#andrew garfield x reader

he didn't mean it. honestly.

in fact, there's nothing peter wanted more in this moment than not to be painfully hard. but here he was, and he didn't know what the fuck to do.

you had let yourself into his apartment with your spare, angrily marching down his hallway already yelling, up in arms about your latest shitty tinder hook up. his bedroom door slammed open, causing him to jump from where he was working at his desk. he looked to you with wide eyes as you continued the rant you'd started upon entering the threshold of his apartment.

"i mean, seriously? i give you the best head of your life, and you return with saying how 'disgusting' going down on me would be? and then you have the audacity to get mad at me when i don't want to fuck you? what the fuck is wrong with the men of new york?!"

you threw yourself down on his bed, frustrated sighs wracking through your chest as you attempted to calm yourself down, hands rough in your hair. peter stared back with bewilderment, and unfortunately, upon the thought of eating you out, an insane hard-on.

it's not like you hadn't talked about sex in the past five years of knowing peter, the two of you told each other everything. peter had just never seen you so... vulgar about it. so frustrated. he knew he needed to come up with a response — hell, he should've a solid thirty seconds ago — but he was currently willing his blood to stay in the upper half of his body, failing miserably as he couldn't fight off images of you spread for him out of his mind.

"what do you think, pete?" your voice snapped him back to earth.

"w-what?"

you gave a shrug, staring down at your lap and thankfully not seeing peter adjust himself and bring a sweatshirt into his own lap.

"i dunno, maybe i'm being the crazy one here. is it so bad to want head in return?" you stared at him expectantly, like you hadn't just asked him the most insane question he'd ever heard.

he shook his head a little too quickly, mentally cringing at how awkward he was being. parker, pull your shit together!

"no," he responded honestly. "i don't think you're being crazy." i think he's crazy for not wanting to.

you gave another heavy sigh, this time your turn to shake your head. "this is the third guy in a row who was appalled i even dare to bring it up. isn't that fucking crazy?"

peter nodded as though he was in a trance, eyes glossy as he stared at you. his reply fell to a whisper, not trusting the pitch of his own voice right now. "fucking crazy."

he held your gaze for a while as you sat in a comfortable silence. maybe for you, peter, however, was looking for any possible exit strategy that could come his way. his mind was going a million miles per hour, rushing thoughts of having you under him keeping him twitching against his sweatpants. he shifted in his seat, a lapse of judgment on peter's end as the sweatshirt in his lap moved against his groin, a sharp exhale falling from his gaped lips as he did everything in his power to hold back a moan.

if you noticed, you didn't let him know, giving him a soft smile as you stood from his bed to walk closer, gaze now heavy on the physics notes sprawled on the desk. you leaned over his shoulder, a hand on the back of his chair to stabilize yourself as you peered down.

"i'm sorry for complaining about my trashy sex life, this looks a thousand times more important. jesus, what even is all this?"

you leaned down further, your chest now brushing against his shoulder blade as you skimmed the papers, breath hot against his ear. normally, your proximity was no issue for peter — you've been best friends for years, touch wasn't foreign. but with his current circumstances, your touch against him was sending his senses into overdrive, and he was going to combust.

"j-just... physics... i-i guess." he stuttered, not daring to move his head a millimeter as your cheek nearly grazed his own.

you gave a gentle chuckle, the sound earning a groan deep in peter's throat before he knew to stop it. "yeah, i could figure out that much, parker. what's up with you? you're being weird."

you pull back slightly to adjust, immediately turning around to sit on peter's knee. again, it was something you'd done hundreds of times before with no other thoughts or implications, but with the sinful chains around his thoughts right now, it only threw him off more. you went to grab the sweatshirt in his lap, hoping to shift onto him more comfortably. he immediately grabbed your hand to stop you.

"no! i-i mean, i'm fine. i'm not being weird." he let go of your hand, crossing his arms and giving you a shrug, his best attempt at coming off nonchalant. his best wasn't good enough.

