Greywritesthings - Grey

𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐆𝐮𝐲

Parings → Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings → nakedness, suggestive, 18+

Summary → Peter gets really giddy when he sees your boobs.

A/N - was inspired by @webslingingslasher 's this little blurb

You stepped out of Peter’s bathroom, towel in hand as you gently dried your hair, water droplets still lingering on your skin. The air in his room was warm, comforting, and the sound of a movie quietly played on the TV. You stood by the edge of the bed, your eyes naturally drifting toward the screen where Peter had his focus locked—well, until he caught sight of you in his peripheral vision.

He shifted slightly, trying to refocus on the TV, but his mind couldn’t quite settle. His gaze kept pulling toward you, and you noticed how his eyes flickered in your direction, widening for a moment.

“What?” You asked, confused but amused as you caught him staring out of the corner of your eye.

“Nothing,” he stammered quickly, eyes darting back to the screen. But his mind wasn’t there at all. Not when his peripheral vision picked up something else—a peek of skin, the curve of your boobs just barely in sight as you moved to grab something from his nightstand.

Peter turned his head, and in that instant, his brain short-circuited. You weren’t wearing a shirt. In fact, you weren’t wearing anything at all.

"Whoa—" His voice cracked a little, and his whole body froze in place.

You didn’t seem to notice at first, casually sitting down on the bed next to him, stretching out like it was the most normal thing in the world.

"Is this... are you asking for sex?" Peter blurted out, his face already turning red as his eyes stayed glued to you.

You laughed softly, looking at him like he was overreacting. "No, just hanging out, why?"

His eyes flickered down to your chest, then back up, his mouth slightly open. "Your boobs are out. Like, I’m looking at them."

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head with a playful smile. "Peter, I’m literally butt-ass naked."

"Yeah, I know! But like—" His hands gestured toward your chest, unable to look away. "Your boobs. They’re just out right now."

"And? You’ve seen them a million times!"

Peter was quiet for a second, clearly struggling to process the situation. "Yeah, but… they’re just there. And you’re chilling, like, I can just look at them."

"Peter," you chuckled, giving him a light shove. "Stop acting like a child."

"I did nothing today, and I’ve been rewarded with free boobs," he continued, not even hearing your words at this point. "Holy shit, I’ve never been luckier than this moment right now."

"You're such a dork," you said, shaking your head with a grin.

Peter blinked, eyes wide, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Is this a thing? Are we doing this now? Like, am I lucky enough to get this for the rest of my life?"

You laughed, rolling your eyes but secretly loving how giddy he was. "Oh my god, Peter."

He finally pulled his eyes away from your chest to meet your gaze, his expression still one of awe. "Seriously, I’m the luckiest guy ever. You don’t even know."

"Peter," you said, raising an eyebrow, "I’m right here. I think I know."

But Peter was in his own world, his grin wide and goofy. "I mean, I’ve loved you for a million reasons, but this—this is just the cherry on top."

You snorted, giving him another playful shove. "Okay, calm down, Parker."

Peter scooted closer to you on the bed, still unable to hide his amazement. "Are you sure this isn’t some weird trick to get me to do something?"

You laughed again, leaning into his side. "No, Peter. Just hanging out."

He let out a sigh of relief, but his eyes flickered back down, unable to help himself. "God, I love you."

"You love my boobs," you rolled your eyes.

"That too!" Peter admitted, leaning in to press a kiss to your shoulder. "But I love you way more."

You felt your heart swell at his words, but you kept the teasing grin on your face. "Better."

Peter laughed, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, his hand resting lightly on your arm. "Seriously, though. This… this is the best day ever."

You rolled your eyes again, but you couldn’t help the warmth that spread through your chest. Being with Peter, even in these silly, casual moments, made everything feel perfect.

"You're ridiculous," you said softly, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.

Peter leaned into you, still grinning like he couldn’t believe his luck. "Yeah, but you love it."

Peter bit his lip, trying to contain his excitement but failing miserably. His wide, boyish grin returned as he looked at you. "Can I… massage them?"

You raised an eyebrow, smirking as you leaned back slightly, crossing your arms. "You're just searching for a reason to touch them."

