𝑚𝑤𝑎ℎ, 𝑚𝑤𝑎ℎ: rory ㅤ♡

⋆˙⟡ boyfie!peter parker…who uses emoticons heavily and is not ashamed!!! “ :D :(( ^3^ ” are his favs to use when texting; he uses them even more than emojis tbh. don’t introduce him to kamojis, you might unlock a new addiction for him

⋆˙⟡ boyfie!peter parker…if not deep into his studies, always the best person to shop with !! especially if you’re one to get tempted easily, he knows how to steer you away and spend more money than you need to. but also great at remembering what you needed from each store you go to :)

⋆˙⟡ boyfie!peter parker…after a shopping spree, asks for a haul of what you got and finds different ways to say how much the pieces suit you. even if it’s basic stuff, he’ll still mention how much he loves it on you

⋆˙⟡ boyfie!peter parker…who created a pinterest account just to send you inspo for hair, nails, makeup looks, etc. personally, he enjoys looking through nail sets on there and imagining you scratching his head with said sets

⋆˙⟡ boyfie!peter parker…who loves loves lovessss a good head scratch. some days he’ll just show up unannounced at your apartment and lie down on your couch, gently taking your hand and placing it on top of his head. if you reach a certain spot on his scalp, you may hear a certain sound coming from peter

⋆˙⟡ boyfie!peter parker…please do hot oil treatments on him. listen, explaining to him might sound a lil crazy to him, and dangerous, but after hearing that you’ll be massaging his scalp, he was quick to agree. during the treatment, he loosened his tense body and let himself feel heaven as you massaged the oil into his scalp

⋆˙⟡ boyfie!peter parker…who isn’t big on pda but doesn’t mind leaving lil pecks to get you flustered or just to catch you off guard. preferably, he likes longer kisses, longer moments of intimacy instead of something that’s rushed (unless horny). who said that ???

⋆˙⟡ boyfie!peter parker…will never stop wanting a makeout session, no matter how long or late in the day it is. he savors the tingling feeling that he gets when you’re on his lap and lightly scratching the back of his neck and letting his lips chase after yours. he adores the little noises that you let out when he presses his hands more intensely on certain parts of your body than others. please don’t let it be a night where he has been feeling a bit more needy than usual cause he’ll be clinging on and kissing you like it’s the last day on earth

𐔌 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘪 💭⭑.ᐟ ꒱

♡⃕ see i was gonna keep going and add nsfw but i wanted to tread lightly with peter

♡⃕ this can be interpreted with any peter !! I did have tom’s peter in mind but any you find fit is okay as well

♡⃕ if you guys want more boyfie!peter, lemme know 😋

𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐏 💗: proverbs 11:25

his breath is warm and minty against your opaque brown skin, you could feel his heart thrum quickly in the confines of his ribs. joe’s stresssed, and for the record joe doesn’t do stress. 

“honey.” your lips press against the top of his head now, before casting another glance at your woeful man.

“talk to me?” 

he doesn’t answer, just burrowing his face more into your cleavage which earns a unmistakably warm chuckle from you. you’re not pitying him, rather your amused. joe always finds something to ramble on about after a game—how he could’ve read a defense better, not stayed in the pocket of his fragile o-line, or under threw even if the receiver caught it.

yet here he is tonight, reduced to silence and light grumbles against your chest. 

“i don’t even know where to start,” joe weakly states. unknowing to how his body weight and sheer muscle is starting to crush you, but when he looks up at you with those faint blue eyes—all is forgiven.

he continues despite himself, “i swear i can’t feel shit in my head right now. and my ribs—fuck—i don’t even want to talk about them.” 

you let him ramble about his aches and pains, gently sliding him off of you with little strength and letting him lie on his back. “you want me to take a look at it, joey?” you chirp softly, eyes lidded.

“no, no. ‘m fine,” joe protests, yet his every breath looks a bit pained. you’ve known him for long enough to know that he’d rather hide a injury to stay out on the field longer. your eyes saunter over his hoodie, sliding your hands under the cotton fabric.

he shifts in protest as you bracket your knees around his hips, the fabric adorning your body rides up slightly—making the satin nightgown now rest slightly above your inner thigh. 

joe throws back his head, releasing a pained sigh as his fiancée’s fingertips press against each tender spot mottled against his ribcage. 

he lets out a tiny sound, “mm—oh.” when you tap your fingers along a specifically sore area, he jolts a little. shaky breaths filling his chest as the room suddenly feels a bit smaller, contained.

