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whatever you want

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The thing is, Peter wants to do this right.

Like, Harley doesn’t feel too picky about what they use, to be honest — he just wants something, because the dream he had was so hazy with want and pleasure and he had woken up with a hard on unlike any he’s ever had before. Seriously, he barely had to touch himself before he was creaming in his boxers, sinking his teeth into his pillow to stop from making a noise because Ned was asleep on the other side of the dorm and that’s an awkward situation he’d rather avoid, and he hadn’t even checked the time before he fumbled for his phone and texted Peter.

And Peter wanted it, too.

But Peter is caring, wants to make this as good as possible, which Harley gets — he is the one who spent multiple days researching vibrators and reading up on vagina’s just to know the best ways to pleasure Peter, after all — but Harley is aching and impatient. He’s already fallen in love with the vulnerable neediness that clouds Peter’s dazed eyes when they fuck, is addicted to his noises and his reactions, always so willing and ready to provide. But, like... Harley is a switch. He loves providing for Peter, has gotten Peter off at least twice a day since they got together (in practical places and in very impractical places) and could probably live the rest of his life using his memories of Peter as his only source of spank bank material, but Harley can be needy, too.

As in, he needsstrap up his ass, like, yesterday, and he hates that he has to wait for it.

“I ordered the stuff we decided on,” Peter tells him, a few days after Harley sends that late night text and the idea is put in their minds. His fingers are threaded through Harley’s hair and Harley is in his new favorite place in the world, between Peter’s thighs, and when Harley hums his acknowledgment with his tongue pressed to Peter’s clit, Peter has a full body shudder. “Seven to ten business days.”

Harley groans, lifts his head to look at Peter with a pout. “Really? That long? Was there no, like, express shipping options or anything?”

Peter grins, amused, and pulls Harley up, flips them around to press Harley into the mattress and kiss him breathless, and the topic is forgotten. Until a few days later, when Harley wakes up in Peter’s bed after another dream starring the very object he’s anxiously awaiting the arrival of, and he really tries not to wake Peter up, because they both have pretty early classes that they need to get up for in a few hours, but he fell asleep naked and it’s impossible to resist rutting against the sheets, hissing out breathless noises. It only takes three desperate thrusts before Peter is looking over at him, lips parted and eyes half lidded, and then Peter is tugging Harley into his lap and biting at his collarbones as Harley grinds against his thigh and brokenly moans until he cums between their bare bodies, shoulders sagging, Peter soothing over the love bites with gentle kisses and a soft hum.

Voice weak, Harley asks, “How much longer?”

“Tuesday,” Peter tells him. “Six more days.”

Harley lets out a frustrated noise, rests his forehead against Peter’s shoulder, and shoves a hand between them to finger Peter into oblivion.

The day before it’s supposed to be delivered, Harley doesn’t even try to contain his neediness, can’t find it in himself to do more than lay back on the mattress and whine about how much his entire body is crying out for this, and Peter rolls his eyes with his lips tugged up in some kind of smile and that’s the night that Peter fingers Harley for the first time, slippery and slick with lube, kissing and biting at Harley’s thighs while Harley grips Peter’s hair and lets out embarrassingly loud noises, and after Harley comes undone, Peter straddles his lap and kisses him roughly and rasps, “If that’s what you’re gonna sound like tomorrow, then I’m going to fucking lose it.”

“I love you,” Harley says, breathy and feeling a little weak from the intensity of his orgasm, and his head spins at the sound of Peter’s groan.

And then, like a gift from the heavens above, a simple brown box gets delivered to Peter’s dorm, and Peter spends the entire day reminding Harley about it. In their early morning class that they share, Peter slides his phone over the table with the email already on screen, the words DELIVERY SCHEDULED FOR TODAY written across it in bold letters, and he looks smug when Harley chokes on the sip of coffee he was trying to drink. Then, when they meet up with their friends at lunch, Peter leans into Harley and casually rests his hand on the inside of Harley’s thigh, the action hidden by the table they’re sitting at, and Harley has to bite down on the inside of his cheek to stop from making a sound when Peter’s hand moves up to cup Harley through his jeans.