"yeah right, peter. what's your prob-" while speaking, you had grabbed for the sweatshirt quicker this time, using the momentum to immediately swing your leg over both his thighs to sit in his lap properly. you sat down fully, cheeks instantly flushing pink, "oh."

there were many times in his life when peter thought about ending it all, but none as much as now. he was going to have to either move countries, or jump from the empire state without his web shooters. those were the only two options circling his head as his wide eyes met yours, a red tint taking over his entire upper body.

"i'm so sorry, h-holy shit," he breathed out, grabbing at your hips to lift you off of him so he could get out of here as quickly as possible. you resisted him, though, doing what you could to fight against him and stay firmly planted on his lap. that made him panic even more. because, of course. he wasn't going to have time to kill himself. you were going to kill him first.

"i-i tried to, i don't... i'm so sorry."

you put your hands on his chest, a genuine look of bewilderment splayed across your features. "is that... is this because of me? what i was talking about?"

not only were you going to kill him, you were going to torment him about it first. and he knew he deserved it.

"pete—"

"i'm so sorry, please let me go, i didn't, i—"

"pete, listen to me."

"this is so embarrassing, i really didn't mean to—"

"peter," you let out his name in a voice he hadn't heard before, something torn between a growl and a moan — all while dragging your hips up against him. he gave a shaky exhale at the pressure, the feeling of you rutting against his cock stopping his guilty rambling.

you found his gaze, his pupils blown and irises dark, a direct correlation to the twitching of his cock as you gave him another soft roll of your hips. his hands found your hips again, holding you firmly in place to stop the teasing movement. his brows knit together, geunine confusion plastered across his face.

"what... what are you doing?" he was breathless, chest heaving as he stared back at you. you hesitantly reached a hand to his hair, palm splaying out on his scalp as your thumb traced circles on his temple. even in his worst possible moments, you were there to calm him down. he had absolutely no idea why you weren't yelling at him, or what you were even still doing here, but he wasn't going to fight it. he melted into your touch, and his breathing hitched as you leaned in closer.

"have you always felt this way?" you whispered, breath against his cheeks sending goosebumps across his body.

"felt... what?" he tried to play dumb, despite the fact that you could also feel how excruciatingly hard he was against you. when he daydreamed about confessing he was in love with you, this was never a scenario in his head.

you let your hand graze slowly down the side of his face, fingers coming to trace his sculpted jawline. his breath didn't just hitch at this point, he was pretty sure his lungs stopped working entirely.

"why haven't you ever said anything?" it wasn't angry, it was a genuine question.

he let out a scoff, a hand leaving your hip to scratch the back of his neck, embarrassment covering his features for the hundredth time this evening. "yeah, well. this isn't exactly how you want to tell your best friend you love her."

your eyes widened, and peter's followed, realization of his words hitting him.

"you love me?"

"holy shit, that's, i didn't, oh my god that's—"

peter's panic was cut off and replaced with awe as he felt your lips crash against his, a feeling he'd been dreaming of since the day he'd met you back in high school. he immediately reciprocated, tilting his head to deepen the kiss and letting a long overdue moan escape from his lips. you smiled against it, both hands interlocking with those brown curls you'd been dying to run your hands through, just like this.

peter nipped at your bottom lip, earning a sharp gasp from you that allowed his tongue much-needed entry into your mouth. the kiss was nothing short of hungry, years of pent-up feelings being released hot and noisily as peter bruised his lips against yours.

he pulled back sharply, out of breath and looking at you as though you weren't real. "wait, i dont... you...?"

you laughed at the lack of his question, though instantly understanding him. you gave a soft nod, a blush creeping over your cheeks as you brought your hands to cup his face. while the kiss was downright sinful, the way you looked at him filled him with nothing but reverence.

