FUCK Guess Watersports Is A Kink I Have Now.

FUCK guess watersports is a kink I have now.

But holy shit Bucky fucking you while you’re so full and desperate. He’d been making you drink water all day and he’s just enjoying this too much. You finally can’t hold it anymore and your piss is streaming out and he loses it. It just makes him fuck up into that much harder

Warning: watersports I promise this is my last one for tonight, I've just been enjoying them hehehe

Like him just stuffing his cock into you and adoring your little fucking pathetic whines. He loves when you tell him you're going to leak because you're forcing your body to accommodate his size as well as your overfull bladder and it's just so exciting to him.

"Go on baby, you can take it. I know you can hold it a little longer, that's it." He gives you the gentlest strokes at first, inching in and out so slowly, letting you get adjusted. Eventually you stop squirming so he knows he can speed up a little.

When he does, your whines start back up again, your fingers clutching the waterproof sheet beneath you because fuck it feels so good but you need a different kind of relief first.

And that's when the realisation hits that you're going to have to let go before you can finish. Bucky won't make it possible for you to get up and go to the loo, you're going to have to let go right there. Not just a little leak or two, you're going to have to fully go.

But when the leaking starts, Bucky begins to lose it. "Fuck sweetheart, it's okay. Don't worry. It's just a little leak. Didn't make too much of a mess yet, you can keep holding." He loves drawing this out. He loves how embarrassed and whimpery you get when he draws attention to the fact you let go a little and he loves even more how you clench to try to hold it in.

He knows that once the leaking starts though, it won't be long before you lose control of yourself. You've got a taste of relief and it's an addictive feeling that you can't help but crave more of.

And when the dam breaks, boy does it break. "B-Bucky oh my god please, I-I can't stop." You sob at the feeling of pure bliss. Your own hot, wet mess is pooling beneath you on the blanket already and Bucky lets out the neediest, filthy groan, fucking into you like it's all he's ever dreamed of.

"Makin' such a puddle, God, you just couldn't wait, huh? Pissin' yourself like a little pathetic bitch. Guess cummin' inside you won't make a difference, you're a mess already." His thrusts are faster, working you both to a high so intense, your toes are already curling in anticipation.

He couldn't tear his eyes away from where your bodies are joined if he tried, watching how the stream gets more intense with each slide into you, getting off on the knowledge that it's his fat cock that's got you lying in your own little puddle and fucking enjoying it

Dog Tags (Bucky Barnes)

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: Reader surprises Bucky wearing nothing but his dog tags

Notes: 18+ only under the cut. Body worship, nudity, p in v, established relationship, creampie, fem anatomy for reader, too many pet names. My first time writing smut so be nice :)

3 weeks. 21 days. 504 hours. 

Bucky had been gone for three weeks, and you were counting every second until he came home again. His mission had taken longer than usual, and you were beginning to feel the effects of his absence. 

With little access to a phone, Bucky hadn’t been able to call more than twice since he’d been gone. The specifics of the mission weren’t important to you, but Bucky’s return was all that was on your mind.

Bucky had gifted you his dog tags a while ago, a covert promise that he belonged to you, and you alone. Now that he was halfway across the world, the tags served to anchor you in place, to remind you of his vow to always find his way back to you. 

The metal chain rarely left your neck, often hidden behind layers of clothes and away from the prying eyes of others. The tags were a tribute to you and sat over your heart where Bucky had made his home. 

Early this morning, Bruce had found you in the kitchen, telling you the news of the mission’s end. 

“They’ll be home before midnight,” he had said before wandering back to the lab.

Your day was jumpstarted, like a shock had run through your body. You made quick work of preparing for Bucky’s return, cleaning and trying to contain your excitement at the thoughts of having him next to you again.

The day passed and you were practically buzzing as you sat in your spot on your shared bed. You had received the notification that the jet had landed, and you knew there was nothing in the world that could keep Bucky away a moment longer.

You sat on your haunches, feet tucked under you like a picture of serenity. A chill ran through the air and you shivered, bare to the world except Bucky’s dog tags around your neck.

They clinked together with every movement and shifted against your skin as you took in a shuddering breath. You knew Bucky would appreciate the sight of you waiting for him so patiently. 

With that thought, light filtered in through the doorway and Bucky appeared in front of you. All at once, the weight of the situation hit you; Bucky was safe, and he had come home to you just like he had promised.

The two of you shared a small gasp as Bucky looked over your exposed body. You had both waited so long for this reunion, and you could practically feel yourselves gravitating toward each other.

Bucky slowly closed the door behind him, hoping that this was more than a pleasant dream. He thought about pinching himself to make sure that this was real but didn’t want to wake himself in the case that it wasn’t.

“Welcome home, Sergeant.”

Your voice was quiet and sultry, a beacon of desire that that guided him to where he belonged.

Bucky approached you with orchestrated steps like he had planned this entire moment in his mind.

“I missed you, doll.”

He stopped just out of reach, watching the light reflect off the dog tags around your neck. 

His eyes trailed down your frame, admiring the eloquent pose that you had taken. With your chest pushed out towards him, you looked like you were trying to close the distance between his body and yours.

He reached forward to run his fingers over the metal chain, stopping at the disks that rested between your breasts.

“Missed a lot about you.”

“What did you miss, Buck?”

“Everything.” His answer was instant.

“Missed the way you feel in my arms, missed your lips on mine, your hands running over me, touching me like you know exactly what I like.”

“Sounds like we have a lot to make up for.”

He sent you a lopsided smirk, hands ghosting down your ribs and over your naval.

“I think you’re right, doll.”

In that moment, everything was perfect. His lips found yours in a devastating kiss, making up for every second that you had gone without his touch.

You groaned into the kiss as Bucky’s tongue met yours, passionate in this unity.

Wordlessly, his hands began to memorize your body, brushing over your shoulders, your spine, your thighs — everywhere except where you needed him most.

Your fingers twisted into his shirt, gripping the material tightly to bring him impossibly close. You couldn’t stand this barrier between the two of you and you began pulling at whatever fabric you could reach. 

Bucky’s hands left your body for just a moment, pulling a breathy whine from you in objection. His hands joined yours in hastily removing any offending article of clothing before pushing you back onto the bed and joining you there. 

His warm breath puffed over your face as he laid over you, drinking in your dazed expression.

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed this,” he spoke gruffly before pressing open mouth kisses down your neck and across your collar bone. 

