform, haha.”

“You look cu—“ Peter hurriedly cut himself off, frantic before smiling again. “Nice. You look nice.”

“Thank you,” You returned his smile, soft in form. “What about you? Are you doing anything?”

“Well, I’m not a party person either—oh! There’s this new horror movie that came out a week ago! I’ve been dying to see it,” Peter sparked, gently bouncing on his toes as hope frayed within his words. “If you’re free, would you want to watch it with me?”

“Oh—“ For the first time, you had the option to say ‘yes’ or ‘no,’ and for some reason, Peter was always at the crime of your firsts. “W-what time? I’ll have to see if it’s okay with Anna if—“

“Let me see…” Light reflected off of Peter’s faced as he searched on his phone, but a buoyant smile that revealed his teeth shined brighter. “One showing at eight, another at ten, and one final one at midnight!”

“Is… midnight okay?” You hesitantly asked, and Peter brightened.

“Midnight is perfect.”

When you left from work, you didn’t bother to call for your parents. It would’ve gone to voicemail anyhow. Instead, Anna took the excited initiative to drive you to the theater despite your assurance that walking would’ve sufficed.

Nonsense! I’m getting my coat. Hold on! Stay right there!

The mystery of what held the rest of the night for you frightened you to the core. What if everything went downhill from here? What if Peter never showed up? What if this had been a prank all along? During the car ride, you breathed, and breathed, and breathed.

And then, breathed.

Inhaled.

Blew in one continuous breath.

Inhaled.

Your chest ran steady again.

That night, Peter made you feel normal. As normal as someone like you could be.

You didn’t plan on getting your fingers buttery, but Peter assured you that his popcorn wasn’t going to finish itself. You shared your sour gummies in return. Peter jumped when a ghost flew to the screen, and you did the same from his own erratic movements. You watched the film through half-closed eyes, peeking between the cracks of your greasy fingers, prepared to be startled by the sound of a door closing, and you laughed silently to yourself because it was silly when you flinched to a cat scurrying away.

While you focused, the structure of your nose and lips, your entire side profile, were handsomely illuminated by the flickers of the screen and Peter took in the animation of your presence, a behemoth contrast of the you he’d known silently for years; the you that kept to himself, ate at lunch by himself, did group projects by himself, studied in the library by himself, walked home by himself. It was pathetic, many would heckle to their circle of friends. Peter overheard the tease and taunts, and he wanted to defend you in those moments. But he couldn’t, not until he knew you.

When you felt the air thicken, you turned to Peter and his gaze unfurled the heavy cloud between the two of you until it vanished into smoke. It sucked you in; his eyes. And you stared wide-eyed, bewildered and lost in the sea of broken stars the screen illustrated in Peter’s orbs. They twinkled with every cut of the scene, sparkling under the terror of the performer’s haunting, until they no longer didn’t when he turned away.

Crimson blanched and wilted into his face, radiated even in the dark when you followed and turned back to the screen. You felt your cheeks rivaling in swatch.

For the first time, you weren’t scared.

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

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