"every shitty tinder date happened after i chickened out of telling you how i felt. i just couldn't stand to lose you, peter." you added sadly.

he gave you a knowing look, nodding in agreement. "i know what you mean," he squeezed your hips, a contagious smirk controlling his lips. "wait, you've been going on shitty tinder dates since we moved out for college three years ago."

you returned the smirk, fingers trailing down to ghost the tendons in his neck. "i know."

peter pulled you in again, no longer embarrassed at the desperate noises escaping his throat as he attacked your lips, this kiss somehow hungrier than the last. you grinded down against him again, a raspy "fuck" leaving his swollen lips as he held a firm grip on your hips to keep you moving.

you chuckled at his desperation.

"you're telling me i could've been doing this the whole time instead of shitty jocks thinking its gross to make a woman feel good?" you sighed out as he trailed down your neck, teeth nipping and bruising your soft flesh as he continued to move against your hips, leaving you to soak up the feeling out how hard he was underneath you.

peter groaned in frustration, standing quickly with you still wrapped around his hips. he held you with one arm as though you weighed nothing, lips still attached to the pulse point in your neck. he used the other to catch himself as he threw you down onto his bed. you gasped, your back hitting the soft mattress as you took in peter's frame over you, hands on either side of your head.

he pulled back from his artwork on your neck, his jaw clenched. "i can't believe anyone could ever tell you such nonsense,"

he leaned down again to peck at your lips, hands making their way down to explore your sides. "i can't tell you what an honor it is to even think about how good you taste," he growled in your ear.

you gave a gasp, his words alone enough to have your cunt aching, as if you hadn't been since the second you sat down on his lap. "you... you think about that?"

he let out a chuckle as he sat back, his hands teasingly making their way to the button of your jeans. he ran his fingers under your waistline as his other hand tugged at your zipper, the feeling of your muscles tensing under his touch driving him absolutely crazy.

"more times than you could torture out of me," he pulled your jeans down, nearly finishing in his sweats at the sight of the delicate lace underwear against your burning skin.

“Peter!” You scold, smacking his chest as the heat of memory creeps up your neck.

“It’s true!” He muses, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Plus, you call me baby. I think calling you my girl is fair game.”​

A rebuttal rests on the tip of your tongue. If this were any other date with any other guy, you would’ve shot down the playful possessiveness. But this wasn’t any other date with any other guy; this was a date with Peter: your friend and the guy you’ve had a crush on since Betty introduced you to him at the Daily Bugle’s holiday party two years ago. Being his girl was a title you wanted, and if he was willingly bestowing it upon you, you saw no reason to argue against it. “I suppose it is.”

He hums in response, clearly satisfied with your answer. “I forgot to ask, have you been to the restaurant before?”​

You shake your head as the two turn the corner onto your street, “I have not. I’ve been wanting to since I moved into the neighborhood, but hadn't had the chance until you suggested I choose the spot when you called.”​

Peter nods and gives your waist a soft squeeze. “I’m glad we got to try it together. I also had a really great time.”

“Did you, now?”  ​

“I’m with you, how could I not have a good time?”​

“Sweet talker,” you playfully accuse, stepping forward once the red hand of the walking sign changes to the person walking.

“Sweet enough to come upstairs and see your new apartment?”

You raise your eyebrows at him, pleasantly surprised by his ask. “You helped me move in, Pete. You’ve seen my place.”

“But I haven’t seen the place since you furnished it,” he counters.