This may or may not result in Peter giving Harley a blowjob in a bathroom stall, Harley’s hand over his mouth, teeth sinking into the meat of his palm to silence himself, while Peter shoves a hand down the front of his pants to get himself off at the same time. After Harley cums down Peter’s throat with shaking knees and trembling thighs, he pulls Peter to his feet, replaces Peter’s hand with his own, and kisses Peter intensely as he cups Peter’s pussy, applying a delicious pressure to Peter’s clit, and lets Peter hump his hand erratically until he topples over the edge, biting down on Harley’s shoulder as he mewls.

Airy and raspy, Peter says, “Tonight.”

Harley almost cums again. “Yeah, tonight.”

Tonight can’t get here soon enough.

(A sentiment that all of their friends apparently share, as they all glare at them knowingly when they come back from the bathroom with slightly disheveled hair and flushed cheeks and intertwined hands dangling between them. They don’t say anything, though, because they’ve all been tolerating each other’s bullshit for far too long by this point. It’d be hypocritical to tell them off for being young and horny when they’ve all had the unfortunate reality of seeing each other in the same state before. MJ has had a few handsy girlfriends and boyfriends, Flash has been fucking the dude he shares a dorm with since him and Ned switched, and Ned and Betty have been intolerable since high school. In comparison to some of the shit they’ve shared as a group, Peter and Harley are pretty mild, to be completely honest.)

It’s when Harley is in his last lab of the day that he gets the text from Peter, who he knows doesn’t have another class on Tuesday and is simply waiting for Harley in his dorm, and the text consists solely of a picture of the empty box sitting by the door, followed by:


spider baby <3: the harness is surprisingly comfy once it’s like fastened on properly

spider baby <3: wait omg

spider baby <3: oh my god harley this thing is huge

spider baby <3: i mean maybe it’s because i’ve only ever used tiny but mighty little vibrators but like are u sure this can fit in ur ass

spider baby <3: id be afraid to put this in me

yeehaw baby <3: i mean ive used bigger

yeehaw baby <3: u ever heard of the 20 Inch Monster Dildo

yeehaw baby <3: eight inches is NOTHING compare to THAT behemoth

spider baby <3: j e sbus c  thRIS T HA RLRKEY

spider baby <3: u still have it tho

yeehaw baby <3: oh look at that my prof asked me to put my phone away haha gtg

spider baby <3: i hate u

spider baby <3: hurry up when u get out of class please the longer i wear this thing the more excited i am to Use It

yeehaw baby <3: why are you just,,, wearing it

spider baby <3: i saw a sex ed video saying that u should get used to how it feels to wear it before fucking someone with it so i’m like

spider baby <3: im having a time

spider baby <3: it flops when u move

spider baby <3: this is highly entertaining but also its gonna look so hot? going in you? fuck

yeehaw baby <3: i

yeehaw baby <3: IM STILL IN CLASS


spider baby <3: oh my god babe if you think thats me sexting then you are in for quite the treat the first time we actually sext

yeehaw baby <3: hhhh

yeehaw baby <3: dammit now i want to try sexting with you jesus christ peter

yeehaw baby <3: fuck it im leaving early

spider baby <3: you shouldn’t leave early ur education is very important and tony is paying for both of our tuitions

spider baby <3: that being said, please leave early so i can fuck you with this strap on


Needless to say, Harley gets a few strange looks as he hastily shoves his shit into his bag and sprints out of the room at an alarming speed, but he doesn’t care. He just clutches his phone with enough strength to make his hands shake as he dips and dodges through the other people in the hall, trying to make it over to the dorms as quick as he possibly can without raising too many brows. Harley isn’t all that worried about that, though — he’s only got one powered up brain cell and it’s focused solely on getting to Peter right now, there’s no room for sheepishness or embarrassment.