“Missed this,” his teeth grazed your jaw at just the right spot.

“Missed this,” he bit down on your skin softly, pulling a moan from you as his tongue laved over the red mark he had left there.

“Missed these the most.” His hands grabbed at your breasts roughly before his lips settled around your left nipple. The combination of his lips and fingers pulling at your breasts was something indescribable, leaving you writhing in place below his domineering frame. 

Before you could catch your breath, Bucky had moved further down your body, leaving sloppy kisses in his wake.

“Never leaving again, doll. Not when I’ve got a pretty thing like you waiting at home for me.”

You couldn’t produce much more than a whimper in response, bucking your hips into his face in a restless plea for attention. 

His hands pressed down onto your hips, keeping you in place as he worked his way back up. Bucky had always been one to appreciate your body, showing attention to every inch of skin before he would finally give in and devour you whole.

“S’pretty for me.”

“For you, Bucky,” you echoed, already slipping into a blissful state.

He hummed at your response, sitting up and moving his hands to your knees.

“Gonna take care of you, darlin’. Gonna make up for leaving you all alone.”

He tightened his grip, pushing your legs apart and reveling in the sight before him. He had dreamed of this very moment for almost exactly three weeks, and he couldn’t contain his groan in anticipation. 

One hand snaked down your thigh, leaving goosebumps over the warm skin.

He wanted to make you beg. He wanted to hear your euphonious pleading, to tease you until tears threatened to spill past your waterline. And if it were any other night, he would’ve. But he had been gone far too long, and he wanted to hear you sing. 

His fingers plunged into you without warning, quickly working you open with his digits. 

“You like that, sugar?”

Your soft moans filled the air and Bucky pressed into you harder, hoping to pull more of the sweet sounds from your open lips.

His fingers curved just the right way, always hitting that spot inside of you perfectly. Your arousal dripped down the inside of your thighs and over his knuckles, leaving Bucky transfixed by the sight.

He pulled his fingers out abruptly, leaving you gasping and just short of being thrown over the edge. 

“Can’t wait any longer, gotta feel you,” he rushed out, returning to his knees and pulling your legs around his waist.

One hand went to his cock, running over the head once, twice, three times before tapping it against your clit.

You held your breath as he placed the tip at your entrance, waiting for that exultant feeling. 

He filled you up in one swift motion, the sounds of your shared groans blending together until they became one.

Bucky leaned over you again, trapping you with his forearms pressed into the mattress on either side of your head. 

His face hovered directly over yours, sharing in the warm pants that you gave off.

“Missed you so much, doll. Missed this pussy – my pussy.”

His thrusts became fast, pounding into you with fluid movements.

“Dreamt about you. Every. Single. Night.”

His words were accentuated with harsh thrusts and you tightened your legs around his waist in hopes of enduring his quick speed.

The sound of Bucky’s dog tags clinking together had been a constant throughout the evening, but it still brought the two of you a sense of belonging.

Leaning his weight onto his metal arm, Bucky reached down and grabbed the disks, bringing them into your line of sight.

“You kept these on the whole time I was gone, doll?”

You nodded in affirmation, barely comprehending his question in your hazy stupor. 

“Uh-huh. Never taking ‘em off.”

Bucky gave you a toothy grin, pleased with your response.

“That’s good, darlin’. Want everyone to know you belong to me.”

He inspected the dog tags for a moment before reaching them up towards your face, his cock still sliding into with vigor.

You puckered your lips, leaning up to press them sweetly against the dog tags that Bucky held between the two of you. 

He groaned at the sentiment, dropping his head and trying to stave off his impending orgasm. 

“I’m close, sweetheart.”

Your head nodded erratically in time with his thrusts. “Me too.”

He abandoned the dog tags against your chest, moving his hand down to circle against your clit.

“Wanna feel you cum around me. Let go, doll.”

“God — Bucky,” you cried out at his actions, hitting your peak with a blinding pleasure that sparked through your entire body.

Bucky’s thrusts faltered, following you in your state of rapture. His cum filling you and leaked out with his last sporadic thrusts.

In your post-orgasmic bliss, you barely registered the kisses that Bucky pressed against your balmy skin.

You reached up to place a hand on his cheek as your legs tangled with his, not ready to let him go just yet.

“I missed you, Bucky.”

Your voice was peaceful, like the torment of the last three weeks had been forgotten.

His lips curled into a hint of a smile, cherishing the sentiment behind your words. Bucky had someone to come home to, someone who loved him without hesitation. 

He leaned down once more, leaving a soft kiss against your lips, a contrast to the intensity your reunion.

“I’m never leaving again.”

𝐚𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞

summary: your boyfriend was always there for you even though it was not from the start, as long as you’ve had him.

warnings: fluff (in extreme amount), not that much angst, smuut, grinding, oral, face riding, unprotected sex, drunk state (no drinking though) —not sure if this makes it dubcon—, mentions of masturbation for both parties, some voyeurism, creampie, size kink, usage of pet name. (kitten, angel, baby, dollface), chubby!bucky, bucky is also retired if that makes sense, a bit body insecure bucky, engagement, minors dni | 18+

a/n: i just wanted that can makes us smile, hope to see some feedbacks (reblogs/comments)

You were almost going to fall down when you opened the door, but two strong hands held you before you could make it to the floor. You didn’t even remember putting the key in the keyhole, so the door must be surprisingly opened.

“Wow! You are stable as a fish in a vodka bottle.” He sighed as he tried to make you stand on your feet. He helped you to make your way onto the couch, getting your bag from your hands and taking off your heels.

“Did you enjoy your party at least?” You shook your head, trying not to vomit on the beautiful rug you bought on sale.

“‘missed ya.” You said those words without vomiting. Eyes still closed, because if you opened them you knew you would vomit.

“Yeah, you’ve sent me at least twenty texts about missing me, and what you were going to do with me when you get back. After that it was just a combination of random letters.” You chuckled yourself as your fingers rubbed your temples.

“I’ve made you some coffee, you need to at least sober up a bit. Don’t fall asleep before I get back.” You nodded, shaking your hands and signalling him that he needs to be quick.

You tried to sit up, abruptly. Before falling back again. You’ve heard your boyfriend’s gentle chuckle as he put his hand on your back to support you. “Here you go. It’s not too hot, I know you don’t like it like that.”

“What would I do without you?” You mumbled as you raised the mug to your lips.

“Well, considering we were roommates before we started dating. You would still be on the debt and have the chance to lose your place.” You chuckled to him.