“I see…so you want the house tour?” You tease as you reach the entrance to your apartment building.​

“I want whatever you’ll let me have, sweetheart.”​

You brace against the brick wall, turning to face him, taking the time to admire the way he looks under the golden glow of the street lights. There was something so romantic about the way he looked standing in front of you in a half-zipped puffer jacket that exposed the white button up and tie he had on underneath, cheeks and nose a little red from the cold air nipping at his face, with his fluffy hair left unstyled in the perfectly messy way it always was. “And if all I want is for you to come inside?”​

Peter grins at your question, stepping closer and resting his hands on your hips. “What are we waiting for then? Lead the way.”​

—

“Take your shoes off, baby. House rules.” You tell him as you unlock the door to your apartment, step inside, and turn on the lights

Peter shuts the door behind him, kicking his shoes and neatly placing them in front of your shoe rack. He glances around the apartment, taking in the open layout of the space and shrugging off his coat. Your cozy little kitchen was the first thing you saw when you walked in. The dark brown cabinets and wooden countertops complemented the many magnets and photographs on your fridge nicely.​

He hangs his coat next to yours and steps further into the apartment, eyes roaming over the pictures before landing on a photo strip of the two of you from when he was your plus one to a friend’s wedding a few months back. He glances over his shoulder at you, watching you unzip your boots, “You know, May took this from my apartment when I told her I finally asked you out to show her book club?”

“I know and I’m honored,” you half joke, putting your boots aside and joining him in the kitchen.

“You know?”​

“May and I gossip, baby. She told me all about nabbing the picture and you refusing to tell her about our dates. And I gotta say she made a shaky but damning case about how she and her friends had been waiting too long for us to get together for you to hold out on them now.”

He raised his eyebrows, “Since when do you gossip with my aunt?”

“Since I called her a few months ago to ask if she wanted to come to the dinner party I threw to celebrate my promotion. It was supposed to be a quick call, but then we started talking about our days, and you and it just spiraled from there. Now we chit chat every other week.”

“So that’s why she stopped asking me about our dates,” he thinks aloud.

You shake your head and reach for his hand, tugging him out of the kitchen, past the small dining table, and into the living room. “Partly. She knows she won’t get anything out of me aside from telling her that the date went well and that you were the gentleman she and your uncle raised you to be.”

“And that’s all you say?” He asks, glancing around at the way you decorated your living room. Everything was so…you. From the sofa to the throw blanket hanging over the arm, to the pillows, to the books scattered across the coffee table, to the framed pieces of artwork mixed in with pictures. Your apartment felt so lived in, considering you moved in only a few weeks prior.  

“I don’t kiss and tell, Parker."​

“I know. I know you don’t,” he responds, taking a seat on the sofa. “I love what you’ve done with the place, by the way.”

“Do you?” The question rolls off your tongue with ease and affection.​

He looks up at you, the smile on his face widening into a grin as you stand between his legs. “I do,” he affirms, stretching his palms out until they were firmly planted on your hips. “I really really do…definitely a view I can get used to seeing,” he continues, eyeing you up before tugging you into his lap.

Your hands press flat on his chest, pushing him back against the couch just enough for you to readjust your position and comfortably straddle him with your knees on either side of his hips. You lean back on his thighs and admire the dopey smile he was sporting. “If you’re lucky, I might even let you admire the view in the morning too.”

“Yeah?” He questions, tugging you closer and stifling a groan when your hip rolls over his. “And how lucky do I have to be to admire you in the afternoon?”

“My nights, my mornings, and now my afternoons? I’m beginning to think you have a thing for me, Parker.”

A familiar smirk graces his face at your teasing comment. “Am I that transparent?” He asks, sliding his hands down to the curve of your ass and kneading your flesh over the skirt of your dress that was riding up.

“Mhm,” you hum, craning your head down to kiss him.

The kiss, like all your kisses had been, started off slow with his lips moving gently against, letting you set the pace but allowing himself to be a little selfish in the way his hands roamed your body. He caresses your thighs, squeezing them as you start to rock against him.

Peter groans against your mouth, his hands jumping back to your hips to guide your movement, and taking the chance to try and deepen the kiss by running his tongue over your bottom lip.

“So eager,” you mumble, rocking harder against his growing bulge, grinning when he lets out a moan.​

“Can you blame me?” He breathes out, hiking up the fabric of your dress a little further until it bunches at your hips. “Look extra pretty tonight.”