He just really wants to get strapped, okay?

Which is why he doesn’t hesitate to kick the door shut when he reaches Peter’s dorm, toss his bag to the side, and cross the room to pull Peter off the bed and into an open mouthed kiss that makes his head spin with need. Peter doesn’t fight it, instead presses closer, grips Harley’s shoulder and scrapes his teeth over Harley’s lower lip, sending shivers down Harley’s spine. “Peter—“

Peter turns them around, pushes Harley back onto the bed with a grin and a burning look in his eyes. Harley feels his stomach swoop as he takes in the sight — Peter standing over him, bare skin soft under the low lamp lighting, black harness a striking contrast from his slightly pale skin, and the dildo attached to the harness standing to attention in eight inches of pink silicone glory. Harley already has a few dildos of his own, but this is one he’s had his eye on for a few months now that he’s been contemplating buying, and when the question came up of what dildo Harley wanted to be used with the strap, he decided it was the perfect time to make the purchase.

“Fuck,” Harley says with a bit of a sigh mixed with a groan. He pushes at his jeans, too impatient to bother unbuttoning them, and somehow manages to kick off his shoes at the same time, Peter watching with arroused amusement as his jeans get stuck around his knees. Harley kicks a leg with a pout. “Peter.”

“What, you want help?” Peter asks, snickering. Harley’s pout deepens, and Peter quirks a brow as he says, “If I help, I’m just gonna tear them off.”

Which, honestly? That sounds pretty fucking hot. Harley nods, uselessly shoves at the material of his jeans that are too twisted from his haste to get them off to even budge. “Yeah, do it. Do it.”

Peter seems a little surprised by this, but he complies, gripping at the waistband of the jeans and being careful not to accidentally hurt Harley as he uses his strength to rip along the seams of the legs. Harley shivers as the air brushes against his suddenly bare skin, and is almost awe struck as Peter tosses the torn jeans across the room without bothering to look and see where they land. “You’re eager,” Peter states, not a question, a fact. Harley is very clearly straining against his boxers, his shirt a little bit bunched up and revealing his lower stomach as he takes in deep, aching breaths, his legs sort of falling apart on instinct when Peter kneels on the bed. Peter’s lips twitch up, pupils blown. “You’re really eager.”

“You didn’t already know that?” Harley asks airily, staring up at Peter and wanting more than anything for him to just move, to hold him down and fuck him raw and steal the oxygen from his lungs. “You literally blew me in a Taco Bell bathroom, like, four hours ago because of how eager I’ve been. I need this. I need you.”

There’s a slight moment where Peter seems to process those words, and then a deep noise comes up from the center of his chest and rumbles in the back of his throat as he rips off Harley’s boxers with a lot more aggression than he used with Harley’s jeans and leans over him with something deep and hungry in his eyes. “Whatever you want,” he breathes, thigh slotted between Harley’s legs, hands holding Harley’s wrists against the mattress with just enough strength to make Harley feel a little dizzy, their noses bumping together due to their close proximity. Harley’s breath stutters in his chest as Peter grazes their lips together, not yet kissing him, but teasing it as he looks at Harley with a burning gaze, and Harley’s hips twitch up to rub against Peter’s thigh.

Jesus, it feels like there’s a hum of electricity running through his veins already. “Lube,” he croaks out, needs to move fast, can’t even fathom the idea of taking this slow and steady. “Now, Pete. I need you now. Where’s the—?”

Peter kisses him then, heat and tongue and soft sounds, as he releases one of Harley’s wrists and blindly reaches out to grapple for the lube he placed on the nightstand before Harley’s arrival. Harley uses his now free hand to bury his fingers into Peter’s hair, pulling Peter impossibly closer and tilting his head slightly to the side as he moans into Peter’s open mouth. Peter fumbles one handedly to pop open the top of the lube, biting at Harley’s lower lip and soothing the bite with his tongue, only to bite again, over and over, repeating the same action until Harley isn’t even kissing him anymore, is just kind of mewling against his lips and tugging at Peter’s hair as he pulls his knees up and apart. Peter pulls back with a gasp of air, eyes glazed and skin flushed. “How do you want it?”