“Yeah, and who would watch me masturbate? Long time before deciding to join.” You blurted it out, the start of your relationship.

“You knew I watched you.” He said, his cheeks getting the colour of soft pink. This detail of your relationship was not something he was proud of.

“Sure did. I put on several shows just for you.” You said as you gave him the mug back. “My one and only fan.” You winked at him, and he shook his head.

He softly smiled, leant in to kiss your temple. “Yeah, I’m just glad you didn’t give my old body a heart attack.” He said as he helped you to raise yourself. “Let’s get you in something more comfortable.”

“Are you going to let me wear something from you? You never do.” You giggled when you tripped on your own foot. He held you again before you fall. Holding your shoulders as he walked you towards your room.

“It’s because you own every top I have, kitten.” He said as he opened a drawer from your comforter. Shaking the red Henley in his hand. “Such as this one.” He said while walking over to you.

He raised his hands in the air, making you copy his gesture. “Let’s take this top off, it’s a bit tight for you to sleep in.” He explained as he took off your top, and helped you wear his Henley. “That’s a good girl. Now I’m going to take off your pants, alright?”

You nodded, staying still as he unzips the zipper and pulls it down from your legs. “Hold on to me honey. You’re not great with balance.” You did as he said, holding on to his shoulder as he took it off one leg at a time.

“Time for your bra?”

“Now you’re a pro of taking it off. You’ve been struggling at the first times, remember.” You added as he dipped his hands inside from your shirt. You giggled when the cold metal made contact with your skin.

“I don’t like this, it prevents the easy access.” He shrugged as he tossed the material off from your body to the ground.

“You always have access when you want to touch me. Like rightnow. ” You slurred the last part. Slumbering on your bed, and soon Bucky followed you.

“I know, I wouldn’t control myself, you’re my addiction.”

“So if I asked you to just kiss me, would you do it? Even though I’m drunk as fuck.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but all his thoughts stopped when he saw you making puppy eyes. He groaned as he leant down to kiss you.

Unlike him, a retired super soldier, you could be fast when he gets lost in the kiss. So in mere seconds you were straddling him, hands going to the back of his back.

“Kitten—“

“I missed you, you didn’t come to the party. You need to make up for it.” You cut him short, grinding on his semi hard cock.

“You know I don’t like the big parties. Also it was one of your girls only party, who are not my biggest fans.”

“Like their partners are so perfect.”

“They think I don’t deserve you.”

“Since when you care about what other people think. If you do care that much, I think I’m the luckiest gal in the world since I have you right here between my legs.” You both laughed at your joke. His flesh hand snaked behind your back and pulling you in for a soft kiss on the lips.

“I love you, but you’re not lucky as me. You’re gorgeous.”

“You’re drunk.” You said, rolling your eyes as you gave him one more kiss.

“I didn’t drink, you on the other hand, drank for the both of us.” He chuckled, placing his hands on the both sides of your face. His metal thumb brushing along your cheekbone.

“So I did. What the hell, I made it home. I made it to you. And I love you so much that I couldn’t stop myself from thinking all the thing I want you do to me, when I get back.”

“Yeah, you even sent me some links too.”

“Did you watch them?”

“Of course. You know I like it when you send me those, my angel is not innocent after all.” His hand went your waist, holding you while you were softly grinding yourself to him. “I also like seeing you on top.” He admitted, raising his hips a bit more to feel you better. You moaned at the feeling. Smiling when you realised that he turned you into a bitch in heat. You were always needy of him.

You started grinding your hips a bit faster. Pressing yourself on his now hard cock. He placed his other hand on your hips, gently holding you, because how could he deny you when you needed him that badly. “Shit! Bucky you feel so good.” You let it out under your breath.

“I want you to fuck me, please! Please!” Your hands went to his pyjama buttons, taking out his cock and you clumsily slide your underwear to the side. You needed to feel him. You gave his cock few strokes before sitting on it.

“Fuck!” He moaned when he felt your slit around his cock. You were so wet that it was a miracle he didn’t slide inside you yet.

“You see what you do to me? You’ve made me all wet and needy. I didn’t even took my underwear off.” You mumbled. “I need you inside me, Bucky. Please, I need it so bad.”

He leant over you, standing on his elbows to kiss you. You both moaned into the kiss, when you aligned his cock with your entrance as his hands found and ripped your underwear.

You whimpered on his parted lips when he was seated inside of you. You threw your head back with the pleasure, as he placed open mouthed kisses along your neck. Teeth nibbling and biting around the sensitive spot of yours.

“Use me, I want you to fuck yourself on my cock.” He said, thrusting his hips inside of you. You took it as a sign to move. You both were moaning, hands can’t decide to where to hold on.

“You feel so good Bucky! I found heaven!” You said, hands going his large tshirt, trying to take it off. He tried to stop you, afraid.

Even though you’ve caught many glimpses of each other while you were naked, he was still hesitant about showing you his body.

“Please! Let me see you.” You whispered, kissing his rosy cheeks. “I love you Bucky. You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” You mumbled. Slowly taking off his top, smiling when your hands found his chest.

Your fingers played with his chest hair. Before you could say anything he slammed his lips on yours again, making you wrap your arms around his neck. “My beautiful girl.” He whispered on your lips. Pulling you close to him. His hands went to your butt, harshly squeezing it.

You moaned on his lips. As he placed a slap on your butt. “Naughty girl. You couldn’t spend three hours without my cock filling you!” You nodded, feeling proud of your hunger.

“Fuck! You’re so big!” You mumbled, feeling your walls clench around him tighter as the sweet pleasure inside of you was building.

“B—Bucky!”

“Yeah?” He asked, hands inside your his Henley. Playing with your erected nipples, taking one of it between his warm lips.

“I’m gonna cum. Can I cum? Please?”

“Cum all around me kitten.” He leant on your other nipple, sucking on the soft flesh when your orgasm hit you.

You came all around his cock, your body feeling tired since the caffeine of the coffee left your body.

He pulled out, slowly with a pop sound. “You’re always hard to last long when you’re drunk.” He chuckled as he kissed along your body, lifting his shirt to place kisses on your stomach.

“Sit on my face, kitten.” You smiled, doing as he wanted. You felt yourself getting wet when you felt his stubble brushing along your clit.