“So beautiful,” he whispers, kissing along the length of your neck and reveling in the low whimpers you were letting out as you grind against him. “Can’t believe I get you all to myself.”

His quiet praises never failed to make you flustered, and tonight was no exception. “Such a sweet mouth.”

“I can get a lot sweeter,” he jokes, nipping at your pulse point.

Your hands move off his chest and towards his neck, loosening his tie and then traveling back down to toy with the buttons of his shirt. “Can I take this off?”

“Who’s eager now?”

“Still you,” you quip, rolling your hips over the tent in his pants to prove your point as you start to unbutton his dress shirt.

His head rolls back with a shaky moan, “Sweetheart, cmon—“​

“What the fuck!”

Peter’s head snaps up to look at you, a panicked look on his face as he tries to figure out what prompted the wide-eyed expression on your face. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

You stammer over your words as you hesitantly touch his chest, “Y-your…are you…Is this real?”

He glances down at your hand tracing over the webbing of his spider suit and freezes. “Is this real? Are you Spider-Man?"​

He opens his mouth to answer, but the words get caught in his throat. He knew he'd have to tell you at some point, especially if the budding romance between the two continued to bloom, and he was ready to do so at a later point when things were more official.

​“Oh my god, please don’t tell me you’re one of those guys who dress as him and hustle tourists for money. Wait, is this a sex thing?”

​“What?” He laughs, the question immediately making the anxiety weighing in his chest disperse.

​You smack his chest, “Don’t laugh! I’m serious! I don’t mind a bit of roleplay, but a heads up would have been nice.”

​“Not a sex thing,” he tries to assure, through stifled laughter. “It’s not, I promise. And I’m not one of those guys that walk around taking pictures with tourists in Times Square either.”

​“So you’re the real deal? You’re actually Spider-Man?”

​“I am.”

​“Prove it.”

​“Is the suit not enough?”

​“You know how many guys probably have a spidey suit tucked away in their closet?”

​He raises his eyebrow, “Do you know guys with a Spider-Man costume on hand?”

​“Three excluding you.”

​“Three?”

​“Is it that surprising? Spider-Man has a ton of fans.”

​“Yeah, but it’s mainly little kids that dress up as me. I’ve seen a few adults on Halloween and the ones in Times Square, but that’s it.”

​“You still haven’t proved that you’re him. You could just be some guy in spandex.”

​“I’m your guy in spandex,” he counters.

​“But is my guy the real Spider-Man or just another fanboy?” You question, your fingertips gliding over the spider logo on the suit.

​“So skeptical,” he teases as he unbuttons the cuff of his sleeve and reveals a wristband with a red device attached to it. “These are my webshooters. They have an optical sensor and when I move my fingers, it recognizes the gesture and shoots out the web.”

​He aims his hand at your dining table, curling his middle and ring finger towards his palm until a loud thwip! echoes through your apartment, and a web shoots out and covers the wood.

​“Woah!”

​“They dissolve in about two hours.”

​“Wow. I want to touch it,” you blurt out, starting to move off his lap, only for him to catch your waist and hold you in place.

​“Don’t. It’s really sticky, and I don’t think either of us are interested in waiting two hours for you to get unstuck.”

​You nod and sit back against his thighs. “I’m guessing this isn’t how you were planning on telling me.”

​“Not at all. I completely forgot I had the suit under my clothes. Admittedly, I didn’t think the night would end like this. I thought I’d walk you home, maybe get a couple kisses before you send me on my way, but then we started flirting, and I made the comment about coming up, and then you said I could, having the suit on didn’t really cross my mind.”

​He squeezes your waist and pinches the fabric of your dress between his fingers. “It’s really really hard to think about all of that when you’re on my lap and kissing me and grinding on me.”

​“Too horny to think,” you conclude with a light laugh.

