Tom Holland & Peter Parker Imagines & Preferences (book 2)

How to kiss (smut)

"Here, sit next to me." You patted the mattress, watching as Peter hesitantly shuffled over. He perched himself down onto the bed, legs crossing over each other.

He felt bad knowing that you had plans to go out with your friends into the city for the day, but you had insisted on helping him with his dilemma before you left. Peter knew that you were thrilled about the new art museum that had just opened up only a few days ago. Your father had managed to surprise you with some tickets for you and a few other of your friends to attend.

Peter's cheeks flushed red when he noticed your outfit: a nice, halfway unbuttoned white blouse and a high-waisted dark denim skirt. He couldn't help but admire how the crisp white hue of the top made your glimmering eyes pop, the few undone buttons leaving plenty of room to expose your collarbones adorned with a single silver pendant. His gaze traveled up your legs, heart racing at how perfectly the skirt hugged your thighs. He thought you looked absolutely beautiful, and that you had matured quite a lot after you had turned eighteen. Since before then, you were still making his stomach erupt with nervous butterflies.

After having known you since you were fifteen, he'd obviously developed quite the crush on you. How could he not? You were intelligent just like your father, caring and compassionate, and beautiful in more ways than just one. You just had a brilliant taste in absolutely everything! You were Y/N Stark, for Christ sake, of course you had good taste. But it wasn't even about the name, it was about you.

"Are you sure your dad is okay with this? I-I don't know how exactly he'd feel if he found out his trainee was uh, kissing his daughter? He'd kill me," Peter stumbled through his words, anxiously fiddling with his hands. He wouldn't vocalize it in this situation, but he was beyond happy that you'd agreed to kiss him (for the sake of educational purposes only, of course). He just didn't want to majorly piss of Mr. Stark for breaking the number one rule he had set when it came to being friends with you.

You rolled your eyes, tossing a length of wavy hair over your shoulder. "As much as I love and adore my father," you spoke, "he doesn't control me. Besides, I'm just teaching you how to do it. It's not like some marriage proposal." You smiled those blinding, pearly whites at him through your glossy lips, then continued. "But thanks for being so concerned. You're really sweet, Peter."

The corners of Peter's lips curved up into a gentle smile, his cheeks flushing a dusty shade of pink. He couldn't help the way his heart practically performed somersaults within his chest at the compliment. God, he was really beginning to fall for you, and he definitely needed to get a grip about it. "Thanks. And Y/N ... I-I think you're really great, too. I know it must be kind of weird for you and all, teaching me to do something stupid like this, especially since you kind of have a thing going on with someone else—"

Your brows pinched together, head tilted in confusion. "Who told you that? I don't have anything going on with anyone."

Peter struggled to find his words, his eyes slightly widening at the urgency in your tone. "N-no one! No one told me that, I just kind of assumed because I mean, you're obviously a very beautiful girl and you have a lot of friends and are like, really smart—I'm sorry! I didn't mean to scare you like that or assume anything, I just—"

"You think I'm beautiful?" You stopped him, heart fluttering at his words. You stared at him with speckling eyes, bashfully looking down at your folded hands.

Peter mentally chastised himself for the incessant word vomit, wishing desperately that he could rewind those last few seconds to avoid the embarrassment of his short tangent. "Well, I mean, yeah. I-I do."

You anxiously tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. "Thanks, Peter," you hummed kindly, "I think you're pretty cute, too."

Peter nearly choked. "You think I'm cute?"