“God, just like this,” Harley groans, arching his back until their chests are flush together. He can feel the material of the harness digging into the inside of his thighs, can feel the weight if the dildo pressed against his hip, and he feels lightheaded with how badly he wants. He wraps a hand around Peter’s forearm and lets out an embarrassing whine. “Hurry, Peter, please, I need— I need—“

Peter hums, lips pressed to the curve of Harley’s cheek, and finally succeeds in getting his fingers properly lubed up. “I like seeing you like this,” he muses lightly, trailing his hand down, down, until he’s brushing past Harley’s cock, begging to be touched, and can circle a finger around Harley’s hole. Harley shudders at the feeling, tugs at Peter’s hair lightly, and Peter just smiles. “You’re fucking stunning, Harley, you know that?”

“No need to woo your way into my pants, Parker,” Harley says breathlessly, biting back a keening noise as Peter edges the tip of his middle finger inside him, slow and precise. “You’re already in them.”

“Don’t be an ass, Keener,” Peter huffs, rolling his eyes. Harley’s quirks a brow slightly, but before he can respond, Peter levels him with a deadpan look. “And don’t turn that into a joke, either. Just tell me what you want me to do.”

For a moment, Harley isn’t sure why Peter says that, because he feels like it’s pretty obvious what he wants Peter to do, but then he notices the slight hesitance in Peter’s eyes, the fact that he’s been ever so slowly inching his single finger deeper into Harley, and he realizes that Peter doesn’t really know at all. He’s been in a more slightly in charge headspace the past few days because of Harley’s neediness increasing during the wait for right now, but if Harley seemed needy before, he’s about to be a hundred time’s needier, and Peter doesn’t know what kind of top Harley wants him to be.

Well, Harley can fix that.

“I want you to be rough,” Harley rasps, tugging at Peter’s hair again. “I’ll tell you to stop if I need you to, but Christ, Peter, I need you to keep going right now, and I need you to go faster than this, ‘cause I’m about to go insane.”

That seems to be just what Peter needed to hear, because that dark look in his eyes seems to get darker, and the finger he was slowly pushing in gets buried to the knuckle in an instant. Harley’s eyelids flutter slightly as Peter pulls the digit out and then pushes it back in again, setting up a fairly quick pace as he asks, “You’ll tell me if you need me to stop or slow down?”

Harley nods, gasping slightly as Peter teases the tip of a second finger along his rim. “Yeah, yes, I will, and I’ll tell you if I need you to go faster or harder, too, and I need both of those things right now, Peter, so please just—“

A second finger joins the first and instantly starts to scissor Harley open, and the slight burn of the stretch rips the air from his lungs in a long, drawn out moan. “Like this?” Peter asks, sounding a bit breathless as he watches the way Harley’s jaw drops open, lashes fluttering. He fingered Harley last night, but that was his first time doing it, and they’d gone kind of slow, kind of sensual, until Harley was shaking and whining from feeling so much for such an extended period of time — now, Harley thinks he’s gonna be shaking and whining again, but for different reasons.

Peter brushes over Harley’s prostate, and Harley’s upper body rises off the bed with a groan. “Yes! Yes, like that, just like that, fuck.”

“Holy shit,” Peter croaks, looking down at Harley in some kind of awe as he pants and wiggles his hips and begs for more. It only takes a few moments before he complies, edging a third finger in along with the first two, and he ducks his head down to mouth along the side of Harley’s exposed throat, kissing and licking and biting while he crooks his fingers and stretches Harley open, until Harley is trembling underneath him, letting out gasps and whimpers and moans, soft pleas for more, more, harder, faster, deeper, more.