Peter chuckled nervously, shrugging his shoulders like he was caught red-handed. "No.... okay yes, but… you can’t blame me, right? I’m only human!" His eyes darted between your face and your chest, barely able to keep still.

You let out a light laugh, shaking your head at how easily flustered he got around you, even after all this time. "You are so predictable, Pete."

"Hey, in my defense," he said, sitting up straighter, "you’re literally naked, and I’m trying to be a good boyfriend here by, you know, helping you relax. Massages are relaxing!"

"Is that so?" You teased, leaning a little closer to him, watching as his eyes widened at your movement. "So you're offering to help me relax, huh? Not just trying to cop a feel?"

"Totally!" Peter grinned sheepishly, clearly knowing you saw right through him. "I’m all about helping, nothing else."

You playfully rolled your eyes, leaning back against the pillows, still not entirely convinced. "Uh-huh, sure. What kind of massage are we talking about, Mr. Parker?"

His eyes brightened instantly, and he shifted on the bed, eager to make his move. "Like, a really good one! I’ve been practicing my technique, you know. I could help with any tension you’ve got—neck, shoulders, or… y'know… boobs"

"Peter," you laughed, raising a hand to cover your face, "you really are something else."

"Come on, please?" He practically begged, his face adorably eager as he reached out his hands, hovering them just above your chest as if asking for permission. "You know it'll feel amazing."

You sighed dramatically, though a playful smile tugged at your lips. "Alright, fine. But if this is just a clever excuse to—"

Before you could even finish, Peter’s hands gently cupped your breasts, his touch tentative at first as he gauged your reaction. The second you didn’t protest, he relaxed, his grin widening.

"Okay, this is awesome," he whispered, his hands moving carefully as he started massaging your skin in soft, slow circles. "I swear I’m being professional about this."

"Uh hu, sure you are," you said, but you couldn’t help the soft sigh that escaped your lips as his warm hands worked their magic. You hadn’t expected him to actually be good at it.

"See? Told you I’m good at this," Peter murmured, clearly pleased with himself as he gently kneaded your skin. "I mean, I could do this all day."

You chuckled, feeling his excitement through his careful movements. "Yeah, I can tell."

Peter leaned in, his breath warm against your neck as he spoke. "Can we make this a regular thing? Like, I get to massage you every night?"

"Now you’re definitely pushing it," you teased, swatting his arm.

"But I’m serious!" He insisted, his grin still in full force. "It’s a win-win, right? You get a massage, and I get—"

"To touch my boobs," you finished for him, smirking.

"Exactly!" Peter said, nodding as if this was the most logical argument in the world. "Everybody wins."

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head at his adorable persistence. "You're lucky you're cute, Parker."

"I know," he whispered back, his grin softening as he leaned in to press a gentle kiss to your lips. "I’m the luckiest guy in the world."

His hands continued to move slowly, more focused now as he massaged your skin with just the right amount of pressure. You felt your body relax under his touch, your playful banter giving way to a comfortable silence.

"Okay, okay," you finally murmured, your voice soft as you melted into the pillows. "You might’ve been right about this massage thing."

Peter chuckled softly, leaning down to kiss the top of your head. "Told you."

You closed your eyes, letting yourself enjoy the moment. His hands were warm, gentle, and filled with affection. This wasn’t just about him copping a feel—it was him loving you in his own silly, adorable way.

"Fine," you whispered, a smile tugging at your lips, "maybe we can make this a regular thing."

Peter’s eyes lit up with excitement, his grin spreading wide as he kissed your cheek. "Best. Day. Ever."

‎∗ ࣪ ˖༺ 𓆩☆𓆪 ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

do you ever just … picture a whole scene, a whole fanfiction in your head, you know how to place every single word of the english dictionary that you need (or your language dictionary), you know how to structure your sentences, you know just what your characters are going to say to each other and then… and then you just open microsoft word.

