𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤

Afternoon Heat*

Parings → Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings → Smut, 18+, fingering, thigh riding, dirty talk, soft dom!Peter, overstimulation, wet dream, NSFW, explicit content.

Summary →After a wet dream, you wake up needy and Peter helps you find release.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★

It was the soft hum of the fan that brought you back to consciousness. The way the air barely moved over your flushed skin, sticky with sweat, body thrumming with the remnants of something sinfully good.

Your eyes fluttered open slowly, lazily, as if waking up from some sort of dreamscape. And in a way, you were.

You turned your head slightly, gaze landing on the small digital clock on the bedside table. 5:23 PM. Damn. That nap hit hard.

And then the memory of why your body felt like it was on fire slammed into you. You exhaled sharply, a shaky sound that sounded too much like a whimper for comfort. Your thighs instinctively pressed together as the memory of the dream-you riding Peter in your shared bed, his head thrown back, his moans broken and desperate-sent a shiver down your spine.

Your panties were damp. Uncomfortably so. The kind of wetness that left no doubt what your brain had been conjuring in your sleep.

You sat up with a groan, dragging a hand down your face.

What the hell, brain? At 5 PM in the afternoon?!

But at the same time...

You couldn't help but wonder if Peter was around. Your body still buzzed with need, like your dream hadn't ended. It had just... paused.

You slipped out of bed and padded out into the apartment in your sleep shirt and shorts, trying not to think about how your thighs were sticking together or how sensitive you felt all over. The faint sound of music and clicking buttons reached your ears.

You peeked into the living room.

There he was.

Your boyfriend, Peter Parker, in all his soft-boy glory, lounging on the couch in gray sweatpants and a worn Midtown High hoodie, completely immersed in his game of Mario Kart. His brows were furrowed in concentration, mouth slightly parted as he tried to beat whoever the CPU had pitted him against this time. He looked ridiculously cozy-and criminally hot.

You didn't even think. You just moved.

With purpose.

"Whoa-!" Peter barely managed to pause the game as you straddled his lap, arms around his neck, legs bracketing his hips like you owned him. Because right now? You kinda did.

"Hey, babe," he greeted with a soft grin, clearly amused. "You're awake."

But the playful look on his face faltered when you started grinding on him.

Slow, deliberate, needy.

His eyes widened slightly. "Y/N...?"

You didn't answer with words. You leaned in and kissed him-deep and eager and just a little bit desperate. You moaned into his mouth, your hips working over the bulge forming under you. Peter's hands found your hips, gripping instinctively, but his body tensed.

His lips slowed before pulling away slightly, breathless and flushed, brows scrunching up in concern.

"Wait, baby. Hold on," he panted, his voice low and husky but tinged with guilt. "I-I'm really sorry, but I just ate. Like, literally just finished the sandwich you made before your nap. I'm so full I might actually explode."