Peter is just about to try adding a fourth finger when Harley says, “‘m ready, baby, please—“

“You sure?” Peter asks, sinking his teeth into his lower lip when Harley grinds down on his fingers with a breathless gasp and an enthusiastic nod. His skin is flushed and a little bit sweaty, his lips parted around all the little sounds he just can’t hold back, chest heaving with each breath, each moan and groan and airy plea. Peter can’t stop looking at him, watched the way his features contort when Peter slowly pulls his fingers out and reaches for the lube once more. Harley is eyeing his movements hungrily, half lidded eyes focused on the action of Peter pouring a generous amount of lube in his palm, tossing the bottle aside before slicking up the dildo quickly.

Maybe it’s subconscious, the way Harley tries to open his legs even more, because he doesn’t seem fully aware that he’a doing it, but Peter sees it happen and swears the mere sight is enough to suck the air from his lungs. God, he wants to see Harley fall apart.

With that thought, he aligns the dildo with Harley’s hole, teasing his rim for a moment and soaking in the way it makes Harley tremble, and then he starts to push in, slow and careful, making sure to give Harley time to adjust as he goes. He watches Harley’s features twist and morph into something even more open mouthed and dazed, glazed over eyes staring up at Peter in some kind if pleasure induced awe. Peter continues pushing in until there nothing left to give, and then he waits there, lightly brushes his hands through Harley’s hair and caresses his cheek with his thumb until, a few moments later, he murmurs, “You ready?”

Harley locks his legs around Peter’s waist and nods,voice nothing more than a whimper when he says, “Move, please.”

So, Peter moves.

He doesn’t start off too slow, but he doesn’t move too fast, either—it’s a steady sort of rhythm, one that makes Harley mewl, accidentally pulling on Peter’s hair so hard that he yanks his head back a little, the action drawing out a long groan from Peter. Harley tugs again, uses his entangled fingers in Peter’s curls to pull his face closer, skim a kiss along his lips, and then tug again as he hoarsely tells him, “More rough.”

Peter can do that, and he does, snapping his hips forward suddenly, harshly, pushing a yelp past Harley’s parted lips that quickly melts into a loud moan as he tightens his hold on Peter’s hair and tries to wiggle his hips just enough to shift the angle. The pace stays quick after that, fast and harsh, and still Harley begs for more. It takes a lot of will power for Peter to focus his strength on gripping the sheets underneath Harley (his poor, poor sheets, which he has to stock up on because of how often he rips them during heated moments like this), but the more Harley pleads, the harder it is—he just wants to please, loves the way Harley gasps and groans and tugs on his hair and scratches at his back. If Harley wants more, then maybe Peter taps into his strength just a little bit, using it to fuck Harley harder and faster, just like he wants.

“Yes,” Harley hisses, his eyes nearly rolling into the back of his head, nails biting into Peter’s shoulders, legs tightening around Peter’s waist as he pushes down to meet each thrust, skin flushed and covered in a thin sheen of sweat. “Fuck, Peter, I can’t- fuck, fuck, don’t stop, please don’t stop- Christ, never stop, never—“

In retrospect, Peter shouldn’t be getting all that much out of this—the strap on is clearly doing wonders for Harley, making him keen and moan and cry out in ecstasy, but it’s not providing any sort of relief to the throbbing between Peter’s legs. Any other day, he might try to find a solution to that, figure out a way to make Harley crumble in pleasure while also feeling some himself, but he can’t be bothered with that, not when he can feel the heat and the sting of scratches on his back and his shoulders, when he can feel Harley’s thighs trembling as he gets closer, when Harley looks at him through bleary eyes of want and need and suddenly captures his lips in a heated, vulgar sort of kiss, spit slick and filthy. Peter grips Harley’s waist with on hand, knows it’ll probably bruise later, and then ducks his head to bite along the column of Harley’s throat, addicted to the taste of his skin, licking the hickeys left behind to soothe the ache before moving on to the next, hips still snapping at a relentless pace, the angle just right to hit Harley’s prostate when every single thrust.