He licked a thick strap along your slit. Making you cry again. He moaned when he felt your taste around his tongue. He lazily draw circles around your entrance before going back to suck your swollen clit. “Mmhm! Bucky!” You moaned, hand going to his long hair.

“I love your taste, kitten. I can spend hours if I have to, but you...” He said as he licked his metal finger before shoving it inside of you. You yelped under him. “will come for me.” He rutted his hips on the sheets, diving back to suck on your clit as he slowly fingered you.

He pulled out his fingers, licking and sucking them clean before he got on his knees again. “Mmhm Bucky.” You giggle, seeing his cock almost turned into purple, that was your effect on him.

You knew you were close to cumming, you always loved how good he was with his tongue. The pressure on your belly was increasing at each stroke of his tongue. You were uncontrollably moving your hips on his tongue. “I—I” You mumbled, couldn’t stop your moaning.

“I know kitten, go on.” You came down. Chest panting rapidly. You threw yourself next to him, he climbed on top of you. Peppering kisses starting from your thighs to your collarbones.

He aligned his cock to your tired entrance. Rubbing it in circles. “My good kitten.” He explained as he pushed into you again. You could almost hear him move between your slick walls.

He started slowly moving inside of you, raising your knee to your chest. “Baby you feel so good.” You gasped when he hit your sweet spot with the new angle.

“Yes!” He moaned when he bottomed out, hands holding yours. He placed them above your head before he fastened. He was going fast and rough, your walls pulsating around him. “Fuck! So good! That’s my good kitten, taking me in!”

The sex was filthy and messy but you didn’t care. You didn’t care the fact that half of your clothes were still on you, you didn’t care you forgot to shave. You didn’t care your make up was still on your face.

You didn’t care any of it, all you cared about was your boyfriend between your legs.

He leant down, biting down your shoulder to trying to control himself. It was a hard for him considering how much of a mess he turned you into.

“I love you.” You whispered on his lips. “I’m in love with you Bucky Barnes.” You added before kissing him again, leaning your forehead on his.

“Fuck!” His hips stuttered inside of you, he was close on the edge. You telling him that you loved him still did the trick.

His fingers went to your clit. He pinched and swirled the little bulb, making you cry under him. “Bucky!”

“Come for me, kitten. One more, you can do it.” He said, caressing your cheek.

“Bucky cum inside me, please?”

“Yeah, you’d like don’t you? Want me to fill you to the brim?” He stayed inside of you for one second, pulling the top so he could kiss your breasts. Sucking and biting your swollen nipples from his early attack. “You’d like me to get you stuffed, right? You don’t need to say it, ‘can feel how you squeeze me.”

“Yes! I want all of that! Please Bucky, fill me up, please.” You wrapped your other leg around his waist. “Please, I want to feel all of you.”

“Fuck!” He said as he emptied all of him inside of you. Pulling out with a hiss.

You smiled when you wrapped your arm around his torso. “Thank you, Bucky.” You plated a kiss on his exposed chest. He chuckled, petting your head.

“Are you thanking me for fucking you?”

“Yep!”

“I swear there is not one single day which you don’t surprise me.” He said as he fixed his boxers, moving towards the bathroom. “Stay awake for a few minutes, kitten.”

Before you could ask him why, he came back with a box of make up removal tissues. “Told ya these were handy.” He said as he sat down, cleaning your make up. “‘Shouldn’t sleep with that.”

You could feel your tears building up. Smiling at the care he showed you. “You’re an angel Bucky Barnes.” You murmured as you wrapped your arms around his big torso, kissing his chest.

“I’m just trying to be worthy of the hottest, nicest person I’ve ever met.” He admitted, kissing your temple. “Now get some sleep, tomorrow would be a long day.”

———

“Ugh!” You turned around in the bed. The light going right through your eyes, because you both forgot to close them.

Your arm reached out where your boyfriend was supposed to be, but instead you found lukewarm sheets. You huffed when you raised your head, smiling at the scent of toasted bread reaching at your room.

You lazily got out from bed, smiling at the familiar ache between your legs and the light breeze coming from not wearing any underwear. You made it to your kitchen, smiling at the sight of your boyfriend cooking, not wearing any t-shirt but just his boxers. You loved that sight.

You wrapped your arms around his naked torso, placing a kiss on his shoulder. “mornin’” You mumbled to his skin, feeling his body shake with his chuckle.

“How are you?” He asked, his voice had a little bit worry.

“A bit tired. Not the end of the world, yet.”

He smiled at your answer, turning around your arms and kissing your cheek. “‘m glad. Why don’t you get to the table, I’m almost finished here.”

You nodded, hearing your phone buzz. You switched your direction and headed towards the noise. “Bucky, have you seen my phone?”

“Nope! Could be in your purse though.” You nodded, checking the coat rack where your purse was hung. When you reached to check your phone you noticed it was Sam calling you.

“Hey! What’s up?” You murmured.

“Hey dollface! Just wanted to check up on you, Bucky didn’t answer my texts.”

“Oh he’s in the kitchen making breakfast.”

“Oh! Really so it’s like you said yes, I’ve told him there was nothing to worry about—“

“Hey baby, who’s calling?” Bucky walked towards you and you mouthed the word Sam. You saw the worry in his face as he walked towards you, but you stopped him by raising your hand in the air. Taking a step back.

“Yes to what? I was really drunk last night, don’t remember anything about him asking me something.”

“It was uhm— if you’d like to come to visit me and Sarah in Louisiana, since it’s been so long from the last time you’ve seen us.”

“Oh, uhm sure, I’ll talk with Sarah and the details. ‘ll see you later.”

“What did he say?”

“He mumbled something about Louisiana. I guess we’re heading there.” You said after putting your phone back in your purse.

“Oh, yeah. Y—You’ve been working a lot, a—and I thought that you deserved a little br—break.” You noticed the small bulge in the pocket if his jacket.

“What’s this?”

“Nothing.” You frowned again, hand dipping inside the pocket to find a small box.

“B—bucky? What’s this?”

“It’s—“ He walked over you, getting on his one knee, gently taking the box from your hands.

“I know how you feel about marriage, but I wanted you to also know how I feel about us—this relationship. You’ve made it possible for me to see a different side of me I haven’t seen in decades. I want to have you, by my side as long as you have me.”

“Ask me.” You managed to say it without breaking into tears, voice still cracked but he was in no position better.

He chuckled, opening the box to show you the elegant ring with a small emerald that was in the shape of a heart. “Will you marry me, kitten?”