“i know, i know,” you tut, arching a brow when you get a posterior glance of him. slightly where his ribs end and his back began, a reddish-purple bruise began to form. “joey,” a sigh escapes you, “why didn’t ask the pt for ice or somethin’? look at you.”

although your tone is far from patronizing, joe can’t help but flush red with embarrassment at your scold. usually, it was the other way around, in fact joe almost always had to worry about you.

but tonight whispered to you that there was no need for lightheartedness or careless amusement. 

i mean, 

look at him.

once the game ended he went straight to you—the exact opposite of who he presented to be on the field; cool, calm, and most of all, collected.

then the presser came. obnoxious questions and all, his almost vacant stare after complete adversity throughout the conquest of losing to philadelphia.

now, he’s here. underneath you, eyes full of unspoken words and a need to shield you from his own “failures.”

“i dunno, i jus’ took a hit, went down and kept moving. you can’t really stop in the middle of a—forget it.” 

you nearly glare down at him, almond shaped eyes narrowing slightly. your cat-eye lashes nearly consume what’s left of your dark irises in a disappointed manner, “uh-huh. keep talking.”

“it was a lot of pressure, for a loss of twelve yards too—like what kind of idiot does that. and the pressure was obscene, baby.”

nodding in a agreement, you discreetly rock your hips down onto him. in a tiny, gradual circle. at the same time, your hands brush neat strokes underneath his ribs and abdominal muscles. 

a soft hum escapes your lips, feeling a bit of hardness underneath you.

“fuck—that hit was obscene. excuse my language, but it’s just too early into the season to have a record like our own.. and lose.” 

joe subconsciously guides his hands to your waist, feeling up against sheer fabric against his lover’s skin. he tries to not take a generous glance at your breasts, but they slightly bounce with each grind.

his eyes close shut for a moment, letting out a relieved groan from his lips. he’s beginning to run warm, under your hands he’s feverish.

“i—i think i threw an inter—oh, God.”

you felt his hardness underneath you completely now, letting him talk himself absentmindedly into a quickening stimulation. joe’s eyes barely took on a blue shade now, drowned out by borderline black from his pupils. you bit your lip, running your teeth against smoothness. “keep talking, honey.”

how could he? you were dripping wet underneath him, cotton and lace becoming fervently damp and sticky like a finger to honey. joe swore he could smell your arousal, the undying mixed scent of your perfume, ache, and something cinnamon-y. 

“(your name,) don’t say that—“ joe’s grip on your waist is relentless, pulling you down a nudge more to ruck himself into you, not caring for how his ribs throb with each swift motion. “—fuck, please?”

you lean down until your lips brush adjacently to the shell of his ear. your cadence is barely above a hushed whisper, “i’m gonna make you feel good tonight, joey. no more talking, okay?”

another slow roll of your hips drags soaked fabric against the rigid outline of him, and the friction makes him choke on a tender groan. his fingers slide up to your breasts, cupping and lightly rubbing as if he’s too afraid to let go.

“baby—please.” he rasps, nearly wrecked. “need to be inside you. hurts so bad not to.”

you pout, knowing it’d be cruel to let him go on for so long without real touch. you press a tiny kiss to his temple, “i know, my love.”

positioning your hips a little lower, you sit up just enough to tug your panties to the side, and ruck your smooth night gown up to your waist. a strap slides down over your shoulder, exposing more skin. 

you let your braids cascade loosely out of your messy ponytail, framing your face angelically despite your actions—there’s no preamble to your actions, just understanding need. your other hand slips between both bodies, then down into his calvin klein underwear beneath his sweatpants.

pre-cum slicks the tip of him messily, slicking all over your warm hand with each gentle stroke. stroking once, twice, before releasing him to gather more slickness from your own entrance. dipping your fingers beneath your overstimulated sex to gather enough lubrication.

you continue without hesitation to stroke him,

mixing your combined arousals until he’s twitching hard beneath you. joe’s head tips back into the pillow more, his strained breaths turning into whines all over again. “gonna cum.” joe’s eyes meet yours again, not bearing to look a minute more as the illuminated sight of you utterly shatters him.

“easy,” that sweet, unassuming voice of yours drives him up the wall. “let me do it. you stay right here.”

bringing your hips forward and up, guiding the glossy pink tip closer to your entrance with a hand shaky with anticipatory need.

joe lets out a faint exhale, a steady stream of pent up desire becoming vocalized in his almost incomprehensible words.