“Peter,” Harley whines, high pitched and desperate and so, so close, flames of heat running up and down his spine as he arches his back. “Peter, baby- fuck, sweetheart, you’re- oh god, oh god, oh my god, Peter, I’m—“

“Do it,” Peter says, but his voice is lower than normal, deeper and borderline commanding, coming out in some kind or turned on growl. Goosebumps rise along Harley’s skin, and Peter nips at his jaw, moves over, and then lightly bites Harley’s lower lip, lidded eyes meeting wide ones. He releases Harley’s lip, but maintains the eye contact as he gives Harley a particularly hard thrust and tells him, “Come on, Harley. Cum for me.”

The sound that rips its way from the back of Harley’s throat is almost animalistic, throwing his head back and releasing what can only be described as a wail of pleasure as he meets Peter thrust for thrust two, three more times, and then he goes taut, his voice gets louder, higher in pitch, as he cums between them, Peter fucking him through it, pulling out more and more cum until there’s nothing left and Harley is a trembling mess. “Fuck,” he rasps, his hands shaking as he grips onto Peter’s shoulders, presses a tender kiss to his neck. “Holy fuck, Peter. That was—“

“The hottest thing I have ever seen,” Peter finishes, breathless and airy as he carefully pulls the strap on out of Harley. Once it’s out, he doesn’t bother trying to be careful with it, just rips the harness off and throws it and the dildo to the floor, head dropping to rest on Harley’s shoulder as he reaches between his legs and groans. “Fuck, Harley, seeing you like that, I- you’re so fucking beautiful, shit—“

“Hey,” Harley says, a little weakly due to his orgasm, but determined nonetheless to make Peter feel good, too. “C’mere. I got you, baby.”

Peter looks up, a little confused by what Harley’s trying to say, but lets him carefully maneuver his limbs and pull him up, until Peter is first straddling his hips, then his stomach, his chest, until Peter catches on to his plan and barely manages to ask, “Are you sure?” When Harley nods once, already eyeing Peter’s aching pussy with some kind of hunger in his eyes, Peter is helpless to do anything but moan as he shuffles forward, until he knees are planted on either side of Harley’s head, Harley’s fingers digging into his thighs as he presses a brief kiss to Peter’s clit.

Then: “I’ll tap your leg three times if I want you to stop, okay?” Peter nods, his thighs already trembling as he fights the urge to lower himself down, fingers threading through Harley’s slightly sweat damp hair. Harley hums, sporting a small smile. “Go for it, baby.”

That’s all Peter needs before he’s grinding his hips down, Harley’s tongue meeting him halfway, circling his clit before moving down to Peter’s entrance. “F-Fuck,” Peter moans, already so turned on and close to the edge just from watching Harley fall apart already. The heat of Harley’s mouth against him sends shivers up and down his spine, hips rolling in time as Harley tongue fucks him, fast and relentless, the curve of his nose applying pressure to Peter’s clit as he does so, and Peter doesn’t even realize that he’s gone breathless until his lungs ache and complain, and even then he doesn’t care, riding Harley’s tongue with a choked off moan and a shaking groan and keens and whimpers and whines because it feels so fucking good. “Shit, Harley, holy shit, h- oh fuck, oh my god, Harley, H—“

Harley moves his tongue faster, pushes it in deeper, and then he lets Peter set the pace, humming in the back of his throat as Peter erratically pulls back and pushes forward, the vibrations of the sound punching a strained noise from Peter’s gut as his fingers tighten in Harley’s hair, tugging lightly. Harley hums again. Peter throws his head back, panting.

