𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤

Breaking Point*

Parings → Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings → Married Couple, Argument, Fluff, Sexual Content, SMUT, P in V, Language.

Summary → After a stupid fight and hours of refusing to speak, you decide to test Peter's self-control... and it works a little too well.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★

The silence in the apartment wasn't just quiet; it was heavy, the kind that pressed against your chest and made every breath feel twice as loud.

It had started over something incredibly stupid-a dropped plate, a forgotten text, a stray comment that hit a little too close to the nerve after Peter had spent forty-eight hours straight getting thrown through brick walls by guys in high-tech suits. You were exhausted; he was running on fumes and Web-Shooter fluid. Words were weaponized, doors were slammed, and by the time dinner rolled around, the kitchen felt less like a home and more like a silent war zone.

Dinner had been a masterclass in passive aggression. The scrape of forks against ceramic. The deliberate, agonizingly slow chewing. Neither of you had blinked. It was both of your faults, really, but you had zero intention of being the one to wave the white flag first.

No, you didn't want to apologize. You wanted to break him.

Peter had finally cracked under the pressure of the quiet around 10:00 PM, tossing his dish in the sink and retreating to the bedroom without a word. By the time you walked in, he was already in bed, lying on his back, staring blankly at the ceiling with his jaw set in that stubborn, rigid line you knew all too well.

You didn't look at him. Instead, you marched straight into the en-suite bathroom and shut the door.

Standing in front of the mirror, you let out a slow, deliberate breath. You looked at the oversized t-shirt you're wearing, then looked down at your hands.

Oh, he thinks he can play the silent treatment? Let's see how long the Spider-Sense lets him ignore this.

Slowly, deliberately, you stripped. First the shirt, then everything else, until you were entirely bare, the cool bathroom air raising goosebumps on your skin. You brushed your teeth, took your time running a brush through your hair, and intentionally left your clothes in a heap on the bathroom floor.

When you opened the door and stepped back into the bedroom, you didn't look at him, but you could practically feel the shift in the room.

Peter's eyes immediately snapped to you. His enhanced vision meant he didn't need the lights on to see every single curve, every inch of bare skin moving through the dim shadows of the bedroom. His breath hitched, a sharp, sudden intake of air that broke the hours of silence.

You ignored him completely. Head held high, you walked over to your side of the bed, gripped the edge of the heavy duvet, and pulled it back. You climbed in, the cool sheets contrasting sharply against your bare skin, and pulled the covers all the way up to your shoulders, turning your back to him.

For a long, agonizing moment, there was nothing but the sound of Peter's ragged breathing.

"Are you serious right now?"

His voice was a low, rough gravel, cutting through the dark. You didn't answer. You just pulled the blanket a little tighter around your chest.

"Y/N."

"What?" you snapped, your tone dripping with calculated indifference, though your heart was starting to hammer against your ribs.

"You're naked in bed."