“fuck—you’re so good to me.” 

eventually, you sink down onto his length. agonizingly slow because you’re reading his expression for any flicker of discomfort. each inch you take more makes your body quiver, he’s a lot to handle.

once you’ve taken him, it’s daunting to pull yourself up. your hands press into the rigidity of his abs, almost digging your nails in accidentally. a shaky, relieved sound leaves you both. “oh, joe.” you whine.

the weight of the night truly has nowhere to hide.

you pause for a moment more, allowing him to feel how pulse around him. letting yourself still adjust to the stretch that rips waves of pleasure through you like a frequency. “there, there.” your murmur to coax him.

rocking in the tiniest motion as your clit feels up against his pelvic bone, “just feel me,” you whisper.

his large hands slide under the rosé pink night gown in all its shimmery glory, palms hot against your bare skin that send shivers down your spine. 

joe’s thumbs brush the undersides of your breasts as you embrace his lips in a wet kiss, tongues gliding along each other without fail. joe doesn’t thrust up, he doesn’t dare to—but the way he opens his eyes to look at you, oh, it undoes you. 

pupils still blown, lips parted as you pull away with a string of saliva connecting you two.

he’s already halfway gone. bewitched by you.

“God, i love you.” 

you sweetly smile, barely masking your flushed glow dancing across your face. “i love you too, joey.” but your sweetness is a façade to your relent, continuing to maintain an unhurried rhythm.

hips rolling in languid circles that drag him deep inside you then almost letting him slip out to draw a hiss from him only to sink back down again. each motion is painfully deliberate, like you’ve been planning to map every inch of him with your femininity.

you trace pretty shapes all along his ribs to soothe him, feeling the rapid thud of his heart as he reaches a certain point of no return.

joe’s head is tipped back, revealing his neck to you, his throat exposed in a way that shows his adam’s apple jolting with every ragged swallow. his hands roam your thighs with a tinge of possession to remind you who’s truly in control despite his exhaustion.

but he doesn’t try to usurp you, tonight he’s too wrecked. too lost. too grateful for how you feel wrapped around him like velvet. “don’t stop—you feel so good.”

his words crack on the lazy words,

barely audible to you. 

and it sends a fresh rush of heat straight to your core as you quietly cry out his name, leaning forward against to brush your lips against his jaw. peppering him with kisses as your whine, “i’ve got you, joey. just let it happen.”

you pick up the tiniest bit of speed—not much, just enough that the friction builds steady instead of suddenly. your clit grinds against his pelvis with each downward roll, sending little sparks up your body. biting your lip to prevent moaning too loud, but a soft sound still slips out when he twitches inside you, thick and throbbing.

his fingers dig harder into your skin, nails leaving faint crescents to mark you. “baby—i’m close already. oh, fuck.”

sweetly, you let a string of tangled moans fall from your mouth. “cum for me, wanna feel it so bad.” all of your prior restraint dissipates into nothing, your mind is addled with nothing but sheer pleasure. one of your hands slides back to cradle his neck as you bury your face into the crook of it. 

fingers threading through old highlighted strands again, scratching lightly at his scalp the way you know that melts his resolve. the other stays braced at his chest for the leverage you need to move, riding him with more purpose than before—so gingerly to chase your own orgasm. 

the hotel room fills with the quiet sounds of wetness, your bodies moving together in a synchronized yet messy manner, his low groans, and your breathy whimpers. joe’s cock began to swell a little more inside you, being the telltale pulse that he’s right there.

“cum for me.” you repeat.

causing his eyes to flutter open after being in the throes of pleasure—those pale blue hazy pupils blown wide. he locks onto the sight of you like only you can tether him to earth.

you rock once faster, curling more into him as his hands grip your ass to bring you down more. 

circling your hips again, hard enough that your sensitive clit catches at the perfect angle to induce a coil in your belly that snaps taut.

“joey—!”

his name dies against your tongue, a half moan and half plea. he answers with a broken sound, hips jerking despite the pain that must flare in his ribs. he can't help it anymore. his release hits him hard-hot pulses deep inside you, body locking up beneath yours as he spills with a long, shuddering groan. "fuck—(your name)—”

the feel of him coming undone tips you over whatever edge you’ve been stuck on. you clench around him, thighs trembling, a soft cry escaping as your own pleasure crescendos through you in slow, warm waves.

moving through it, every tremor ensures a new level of want you’ve both never felt in such a prolonged way. 

you ease off more carefully, wary of the sensitivity which lingers once you pull away. prompting you both to sigh at the sensation of your joining being broken. lying forward as your breasts press to his chest, mindful of his bruising.

you kiss his clavicle, “hi.”

he blinks feverishly, wrapping both arms around you—tentatively pressing a kiss of his own atop your head. joe doesn’t respond for a few minutes, still coming down as his breathing syncs up with your unique pattern.

when he finally speaks,

it’s muffled against your braids. his inflection is so wrecked by you, “thank you for taking care of me, pretty girl. don’t know where i’d be without you.”

basking in the pale lighting of your hotel room, a bright afterglow paints girlishly across every feature on your face. starting from your expressive eyes to your silky-soft lips, “you better thank me.”

and to that, joe can’t help but grin like a fool.