“Yes!” You said as you threw yourself all over him. Connecting your lips with his. “Yes! I’ll of course marry you! Yes!” You said between kisses.

“I wanted to do this in a better setting, not in my boxers and not you only wearing my Henley and panties. I didn’t want to do it in a situation that you’re drunk too but—“ He tried to explain as he put the ring. Kissing your lips.

“ain’t no better time than present right?” He chuckled, tears falling down on his cheeks as he kissed you again.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, giving him a longing messy kiss. You didn’t care that he was sitting under you, only in his boxers. You didn’t care that you didn’t even wear panties during your proposal.

You started grinding on him slowly, as he took of your Henley and threw it across the room. Pulling you down to his lips, kissing you again as you took off his boxers.

You didn’t care your first sex as an engaged couple happened on your cold floor, and it was messy and rushed.

You didn’t care about any of it, as long as you have had him.

And you’ve had him.

SEBASTIAN STAN Pam & Tommy (2022)

needy

Title: Needy

Pairing: Chubby!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky’s at work, and you need him. Bad. 

Warnings: Smut, very brief mention of body insecurity, sexting, tooth rotting fluff, MINORS DNI!!

A/N: based on some awesome chubby!Bucky asks i’ve had sitting in my inbox for a while (sorry nonnies, life happened haha). but i hope you’ll all enjoy the latest addition to my Chubby Bucky collection! divider by @rainbowkisses31​!

Bucky, are you off work soon? 

The text makes him smile.

Keep reading

let me in your ocean; [tasm!peter imagine]

— Pairing: TASM!Peter Parker x F!Reader

— Summary: Peter's been running away from his duties ever since he came back from there. Another universe. A different reality. He's been so busy trying to wrap his head around the fact that it's all real; trying his best to process all of the guilt and shame from his months of taking out his anger in the bad guys, that he stopped doing his job. Stopped being Spider-Man for a second.

Meeting you changes that.

— Word count: 9.7k

— Warning(s): Heavy angst ahead. Mentions of death, violence. Reader's going through grief, Peter finds her and they bond through shared pain.

main master list | marvel master list | ko-fi ❥

Peter hears the cries when he's coming out of Techno Lab at the end of an afternoon.

It startles him for more than one reason.

Number one—it's heartbreaking. Peter hears the choked sobs and broken whines from where he is in the corridor, and right after his spidey senses hit that there were unfamiliar noises close by, his second assessment was one of hurt.

Number two—his hearing picked up on it, despite his best efforts to train his hypersensitivity. It had been working since he came back from there—the other universe. Two days in disarray with his abilities all over the place again as if he were a recently bitten newbie, and Peter decided to get his heightened senses in check. He wasn't supposed to be listening to anything, much less the crying of someone.

Number three and most important of them all, it makes his skin crawl.

Vibrate, shiver, tremble. However you call it, Peter feels it, and the second he takes note of it, his feet are carrying him through the corridors of Empire State University and going straight to the source of those heart-wrenching sounds.

He climbs two floors, walks through staircases and at last, finds the open door that leads to the terrace outside.

His heart freezes in his chest, and Peter stops with his hands inches away from the doorknob, trying to collect the pieces of his heart from the ground and convince himself to just go for it, at the same time as his head is screaming to him what the hell are you doing?

What will you tell them? Hey, this is Peter, I heard you crying like someone just died—

No.

He's not doing this right now.

It also does not matter.

Peter pushes the door open wider and walks to one of the University's open towers. They're on the East Wing here, right where the Science and Math courses meet, and right over the tower, pacing back and forth in front of the edge of the building, there's the source of the tears.

Her sobs are as painful and as unstoppable as before.

Peter feels out of place, and at the same time, like looking in front of a mirror.

He stands there, frozen by fear, and the knot that out of nowhere lives on his throat, trying to gather any strength left in him to just go.

You're crying like someone reached inside of you and broke something.

He knows what that feels like.

Peter wonders if it'd be best to just let you be alone right now.

He sighs, letting the pain bloom and take over his chest like spring always takes over the snow at some point, like he knew it would when he saw the source of the pain. Why did he even come? Why would he interrupt someone in such a private moment?

You don't want him here.

Peter doesn't even know you. All he knows is that you're almost screaming right now, standing alone in one of your school's towers at the end of the day, probably after a whole morning and afternoon of pretending to be a person.

Of holding that all in.

It's when your body collapses against the rail of the roof and you keep crying over it that his instinct kicks in—this is the sixth floor. This is tall, you should not be leaning in this much—please step away, this is dangerous, you can't be this careless—

Peter takes the first step, letting go of the door, and the noise calls your attention. Fuck.

You turn sharply to him, and Peter raises both hands in the air in a gesture he's all too familiar with.

"I—I come in peace," he tries. It's a feeble joke, and it falls on deaf ears.

Your face is red, swollen, and your chest is still breathing rapidly since you're out of breath from how hard you'd been crying.

You turn away from him sharply, and Peter grimaces with the way he did not think this through.

"I'm so sorry," he tries again. "I promise I didn't—" didn't what? Look for you? He did. He grimaces again, and fights against his stupid brain who makes rash decisions without thinking of outcomes. "I didn't mean to interrupt you." There. That's a decent half-truth.

You're wiping your face on the sleeve of your hoodie, and that pulls Peter's eyes to it. It's a Tweety hoodie, big enough to be a dress for any occasion.

"I just... heard someone stealing my crying spot," he finishes in a lame whisper. He looks up to you and—oh. There it is. It looks like your soul's back on your body, and woah. Those are intense eyes. "You can just... go back to it. I won't bother you. I'm just gonna--can I stay? I'll just stick by. In case you want any company. Or, you know. If you want, I can go. If you say 'go' right now, I swear I'll go."

"Do you usually talk this much around people you don't know?"

Her voice is nice.

Peter almost smiles at the exasperation in her tone, and registers that she manages to give a piercing look almost as penetrating as Aunt May's.

He nods, keeping the smile down. "Yes. Unfortunately. It's a big problem, I've heard complaints about it before."

To that, you have no answer.

All you do is stare at him for a moment, wiping your face clean again.

Peter looks away from you because staring at you is suddenly very hard.

His heart spikes—something it hasn't done in a while.

Not since he stepped on a damn portal.

Slowly and with deliberate moves, almost as if he's dealing with a wounded animal, Peter kneels down, and sits on the edge of the rail.

