𝐀/𝐍 - All credit goes to the writer bruisedboys on Tumblr
https://www.tumblr.com/bruisedboys/737397217924661248/peter-parker-and-is-that-my-shirt-prompt-would?source=share
Parings → Peter Parker x Reader
Warnings → fluff
Summary →"is that my shirt?"
｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★
Peter's missed you so much he actually feels kind of sick. He's practically buzzing as he unlocks the apartment door and lugs his suitcase inside.
"Angel?"
There's a loud and very cute squeal from down the hall. Rapid footsteps, and then you appear in your pyjamas, beaming bright as the sun, looking like the prettiest thing Peter's ever seen.
"Peter!" You squeal, a ball of excitement. "Baby. Oh my gosh." You cross the room and throw your arms around his neck. Peter laughs, his chest flooding with warmth, and hugs you back twice as strong.
"Hi, honey," he says, lovelorn. You smell amazing. You look like an angel. You're squeezing him to death. He's missed you so much he could cry. "Holy moly, I missed you so much."
You giggle, turn your face into the side of his head and drag your nose along his jaw. "I missed you more," you say, lips hot on his skin.
A shiver runs down Peter's spine. He's only had you back for a half a minute and you've already got him shivering? Typical. "Impossible," he tell you. He runs his hands down your back and up again as if to prove to himself you're really there.
You laugh and pull back, bouncing on your toes, to look him in the eye. You're so, so beautiful. Somehow prettier than when he left you, which seemed impossible but apparently isn't, not for you.
You reach up and push a lock of hair from his eyes. Peter's hypnotised. He doesn't get how one girl can be so achingly lovely, so pretty and so sweet, but you manage it. He slides his hands down to your waist, feeling like he might explode if he doesn't touch every inch of you. It's then that he recognises the familiar fabric of your shirt. He looks down.
"Hey, is that my shirt?" He asks, raising his eyebrows. He nudges you backwards with his hips to get a better look. It is his shirt. His favourite one, which he didn't pack for his trip because it suspiciously went missing the day before he left. "It is!" He exclaims, pinching at your side. "You had it this whole time?"
You giggle at his prodding, and try twisting yourself out of the way. Peter keeps a firm grip on you, hand spread over your ribs, his glare full of accusatory heat.
"I'm sorry!" You say, giggling like an idiot when he pinches you some more. "I missed you, okay? Is that such a crime?"
Peter makes a face at you but his heart's soaring. "Well, if you count theft as crime then yeah, I would say so."
You huff. "You're so dramatic!"
"I'm dramatic?" Peter feigns offence, pulling his head back incredulously. "You're the one who stole my-!"
Your lips land on his before he can finish his sentence. His words are lost to your mouth. You push up into the kiss, fervent and hot. Your fingers curl into his collar and brush over the column of his throat, and Peter forgets everything else. He kisses you back just as hard, one arm hooked around your waist and the other bent between your chests to hold your jaw.
"Never mind," he says between kisses. "You can keep the shirt, baby."
You laugh against his mouth.
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