when doms coo out a soft ‘there you arreee’ the moment their sub finally gives in and starts whimpering, gasping, making the prettiest noises while being absolutely ruined >>>

very conflicting…. if i want a certain character to be my dad or my boyfriend

I adore this omds

carry the weight of you | s.r

A/N: i had this posted on an old blog but here's this, idk if i like it but it's also one of my first fics so if lemme know if you have thoughts <3

cw: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, reader is sad, depression ?, spencer is a cutie who just wants to love, can be read as gn!reader

wc: 1.8k

_______________________________________________

it was supposed to be a routine case. well, not a routine case. those don’t really exist in the bau, but one that had a clear MO and decent enough leads that garcia could easily use to find the unsub. it wasn’t even a case that was especially creepy in nature, lord knows those give the whole bureau nightmares for days.

so why did you feel this way?

you were relatively new to the team—having one year under your belt to your near decades experienced colleagues. but you had rightfully earned your spot in the bau, and you deserved to be there.

but right now you had no energy to believe that. the ache in your chest was ever present from your younger days, courtesy of the circumstances from your upbringing, and you should’ve expected that joining the fbi would’ve only made it heavier. you bared it nonetheless because that’s what you were taught to do. you felt beaten down by the last few days, and just couldn’t wait to get back home and crawl into your bed.

the team had wrapped up the case, and you all were on the jet flying back home to the district. sat next to the ever observant dr. reid, he noticed your glazed eyes and distant aura exuding from you.

“you okay?” he bumps your shoulder bringing you out of your trance.

“i’m fine, don’t worry about me.” you replied curtly and tried to fold into the crevice between the seat and the walls of the plane.

“bold of you to lie to a profiler while on a plane full of profiles,” he chuckled lightly, “seriously, you look troubled. are you sure you don’t wanna play honesty hour right now?”

“spence, i’m okay, I promise.” you tried your best at a genuine smile that was as see through as a windexed window. he returned it with his own thin lipped smile and left you be. 

were you okay? you don’t even know how long you’ve felt like this. small, insignificant, nothing. you do great work at your job, tarnishing evil and saving lives. but you can’t help but find it ironic that it’s your own mind working against you that seems to be your demise. 

the jet landed around midnight and the team shuffled through the bullpen to gather their belongings before going home. everyone offered their goodbyes and goodnights and spencer was waiting for you by the door. you both lived in the same apartment building, only because when you first moved to quantico you had no one and knew no one. spencer took it upon himself to help you out, being the newest young rookie on the team, a position he was all too familiar with. his next door neighbor had moved out for an immediate job offer and was looking for a subletter and lo and behold, spencer had become your best friend.

in the few months that you were getting accustomed to the area spencer invited you over for nightly chess games and doctor who marathons. morgan always teased the two of you saying you should be going out on the town having fun only young people can have, and spencer would blush and stammer something out but you would have the brightest smile and look at him saying they were the most fun you’ve had.

so he was surprised to say the least when those nights started to become far and few. you would politely decline and spencer would assume you’d finally listened to morgan and got better plans. but he could hear the patter of your footsteps and the occasional expletive from when you’d hit a table corner and wondered what he did to make you recluse yourself again.

spencer was a profiler after all, mix that with being your closest friend and he could pinpoint the moments you started to change. you’d started making less jokes, even during moments where the team would pause and wait for a little quip from you but hear nothing. you were harder to gain attention from, usually needing three or four calls to get you to even look up. and he just saw you distancing yourself, almost like you didn’t want anyone to perceive you.

spencer loved you. he wouldn’t say it out loud or admit to anyone but point blank he loved you. he felt understood in a way that no one else made him feel. you were kind, smart, funny, and the empathy you held for others was enough to make him tear up. you were there for him when maeve died, letting him cry on your shoulder, and as fucked up as it sounds he realized he loved you in those moments leaking tears onto the stomach of your sweater.

so here stood spencer in front of your desk, “you heading home?” you nodded, “mind if i ride with you? i don’t feel like taking the metro this late.”

“okay, let’s go.”

the walk to your car was silent, and somehow the ride back to your apartment complex was even more silent. walking up the stairs to your apartment doors, you turn the key and step in when spencer goes, “hey actually i think i left my book at your place do you mind if i just look for it really quick?”

you stared at him blankly. you just wanted to be alone and he wants to get his book now? unbeknownst to you spencer was desperate to get to the bottom of your melancholia, and needed any in he could find right now to get there.

nonetheless you nodded your head and left the door open behind you so he could walk in. you dropped your bags and shoes at the front door and trudged through your apartment to your kitchen to put tea on the kettle. you softly called out to him, “do you want a cup of tea?”