He can feel your eyes following his movements, and his heart feels big and heavy inside his chest the whole time.

Why the hell did you come, man? What, was she gonna jump? You don't know that. That's ridiculous.

He breathes in, then out. Counts to ten in his head, all while listening to your breathing that's coming down since he stepped outside on the roof with you.

Finally, after what it seems like forever, you ask him. "This is your crying spot?"

Peter had been joking about that.

He looks to his side—your eyes are very much intent on watching him, and Peter finds that lying to you is kinda hard. His neck twitches, and he narrows his eyes, "Ah... technically, no. No, it's not. That was an impulsive lie—my crying spot is usually the bathroom."

He hears a scoff. "I can't cry in the bathroom. D'you know how many girls would come asking me if I'm okay if I did that?"

Peter turns to you, swinging his legs back and forth in the air. "Girls do that?"

"Yeah." You nod. "Girls' bathrooms are one of the best places on Earth."

"Wow." He's never heard that one before, but your heartbeat remained the same while you said it, so it must be true. "Never knew that before. I'm kinda sad now I'll never get to experience that for myself."

The next scoff was more of a chuckle—you just snorted air out of your nose in tiny laughter.

Peter wondered how hard it was to make you laugh.

"I am so sorry that as a white, probably hetero, cisgender man, this is a privilege you won't get to experience," your voice dripped in sarcasm.

Peter's jaw fell open, and for the first time, you two exchanged a proper look.

Him, looking at you dumbfounded. When he left his last class of the day and was suddenly caught by the sound of a heart breaking, Peter didn't expect to be met with so much attitude.

You, looking at him pleased with yourself. Seeing the awe on his face, your air-nose laugh slowly becomes a smile.

It never reaches your eyes, and Peter recalls why he's here in the first place.

"You know what?" He nods to himself. "You're right. That is a tragedy," he adds the last bit just to see if it gets something else from you.

There's nothing. Peter looks to his side again and sees he has lost you once more, and to his surprise, he's okay with that.

He came here for... well, he's unsure of the reason yet, but it wasn't to try and brush off your pain.

"I mean it, you know." He says those next words without looking at you. It's easier talking to you when your eyes aren't on him, for some reason. "If you wanna just... go back to crying, I can just... sit tight."

"Why would you want to listen to someone crying?" There was no malice in your question or any strangeness. Just confusion.

Peter shrugs his shoulders. "I don't know." He truly didn't. If it were any other day, Peter might not even have heard you. "I just know sometimes it sucks feeling all that pain alone."

Well. That sure is something you can tell a complete and total stranger.

There's no reply from your side, but Peter knows it's okay. Your heart's still beating the same way, and he hears the sound of your clothes shuffling until you're sitting in the same position as he is.

That makes him worry.

If he falls, Peter doesn't get past the fifth floor. He'll hold on to the wall with his adherent fingerprints, but you had a one-way ticket to the floor down there unless you were hiding radioactive bites somewhere, too.

"Why d'you cry?"

Your question pulls him out of the worst-case scenarios his mind was drawing and the different ways he could save you and get away with it.

Peter looks at you and sees you observing the trees in your line of sight. They're gorgeous Ipe trees, and they're blooming with white, purple and pink flowers.

"Because loss hurts so much that you just wanna scream or cry through every stage of it?" It was supposed to be an answer, but it comes out as an embarrassing confession.

Your eyes squint at his awkward, close-lipped smile, and then soften.

You look at every inch of Peter's face, and whatever it is that you see there, it softens every feature in your face.

"It does, doesn't it?" You agree. Turning away sharply, Peter sees your chin trembling. When you speak again after a few moments, your voice sounds hoarse and choked-up. "I... I don't..."

Peter waits.

Sometimes, people become unaware of how grief deteriorates their ability to see beyond it. To think, rationalize, or be logical with it.

Flashes of the punches he stopped pulling make him wince.

Images of the people he hurt before he took his inter-dimensional trip and discovered not everything had to be lost all the time come to haunt him, and Peter has to shake his head from side to side.

Thankfully, you don't see him fighting his ghosts. Your eyes are distant and blinded by your own, and Peter breathes in shaky, squeezing the concrete underneath him to ground him here.

Empire State University. 2022. You're Peter Parker. (The third one.) Things are okay.

Your voice pulls him back. "I don't think... I've had a single thought these past six months... That hasn't been related to her."

Peter listens to that, and feels the words in the chemic of his bones.

"Yeah, it feels like that," he agrees. "Like..." He thinks about it. Survivor's guilt. Attachment. The passage of time. How time mends, heals, erases. "Like they have nowhere else to go, so they just... live in the corners and cracks of our minds."

"Yeah. Yeah," you nod. Peter hears you swallow down thickly, and when he looks to you again, your cheeks are glistening with the tears coming down.

The sky behind you starts going through the phases of Twilight, and it should be a crime to have a scenario that might as well have been painted by Van Gogh when there's so much pain at the center of this painting.

While your pain bleeds red down the concrete of the school's walls, the sky behind you paints your frame in light pink and warm orange.

Your tears look like Renassaince details, and Peter's fingers itch for his camera for the first time in years.

The silence between you both is neither heavy nor uncomfortable.

You cry in silence now, staring at the Ipes like the trees froze your gaze in their direction. While you stare ahead, Peter stares at you.

Your hair is curly and right now, wild.

Your cheeks are big, rounded and so red. Your lips are big, and it matches well with those big, intense eyes of yours.

Peter looks away, thinking about why did he never see your face around here.

Because you haven't looked up in months.

Not even your job you've been doing.

He shakes his head again.

This time, you catch it. The gesture seems to break your spell because you look away from the trees to him and, sniffling, ask him. "I feel like—am I going crazy? Why do I feel insane right now?"

And there they are.

Peter sees the dam breaking again—the resolve you'd built when he crashed your pain parade is crumbling, and Peter wants to stay as badly as he wants you to be okay, so he has to offer one last time.

"You're not going crazy. You're hurt. And you probably have people telling you a bunch of stuff that doesn't help all the time." He knows that, because he remembers how unhelpful everybody is when someone is gone. "Can I...?"

He leaves the question unfinished, but you understand it nonetheless. Can I stay?

You nod with trembling lips, and then you do something that personally, Peter finds very brave.

You go right back to crying, just as you were before he came in here.

It's not as loud as it was before, but it comes from the exact same place.

Peter wants to inch a little closer and maybe offer a hand. Some comfort.