“Shit, shit, oh fuck, Harley, I’m almost- I’m gonna- oh god, oh god, oh my god, Harley, I—“

The moment Harley manages to curl his tongue while as deep as he can go, barely managing to brush against Peter’s G spot, is the exact moment that Peter practically convulses, having a full body shudder as he gasps, tries to grind down even more, and cums so hard that there his vision nearly whites out with the intensity of it. Harley goes from gripping Peter’s thighs to gently stroking over them, slowly leaning his head back and not bothering to wipe away the mixture of fluids on his chin as Peter shakily moves down, until he’s straddling Harley’s waist instead, dropping his head to rest against Harley’s shoulder.

“So, we’re definitely doing that again,” Peter says suddenly, sounding a little hoarse. Harley barks out a little breathless laugh, but nods.

“We’ll have to buy a new harness, though,” Harley murmurs, looking over to where the ripped remains of the one they’d been using sit in a heap on the floor. “Think they sell any that are spider strength proof? ‘Cause I don’t think we can afford to buy a new one every time we use it. ‘Specially since I’m hopin’ we use it a lot.”

Peter hums, presses a kiss to Harley’s collarbone before looking up at him and musing, “Maybe not, but maybe we can make one. Think Tony would notice if some spare vibranium went missing next time we visit the lab? Or we can just ask to use it, say it’s for a project. Hope he doesn’t ask questions.”

“Mm...” Harley trails off, pretending to consider the idea, then simply shrugs. “Eh, who cares. He was a lot worse when he was our age, so even if he did find out what it was for, he’d probably just pretend not to know and let us use it. Like one of those cool parents that leave condoms in the bathroom or something.“

Peter snorts, shaking his head with a wide, amused grin. “I guess you’re right about that,” he says, before ducking his head to press a kiss to Harley’s jaw, then his cheek, and then another to his lips, lingering there for moment before pulling back with a content little smile. “Clean up now, or let future us deal with it?”

“I don’t know about you, but I don’t think I can stand up right now,” Harley admits, brows quirking slightly. “So, my vote’s on future us.”

“Okay, good, ‘cause I don’t wanna get up,” Peter agrees, rolling them over so that he’s on his back and Harley is splayed over top of him. Harley lets out a happy little sigh at the change, nestles himself into Peter’s embrace and lets his eyes flutter shut instinctively as he relaxes against Peter’s bare chest. Peter brushes a hand through Harley’s hair gently, then presses a kiss to his forehead, a soft smile on his face as he murmurs, “I love you, Harley.”

Harley buries his face against Peter’s neck, mumbles a soft little, “Love you more,” before letting out a slow breath and falling into a deep sleep, puffing little snores against Peter’s skin.

Despite Harley being asleep, Peter still scoffs and quietly says, “Not possible,” before allowing himself to drift off as well.




[ spidey squad — 11:03 am ]


the hacker: i found out why they’re late

the spidey fan boy: was i right

the hacker: i hate to say it but yes flash you were right

the brain: oh god how bad was it

the hacker: well

the hacker: i mean

the hacker: there’s a broken strap on sitting on the floor

the hacker: and they’re both asleep but covered in hickeys

the hacker: so take that as you will

the pr manager: oh so pretty mild actually

the hacker: betty how do you consider that mild

the pr manager: remember when we went to check on mj and found her and her girlfriend assembling a sex swing

the brain: um hi why am i being called out

the spidey fan boy: it was an expensive one too

the pr manager: ......why do u know that

the spidey fan boy: my parents are rich and my roommate and i are fuckbuddies

the spidey fan boy: why WOULDNT i know that

the spidey fan boy: there’s a reason why yall never get invited to my dorm ok

the brain: remind me why we forgave him and let him become our friend again

the hacker: because peter said please

the hacker: and harley already punched him once so it seemed like a fair deal

the brain: right

the brain: anyway ned wake them up i dont care how fucked out they are we set up this group study session two weeks ago and they arent allowed to sleep through it

the hacker: i dont want to

the brain: why

the hacker: They Are Sticky

the brain: Wake Them Up

the hacker: fine

the hacker: okay they’re awake

the hacker: be there in like fifteen minutes