“i’d love a cup.” he says sitting on your couch.

you’re fussing around the kitchen getting two mugs out— one doctor who and one snoopy mug. you fill the doctor who one up and add a lemon slice and turn around grabbing your snoopy mug. when you turn back towards the kettle you hit the corner of the island table and watch as your favorite mug drops and shatters into millions of pieces.

when they say a straw is what breaks the camel’s back you fully understand what they mean now because how are you about to lose all your shit over a snoopy mug. you don’t even make an effort to move, just staring at the broken pieces on the floor, trying to make sense of them like a kid pointing out cloud shapes. it’s like you can see the pieces molding into the demons that keep you up at night, the thoughts of uselessness and lethargy personifying in front of you.

spencer has to call your name three times before you finally move your eyes to meet his. you can see his lips moving but you can’t hear him, his hands are out as if he’s telling you to stay put oh wait he is. you wait as he finds your dustpan and broom and brushes up the remains into the trashcan. he slowly approaches you and maneuvers you towards the living room where you sit still glossy eyed and trembling.

he sits down next to you and places a hand on your bouncing knee to soothe it, “why won’t you talk to me?”

you shake your head, “it’s nothing spence, it’s not a big deal i can buy a new mug.” push it down.

“not that, something’s not right. and i want to help. will you let me help you?”

you feel the tears making their way up your face to make their grand exit, and you hold on to last bit of resolve you can as you shakily breathe, “i-, i can’t, it’s stupid and we see so much worse stuff so i have to keep it together and i am but today was just-“ you abruptly got up to get water from the kitchen before finishing your sentence. grabbing a glass from the cupboard, filling it up at the sink, and gulping it down with shaky hands. you set the glass down and placed your hands on the cool counter in an attempt to tether yourself to some string of reality that was left. you couldn’t burden him. you wouldn’t.

spencer gives you a minute alone before rising from the couch and walking into the kitchen. he approaches you slowly from behind, mirroring his hands on top of yours, entrapping you in his warm embrace. “i think you’re carrying so much,” he whispers gently in your ear, “you don’t have to do it by yourself. it’s okay to not be okay.”

the tears win and start streaming down your face silently. spencer continues, “what we do, it’s hard. we all have ways of not letting it get to us. rossi and his cigars, hotch and jack, garcia and her tchotchkes, i mean even emily with her sin city weekends.” you let out a wet laugh in response.

spencer doubles down and intertwines his fingers with yours, “my point is, you are not alone. i am here. let me carry some of it for you, please.”

letting out a soft sob you twist in his arms and burrow yourself into his sweatered chest. this was a new feeling for you, letting someone in to see the horrors that you worked so hard to suppress. why would anyone want to brave that journey? surely you weren’t worth the effort.

but as spencer tightened his arms around you, rubbing his hands soothingly down your back and placing a kiss at the crown of your head, you felt that even if the walls of your resolve came crumbling down that spencer would be there to catch as much as he could. and that was enough.

“thank you,” you mumbled tearily incoherent.

“i will always be here for you, no need to thank me sweetheart.”

his kindness overwhelmed you. how could someone who sees so much darkness and been through so much still hold the level of kindness he does?

you lifted your head slightly as his hand came up to cradle the back of your head, “so, what do you have?”

he hummed quizzically in response. you continued, “you said everyone has ways of getting through it, what’s yours?”

“it’s you,” spencer softly says with the most tender loving look in his eyes, smoothing your hair back as he looks down at you in his arms, “it’s always been you.”

your eyes welled up even more and squeezed him tighter if it were even possible. spencer had you. and now you had spencer.

the next day you show up to work, a snoopy mug with a gift bow sits on your desk. 

wanting to talk to people is so fucking embarrassing. literally hi it's me again I wanted to have a conversation with you because I think you're fun to talk to. oh god you can just fucking kill me if you want sorry

Forgot to say, hi im back off of hiatus, new fandoms n all

Anyway hiiiii

(Bestie was very excited about this)

@bipaniccosplays

i have absolutely crippling writers block rn i wana cry