𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤

A Week Without You*

Parings → Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings → SMUT!! 18+, unprotected sex (pls don't do it), fingering, oral (fem receiving), language, a bit bossy! Reader

Summary → The reader is touch starved after spending a week without Peter.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ

The apartment felt emptier without Peter. A whole week had passed since he left for a mission, and it had been torture. The phone calls at night were nice, but they weren't enough. Hearing his voice through the speaker didn't compare to feeling him-his warmth, his hands on your waist, his fingers tangled in your hair.

You weren't usually this needy, but something about this week had been unbearable. Maybe it was the loneliness. Maybe it was the way you had to fall asleep every night without him pulling you close. Maybe it was just that you were touch-starved to hell and back.

But finally, finally, he was coming home tonight.

You had been pacing the living room for the past thirty minutes, heart hammering in anticipation. You didn't even bother with distractions-there was no way you could focus on a movie or a book when Peter was almost home.

Then, the sound of keys jingling outside.

Your heart practically leapt out of your chest at the sound.

The lock turned, the door creaked open-and there he was.

Peter stood in the doorway, his backpack slung over one shoulder, hair messier than usual. He looked exhausted but so, so good. His soft brown eyes met yours, a slow smile spreading across his face.

"Hey, bab-"

You didn't let him finish.

You launched yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck, pressing your entire body against him. Peter let out a startled laugh as he stumbled back against the door, his hands immediately coming up to grip your waist.

"Whoa-hi to you too," he chuckled, his voice warm with amusement.

You buried your face in his neck, inhaling deeply. He smelled like faded cologne, a little sweat, and home. "You were gone forever."

Peter's hands tightened around you. "It was a week, sweetheart."

"Exactly."

You pulled back just enough to look at him, taking in every little detail of his face-the way his lashes brushed against his cheeks, the slight stubble on his jaw, the tired but happy glint in his eyes.

Then, you kissed him.

Peter made a surprised noise, but he quickly melted into it, one hand coming up to cup the back of your head. The kiss started slow, a soft press of lips, but that wasn't enough. You tilted your head, deepening it, fingers gripping the fabric of his t-shirt.

Peter groaned against your mouth, his fingers digging into your waist.

"Missed me much?" He teased against your lips.

You glared. "I'm actually mad at you for leaving me alone for a week."

"Oh yeah?" His grin was smug. "Doesn't seem like you're mad."

You huffed. "I am mad. Very mad."

"Sure," he smirked.

"I am, Peter." You pulled him into another kiss. This one was messier, more desperate, your hands moving to his shoulders. You felt the tension in them, the lingering exhaustion in his body, and you wanted to erase it.