He stays where he is, though, and for some reason, he feels like it helps.

To his surprise, you speak up, mid-sobs and tears. "I—I don't want to be okay with it. Th—that's why I'm so—so angry. People—keep telling me 'it'll b—be okay' but they fail to fucking get that I—I—" your sob cuts your sentence, and Peter finishes for you.

"You don't want it to be okay," his own eyes sting. He came here for the heavens know what reason, and now he's forced to deal with the fact that he gets that. "Fuck people," Peter adds.

It's probably delivered with more heat than he intended because, through your cries, he hears a choked burst of laughter.

It makes him smile, and he wipes the tear coming down his cheek. "No, I'm serious. Fuck people." Your laughter comes out again, and Peter laughs with you. "What the hell do they know?"

You scoff. "Considering the state our world's in, absolutely nothing."

"Oh, wow. You're definitely a student here."

That makes you laugh again.

Just like that, Peter's enchanted by the warmth your laughter brings.

Silence falls over you two like a blanket, and Peter looks away so you can clean the traces of your tears one more time.

He hopes his presence felt like a comforting hand over yours, even if you two are strangers.

That reminds him—, "I'm Peter, by the way," he introduces himself.

You look to your side, and the smile that blooms on your face is sad, but not as hopeless as one would expect from the girl who was crying her heart out in the roof. "Hi, Peter. I'm really sorry you had to meet me like this."

"It's fine," he shrugs it off. "I've met people in much worse ways, you'll just have to believe me on that."

"Oh, really?"

"Oh, I promise you. Terrible ways," he waves his hands. "Compromising positions—you've got nothing going on, actually. I caused horrible first impressions in the past. It's all good. If you ask me, second impressions are where the money's at. I think judging someone by the first encounter is a very, uhm, harsh. And unfair decision."

When his ramble ends, Peter's eyes find yours.

This time, your laughter is definitely at him. "That's good to know. I'm Y/n." You extend your hand. "Nice to meet you."

Peter sends a silent prayer to whatever he's supposed to believe in that his hand doesn't stick to yours, and shakes it.

Your palms are so freaking soft and when you lean in, Peter catches a whiff of what must be your shampoo or conditioner because—hmm. That's nice.

"Thanks for keeping me company during my breakdown, I guess," you tell him with an awkward chuckle. You two pull back, and Peter sees the tip of your ears painted on the same shade as the sky in the background. "I... definitely didn't expect today to end like this."

"How did you expect it to end?"

"I don't know." Something tells Peter that you do know. He stores that information for later. "I've just been—getting by, as people try to convince me that 'everything's alright' and the nine yards. Like—," you scoff. "Like that's just gonna... make it go away."

"Hey." Your head snaps in his direction at his call. Peter puts on his best smile. "As someone who's been hearing that bullshit for three years now, here's my hot take: you're the only one who decides what goes away, and when."

At his words, Peter watches your face fall. Your lips part and some of the ghosts must come out for a haunt because he sees a shadow in your eyes.

It's been almost four years now, and Peter's got no idea where this is coming from or how it's coming out, but he goes on before he loses those words. Something tells him he needs to hear them too.

"Sometimes... you forget." He swallows thickly and focuses on the orange taking over the pink behind you to get through it. "Like—a day will go by and you notice you haven't thought about it, and—that'll absolutely destroy you. The fact that you forgot, you know? It'll make it worse, and nothing will make it better. But then... one day... out of nowhere, okay? No one can tell you when, not even you. One day, you'll just—" he chuckles, and recalls her annoying fake laughter. "You'll just remember something so funny. So... incredibly fucking funny, or disastrous. Just... a good memory. And trust me—you'll have a blast. All on your own, too," he laughs. "You'll about it, and then you'll probably cry because you're laughing alone."

For him, it was the day he took off all of Gwen's polaroids from inside his wardrobe.

One week before his second year in college.

Almost a whole year ago, now.

"And that'll be when it starts registering. Dust settling, and stuff. The fact that it happened, and that... it's a part of all this."

He looks at the Ipe, and thinks about three months ago when they were bare—nothing but brown branches, dry and devoid of any life.

"I just wanna be able to play some word association with my friends without breaking down in the middle of class right now," you whisper to him. Ah—so that was what happened to you. A trigger, something so personal and related to the missing piece that you wanna ruin the whole puzzle. "That's all I want."

He nods in understanding. "That's fair." And probably still a bit far for you. "It'll happen. In your time."

The next heartbeat you two share Peter feels it.

In slow motion.

He hears the thump-thump of your heart pumping blood, strong and sound in the middle of your chest. He hears the birds and the ruffling of the trees, and the way your breathing is still a little clogged from all the crying you did.

What surprises him is that he doesn't mind.

"Do you think they could ruin something for us?" The question slips out of his lips almost as if it was by someone else.

Peter feels exposed, but you look at him the same way you did since he sat down. Even though you're seeing something Harry never does, or Aunt May rarely sees—there's no pity in your face like there usually is in hers, and instead, he finds you looking pensive.

Thoughtful.

"For some time, maybe? Yeah... definitely." Your mind goes away somewhere when your gaze leaves his face. "If someone played Tchaikovsky right now, I would definitely eat a bullet."

Peter's eyes widen, meets yours, and then you two burst out laughing together.

"Wow," he comments. That is some dark humor if I ever heard it.

"My bad," you laugh. "But yeah. For some time. But—forever?" You shake your head. "Nah. If there was love, it washes away. Anything that you put on love is just a taint. Real love, of course. It can be a big taint, a resilient one—my mami said and I stand by it: anything washes away if you know the right product. Or wash it enough times."

His Uncle Ben's voice comes from somewhere in the deep corridors of his memories, and the words come out from his mouth. "Constant dripping of water wears away the stone.”

You smile at him. "Yeah. Exactly."

That is a pain he hasn't felt in a while.

The significance of you bringing that small little idiom Uncle Ben was so fond of back to him hits him in the chest like a common nemesis loves doing—hard, right in the center, where it hurts.

"My uncle used to say that," he tells you.

His tone must be what gives away the grief in that part of his life, too, because your smile dims.

Then, after a second, you say. "My best friend used to say, 'having a good discussion is like having riches', and—I used to laugh," you chuckle. Your eyes set on him with a weight that means something, and Peter feels compelled to keep his eyes on you as well. "Guess she was right."

Peter smiles at the look of surprise on your face.