​“Yeah,” he huffs out. “Is this a deal breaker for you?”

​“Definitely not. I’m a little worried about your health and well being, but this doesn’t change how I feel about you. Or well it does, but not in a negative way.”

​“What does that mean?”

​“Your big brain and even bigger heart are two of the many reasons why I’m crazy about you, Pete. You being Spider-Man is just an enhancement of what I already knew; you’re a good man.”

​He breathes out and drops his head to your shoulder, “Good. That’s good. This is good. I know you probably have a lot of other questions, and I’ll answer them.”

​You hum in agreement and thread your fingers through his hair, gently massaging his scalp. “I do have a lot of questions, but I’d much rather finish the house tour before we get to that.”

​“Finish?”

​“Haven’t even seen the bedroom yet, baby. What kind of tour guide do you take me for?”

​You could feel his lips curve into a smirk against your shoulder before he picks his head up to look at you. “I see. Wouldn’t want to leave things incomplete now, would we?”

​“No, we would not.” You whisper, leaning in to give him a fleeting kiss and sliding off his lap. “If you’d follow me this way, I’d love to take you there. It’s my favorite room.”

​He stands up and reaches for your hand, letting you lead him down the hallway. “Any reason why?”

​“There’s a theory that it's a place where your dreams come true. You’re a man of science, do you want to test that theory?”

despite peter's warning, you aim your arm to throw.

"you're playing with fire, you know that?"

"no, i’m playing with snow."

"oh, that's cute. really cute."

you promptly hit peter with the snowball. he raises a challenging eyebrow, and you know you're in for it. you start to run away, giggling, peter chasing after you. he's quick to catch up. he grabs your waist and pins you against a streetlight, breathing out smoke into the cold air through laughter.

"you wanna try that again?"

peter's gaze darts between your eyes and lips. you bite back a grin.

"kind of."

"what a shame. it'd be strike three."

"what happens after strike three?"

"you wouldn't get this."

peter leans in and kisses you. you loop your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. he hums in content, hands squeezing your waist and lips trailing over to your cheek. he pecks both your cheeks, your nose, just above your lips, peppering kisses all over your face until you're giggling and trying to push him away.

"no, no, no, stop! that tickles!"

peter kisses down your chin and back up, across your forehead, over to your temple. you grin despite yourself, tugging at his locks that are damp with snow.

"i’m serious, pete! stop it!"

"no can do, babe. can't help myself, you're just too damn cute."

peter pecks your cheek a few times, earning a noise of protest.

"so cute i could eat you up."

"nuh uh."

you pull the zipper of your jacket all the way up so it's covering the lower half of your face.

"yeah huh."

peter leaves big, lingering kisses on your forehead, each one punctuated with a mwah. when you realize he's not going to let up, you finally concede. you uncover your face and capture his lips with yours, the only way to make him stop. your nose nudges his, head tilting to look at him.

"are you done?"

"not even close."

peter kisses you again. you kiss him back, smiling into it. he moves your jacket out of the way and continues his kiss attack, this time on your neck. you let him have his fun, enjoying the feeling of his lips on your skin. you squeal when he finds one particular spot and nips at it.

"pete! what're you doing?"

"i told you, eating you up."

he playfully bites at your neck between a series of kisses, arms locked around your waist, drawing the most adorable sounds out of you that he can't get enough of. you thread your fingers through his hair.

"don't forget we're in public, mister."

your tone doesn't match your words, unconvincing, and you're resting your head on the lamp pole so peter has more access. he smirks.

"i know, they're just love bites."

he starts to suck at your neck. the pressure is light, but enough to leave a hickey. you play with his fluffy hair, letting out a noise between a sigh and a moan. you feel the vibrations from peter laughing. you feel something poking at your thigh, too.

"and you're telling me we're in public? whew, i think we'd better get you home."

"you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

peter answers by holding you in place and kissing down your neck, making you breathless from laughter.

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