He wants to ask you something more—maybe what brought her to say that, or how often did she usually deliver those cheesy lines; as often as Uncle Ben delivered his, maybe?

Fuck, she's the one that's gone.

Before he can open his mouth, though, a ringtone pierces through the bubble you two have created against the outside world and you rush to find your device inside your backpack, muttering apologies to him.

Peter shakes his hand to you, and gestures for you to go head.

He bounces on his feet awkwardly, hating how now that his senses are somehow back to their crisp precision.

"Hey, Diva," you greet.

Peter grabs his skateboard in hands and starts playing with it. On the other side of the line, he hears. "Bitch, where the fuck are you? Oh my god, babe! We've been looking for you like crazy, you're not at the classroom, or the—"

"Diva, babe. Calm down. Breathe," you interrupt. It's safe to assume this Diva character must be a friend of yours given the tone and the way of speaking with you.

"Don't 'Diva' me, I was worried sick, babes."

"I'm sorry. I lost track of time—I came upstairs for a smoke and I met a new friend, that's all." The chillness in your tone impresses him. Peter looks up at the mention of 'new friend', and you give him a small smile.

"...Right." Diva does not sound convinced. "Well, are you coming? We're waiting at the car for you. If you still wanna ride we'll wait a few more minutes."

A silent and yet respectful request for you to wrap it up with your 'new friend'. Peter likes this Diva person. They sound caring, and worried, even through the static and distant voice in the phone.

"Alright, I'm coming. Lemme say bye to Peter, kay?"

"Ahhhh," now with a name, Diva's confidence that you must be speaking the truth seems to rise. "Alright. Yeah, sure. Say bye. We'll be here waiting. Ten minutes, kay?"

"Sure."

"Love, you babes."

You roll your eyes, and the fondness written on your face is priceeless. "Love you too."

"Oh—Y/n?"

"Yes?"

"I'm happy you're there making new friends, Miss Joy. Seriously."

To that, you have no answers. Diva seems to need none, though, because they hang up right after.

You look down at your phone, put it back in your backpack and this time, the silence is a little weirder.

Strange how you two find comfort in one another so easily when your hearts are bleeding out of your sleeves, but now that you have to make 'normal people' interactions, Peter's awkwardness comes back in full swing.

"So—I'll definitely see you around, right?" Ugh, Peter. He scrunches his nose at his horrible attemp. "I don't know what course you take. I imagine we'll see each other again."

"Biochem Engineer. Y/n Y/L/N," you extend your hard again, and your smile tells him it's okay, I'm a little awkward, too.

Peter realizes he now has a way to all your social media. And that it was a deliberate choice on your behalf. He smiles and shakes your hand again, one, two, three times. You laugh, and he smiles as he does a proper introduction. "Peter Parker. Biophysics."

You whistle. "Damn, Peter Parker."

"What?" He chuckles, embarrassed.

"You're a massive nerd."

"You're an engineering student!" He laughs.

"Yeah, which is one degree less nerdy than physics department." Your smile is contagious.

Peter hasn't smiled like this in a while.

You look down between your bodies and he follows your gaze, and—oh. He's still holding your hand. Again.

He drops it, and scratches the back of his neck. "Thanks for the words of wisdom," he whispers.

You take a second to reply and when you do, it's with the first real, full smile he's ever seen on your face. "Unbelievable," you whisper to yourself. If Peter's hearing was lesser than it is, he'd have missed it. "Thank you for the kind and... rare act of keeping me company in my grief rage," you chuckle humorlessly. "You didn't think I was gonna jump or anything, did ya?"

Peter's jaw drops again, and he laughs one more time at how blunt you are with your humor.

"No, I didn't." He's still unsure of what brought him here in the first place. "I just—I heard the pain. Decided to come to land a helping presence."

"And succeeded."

"Mission accomplished," he nods.

"Indeed." Your sarcastic grin is as contagious as your true — and rare — smile. "I gotta go. But, it was nice meeting you, Peter Parker."

"You too, Y/n Y/l/n."

When you leave, Peter stays on the roof for another hour before swinging his webs all the way back home.

It's instinctive.

One minute, he's sitting on the edge where you were, crying your heart out. The next, he's dropping his body in the direction of the parking lot and using the web-shooters that's been collecting dust on his wrists for three months and he's home.

Aunt May looks at him strangely, but fondly throughout dinner. She seems to be happy that whatever made him happy has him talking, and they have one of the nicest conversations they've had in a long time.

Even Uncle Ben is mentioned.

Later that night, Peter sits on the fire escape with the mask he's been neglecting in hands.

It's heavy.

It carries the weight of much more than a persona or a superhero.

It's heavier than any of the loads he's supported in these two hands, and yet...

Anything that you put on love is just a taint.

Is it? Peter asks the image of you.

Is everything he's failed at just a taint? Can he wash it away?

Is he worth the effort of it?

For some reason, it's your voice that answers him.

You won't know it 'till you try it, Peter Parker.

Peter breathes in, shakily. Exhales steadily.

He did things wrong for months after Uncle Ben died.

After Gwen, he did things very wrong, for a good while.

Then, he was transported to somewhere else, a whole other universe, and everything he knew had to be rewritten.

He knows there's still the outline of all his stains. Just a shadow of it, maybe, but—it won't go away if you don't put in the work, he thinks.

He'll have to do better.

Peter took three months and shut himself out of the world, but it left him only empty. Processing all you never processed before. He shut down everything around him, ignoring the sounds, the cries, the sirens.

Now, as if a button was turned on, he hears it all again.

He's aware now that all the weigth of New York City's safety isn't and cannot be in his hands, but he can help. He's proven that before, and if wants all the pain attached in this red and blue suit to go away, he'll have to try again.

Peter puts on the suit.

Slowly, he slips on the mask.

Maybe if he washes his eyes out of the sights that haunt him, he'll be able to see the city in the same lights he used to. He'll want to photograph it, just like he wanted to photograph the sky.

Photograph you.

Peter shoots the first web, and opens his ears to any trouble. He'll do some difference tonight and maybe, who knows—tomorrow is another day.

Maybe tomorrow he'll cook Aunt May breakfast for a change. Finish his homework before he gets to class and not five minutes before the teacher walks in.

Maybe he'll discover what corridor is the Biochem Engineer course.

Peter missed the clarity that only the night city can bring.

🏷 peter parker tag list ☆ open; would you like to be added? more one-shots with peter to come! and a series in the near future <3